A Hopeless Present Made Me Turn to The Past and The Future

By Jane Tawel

The Present seems hopeless, so practicing mindfulness, thoughts and prayers, even my personal version of mild-mannered activism, have all made me incredibly depressed. I realized the other day that not only do I feel constantly depressed, but consistently anxious and impotent. What is happening in “The Now” makes me feel downhearted on so many levels, from the personal to the world-wide. And I feel even older than I am. I used to read through four newspapers, now I skim their headlines because otherwise I get, as my husband calls it, “way too worked up”. I used to look to family and friends, but they are all worried too; angry too; depressed and sad, too. I used to look to spiritual writings, people, ideas, pastors, rabbis or gurus; but lately, it is like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. “Hello, God, it’s me, Jane” is more the punchline to a bad cosmic Tarzan joke, than a cry for a, “Hello, a wee bit of help down here please, Someone”.

Last week as I wallowed and groped about in the dark, all at once, like curtains drawn letting sunlight into a darkened room, Hope arrived. Hope came to me from The Past. Hope came to me from The Future. And as Emily Dickinson said, “never in extremity, it asked a crumb of me”. Hope asks not for a crumb, but for a mere modicum of consent. I realized that hope is not an ever-Present presence, because The Present is when we must do the hard work of toil and creation without hope — despite hopelessness. It is only by looking at all…