hope, revisited—a reflection

It was a year ago this month that I wrote about mapping hope. As I continue to move forward with the consequences of the pandemic descending upon us in March 2020, I continue to also consider what hope means to me, how to foster its light, and how to implement frameworks to mind map my hope-rooted vision board.

In late 2019 into early 2020, I spent many nights accompanying a loved one in the ICU. During those long months, I slept in a recliner chair by the side of his hospital bed and then going to the office to work during the day. Preparing for each of those evenings, I would try to eat dinner, walk my dog and then get emotionally ready for the night to be fully present with and for him. In that preparing, getting ready included bringing a pillow, a blanket, toothbrush and toothpaste, a couple of snacks, and a tote bag full of yarn for knitting.

During those evenings, I was also grateful I could be there for him and with him. I was grateful to have a laptop to do my work. I was grateful I had colleagues who accompanied me by cooking healthy meals for me, and I was grateful for his health insurance and medical team.

When I was unable to sleep, which happened every single night, I would move the recliner chair by the side of his bed to where the overhead light could help me see what I was knitting without disrupting his sleep, which became a precious commodity in the algebraic equation that was his healing. So, I knitted.

I knitted to ease my anxiety. I knitted as a distraction. I also knitted to give others something made with love (I knitted tons of scarfs and felt like Oprah: you get a scarf, you get scarf, and you get a scarf!). I did not know what else to do with myself when I could not pay attention or retain anything that I would read—and reading, which is a natural healing go-to for me, was not an option for holding space during those nights just like listening to music was not a go-to option for me since I did not want to miss anything my loved one would share or in case I heard something that I needed to share with his medical team.

Knitting has always been a source of love and of caring for me.

Also, knitting is so meaningful to me because it reminds me of my mother and of her mother: a gift that has been passed on to me through generations. I felt my grandmother and my mother nurturing me, holding me, carrying me when I felt tired: physically, emotionally and psychologically.

Since that time, my loved one is doing better but Iam (and we are) navigating being a full-time caregiver, navigating his health needs and both of us now being immunocompromised during a global pandemic, being on a trauma healing journey, and being hope-rooted, -centered, and -inspired. As I journal about those nights and these days, I think about how fast time is going and how to hold making moments in time matter.

Back when I was a doctoral student, I was very much influenced and inspired then, as I continue to be today, by the research on public portraiture Dr. Sarah Lawrence-Lightfoot conducted (and with whom I was blessed to share my research). Her scholarship is one that provided frameworks for me to explore the lived experiences that informed my identity. For my dissertation (2009—2014), I wrote:

"Therefore, innovation, much like storytelling, is a cumulative, iterative process with which leaders and social change agents need to be comfortable because of its role in decision-making, group dynamics, and ambiguity -- all of which are real components of creating social value and societal impact. Further, Gershon and Page (2001) posit that storytelling can positively be used as a paintbrush used to 'reveal' information as effectively as if they were watching a movie" "Situating Traumatic Memory in Social Value Creation" (Cardesa; 2014).

I believe that moments—events, experiences, engagements and/or encounters—in our lifetime inform our lived experiences; the cumulative process of building who we are. Also, I believe that there are moments—interactions, interruptions, inequalities and/or injustices—in our lifetime that accumulate and chip away at us, sometimes slowly over time or sometimes they instantly uproot us.

We have all been navigating life over the past two years and I wanted to revisit hope—as an emotion, as a framework, as a principle, as a destination, and as a journey.

As I thought about the theme for this issue of MappingOnward, the image of knitting kept coming to mind and heart.

Girija Kaimal, President of the American Art Therapy Association recently shared:

"Many people have leaned into crafting, from knitting to beading to adult coloring books, during the pandemic. The stresses of the past two years have taken an emotional toll on Americans of all ages." (The Independent; 2/23/22)

Further, in the same article, Dr. Jeremy Nobel, Harvard Medical School faculty member and founder of the Foundation for Art & Healing in Brookline, Massachusetts, shared: "Crafting can be anything that activates our creative impulses, from gardening to cooking to collage-making'".

In the Summer 2021 Issue of MappingOnward, I wrote about will power and way power, and ways I have created a path forward in my life. For me, I came to a point in my life where no longer wanted to feel the way I was feeling. I am not sure whether hope to move forward was the motivational input for my will to move forward or measurable outcome of my pathway to feel hope and hopeful.

Seminal work by C.R. Snyder and, specifically, his "Hope Theory: Rainbows in the Mind (2002)" is a portal I used in May 2020 when conducting a training with my team at the time to help situate ourselves and our work.

"Hope is defined as the perceived capability to derive pathways to desired goals, and motivate oneself via agency thinking to use those pathways. The adult and child hope scales that are derived from hope theory are described. Hope theory is compared to theories of learned optimism, optimism, self-efficacy, and self-esteem. Higher hope consistently is related to better outcomes in academics, athletics, physical health, psychological adjustment, and psychotherapy. Processes that lessen hope in children and adults are reviewed. Using the hope theory definition, no evidence is found for "false" hope. Future research is encouraged in regard to accurately enhancing hope in medical feedback and helping people to pursue those goals for which they are best suited." Snyder, C. R. (2002). Hope theory: Rainbows in the mind. Psychological Inquiry, 13, 249-275.

When considering the role of hope in our individual lives, organizations, productivity and in social or economic structures, I find the Alliance for Hope International as a meaningful resource operationalizing hope through a suite of services, programs and trainings.

Founded by Casey Gwinn, JD, who coauthored "Hope Rising: How the science of hope can change your life" with Chan Hellman, PhD, the Alliance leads hope-centered pathways we can consider for moving forward in our lives.

Rumi posed: "The answer is in the question" as well as "What you seek is seeking you."

In my moments of discernment, looking for answers to my many questions of why, I prayed, I walked, I journaled, and I also wondered:

What would being hope-rooted mean and look like for me?

What would being hope-centered mean and look like for me?

What would being hope-grown mean and look like for me?

I hope you will join my daily walk to see hope, to feel hope, to experience hope, to create hope, to pursue hope, to amplify hope, to decolonize hope, to deepen hope, to seek hope, to find hope, to encounter hope: to be hope: one day at a time.

"Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes of tides,

Still I'll rise." Maya Angelou

I rise in my learning from the hopes of tides.

With all my love,

C

Dr. Cecilia M. Cardesa, EdD, MSEd, MA is the founder and editor of MappingOnward. She is a social entrepreneur on healing journey mainstreaming and humanizing psychosocial trauma. This article originally appeared in the Winter 2022 edition of MappingOnward.