Hope is not a blissful ignorance. It is neither contented, nor unaware. Neither naively optimistic, nor thinking wishfully.
"[H]ope", Nick Cave says, "has an earned understanding of the sorrowful or corrupted nature of things".
Hope knows all too well how fucked we are. How fucked-up everything is. How much more fucked it all could still be. And yet, hope, Cave says, "rises to attend to the world" anyway.
That's what hope is. The 'And-yet' of our existence.
The world is broken. Hollowed-out and bleeding. It is being emptied, daily, of all compassion and empathy. And filled instead with the wretchedness of despicable things.
Reason says that it's hope-less. That's it's not worth saving. That there's not much left to believe in. And if we were honest with ourselves we'd have to admit that, to a greater or lesser extent, it's true.
But hope says "And yet", even still...
P.S. - ICAD - Day 230 - 233 - The collages below and many others are available for purchase here.
The two index cards below were made as submissions for the next issue of Cut Me Up Magazine. Last week I made a video for my paid subscribers showing my process of making one of these.
P.P.S. - Speaking of Cut Me Up Magazine, I have a collage in the current issue.
Well-said, Duane. Hope to me is that sliver of expectation that somehow reflects the smallest point of light against all logic and reason. What is the source of the point of light? Ego? A Diety? Desire for outcome(s)? Still not sure.
Finding these was just a hiccup that revealed a whole language in one word.