What is Hope?

I'm starting this blog entry at 10:38 Central time, watching the sun arch overhead as the Earth spins, the warm spring air drawing my attention with Siren calls to take a walk or hike, the only thing holding me here inside at this moment the memory of pulling ticks off my leg while showering earlier this morning (a frequent consequence of hiking in deer-infested woods).

When I was younger, I heard admonitions from adults telling me that with my fair skin, I should stay out of the sun. They'd then bathe in the UV rays, turning their elastic skin into hard, leathery shells, while I either had to wear a long-sleeved shirt or lather myself with sunscreen if I wanted to stay outside. Often, I just stayed inside during the heat of the day and learned to enjoy myself - reading, writing, or playing games with others. Even though I had fun indoors, I saw adults' sun-darkened skin in a negative light.

Now I sit here and look at the difference between the skin on top of my hands versus the skin further up my arm. Clear indications of sun damage, scarred skin, blemishes and such, map the terrain on my hands. My skin's defenses haven't failed yet so cancer is still only a future possibility.

And if cancerous growths were discovered on my birthday suit, then what? Do you have an idea what you would think? I heard the phrase, "It's God's will," last night. In my religious training growing up, such a phrase was common, including the comment that predestination determines our afterlife and guides our life. Some call it fate or destiny. But you and I know it is a combination of randomness, coincidence and consequence, do we not? X number of sun exposures equals Y number of skin cancers, give or take your luck of the DNA draw, local skin defects, and other carcinogenic substances you've exposed your skin to.

No matter what happens to me, I am me. Lose an arm in an accident and I am me with a memory of an arm. Get skin cancer and I am me with new learning opportunities.

I already said I am dead. Genetically, the buck stops here and is going nowhere else. With the limited knowledge I have (and the longer I live, the less I realize I know), what is the reason I would want to consider the meaning of "hope"?

I have no future. I only have this moment. But, barring unforeseen circumstances, I'll live in other moments not yet experienced by anyone else but me.

The only goal I have is completion of the basket I'm weaving to carry me to the end of my days. Some of the threads and reeds in my basket repeat themselves. After all, my existence depends on eating, breathing and eliminating wastes. I've added daily habits, like brushing my teeth and my hair (but not with the same brush, of course). I drape pieces of cloth on my body because the local customs of my tribe require covering our nakedness. Otherwise, I look for new patterns to weave into the basket, even if I know the threads and reeds I use appear in other people's baskets.

Sometimes I see patterns repeating themselves only when I step away and look back at my basket (maybe I should stop doing that?). The repetitions shock my senses, driving me temporarily insane, flushing my body with hormones, endorphins and other chemicals, and giving me an unintended high. The subsequent crash brings me down. Triggers depression and tiredness.

In the depth of my situational despair, I crave relief. I cry out in the silence, "Somebody rescue me from myself!"

Remember, life is simpler than we want it to be. Even in desperate times. All I want in the depths of my delusional depression is the idea of hope.

But what if I don't know what hope is? In fact, I don't. I can Google it, or look it up in my Merriam-Webster dictionary but those are somebody else's words.

Yesterday, I was depressed. I did not want to face a classroom full of adults and promise them a future of money-making jobs based on what I planned to teach them. I just didn't care because in my life, all seemed lost and hopeless.

But I have an obligation to the world, local in practice, to complete my social experiment and put a few dozen people on a path to economic success. Regardless of my fluctuating emotional state.

Last night, I walked into class, at a low point mentally. The students, or customers of ITT Tech, if you will, didn't know what I thought. They only saw my face. And I theirs.

Guess what I found when I looked in their faces (yeah, I'm giving you another easy one here).

I found hope.

What is hope? It's the smiles of people who've put trust in you to make them students for life. It's eye-to-eye contact with no invisible walls between you. It's the unspoken understanding that both of you are thinking similar thoughts just by what your body language is saying. It's the concern I have when I see someone nodding off that s/he is missing something that might make an important difference in her/his life and I believe in that person enough to do what it takes to get that person's attention without disrupting others who are already paying attention.

What is hope? I don't know everything. Last night, I weaved a few brightly-colored threads into my basket when I found out something new. Hope is You!