Developing a Better You

Tag: hope (Page 1 of 3)

Hope is an Axe

Sometimes four words can stop your heart:

HOPE IS AN AXE.

Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency.

Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark: The Untold History of People Power

I’m a big fan of hope. I’ve thought about, cultivated, and written about it often (you can read those posts here, here, and here). But I’d never thought of hope in such a forceful way, like a weapon to cut through the morass of doubt, fear, and cynicism that surrounds us. It changes hope from a fragile, ephemeral feeling to a rugged, dependable tool.

That perspective on hope is mirrored in the response author, actor, and musician Nick Cave gave to a fan who presented him with a question I’m sure many of us have asked ourselves:

“Do you still believe in us human beings?”

Nick’s answer paints a sharp-edged view of hope:

Much of my early life was spent holding the world and the people in it in contempt. It was a position both seductive and indulgent. The truth is, I was young and had no idea what was coming down the line. It took a devastation to teach me the preciousness of life and the essential goodness of people. It took a devastation to reveal the precariousness of the world, of its very soul, and to understand that the world was crying out for help. It took a devastation to understand the idea of mortal value, and it took a devastation to find hope.

Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned, makes demands upon us, and can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position — it is adversarial. It is the warrior emotion that can lay waste to cynicism.

Each redemptive or loving act, as small as you like — such as reading to your little boy, showing him something you love, singing him a song, or putting on his shoes — keeps the devil down in the hole. (Hope) says the world and its inhabitants have value, and are worth defending. It says the world is worth believing in. In time, we come to find that this is so.

Nick Cave

When you feel torn by the strain of the world, when people around you surrender to their shadow side, when cynicism sings its siren song, set your feet. Reach down deep. Heft the axe of hope. Slam its love-hardened blade into your anger, your despair, your fear. If you do, the sun will blaze through the rend in the darkness, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

Trudging Through a Winter Season

I’m so tired. 

My wife Lisa and I are at the tail end of a lengthy book tour. While I’m incredibly grateful for the exciting and rewarding opportunity, it’s been demanding and exhausting. We both got sick with lingering ear and sinus infections as we plowed through a seemingly endless stream of school visits, bookstore events, and flights around the country. In the midst of it all, my elderly mom had a serious health crisis which led to a week in ICU, and she’s facing a long and difficult recovery. 

It’s one of those seasons. No amount of money, planning, or preparation can avoid them. Rain falls on us all from time to time. The only control we have is how we choose to respond to the storm. 

I’m a glass-half-full person. I try to have a positive outlook, to see the cloud’s silver lining. That perspective provides energy and hope to move forward, and helps me avoid wallowing in destructive negativity. 

But it can also lead me to slap a smiley-face bandage on a gunshot wound. I sometimes refuse to acknowledge real pain, subconsciously burying it deep to avoid facing the unanswerable questions suffering brings—why did this happen? What good can come of it? What’s the point of it all?

I’m trying to find my balance in this storm. To allow myself to recognize the biting flies and feel my aching feet as I trudge through this dark valley, while still lifting my eyes to the distant, beautiful mountain I’m heading toward. It’s not an easy task. But with time, rest, prayer, and the support of my inner circle, I’m finding my way.

If you’re in a winter season, acknowledge the frost and stinging cold. The treacherous footing. The difficult climb up the snow covered slope. But remember that however long the night, the sun will rise. Spring is coming. You’ll feel the warm breeze caress your face and breathe the delicate scent of flowers again. You are not alone on the road, and every struggling footfall brings you one step closer to Becoming Yourself.

Why I Love Cemeteries

I’m tired.

For most of the last six weeks, I’ve traveled the U.S. on book tour, talking with people about writing and my Monsterious series. I’ve done a steady stream of stock signings, interviews, school presentations, and bookstore events. It’s been exciting, frustrating, fun, exhausting, and deeply fulfilling.

At the end of it all, I feel empty. Drained. In need of quiet, rest, and reflection. When I realized I didn’t have the time or the energy to write a new post this week, I waded through some of the hundreds of posts I’ve written over the last six years. The one I’m reposting below (originally published March 3, 2018) spoke to me, maybe because the thought of lying down for a long time sounds very appealing right now. I hope it helps you take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I love cemeteries. That might sound odd, even morbid. I’m not insensitive to the memories of pain and loss that they hold for so many. I deeply respect that. But to me, they are special places that nurture my personal development in ways few others do.

Cemeteries invite quiet reflection. They encourage me to slow down, to ponder, to contemplate. What do I want my life to be about? How do I want to be remembered? They have an atmosphere of reverence and respect, rare qualities in a time often marked by derision and divisiveness. A stroll through a cemetery reminds me of what I believe is important: Relationships. Character. Purpose. Joie de vivre.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I love how my perspective is sharpened by reading tombstones. I’m reminded that all of these people were once like me. That one day a grave marker will bear my name. Soon after, I’ll probably be remembered only by loved ones and then, over time, by no one at all. Reading those names reminds me that life is a breath, and I am small. I’m not as important to the world as I sometimes think I am. That’s a healthy dose of humility.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

Yet being in a cemetery also makes me feel cherished, prized, special. Not to a fame infatuated world but to One whom I believe made me, knows me, and desires me. I think of a cemetery as a transition point, a way station, a gate that leads from one season to the next. It’s a passageway connecting one plane of existence to another. The end of one journey and the start of a far greater adventure.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

I could be wrong. Maybe death is the end. Perhaps nothing waits for me and everything that I am will be snuffed out like the flame of a candle. But I don’t think so. I have subjective reasons, things I’ve felt and heard and seen that point to something greater, something beyond this life. And there are more objective arguments that appeal to my rational mind as well. So for reasons of both the head and the heart, I believe and find hope.

Why I Love Cemeteries: Cemetery

So if you need some perspective on life, if the thought of some quiet reflection sounds like water for your thirsty soul, if you’re looking for a little hope, I encourage you to slip away for an hour. Stroll thoughtfully through a cemetery. If you do, you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

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