Hope - Lisa Faulkner

Hope. Without it I wouldn’t want to live. Love too. But on a day to day basis I need hope. And passion. Hopelessness is the worst for me because then I have no energy and sit around doing nothing or worse, watching bad tv. Luckily it doesn’t take much, just a wisp of hope. Like a little seed deep inside. It doesn’t take much to bring it to life. Listening to an inspiring documentary. Or reading an encouraging voice, someone who’d been there before. Getting a hug from my husband (though that one can also just be pure comfort - still need to write that one). Talking to a friend. And of course my S class. That never feels to bring back hope and energy and passion to my life. Last week I did not want to go to class on Friday. But I didn’t want to lose it, so I went. And Ana’s circuit of a minute on each pole, then chair exhausted yet energized me. It pulled shit out of me, crankiness and debris that makes it harder for that seedling to flourish. Sometimes it just takes a song. Listening to an uplifting one like Anastacia’s Beautiful Messed Up World. That never fails to make me want to dance around my kitchen and I often do. I think it reminds me that just like the world I don’t have to be perfect to be wonderful. When I first heard that phrase I didn’t believe it, didn’t accept it. It took lot of repeating and a chipped vase for me to see it was true. My friend, Karen gave me a blue vase as a birthday present. My husband was washing it when it was still new, maybe after I’d used it once. He dropped it in the sink and it chipped. We couldn’t fix it. Instead of being happy it hadn’t shattered to pieces, I was angry. He apologized. I don’t remember if he suggested or I made the connection myself to the “you don’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.” But it fit this vase perfectly. And it's true. When filled with flowers, you can’t even see the chip. The flowers cover it up. The vase reminds me that we all have flaws and scars. But they don’t make us any less. We learn from them. And sometimes the scars and blemishes make us more beautiful. Like with antiques. Like our dining room table, which is very imperfect. The planks are reclaimed wood from a Scottish brewery. But I prefer it to a shiny new table. And my rocking chair, which is getting worn from use, one runner more than the other. And yet it’s natural cherry color has gotten deeper, richer with age. I’ve spent many hours in that chair. I was in that chair when I first read the ETL book that introduced me to plant-based eating, the cure for our modern chronic diseases. I wouldn’t trade that chair for a brand new one.