A long, long time ago I worked construction. If you could call what I did work. But I learned a few things from my stint as a mason. One, that it sucks. Two, that its interesting. And three, I was no where near as strong as I thought I was. Also, becoming severely dehydrated and passing out 8 stories up on scaffolding is not the most productive idea, nor is it conducive to ones health.
What does that have to do with what I'm trying to write about? Absolutely nothing. It just seemed like a good beginning, especially with a title like the one I've come up with.
I don't know how else to transition into what I want to say, because its not something that I can compose in a whirl of my semi-creative mind.
Occasionally in life, the system lets you down. You learn a truth that shatters your view of the world around you. Hope seems to vanish.
You've fallen through the cracks.
It's a sobering thing to realize that you don't matter. That you are small and unimportant to the world you live in. It's not a pleasant place to be. For every step forward you take, you slip two or three back. The moment you start to see the light and claw yourself out of the void, you get sucked back down.
But even after the hottest fire is extinguished, the coals still hold warmth. And if you fan those hard enough a flame erupts again. Hope is the same way. All we need is a spark. A chance to fan the flame. Even at our worst, when it seems everything has been extinguished the most important thing we can do is remember the heat once felt. The winds of opposition will serve to stir the ashes and allow oxygen to again reach the faint ember.
Hope is all we have once we've fallen into the void. Even if you don't feel like you have any, it burns on in the deepest parts of our souls.
It just needs a little fanning. You can't kill hope.
