HOPE

Is there a possibility?

This question from a book by Lars Amend sparked something in me some time ago. Since then, it has accompanied me through many situations in life and has given me strength.

It helps me keep the possibility of a positive outcome alive. Sometimes it is enough to believe that there is a way forward, even if I can't see it yet.

Hope is not certainty

At some point I realized that hope is not the conviction that everything will turn out well.
Hope is the willingness to allow for the possibility that it could.

I have always been a very positive person and have often seen possibilities where others had long stopped looking. Because of that, I was often described as naively optimistic. That used to hurt me and, above all, make me doubt myself.
I still hear that criticism today, but it hardly hurts anymore. By now, I trust that hope carries me far more than it could ever harm me.

Hope needs critical thinking

I meet many highly critical people in my everyday life. I often notice an attitude shaped by negativity,
helplessness and cynicism - sometimes cleverly disguised as humor. Personally, I could never really relate to it.
It always left me with an uncomfortable feeling, although for a long time I couldn't quite explain why.
At times I even wondered whether I simply lacked a sense of humor.

Recently I came across a thought that perfectly captured what I had been feeling:

Critical thinking without hope is cynicism.
But hope without critical thinking is naivety.

Today I often see cynicism as an attitude that dismisses change before it even has a chance.
To me, this perspective is missing something essential: the foundation for solution-oriented action.

Hope as the foundation for action

When I look back on my life, hope has repeatedly been the force that carried me through difficult times.

And even though hope motivates me, I don't see myself as uncritical. My hope does not mean:
I am certain everything will turn out well. It means something much simpler: There is a possibility.

As long as I have hope, I remain capable of acting. When I acknowledge uncertainty while believing that I can still influence the outcome, at least in part, it makes sense for me to take action.
Hope is not a substitute for action - it is its foundation.

We never know what will happen. The future is uncontrollable and uncertain.
Yet it is precisely this uncertainty that creates space for hope.
I don't need to know whether something will succeed in order to believe it is worth doing.

Hope inspires action. Action gives rise to new hope.
The two nourish each other.

Hope and reality are not opposites

History shows us that social change often begins with many small actions -
even when their impact remains invisible at first.

In conversations about society or the environment, I often hear statements like:

"It won't make any difference."
"I can't change anything on my own."
"The people in power will decide anyway."

These statements sound reasonable. But they take away exactly what makes change possible in the first place:
our ability to act.
Because if nobody believes change is possible, nobody will act.
And if we stop acting, aren't we leaving the decisions to those in power?

Hope does not mean ignoring reality. For me, it means acknowledging reality while still leaving room for possibility.

History is often told the wrong way

History is often told as a sequence of great personalities and powerful decisions. In doing so, the countless activists, movements and communities that made those changes possible disappear from the story.

Many achievements we now take for granted were fought for by people who were once considered unrealistic or naïve.

The abolition of slavery, women's suffrage and the LGBTQ+ movement did not happen because those in power suddenly changed their minds. They happened because people believed in a possibility. People standing at the margins of society whose success seemed anything but likely at the time. They believed change was possible and refused to accept the status quo.

Their hope became the driving force behind their actions. And from many small actions emerged changes that had once seemed impossible.

Time and again, passionate people have shown that what is does not have to remain the way it is.
That the status quo can be unjust - or simply wrong.

The impact of our actions often appears much later

How many writers, artists and creators were only truly understood or celebrated long after they had died?

We plant seeds, seeing only the possibility that they may grow.
We plant a tree without knowing whether we will ever sit in its shade. Yet we plant it anyway.
Not because of certainty - but because of hope.

So why not plant a tree today?
Restore a river.
Help another person.

Perhaps it isn't always about seeing immediate results. Perhaps it is about doing what feels right to us.
Because that is where hope begins for me.

Sometimes I ask myself:
What has the greater impact on our world? The belief that everything is already lost - or the trust that our actions can still make a difference despite all the uncertainty?

Not only when I know my actions will succeed. But already in the moment I feel I am moving in the right direction.
Whether anything grows from it, and when, is often beyond my control.

But meaning does not begin for me at the destination.
It begins on the journey.

Perhaps that is what hope really is:
Trusting that the next right step already has meaning.
Even if we don't yet know where it will lead.

Because perhaps every meaningful change begins with the same simple question:
Is there a possibility?

LUMA – It begins in you.

Mini Exercise
Think of one thing that truly matters to you - something you long for in your own life, your family or our world.
Don't ask yourself: "Will this work?"
Instead ask: "What would my next small step be if I believed it already had meaning?"
Then take that one step.

Reflection
Where in my life am I waiting for certainty, when perhaps hope is already enough for the next step?