Jung hung a plaque on his threshold which read:
“Invited or Uninvited: God is Present.”
The sign that I’ve often imagined placing over my office door, not quite as cozy and inviting as Jung’s, would read as follows:
“Surrender Hope Ye Who Enter Here.”
Although I suppose that a slogan lifted straight from Dante’s Gates of Hell might be a little daunting for new clients.
For some Hope may float, spring eternal, and be a thing with feathers. But very often my job seems to be to squelch, sink or pluck it.
Hope is an angel, but also a demon.
Nearly everyone who walks into this office does so because, whether they know it or not, one way or another, they are trapped in Hope’s dark clutches.
Pandora brought the box of ills and opened it. It was the gift of the gods to men, outwardly a beautiful and seductive gift, and called the Casket of Happiness. Out of it flew all the evils, living winged creatures, thence they now circulate and do men injury day and night. One single evil had not yet escaped from the box, and by the will of Zeus Pandora closed the lid and it remained within. Now for ever man has the casket of happiness in his house and thinks he holds a great treasure; it is at his disposal, he stretches out his hand for it whenever he desires; for he does not know the box which Pandora brought was the casket of evil, and he believes the ill which remains within to be the greatest blessing, it is hope. Zeus did not wish man, however much he might be tormented by the other evils, to fling away his life, but to go on letting himself be tormented again and again. Therefore he gives Man hope,- in reality it is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of Man. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche (Human All Too Human, 71. Hope)
Hope, may be the center of the three theological virtues along with Faith and Charity, but it carries dangerous and pathological aspects as well.
Hope, misdirected, misplaced, can cement our attachments to people and places that are destructive to us. Hope can dangle, like bait, with a sharp hook embedded inside to keep us waiting for transformations that will never come. Hope gone haywire lurks at the root of all addictions – and we all know the “definition of insanity” is doing the same thing over and over and hoping for different results.
Hope can block out necessary grief, forestalling or arresting entirely, the sweet release of necessary loss and healthy mourning. Hope can deceive us, obscuring realities that we need to face. Hope can keep us waiting for Godot, who will never come. Hope to “get out of” is the root of all denial.
Pernicious hope lures the gambler to go “all in” on a long shot, and invites cowardice to search for means of magical escape. Hoping for divine intervention, waiting passively to be lifted out of circumstances that require our labor and our conscious intention, Hope can bind and paralyze us.
Youth is easily deceived because it is quick to hope. ~ Aristotle, Rhetoric
Hope can keep us places that we need to leave, and seduce us into leaving places where we should stay.
Hope futurizes, pulling on us to abandon the present moment, and numbing us to it.
Hope insinuates that we can get out of our distress – when our soul’s only salvation may be to go through it.
Where Hope is, fear lurks just below.
We dread the dark lessons, the painful transformations, the inevitable losses that life requires of us. We do not want to give up on the dirty well. Pernicious hope tempts us to return to it over and over in search of clean water.
Hope is grippy, sticky, grasping.
It sneaks up quietly and carries a big hook:
Shenpa is the urge, the hook, that triggers our habitual tendency to close down. We get hooked in that moment of tightening when we reach for relief. ~ Pema Chodron
Hope is the ally of quacks and con-men, and the sidekick of all duplicity. We cannot be tricked if we do not hope for an easy solution or a free lunch. Hope helps Illusion disguise itself as Reality.
Hope can distract, divert, drain our energies away from dreaded but unavoidable responsibilities, stealing our focus, and our acceptance of the task at hand.
Every defense, every resistance, every form of self-sabotage contains, at the bottom of the box, Hope in some form.
Many describe themselves as hopeless, who are in truth, being tortured by pathological hopes that they cannot let go of.
To surrender hope is an exhausting and terrifying process. Hope is a habit that is hard to extinguish, a fix we can’t stop jonesing for. It reasserts itself, stubborn, persistent, sneaky, a craving, a crutch.
The work of psychotherapy is often to chase down and sort through the flock of slippery and Pernicious Hopes in all their diverse and daemonic aspects. To capture one at a time, examine it, to challenge and question its true mission, to uncover exactly which god this particular Hope obeys.
To exorcise it.
And the therapist’s hopes can have as much destructive power as the client’s. To hope too much on behalf of a client is a rejection of where they actually are. To hope to cure a client is inflated and grandiose as that prerogative is theirs alone. To hope to rescue someone from their circumstance is avoidant and can instill more fear in the client toward what may lie ahead, implying that it cannot be faced. Therapists may also hope to escape the painful or frightening aspects of a client’s journey and wrestle with the tempting hope, like Jesus did, that the dark cup will taken from them both.
Surrender All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.
And much maligned Hopelessness, always given short shrift, can bring sweet relief. Giving up, surrender, admitting defeat, hitting bottom, allows us to lay on the damp earth, face down, grounded, maybe bloodied, but on the earth, and of the earth for good, for ill.
We can breathe again when Hope releases us from its clutches. When there is nothing left to lose, we are no longer afraid. We can rest, heal up, and when we have gathered our energies, face what is real squarely and without letting Hope deceive us. Without Hopelessness we cannot embrace our fate or face our destiny.
The great gift of angelic Hopelessness is Acceptance.
To write without hope is the very best way to write.
Dante passed through the Gates of Hell, and descended through its terrible rings before he was permitted to rise up through Purgatory to glimpse Paradise.
True, angelic Hope lives on the other side of Hopelessness. It does not protect us from hopelessness or help us avoid it. It is the gift we are sometimes given when we have withstood hopelessness past the point of what we thought we could endure. It is often hidden, buried, or dwelling just past the horizon line of our limited perceptions. Sometimes it is just the sound of water, the smallest trickle, in the far distance. It is hard to hear, impossible to see, and rarely obvious.
Angelic Hope descends as an unexpected visitor, as a moment of grace as something we can never expect, demand, and will turn destructive if we cling to it too tightly.
It comes on its own. And not when it is called.
And we must too often abandon it, surrender it, kill it, in order to receive it again, anew.
And to extinguish hope is no guarantee of its arrival.
It will come in its own time anyway.
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
~ T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets