Missoula News

Hope Without Obstacles

By Brooke Hewes, 11-22-06

I have always considered hope a benign sentiment. Hope is optimistic—it is the stuff of sunshine and rainbows, not obstacles, and certainly not tragedy. And then I read Thich Nhat Hahn’s book “Peace is Every Step.”

“When I think deeply about the nature of hope, I see something tragic,” writes the Buddhist monk. “Since we cling to our hope in the future, we do not focus our energies and capabilities on the present moment.” Only when we refrain from hope, continues Hahn, can we fully be present. So while hope may be helpful, it is never enough.

In the May/June 2006 edition of Orion Magazine, writer and environmentalist Derrick Jensen says hope “chains us to the system.” False hope of change, he explains (naming technology, Jesus Christ and Santa Claus as such chariots of false hopes), causes ineffectiveness and inaction. Hope, he writes, blinds us to real possibilities.

Both Hahn and Jensen agree that because hope casts one’s energy into the future, it is an obstacle to realizing the _________ (inner/environmental/financial, fill in the blank) possibilities and peace right here right now that inherently permeate us all.

So do we abandon hope? Do we recalibrate our internal thesaurus to align hope with despair rather than delight?

Last Friday at a workshop titled “Imagine: A Conversation with the Future,” facilitator Bliss Browne explored and encouraged a different idea of hope. Active hope -- hope that is grounded in the moment by our present ideas, and that shapes dreams into possibility rather than wishful expectancy. For a full day (Veterans Day, nonetheless), a room of mostly strangers was encouraged to explore the kind of hope that moves and motivates people, organizations and communities forward, not backward.

The kind of hope that I can (I hope) keep.

Imagining, Drawing Hope in Missoula

“Draw your picture of hope,” Bliss Browne said into the microphone, which amplified her soft, encouraging voice across the half-full conference room at the University of Montana.

Behind Browne, whose small, rounded back stood against a wall of windows, you could see a fresh layer of snow on the mountains north of Missoula. Inside, around the dozen or so tables in front of her, the mostly-women participants reached towards the blue, red, and yellow construction paper arranged across the table, already matching the colors to their idea of hope.

This was Bliss Browne’s first trip to Missoula. She spent the day before in Bozeman, and it’s quite likely the week before somewhere across the globe, helping communities harness hope to create a vision for their future. Browne -- mother of three, Episcopal priest, former corporate banker, now inspirational speaker—believes that in order to set goals, communities must practice articulating these goals. And not necessarily with suits and ties and formal speech, but with stories, images and questions. And certainly not by repeating what isn’t working, but rather what is working. It is such premises of successful civic engagement that inspired Browne in 1991 to establish Imagine Chicago—a nonprofit organization dedicated to cultivating hope and community through partnerships across ages, race and class—with the mantra “understand, imagine, create.”

Understand the best of what is. Imagine what can be. Create what will be.

On Friday while emphasizing the importance of affirmative language in effective communication, one word—hope—conjured 90 different images to 90 different people.

“I drew a lotus because despite the fact that they are mired in muck, they always bloom towards the light,” one woman explained of the drawing that she held above her head.

“I drew my dog,” said another, ‘because we have much to learn from animals’ deep reservoir of love and forgiveness.”

Molly, a woman sitting next to me with a laugh capable of filling the room, drew herself, mouth open with a speech bubble waiting to be filled. At this Browne smiled. “The ultimate act of engagement is embodying hope,” she said.

By transcending language and culture, Browne said, images create pathways for the imagination. As creations, images are also acts of commitment.

Likewise, questions—those cloaked in positive rather than defeating language—identify direction and help define goals. We should ask our community “What and why does it work?” rather than “What problems are we having?” or “What or who caused those problems?” What she calls “appreciative inquiry” guides and encourages conversation and ideas. All good questions make you think—they stretch your imagination and inspire thoughts about the future without evoking defenses or hostility.

After sharing images and questions about hope, the group shared their stories of hope.

Molly, again the woman whose wide, honest smile kept inspiring my own, shared her experience in Iowa, living on a hog farm as a vegan. The farmer warned her of the pigs. “Don’t touch those pigs,” he said. “They are vicious. They’ll bite you.” And Molly resisted and resisted, but eventually reached out and patted a pig. The pig licked her. The farmer was amazed. He didn’t think the pigs capable. Later, after Molly left, he wrote her and thanked her. Molly gave the farmer hope. The farmer gave Molly hope.

We all shared stories of transition and change, often in unlikely places, often at unlikely times, most articulating hope otherwise cloaked.

We spent six hours practicing hope, and not the hope Thich Nhat Hahn and Derrick warn against that is contingent upon an outcome. We explored yesterday’s hope. We practiced holding hope for civic momentum now, unattached to its fruition. On Friday, thanks to Bliss Browne and the collective energy of 90 people choosing to spend their day off work and school imagining the hopeful possibilities of now, I got my hope back.

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