While I breathe, I hope. It’s like a math problem: while I breathe, I hope. And I am breathing. Therefore, I must have hope. To breathe is to be hopeful. Breathe is life. What is hope but for time ahead, things ahead, all that lies before. Hope never relates to the past. Hope is always the inhale, the drawing in, the filling up, the inspiration. Hope expands. Hope is vitality, freshness, rejuvenation.
Breathe. Deeply. Fill up your insides, your lungs, your belly, your chest. Feel it expand your head. You feel larger, substantial. And yet, also lighter, buoyant.
Hope elevates, too. Lifting the mind and the heart. Propelling forward toward that place, that thing, that idea. To have hope is to be alive. To breathe is to be alive. Breathe is hope. While I breathe, I hope. Dum spiro spero.
