Abandon all hope
1st August 2009
"Don't get your hopes up, you'll only be disappointed."
You can feel the bitterness in their rasp, watery voices. "Once" - they might recall - "I too had dreams". Of travels, and riches, and cavorting freely with an odyssey of nymphomaniac supermodels. Now, all they have to show for their lifetime of troubles are their own back teeth. Most of them.
Losing our dreams can crush the spirit out of anyone. A true dream - a passion - is something we literally love, and losing what you love is the surest pain of all. Having ambition in many ways leaves you open to the potential heartbreak of failure.
The problem is the wrong kind of hope. Like all love, hope can go unrequited. Most hope is doomed to fail.
Don't hope to win the lottery.
Don't hope for someone else to do something.
Don't hope for the world to change.
Seriously. Don't even try. You're wasting your ambition, your attention, your energy - and stealing it from better causes. Everything you hope for should be something you influence, or you're giving control of what is most important to you to everything but yourself.
If you're hoping to win the lottery, you're surrendering to chance. Do you really want to bet your happiness on a 10 million to 1 jackpot? (As if winning would make that much difference).
Hoping for someone else to do something? Change? Treat you differently? Unless you can influence that person, abandon all hope. Seriously. If you can influence that person, hope that you can figure out how - and do it.
Do you hope that the world will change? Hoping that the economy gets better? That there was less crime in the world? Unless you can influence these things, don't waste time trying.
With dreams like these, it's no wonder people lose their hope.
What you're hoping for should be something you can do. Something you can achieve. You know that incredibly strong passion you feel, that desire for something to change? Imagine what that could do if you focused it on something you can accomplish?
Never hope more than you work.
