A practice of hope

Yesterday I listened to this interview with Bryan Stevenson, founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, Alabama, and author of Just Mercy, about his experiences providing legal defense to people on death row.

Of all the things he said, here's the quote that stood out to me the most: "Hopelessness is the enemy of justice."

"Either you are hopeful," he said, "or you are part of the problem."

What I love about that quote is that it counters the myth that hopelessness can be dictated by circumstances. Rather, it's possible -- perhaps even our responsibility -- to make hopefulness an active, conscious choice.

To live toward a better future, we have to be willing to visualize it. To me, that's what hope is: the ability to visualize what is wanted, and to trust that it is possible.

I've been practicing a new habit lately, where several times a day, I check in and ask myself three questions:

1. What is something I am feeling?

2. What is something I would like to feel in the next segment of my day?

3. What is something I will do to help myself feel that way?

My goal in starting this practice was simply to be more present and intentional, with less running on auto-pilot. But I'm realizing it is also a kind of hope practice.

Question 1 grounds me in reality, which is critical. Hope isn't about denial or pretending. It's about noticing what's actually there, and allowing myself to feel about it however I feel.

Question 2 is the core of hope: the willingness to imagine and invite in a new experience. I know I've hit on a good answer when I can already sense what that new experience would feel like -- and it feels good.

Question 3 commits me to action. Even if the action is as simple as sending an email, or checking in my kids, or doing a set of jumping jacks, making good on the commitment is satisfying.

When an action is fueled by hope, I'm also much more likely to do it, than if it were just another item on my list. It becomes an expression of agency and empowerment, a reminder that I'm not just at the mercy of my circumstances.

All of the actions I'm taking as a result of this hope practice are tiny, but they have an energy and momentum behind them that feels wonderful, and can sometimes carry me forward to the next activity, and the next.

"I think hope is our superpower," said Bryan Stevenson, later on in the interview. "It's what gets you to stand up when others say sit down. It’s the thing that gets you to speak when others say be quiet.”
I think he is right.

What is something you are willing to imagine for the future?

What do you want just for today?

Let's practice hope together.