In a world where the “right” thing often feels heavy and daunting, or even impossible at times, there’s a quiet, fierce question that many of us carry: “Why do we keep at it?” I’m talking about the hard work—the stuff that requires the commitment to keep showing up, even when it seems that hope is merely a flickering ember, and hopelessness hovers like a rain cloud that’s overstayed its welcome. I have definitely had plenty of moments when this question was real and alive for me. It was usually during times when something I was deeply passionate about – personal or professional – was ending, whether because it ran its natural course, or was abruptly “taken away” from me.
That strange tension, between hope and hopelessness, is a juicy area where we might find our truest reasons to continue.
Hope Isn’t What We Thought It Was
For many, hope sounds like a word for the starry-eyed or the untested. It’s sold to us in bite-sized packages, like fortune cookie wisdom, a fleeting meme on the smartphone screen, or motivational posters. It might conjure images of an uphill climb, powered by faith in some bright, beautiful resolution waiting for us at the top. Only $299.95 with a full refund, no questions asked.
But real hope is different. It’s quieter, a little worn around the edges, and less about the bright, shiny future we might imagine than about finding some steady ground to plant our feet on. One today after another. Real hope doesn’t promise us a carefree ending; rather, it promises us that our efforts aren’t futile, even if they feel that way in the moment. It’s the trust and faith that there’s meaning woven into the work itself, whether or not we ever see the grand, feel-good Hollywood movie-style conclusion.
Real hope, you see, is not always sweet. Sometimes it’s salty, a bit bitter, maybe even a touch spicy. It’s the grit that allows us to put one foot in front of the other, even when every voice in our head tells us it won’t make a difference. And hope, in its truest form, doesn’t guarantee success; it promises only that we’re not alone in the striving.
One of the magical things about hope is that it shows up unexpectedly. A common repeating situation I have been encountering over the past two decades is when I am teaching, facilitating, or leading various programs and retreats (with the key themes being Leadership and Personal Development, Right Livelihood, Awakened Living, or any other flavour of deep inner work). There have been numerous occasions when a participant – significantly younger than me – would share their worldview on something I just happen to be feeling hopeless about in the moment, and I would be utterly amazed at the richness and depth of their perspective. That is the moment hope shows up for me, whispering, “See, perhaps you were clueless about anything of meaning at their age, but listen to this person now. Not all is lost!”
The Gift of Hopelessness
At first, hopelessness seems like hope’s dark opposite, the shadowy underbelly of optimism that reminds us of every reason we shouldn’t try, every moment where we fell short before. But hopelessness, in its own twisted way, is a kind of liberation. When we truly give up on the need to control the outcome, we find an unexpected freedom to act without needing to win. “If I wasn’t involved with <this particular thing> right now, would I rather be doing something else, like sitting on a beach or doing any other version of ‘meaningless’?” is the question that would pop up to mind for me, in one of the many moments of hopelessness. The truth is that there are times when I would be tempted to say yes, yet remembering immediately after that I have had those times before and none of them lasted long. The satisfaction was fleeting, and I can’t trick myself into believing otherwise. So, yes, it is back to <this or that particular thing> for me, every single time.
Hopelessness reminds us that we are not in charge of how things turn out. Sure, we might wish for applause and happy endings, but the world has other plans. It’s in these moments—when all signs of external reward disappear—that we find ourselves and our motives stripped bare. It’s almost like an existential reset button, daring us to go back to our original, deeply human reasons for doing what is right. And, let’s be honest, it’s oddly freeing to realize that maybe no one is keeping score as meticulously as we feared.
So, Why Keep Doing the Heavy Work?
The interplay between hope and hopelessness creates a space where true commitment, determination, and resilience are forged. That amber in the belly that refuses to dim and fade. This interplay is like a dance where neither partner quite takes the lead, but each brings a vital energy to the floor. Without hope, we might sink under the weight of our own apathy. Without hopelessness, we might become rigid, obsessed with forcing outcomes rather than experiencing life’s more subtle textures.
To keep showing up for the heavy work requires a blend of both. It’s saying, “I may not get the result I want, but I’ll give my best anyway.” It’s the paradox of staying committed to a purpose greater than ourselves while releasing control over what comes next. And there’s something almost rebellious, a bit cheeky, in that decision—to act with integrity for its own sake, not because we’re holding out for some cosmic pat on the back. It is because we don’t want to let that little – or massive – amber in the belly to die, to fade from existence. Sure, there might be times when that amber is barely noticeable, and we would do well to be attuned to it and hold it gently in our palms. Yet, there is also time when that little amber needs to become big, illuminating the way forward and the next round of resilience, commitment, and heavy work.
