Hope Abandoned, Hope Denied, Hope Dashed, Hope...Resurrected

Maybe it’s just me...

Maybe I’m the only one in whom hope wages a constant war with discouragement, disappointment, and despair, winning some battles and losing others but never ever decisively enough to end the war. Maybe I’m the only one...

But probably not. While the balance of power is likely different in every individual case, I imagine each of us deals with this war waged on the battlefield of our hearts. And sometimes each of us is tempted to just surrender hope and let the unholy trio triumph.

I know I’m sometimes tempted...

Hope depends on morale and morale depends (to some degree) on confidence, and confidence is not among my entrenched habits of mind. In some settings, I am quite confident, but in others—especially some where my desire is great—I lack confidence. It can make “going for” what I desire challenging, and while I wait for the outcome, I seesaw between hope and despair, sometimes rapidly.

Hope has a slight edge, simply because I’m unable any longer to sustain despair for too long, but it’s never something certain, never something I can take for granted. It wasn’t that long ago that despair owned me, and I cannot forget that, but somehow I’ve made hope the consolation prize (I just realized this!), and that’s not a great thing. Hope should be the default setting, and it really isn’t the default for me.

I most often feel the concussive reverberations of this battle in the context of theatrical auditions. I love “doing” theatre, but I am not so confident of my ability or suitability that I believe I will win a desired role. The best I can do is hope, and I sometimes do that badly. Since moving to Maui, I feel very much like the “new kid”—add to that the intimidating quality and depth of the Maui talent pool, and hope seems a frail reed indeed.

And yet, though it be frail indeed, I grasp at that reed. Although I treat hope as a consolation prize rather than a default setting, still I welcome hope. Despite its insufficiency, hope is my hero, because “hope springs eternal.” Hope is a perennial flower, the cat that “came back the very next day,” the “bad penny” that always turns up. I get frustrated, I feel defeated, I give up, I surrender...and a few hours or days or months later, hope resurrects itself and I rise with it.

And I strive to make hope my default instead of my consolation. Circumstances can be discouraging and outcomes are beyond my control—I do what I can and do my best to hope for the best without feeling entitled (in the interest of full disclosure, I am not always altogether successful at this).

We’ve all heard (and most of us have given) the advice, “Don’t get your hopes up,” but while I’m sometimes tempted—by doubt, discouragement, disappointment, and despair—I resist. I believe that while it absolutely makes me vulnerable and opens me up to hurt, hope is nevertheless worth all the risk, worth even the hurt.

It’s even worth the hurt...

Long Term

Another election has passed, and—as is generally the case—the balance of power has shifted. Some are gloating at their “triumph,” while others are licking their wounds, both of which indicate just how far astray our political process has wandered. Most, conditioned by media hype, let fear dominate their vote and their response to “opposing” viewpoints, and some on either side are and have been calling their “opponents” sometimes vile names.

Our current metaphor—elections as battles, with winners and losers—is fundamentally flawed. Our politics is not good vs. evil (with the roles of “good” and “evil” cast according to our individual political positions), but rather of competing visions of what constitutes “good.” Liberals/progressives as a class are not stupid (and the sobriquet “Libtard,” based as it is on the term “retard,” is offensive to those to whom it was once applied), and conservatives as a class are not lackeys of moneyed interests (and “Rethuglican” is every bit as inappropriate). The vast majority on either side sincerely want what’s best for Americans; they just differ on what that means.

We seem, however, to have lost sight of that simple fact—that rank-and-file Democrats and Republicans are not caricatures but human beings, complex and many-faceted, but essentially well-intentioned—and instead see the phantasms that pundits in the media paint in our imaginations. And the motives of the media are uncomplicated—“Whatever sells.”

If viewers can be made to fear something—anything, really—they won’t change the channel, and if they don’t change the channel, advertisers will pay. But advertisers aren’t the only ones to pay...we pay, too, although not with money.

Rather, we pay as a society...fear divides us.

In my Facebook stream this morning, someone posted that democracy tends to function better when there’s a common enemy—absent that, we turn on ourselves—and lately, that seems to be the case. It’s easy to cast extremists as the enemy, and extremists (on both sides) have the loudest voices—in many minds, they represent the side as a whole. Instead of uniting against a common external enemy, we manufacture enemies within—the Democrats, or the Republicans—and we attack them as vociferously as we ever did Communism or Fascism.

The thing is, we are not enemies. We may have different views, different ideas, different values, but we are fellow citizens and both as individuals and as a society we depend upon one another. It’s good that we have different ideas and different values, but our power is greatest when we combine them, not when we stand our (ideological) ground. When winning—an election or a debate or a majority or whatever—becomes more important than governing, we all lose.

So here’s my prayer:

May those elected honorably and faithfully serve the interests of all citizens (not just those who voted for them). May they abide by the principles that, when honored, lend honor and greatness to us all. May no one be considered expendable, may no one be counted an “acceptable loss,” above all may no one (liberal/progressive, conservative, or other) be counted an enemy. May they be willing to change their minds when evidence indicates that their views are mistaken. May they be humble servants of their constituents—all their constituents—and not rulers, even in their own minds. Insofar as they play favorites at all, may they favor the unfortunate rather than the fortune.

