What Gives You Hope?

As the years pass, this becomes a more interesting question, more difficult to answer cleanly, and requiring more subtle shades of meaning.

In some ways, nothing gives me hope.  I’m all too aware of my mortality, and the fact that I’m now closer to 80 than to 30.  The part of me that dwells on this knows that nothing can give me hope for the future, because the future is meaningless, as is the present. I will not only cease to exist, I’ll also be utterly forgotten, just like you will, dear reader.

But that kind of thinking isn’t useful.  It leads to the conclusion that we might as well all kill ourselves and be done with it.

Again - not useful.

Even with the constant undercurrent of melancholy, hope and joy are possible.  My life is filled with moments and blessings worth embracing.  My son, my wife, my father, my sister, my brother, a few friends, some warm pets - these fellow mortals face the same oblivion as I do, and yet they make my life good.

I like the experiences I get to have, the people whose paths I get to cross, and the thoughts I get to think.

I guess I’m not sure what hope IS, but my life is full of “holy moments”, and I’d gladly be 56 for another thousand years or so.

I’m a few minutes closer to my death than I was when I started writing this, but I enjoyed those minutes.  Good enough.