Hope (and Fear)

Hope and fear: two sides of the same coin. We can't have one without the other. I hope I can find time to finish my work; I'm afraid there won't be enough. I hope people read my books; I'm afraid they won't like them if they do. I hope they find my books meaningful; I'm afraid I've missed the mark. I hope, I hope, I hope; I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid. We can hope but hard on hope's heals is fear. Good old gut wrenching, hope smashing, life altering fear.

Writing is a scary process. There is always the chance that when I sit down at the keyboard nothing will come up, no thought will come forward to bear fruit, no idea will spring to life in a whisper or a roar. Add to that the fear of wasting time, of not being good enough, of not following a traditional route and putting my life and my work in the hands of someone else. And then there's daily life and all of its demands. I have journals full, files full, closets full of hopes and fears for my family. Sometimes it helps to write about them. Sometimes it's even fun to play through a scenario in my head or on paper that shifts my hopes into high gear and puts running shoes on fear. Hope for the future, fear of zombies. Now how rational is that?

All the hope and fear in the world, hours and days and weeks and years of it, won't change a thing. So I am practicing leaving hope behind me with the idea that its sidekick fear will evaporate, too. I am putting belief into daily action and letting action expand to take my life where it will. I believe that there is plenty of time to finish my work. I believe that people will read my books. I believe they will like them and find them meaningful. I believe that I am doing what is right for me.

I am learning each and every day that life just is. Regardless of what I hope my life will be and my fears of what it's not, life really just is what it is. And that's pretty spectacular. Or so I believe.