How to maintain hope and optimism
This week’s question comes to us from John O:
How do I maintain hope and optimism in a world that old men seem hell bent on destroying?
I’m afraid I’m neither a fan of hope nor optimism.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve certainly felt hopeful before. It feels nice. When I was a kid I really wanted an Atari 2600. (We all did.) When Christmas came around I asked my parents for one. On Christmas morning I ran out to the living room and eyeballed every box under the tree. I was hoping one of them was Atari 2600 shaped. It wasn’t. At which point I started hoping that maybe all the gifts weren’t under the tree yet. I hoped maybe my parents would emerge holding it. (They didn’t) I hoped they’d wait until we opened all the gifts and then pull the old “Looks like there’s maybe something peeking out behind the curtain” trick. (There wasn’t.) One of the problems with all these scenarios was that none of them had happened before. The other problem with all of these scenarios was that my parents just didn’t have the money for an Atari 2600, and no amount of hope or optimism could’ve fixed that.
And look, I wish I could tell you that on that very Christmas Day I resolved to earn my own Atari 2600, spent the winter shoveling snow, the summer mowing lawns, and the fall raking leaves, until I’d saved up enough to walk into Sears and buy it myself. But the honest truth is that a few days after Christmas one of my father’s sketchier friends came by and handed us a plastic bag with an unboxed 2600 and several game cartridges inside. He didn’t even come in the house. The doorbell rang. I opened the door. He handed me the bag and walked away. To this day I have no idea what was happening, and back then I had little desire to look a gift gaming system in the mouth.
If there’s a lesson to be learned from all this, I’m not sure what it is. But it’s a good story, so I told it.
Going back to your question, let me add a little nuance. I’m neither of a fan of hope nor optimism as coping strategies. They’re passive. You can hope for something to happen or you can take the steps to make it happen and then hope it works. (Yes, this would’ve 100% been a better lesson had I worked to earn the Atari 2600, but I didn’t want to lie to you, and the odds of a sketchy guy coming around with one are also super low.) Hope needs to be tied to action. Optimism needs to be tied to action. Then, not only is it maintained, but it has room to grow.
Here’s where I might piss you, and a lot of my readers, off: old men have always been hell bent on destroying the world. The fact that so many of us are only catching on to that now is a sign that so many of us have been in a privileged position where we were able to pretend it wasn’t happening. (Let me be crystal clear here: I know this doesn’t apply to all of you. I know some of you are in the shit up to your elbows. I see you and I love you.) But the majority of us are in a position to help other people—people who might’ve been aware the world was shit much sooner than we did. People who don’t know where their next meal is coming from. People who don’t know where they are sleeping tonight. People who’ve been denied medical care because their insurance provider denied coverage. People who are being bombed as I write this, and as you read it.
We’re all familiar with Mr. Rogers’ “look for the helpers” story. What’s worth remembering is that Mr. Rogers was speaking to children. We are no longer children. Which means it’s time to stop looking for the helpers and become the helpers.
Hope and optimism will come from helping those that need it. Hope and optimism will come from seeing that our actions, both big and small, can help others. Buy someone a fucking sandwich. Help someone pay their rent. Drive someone to the grocery store. And yes, put your body between their and those that would hurt them. Let people know you are here should they need you.
Help is not coming. You’re already here. I hope you’re ready. I’m optimistic you are.
🌊 LOL. I got a tsumani warning while I was writing this, so that was fun.
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