And may the rank and file on either side remember that we are all citizens together, and if we disagree, decide to disagree civilly (even if others do not—why would you let what others do determine what you do?). Let us all hold our representatives accountable for their actions, and if any mistreats, demeans, demonizes, or abuses others, deny them your continuing support.

With great power comes great responsibility...We the People have exercised our power in electing representatives, and we are responsible for what they do. Let us be vigilant and hold our representatives to a high standard. Let us not concede the high ground, let us not settle for the “least common denominator” without resistance, let us not forget politics and politicians until their actions affect us or until the next election. Let us rather expect much of our representatives, let us demand much of our representatives, let us get much of our representatives.

Passion vs. Reason

If you’re anything like me, you sometimes experience tension between who you are and what you want. Sometimes your highest nature—your passion—dares you to do something fraught with risk and potentially disastrous, while your reason cautions you that the path to a desired outcome is tried and true. And, again if you’re anything like me, reason often wins the debate.

I’m not suggesting that reason is the enemy. On the contrary, reason is a necessary part of our nature, and there are circumstances when reason should triumph—particularly when the stakes are truly high, reason’s perspective is vital—but I’ve discovered that in me, “reason” is often a disguise for fear or desire. Reason dresses up my fears and wants, giving them (seeming) legitimacy.

For example:

Although I love theatre and performance (in musicals and non-musicals), I find vocal auditions quite daunting under the best of circumstances. I lack confidence in my voice, even though it’s served me pretty well over the years, because (even though I know better) I tend to compare myself with other singers, many of whom have years more training and experience than I. Because when I audition I want a role, I typically play it safe vocally for the sake of my desire, even if my “higher self” wants to do something different that might open up new possibilities.

In the last month or so, I’ve begun to “discover” a part of my voice and vocal range I’ve longed for, because if I can grow in this direction it will open up more possibilities, and I decided that for my next audition, one of my songs would be in that range. It was a risky choice because that part of my voice isn’t quite ready for prime time, but I was determined, and vocally I was close to what I felt would show off this broader potential. I decided to risk it.

Yesterday was audition day. I woke up second guessing my determination. I had another song on deck that I knew I could do well and I wanted—oh, how I wanted!—to ditch the song I’d been preparing all month and go with one that was safe and might get me a role I wanted. It would have been so easy to go that route!

I didn’t. I stayed the course, although I sweated and fretted and, when it came time to sing that song, I tensed up and lost some of what I’d had all month. And the outcome was that I was called back for roles I’d probably have been called back for if I’d played it safe. I don’t think the risk gained me anything. It didn’t really expand my opportunities. I could have played it safe, avoided all that stress, and it wouldn’t have cost me a thing.

Only, that’s not the point.

I’m glad I did what I did—glad I took the chance even though it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, even though it made no difference in the outcome, even though it could have reduced my opportunities—because in taking that chance I pushed back against both fear and petty want and reached for what I really wanted. I didn’t let fear and desire dress themselves up as “reason” and ground my lofty ambitions—I went for it, even if my voice trembled.

Too often, we adults lose what we all had as children: the unselfconscious ability to try anything just because we can. In learning to think things through and anticipate outcomes, we bury that spark of spontaneity and daring for fear of failure. We become perhaps too pragmatic and practical—we “play small” and stay within the bounds of what we know, rather than pushing into the frontiers of what might yet be.

For just a minute yesterday, even though I was terrified and my voice—my whole being—trembled, I dared…and I didn’t die.

I think I’ll dare again.

Breathless

I'm actually doing this. I'm not going to do it; I'm doing it. That's an important distinction. I'm going, and that takes my breath away.

At first I was breathless with fear: paralyzing, stupefying,appalling terror. There was no question what made my hands sweat, my limbs shake, my gut clench, my breath catch: it was fear, pure and simple—that visceral reaction to threat that kept our primal ancestors alive in a menacing world. And fear is still part of it...

But fear is not all of it, not any more. Fear is not even the biggest part of it.

I'm breathless with anticipated grief. I am leaving my family, my theatre family, my friends, my best friend, my students (the only children I've known)... and I feel that loss as if I was already gone. "I miss you" doesn't come close to what I'm feeling, and I haven't even gone yet. I tear up every time I remember those I'm leaving.

I'm breathless with excitement. I feel the things I've always felt before a first date: anticipation, nervousness, hope. There's no knowing how it's going to be: if there will be "chemistry," if we'll be "compatible," if we'll "fit," who we'll be to one another. It's exciting!

I'm breathless with awe. Awe at the prospect of being where my heart has called me for so long, awe at the thought of remaking myself in a new place, awe at the boundless possibilities (including the possibility of epic failure). Awe at the amazing support of family and friends from whom "never was heard a discouraging word," but rather endless encouragement.

Breathless.

Tonight I'm reserving my (one way) ticket. Early in June, I'll book passage for my Harley.

I'm going.