The part above has been crossing my mind a lot—this part specifically, and it definitely inspired me to draft my own definition of hope for the Shelbish glossary.
This is the full passage, taken from The Gifts of Imperfection, by Dr. Brené Brown:
“…hope is not an emotion; it’s a way of thinking or a cognitive process. Emotions play a supporting role, but hope is really a thought process made up of what [C. R.] Snyder calls a trilogy of goals, pathways, and agency.
In very simple terms, hope happens when
We have the ability to set realistic goals (I know where I want to go).
We are able to figure out how to achieve those goals, including the ability to stay flexible and develop alternative routes (I know how to get there, I’m persistent, and I can tolerate disappointment and try again).
We believe in ourselves (I can do this!).
So, hope is a combination of setting goals, having the tenacity and perseverance to pursue them, and believing in our own abilities.”
Now, here’s my own definition again:
hope: (n.) the ability to find the avenue that holds the most potential for life and the action of walking towards that life-supporting path—internally and/or externally.
If you look at them side-by-side, you see the similarities (both are process-focused).
But the differences show our foundational lenses. Where Snyder {and Dr. Brown quoting him} focus on goals, as many of us do in our culture, I talk metaphorically about “walking a life-supporting path.”
I am a writer after all—I find metaphors extremely fun and nourishing, but here are some more concrete examples:
Sometimes, that includes a realistic goal as Synder and Brown describe above, such as, “I’d like to write more about hope.”
Sometimes that’s more of a looser curiosity, such as, “I wonder why I think this way about hope.”
Sometimes, that includes an open-ended experience, such as, “I’d like to feel more hope.”
And honestly, I’ve done all of these.
In my world, these are all realistic goals—perhaps slightly unusual, but necessary ones.