“Hope springs eternal”
When I sit up late at night like I am doing right now, tired, by myself staring at this brightly lit computer screen, thinking of what to write so I can become famous…nothing comes to my mind. Nothing worth writing about at least. I have many thoughts, ideas, and stories I could write on this blog and feel good about it like “Yes Sean! You are one hell of a clever chap all right!” Fuck all that.
I want to write shit that makes people nod their heads in understanding, or in sympathy, or feel it in their hearts that this? This is the truth and I want to read more of what this guy has to say because the words spoken have a certain power that reaches beyond the superficial mask of self and deep into the soul.
Stories of Hope?
How can I reach someone with a story of hope? What can I write to inspire, to motivate, to hold someone’s heart in my hand and carry it through whatever darkness is surrounding them?
The truth is all I have is my experience. Within my experience is one vital, concrete, foundational practice that I have found to work in even the most dire and sincerely scary moments of our lives when it seems the very gates of hell are being shut on us.
Think of a time in your life, and it shouldn’t be hard to remember it, that time when you were all alone in a place that nobody could reach you. This could have been a prison cell or in your own house surrounded by family, and I am talking about falling into a dark place not even your closest loved ones could bring you back from.
I have known a few people who found themselves in this proverbial place of blind, deaf, dumb, numb, and completely delusional mind states. The blind mind state cannot see the truth right in front of them. Deaf mind state does not heed the warnings of danger or ominous foreshadowing of death or destruction because it cannot hear. Dumb is the mind that makes those decisions which lead the person into pain and misery. Numb is the mind state that is not a state anymore, just a mess…a noisy, wild, crazy mess hidden underneath a sheet of ice.
The delusional mind state is the worst and encompasses all of these defects in a circle of insanity. The people I knew loved life, and lived it in a different way but it was full of something, everything, and on the surface it looked beautiful. But somewhere along the line something snapped, a wire burned out and caused the system to shut down, short-circuited, haywire.
It happened to me, it happened to my sister, it happened to someone I loved perhaps the first person I ever felt love for…Summer.
Is it just a four letter word that makes people feel better or is it a power beneath the surface of this life pushing and pulling matter forward and backward and sideways along the pathway of forward progress?
Why do some people embrace the word by continuing to live? Why do some people not see it and choose to use their hands as weapons on themselves? What went wrong? Why? What drove them to that point of no return where no human power could save them?
That is it right there. No human power. The truth. The spiritual part.
Doctors, pills, blood tests, psychiatrists, asylums…is there hope in these things? Hope springs for a little while, but not eternal.
No, hope is much bigger than a pill or a psych doctor. If hope were a pill it would be made in meetings, in love, in spirit, in truth, in help from strangers, from the heart…not a pharma factory or a script pad…no, from something more than human power.
I am a story of hope.
You are a story of hope. Anyone who is still alive and living each day as it comes, especially after going through trauma, evil, and death around them? God is love and the love in me recognizes the love in you. I love you. Without you I could not exist, I am here today as a true testament to the power of love, because somebody loved me I am still breathing.
If I do anything in life, it is to honor those who did not make it through the day. Who decided to give up today. Who did not have any hope, who couldn’t see the sunshine outside only darkness and pain and a quick solution to end it.
People might blame God for such horrible tragedies, but I blame no one. We all have a will and a mind that can make decisions, and if we decide to do something bad it is our choice not God pulling the puppet strings.
One story is one life, a life I used to cherish and think about all the time and want to make better with me in it…did God let her take all of her klonapin and close her eyes permanently? Did he make her do it? She was just like you or me. Full of life, hope for a bright future, a laugh that lit up the room with love…no God wasn’t there because she shut the door on God, her mother, her friends, her loved ones that had God in them and wanted to help. She shut God out of that room, that lonely, dark, cold room that offered her the comfort of a warm bed and a pill bottle.
Story of hope?
We are all stories of hope.
It is not just a word or a force. No it is who were are.
It is life.