hope – Gonzo With the Wind

I’m pretty sure you all knew that I wasn’t going to write about what I hinted at last week, because life happens. Or doesn’t, to be fair. Time is a fickle beast. So, let’s just move on, eh?

Also, this is going to be very, very short.

I have no idea how this song snuck onto my radar as a kid, but I’m going to assume the radio had something to do with it. (If you can’t remember a time where the radio and/or fanzines got you into new shit, this blog is not for you). Regardless of its origin and my disregard of the band’s popularity – and my being the ripe old age of about 12 – I found the song’s lyrics resonated with me in such a way that it’s still a go to for my brain’s playback system whenever I am about to head straight down into the welcoming arms of the great abyss:

“I’ll do my crying in the rain”

Makes sense, doesn’t it? It also makes me think that perhaps that song was one of many reasons I fell in love with running in Edinburgh; whenever I hit one of those milestones PBs, it was on an empty stomach, a monster hangover and an all-encompassing need to knacker myself out in order to deal with everything – and if it wasn’t raining, the morning haar rolling down off the Seat would do the trick.

Also, apologies to any pedestrians along the Porty promenade that may have found themselves in the way of a greetin’ bastard singing along to one of David Hasselhoff’s greatest hits instead of breathing, punding the pavement as if they had any right to be there…

These days, I’d like to think I’ve found better ways to deal with my emotions (or, perhaps having someone teach me how to put certain things into words rather than trying to force them out in the most violent way possible had something to do with it), but very few things will feel as cathartic as a good old cry in the rain.

And it is this that I’d like to dwell on for a bit today, if you may. Because things are bound to happen. Something will remind you of something that impacted you in your youth. I came across a lyric the other day, from one of my favourite songs off of an Alanis Morisette album, that I’d never once thought about before:

“I’m 13 again. Am I 13 for good?”

And the words moved me, because my one of three reasons for still walking this earth is trying to do things that would make ‘the dreamer‘ (AKA 13yo moi) happy. Something that would make it all worthwhile. And something’s awakened this dreamer and it has left me terrified that all of my attempts to rid the world of my essence will come back to bite me on the arse. I’ve crossed off a big item on my bucket list and I find myself daring to hope it won’t be the only one.

That is all for this week. I’ll see you next Tuesday. If you made it all the way down here, here’s a special treat for you:

Ever feel as if you’re going 200 miles per minute without moving an inch? Completely untethered, yet somehow confined by some invisible force that makes any type of forward movement impossible? You’re desperate to move, but void of course – any attempt at starting something new seems to fizzle out almost before you’ve even begun… Turns out there’s a word for that; Kenodromia¹.

The Greek term [Kenodromia] is used in astrology, as a name for the period “when the moon is passing through a ‘void’ region in the zodiac” (as defined by Porphyry of Tyre in Introduction to the Apotelesmatika of Ptolemy), meaning, in a sense, that any activities, planning or manifestations executed within the specific time period that falls on this region will be futile. There’s more on the meaning of a ‘void of course moon’ on Jupiter’s Realm, if this is your cup of tea.

Now, regardless of your views on astrology, I think just about anybody would be able to relate to the feeling of utter hopelessness that labouring with futility beckons. And hopelessness is certainly something most of us would like to avoid feeling. Hope is what gets us through when everything has turned to shit and there’s no guarantee things will get better. What is the meaning of anything, if we don’t have hope for the future?

Last Friday saw the marking of World Mental Health Day, a day with an objective to raise awareness of mental health issues around the world. A tremendously important day for too many reasons to mention, made even more significant for me this year, as this was the day that Jess from The Next Chapter chose to share her review of my book. I love how The Next Chapter keep their content fresh and unique – they’re a go-to for anyone looking to find new authors, books with interesting hooks, or even the locations of the most magical little bookshops. You can check out what they had to say about my book on Instagram by clicking anywhere on this sentence.

For those of you who have read Journey to the Centre of the Mind…, you will know that the the story’s protagonist is faced with the choice between giving up completely or accepting and dealing with the detrimental effects of untreated mental illness. Needless to say, I am all about raising awareness and spreading the word. I am truly honoured that they posted about my book on such a special day. What’s more, it gave me hope. Hope that the story can keep finding readers who need it. The hope that others will find hope for themselves or their loved ones by reading the story. The hope that we will one day be able to remove any stigma or misconceptions. The hope that governments will start allocating the funding required for the medical treatment and ongoing research of mental health issues and illnesses. And that’s why I thought I’d look at the significance of hope today. After all, hope is the reason we’re all here.

The meaning of hope, according to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, is “to cherish a desire with anticipation”. Many renowned philosophers, such as Descartes, Hobbes, Leibniz and Spinoza, distinguish hope from wishful thinking in that hope can be likened to confidence – something that can function as a catalyst once you realise that something is you desire is attainable. The theoretical likelihood of failure can be equal to that of success, but being able to see what needs to be put in place gives you motivation enough to convince yourself that the positive outcome is achievable. Hope’s opposite is fear, which we all know can function as a sort of assurance of negativity. One breeds optimism while the latter breeds negativity (guess which one is easier to succumb to).

Brian Lawlor, Founding Director at GBHI at Trinity College Dublin, wrote in the post pandemic article What is Hope and Why Do We Need it? that hope is “a feeling and a mindset that you have to work at in order to achieve your goals, despite trying and extenuating circumstances”. It seems to me that hope is indeed something that we need, for both sustenance and growth – collectively and individually.

Unsurprisingly, it seems as if hope can beneficial to healing as well. In a 2019 article on Psychology Today, Polly Campbell writes that “research indicates that hope can help us manage stress and anxiety and cope with adversity”.

Hope isn’t just a feeling or ‘wishful thinking’. Rather, it is the ability to see beyond the horizon. It’s not about trying to be optimistic where we should be realistic, it is about knowing success is possible and taking an active role in achieving it by figuring out the steps. It is about keeping your calm and trusting the process, even on those days where it feels as if we’re completely stuck and nothing works the way that it should. It’s like realising you will have to abandon pole position in a race to refuel when your car is running on fumes if you want any real chance at making it through the last few laps at all – when there’s gas in the tank, there’s still hope.

Maybe this feeling of running in the void is the universe telling us we need to take a break. Who knows? All I know is that hope is powerful.

See you next Tuesday, no doubt for some more blatant self-promotion.

Kenodromia is also the name of a band. You’ll find out what they sound like when you click on this sentence. ↩︎

Tag: hope

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Running in the void