Tree

What is the equa­tion that equals hope? I have never really under­stood hope. As a kid, I didn’t want to look for­ward to some­thing with an expec­ta­tion. Too easy to get burned. I didn’t hold any ideas about the presents under the tree – I turned my wish­ing off and let myself be sur­prised or dis­ap­pointed when the time came.
Recently I heard a friend say she relies on hope to help her with a present moment that feels over­whelm­ing; maybe hope is about pro­vid­ing a per­spec­tive on “now” that is not based in despair. Maybe hope is not sim­ply wish­ing for a future that is not like this present. If I can infuse the present with a fla­vor of opti­mism then I can endure it or I can thrive even. Hmmm…sounds fishy. Am I just putting on the rose col­ored glasses, or, in this case, the Rain­bow Euca­lyp­tus glasses?
If I suc­cumb to cyn­i­cism then hope dies right away. Cyn­i­cism is the dark that squelches light. Avoid it. If false hope is fan­tasy, cyn­i­cism is irra­tional bleak­ness.
Then there is faith. If I move beyond sim­ply day­dream­ing of things I want and get con­fi­dent about those things I have hoped for, then I am, appar­ently, demon­strat­ing faith. Faith is for­ti­fied hope, but it is still based on a wish for some­thing to be some­thing other than what it is in this moment. I believe in what I hope for and this makes me feel even bet­ter, safer, more pow­er­ful, pos­si­bly deluded if I put my faith/hope in the wrong bas­ket. Choose wisely kid­dos.
Here is my def­i­n­i­tion for hope: I can choose to believe that I can bring all avail­able resources to this moment, and that that is bet­ter and righter and more valu­able than not doing that. I am unwill­ing to for­sake this moment as not good enough. I am look­ing for the best this moment has to offer. If I lose hope to the future, I am miss­ing now and that seems a waste. All the hope you will ever have is hap­pen­ing right…NOW.

So all that is left is to find a way to make this ram­bling about the amaz­ing Rain­bow Euca­lyp­tus in the photo. These beings are the psy­che­delic mardi gras of trees. I walked in to the grove of them (was led into the grove of them as a gift from Rose, which was really so great) and I felt joy and won­der and I didn’t need hope at all because I had every­thing I wanted.