I’ve been thinking a lot about the word ‘hope’ recently and the power hope has to keep us optimistic or just keep going in difficult times. The opposite of hope, ‘hopeless’, has its own darker power and is synonymous with words like despair, despondency and wretched. A state of being in which none of us wish to dwell and is not our natural human state.

I believe hope is an innate human quality. An aspect of the Soul perhaps, in spiritual terms. Faith or trust in what’s good and right in mankind and the world. Hope is not a belief that everything everywhere was or will be okay – we only have to look around us to know this is not the case – but it does wrap its arms around us and gives us strength to move forward and often to take action.

Some of you may have known my very dear friend Jennifer Symonds who died in December last year. Amongst the many things Jennifer achieved in her life, she published a short eBook called The Gifts I’ve Been Given: An Illustrated Journey of Hope. She wrote it in 2016, soon after receiving a double lung transplant, having had the genetic disease cystic fibrosis all her life. One of the chapters is about her father who she flew to England from Australia to be with in hospital as he was dying. Until this time, Jennifer, having been so often unwell and in and out of hospital herself, had been frightened of death but on entering her father’s room hours after he had died, she writes,

“When I entered that place, it was filled with a glorious energy. Indescribable really. Imagine every single happy emotion you have ever felt, joy, contentment, ecstasy, and then multiply it a hundred fold and you will only just come close to what I experienced. That was my father’s gift to me because the others felt only their grief. He was telling me not to be afraid of death because it is glorious. My father gave me the gift of hope…..”

The last 18 months of Jennifer’s life were pretty tough as she deteriorated and, whilst she was not for a moment afraid of death itself after that experience with her father, she was anxious about the frightening discomfort of the actual dying process as her lungs gave up. I believe it was largely hope, together with her strength of mind and character that kept her going until the Voluntary Assisted Dying laws were finally passed in New South Wales. Jennifer was so happy when her application was approved, and, as far as I know, she was the first woman in the state to take advantage of the new legislation within 10 days of it being passed.

At some point last year, I came across a lovely and rather haunting piece of music set to the beautiful words of Emily Dickinson’s poem ‘“Hope” is the Thing with Feathers’. It was only on re-reading Jennifer’s eBook after her death that I realised she had quoted the first verse of this poem at the beginning of her book.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

It’s a beautiful reminder that hope exists inside us all and is there to sustain us through the severest storms, living inside our soul and singing its tune to let us know it’s always present.

Kate Gyngell
July 2024