The Backside of Hope

By default, hope looks to the future. For me, this makes hoping easier. I’m a possibility guy who always wonders about the future. At times, I can’t wait for it to actualize because I want to see if what I’m planning or predicting will actually occur. I love the idea of hope because it can magically transplant us beyond our worries of today.

Between now and the end of the year, I want to ask everyone I talk to one question: “What do you hope the year 2006 holds for you?” I’ve read a few blogs and know a few people who are ready to say goodbye to 2005. I think I’m one of them. It was an okay year, one that I don’t regret, and not one I would file in the ‘bad year’ folder. It’s just that I am anticipating so much for 2006.

Friday, I will have spent a quarter-century on this planet. I feel like it is time to turn the page, turn over a new leaf and all that crap. What will mark my next 25 years of living? Standing on the other side of 50, what will I be writing? Will I be writing?

The intricate tango I dance with hope is knowing that its kid sister, regret, is waiting her turn in line. She is sitting by the punch bowl, corsage on wrist, waiting for me to beckon and entertain her. My problem is that I hope with regret in plain sight. I hope for a certain situation, and dream about all of the amazing and positive possibilities that could come with it down the road, but then I immediately think of all the things I could regret at that same location. Stuck between hope and a hard place, I never seem to step confidently, and then, I don’t want to step at all.

One of my goals for 2006 – call it a resolution for the next 25 years, if you like – is to hope without strings attached. Hope is one of those things about humanity that makes life worth living. It makes us get past the bad days because there is a rainbow on the horizon and a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow. It makes me get up every morning. The potential of each day lies in what we hope happens during those 24 hours.

Here’s saying goodbye to the backside of hope, the regret that comes into our lives via a sneaking suspicion or a moment of doubt. From now on, I’d rather meet her as she sneaks up on me, instead of inviting her to the dance to begin with.