Thought On: (The Loss of) Hope

Today my French teacher called me radical.  I differ.  I am not radical.  I am just not surprised by human nature, and I am deeply pragmatic.

The bombing at the last mile of the Boston marathon was unconscionable.  It filled me with deep sadness.

But – perhaps this is why she labelled me “radical” – in some way I comprehend. 

I think acts of violence like this are the physical manifestation of what happens when someone (or groups of someones) loses hope.  When disenfranchisement happens.  When people no longer feel a part of society, when they no longer believe that society acts in their interests.  When institutions which should be trusted are believed to have turned their back. 

Senseless acts of violence occur when there is no hope.

~.~

I have gone on doing my triathlon training this week, as usual.  My week started off with Monday night yoga. 

At the onset of the practice we were asked to set our intentions.  The instructor suggested that if we decided to dedicate our practice for someone else, that we should set our intention and direct our thoughts to that person.  I started my practice with my Twitter friend Sheila King as the target of my intentions, as she is still in intensive care from an extremely serious bike crash on March 22nd.

At the end of the practice I looked at my phone and found a text from my sister.  “Did you hear? 2 bombs went off at the Boston marathon.”

This week as I have continued to train, before each session I have set my intentions – to train for Sheila, and to train for those impacted by the horror which happened in the last mile of the Boston marathon.

~.~

I wasn’t going to participate in “take a photo in a race t-shirt to show solidarity with the running community and Boston”.  It’s not that I lack a feeling of community or solidarity.  I just wasn’t going to take a photo.  I feel overwhelmed by the constant coverage on the televisions, by the neverending stream of reflection on social media… I just didn’t feel like adding my image or thoughts to the fray. 

But then my dear friend Melissa specifically asked me to contribute.  To share.

Friends matter.  I read Melissa’s blog post and decided that I was being irrational.  So I changed my mind and stood in front of my wardrobe, contemplating what shirt to wear.  And it struck me.

If I was going to do this, I needed to do it right.  I needed to wear the only race shirt I have that symbolises HOPE. 

My 2012 Paratriathlon National Championship t-shirt.  A race which was built on my dreams and which was altered by decisions and events completely out of my control. A race which showed to me that no matter what happens, life goes on, even if it might look different from my plans and expectations.  A race which showed me that out of shattered dreams new paths will emerge and new dreams will take shape.

A race t-shirt that symbolises hope.

~.~

Did Boston surprise me? Sadly, no. 

I watched CNN as the Twin Towers fell.  I walked across London on the 7th of July.  I have felt the gauntlet of emotions, and then more.

I have travelled with armed guards and in armoured vehicle convoys in places where I am a target simply because of what I represent.  What I represent?  A hope and aspiration that was killed, a hope and aspriation that someone never had or that someone was denied, a hope and aspiration that was lost due to corruption and contempt. I realised in a bizarre travel moment, as I sat sandwiched between armed guards, that I was a pawn in a game, a game whose players seek attention and redress, whose players want acknowledgement of their opinions, and that I was a target of those who felt silenced and who saw no other way to make themselves heard.

Boston… Boston saddens me.

We – the big collective communal we – WE need to figure out how to collectively turn this around.  How we can instill hope in people.

Because I don’t want to live in a world without it, or to be a daily target of those that have lost it.

Thank you Melissa for encouraging me to be participate and be included in your project – in this community.  Your heart gives me hope.