Hope

It's an e.e.cummings kind of day - you know this poem, "i thank you god, for this most amazing day for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky"? I have at last finished my essay and I feel alive. Like life has just begun again. It is almost worth studying to have the euphoria that comes once its over. Knowing tonight i can do what ever i like: lie in the pool til my skin wrinkles; curl up with a book, transported to another time and place; maybe begin those retro baby rompers i've designed; watch a movie ..? or just anything i like really... in reality i'll problably tidy up the mess of papers I've left everywhere while I was studying and go to bed early cause I'll be too tired to do anything else. Having possibilities is delicious though. Imagining what i might do rather than knowing there is something I have to do. It feels like summer, which feels like holidays. The hope of anticipation. What is 'hope' I wonder? It must have something to do with lack of constraint. But then the lack of constraint only feels so good because there has been constraint. Maybe hope can only be detected in waves; we experience it in the flow because we experience it's absence in the ebb. That's how it seems to me - but then i am privileged, fortunate, comfortable. I cant help but let the glorious blue of the jacarandas lift my spirit. They always fill me with expectant hope. Maybe that's because I associate them with advent. Which is puzzling in itself because i dont like Christmas. Maybe I will feel differently this year. Maybe I will look forward to Christmas. What must it be like to wait without hope, I wonder? Perhaps hope becomes relative - the waves are bigger or smaller depending on how calm or stormy the sea. For now I am grateful for the gentle breeze of little hopes rippling in and out of my ordinary days.