What shape is hope?
Before you dismiss this as a drug induced post let me try to explain my thinking. I guess the first thing to ask is can hope ever have a shape? I believe it can. In fact I know it can.
Not very convincing so far I think, so how’s this as an explanation. I didn’t always have this injection of positivity in my life, but hope has been proved as an unquestionable reality to me. Consequently I have hung on to my belief of the beauty that I know is there - in people and things (somehow) and, without even realising it at first, I began to see evidence of that hope appear in my life more frequently. It’s a bit like a magician’s trick: “Now you see it, now you don’t,” then ... “Voila! Now you see it again.” In my heart of hearts I know that what I have seen and known is real so, while getting on with the business of living, I have experienced so many different types of hope materialising in my life; hopes that I didn’t know existed until I saw them, hopes that I had forgotten about, hopes that were once only in my dreams.
It is my belief that things always change; circumstances occur that are a bit like wearing steamed up glasses – you just can’t see anything clearly, but then, like moving back from a suddenly opened oven door, the steam begins to dissipate.
In my life hope has taken on many different shapes at different times. Hope has also been different colours.
Today, my hope is blue – a vibrant blue – and it is alluringly shaped.