Hope, When It Feels Furthest Away
The Power of Simple Acts
Hi friends,
Today, Iโm setting aside the usual focus to speak to something that feels both personal and universal: hope.
I know that today, hope may feel distant, pushed to the far edges of our minds, waiting quietly in the shadows. For many, itโs a moment of disappointment, even disorientation. Iโve been wrestling with my own reaction, even unable to write, before finding myself drawn, repeatedly, to one word: hope. Hope, I realized, is what we all need right now. Hope is a place we can come back to.
But what is hope?
And Iโm not talking about the easy, sunny kind of optimism that pretends everything is fine when it isnโt.
Hope does not bow to certainty. It doesnโt promise that everything will go the way we want. Instead, hope is often a quiet refuge, a small recovery, a handhold that lets us climb through lifeโs winding passages. It doesnโt rely on clear answers, only on our commitment to carry on, to be present in each day, and to find meaning in the movement forward.
Hope encourages us to look toward tomorrow, yes, but not to hold it in a tight grip. In Buddhism, weโre taught to hold hope lightly, as you might hold water in your hands. Itโs about faith not in a specific outcome but in the continual flow of things, in the certainty of change. And with this perspective, hope becomes something gentlerโan openness to whatever comes, with the belief that we can navigate it.
In my work with leaders, Iโm often asked how to cultivate hope in the face of the complex challenges, decisions, and relationships they face, as well as significant life transitions. These struggles can drain our reserves if weโre not careful.
I tell them hope isnโt grand or elusive; itโs something we can all nurture in our lives through small, steady practices. Yesterday, hope found me in its simplest form: two of our closest friends ran off and got married with their beautiful children alongside, a reminder of the power of love amid a complex time. And I had a call with my daughter; hearing her voice and perspective, I was grounded by the beauty of our connection.
When things feel unsteady, hopelessness doesnโt mean we need to search for hope; it might mean we need love and connection. As strange as it sounds, the opposite of hopelessness isnโt always hopeโitโs connection, compassion, and kindness, the kind of kindness we can extend to ourselves and others when the world feels out of sync.
Where, then, do we find hope?
We can look within, where hope quietly lives, waiting for us to rediscover it. We can cultivate it through gratitude, counting small blessingsโwarm coffee, sunlight breaking through clouds, a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Hope is humble; it doesnโt need big gestures to emerge, just acknowledgments of what we have now.
We can find hope in each other: gathering together, sharing our uncertainties, and going through difficult times side-by-side rather than in isolation. And when we do this, we remember weโre part of something larger than ourselves, a community of people doing their best with what they have. And thatโknowing weโre not alone in this vast, uncertain worldโis powerful.
Hope, as Iโve come to understand it, is a practice of presence and openness. We can find it in the choices we make each day: to be present, to be intentional, to live from our values and sense of purpose, and to reach out and find joy in the people around us, even when the road is rough, and our aspirations feel out of reach.
To enjoy hope, we must let go of what we canโt control and trust ourselves to handle what we can. When our hearts fill with hope, we realize that every moment of laughter, every quiet act of kindness, and every moment spent with loved ones is a choice to believe in something better. To get there, do your best, reach for the good as much as possible, and recognize that you may not always succeed. But keep trying. Keep showing up. Keep driving positive change.
Iโve got a sticky note posted in my office with a quote by Sharon Salzberg, a mindfulness teacher; the link to the article has long disappeared, but the quote is:ย
โIn order to work for changeโin our personal lives or in the worldโwe need to find ordinary things that can help us sustain our energy and optimism.โย
A morning walk, a run, a few breaths on the mat, laughter with a friend, the steady beat of good music in our earsโall these small things refuel us and keep us moving forward.
So, if youโre feeling heavy-hearted, lost, or confused, start small. Find a moment of connection with yourself or someone you love. Try a practice that grounds you. Take refuge in hopeโnot in a hope tied to any outcome, but a hope rooted in resilience, community, and presence.ย
Today, letโs let hope be quiet, even fragile. But let it be enough. Release what you canโt control; carry on with what you can. Be here, now, with love for yourself and others.
Iโm Janine Mathรณ, and Iโm writing Live Your Opus, a book for ambitious people who crave deeper meaning, fulfillment, and direction but sometimes struggle to break through (forthcoming 2025). As always, thanks for being here. If this resonates, please share this letter with others who might benefit. Thank you!
Until next time, be well,
I publish on Substack twice a week, on Mondays & Thursdays. The format of this letter is evolving as I write my book, so I look forward to your comments and input. Subscribe here, and now you can join hundreds of people reading my letters on LinkedIn. You can learn more about me and my work here.
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๐ Join the waitlist for the second cohort of Project Opusโan invitation-only program for entrepreneurially-minded women.