How do we know the difference between head-in-the-sand hope and eyes-wide-open hope? One is a killer; the other, a life-giver.
First, it helps to ask, what is hope?
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Some of my Buddhist buddies pooh-pooh the whole idea of hope. Hope keeps us from experiencing this moment, they tell me. It feeds our yearning for some future one. Hope is rooted in desire, even craving -- and aren't they the root of suffering?
For me, hope is about something else. It doesn't keep me in a future world. It helps me love this one. Hope isn't a sunny attitude, and it certainly isn't a calculation that something will get better. It is a stance toward life. And, Harvard Medical School's Srinivasan S. Pillay beautifully captures what I mean: "Hope is not an answer," he writes; but because it stimulates the imagination, "hope helps us to pose the right questions." As I explore in a companion blog, fear often triggers the wrong questions. Pillay likens hope to a scientist's hypothesis. "It provides a way of moving through the world."
He adds that, "because hope seems to travel in the same dungeons [parts of the brain] as fear, it might be a good soldier to employ if we want to meet fear."
I live in Boston, and in this moment our whole, beautiful city seems to be listening to his truth -- using love to block fear.
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