Addicted to Hope

 Here's another film produced by Green Renaissance, "Addicted to Hope." The fellow in this film seems to have figured life out for himself.  I like that his name is never mentioned.  It's simply what he's learned and how he lives.  It gave me pause for thought, the distinction he makes between happiness and meaning. In my own life, I've not sought happiness so much as meaning. 

 The "pursuit of happiness" has always been a carrot on a stick.  We in the West have unconsciously believed -- an unexamined belief -- that happiness is the result of the fulfillment of our desires.  What a small, childish, selfish definition of happiness that is. 

As long as we think in strictly personal terms -- "I want my own happiness!" -- we will be striving towards a goal which will forever elude us.  And rightfully so.  We're fortunate if it eludes us.  Why?  Because then there is still the hope that we might find a deeper meaning than our own mere happiness.  The selfish pursuit of happiness implies that life is a competition.  It isn't.  Competition is something to be outgrown.  Cooperation is the way into the future.

In terms of helping people, as the protagonist of this little film suggests, I think it's important to remember that we aren't obliging anyone by lending a helping hand.  We're all just folks, struggling together, rather than against one another. 

The fact is, you can only truly help another person if you don't want anything from them.  Your actions will only really support their independence of thought and action if there are no strings attached.  As long you're still holding onto the idea of getting something in return, you're only involved in a transaction of selfishness.  Tit for tat.  While reciprocity is crucial in human relationship, calculation isn't.  If you're a calculating person, I don't want to know you.

However, if you're able to rise above that tendency and you aspire to be of some use to others, then you begin to enter the realm of impersonal love.  It's a case of expanding your sphere of interest until it is so wide, it collapses upon itself and your concern for others undoes your exclusive concern for yourself.  

Sometimes we need to hold people accountable.  But the first person you must hold accountable is yourself.  As our protagonist points out, we have no control over the circumstances into which we're born.  Perhaps they were tragic; you may have suffered mightily.  I don't mean to minimize that.

Although the damage is real, it need not define you forever.  Healing is always a possibility but it entails vulnerability, trust, integrity of purpose and intent upon your part. And real courage. The rewards, however, are immense. You fully join the panoply of life. And you can rewrite the part you play.

If you hold onto and honor the ideals that light the core of your own heart, then you have a light to offer another. Not everyone wants the light. Some prefer the dark. Leave them be.  It helped me to hear our protagonist remind us not to judge the way others have carried their own heavy load. 

Choice is our defining characteristic, our lever of Archimedes. I've made mine; you will make yours.  Life is not yet over.  That means there is still hope for meaningful action. And that's reason enough to go on.