Hope.
Webster’s Dictionary defines hope as “wanting something with the feeling of confident expectations.” It also means “to want something even when it is in vain.” But look closer at that phrasing: “even when it is in vain.” It suggests that hope is not a cure. Instead, it is a constant feeling of optimistic urgency. Keeping us motivated toward a future that never actually exists.
Is hope really a virtue, or is it a common cold that plagues the human mind? No, hope is worse than a simple virus. Its a cancerous philosophical epidemic on a global scale. It is a cellular malfunction of the spirit that irritates and afflicts every single human being on the planet. Whether we choose to believe in it or not, it is a disease that runs rampant within us. It is a mutation of the instinct to survive. Forcing us to cling to life long after the life itself has turned to ash.
It makes one wonder whether, somewhere, Pandora is still contemplating her actions of so very long ago. In ancient Greek mythology, Pandora was given a jar by the gods and instructed to never open it. We know the story. She caved to her human curiosity. She released the horrors that define our existence: plague, hunger, and disease. According to one variation of the myth, one lone thing remained trapped inside: Hope.
While I can’t blame Pandora for caving into her human desires—after all, she is human—I understand that. Still, I believe the myth has a darker ending. I believe Hope did manage to escape, but it did not emerge as a savior; it escaped as a cancer. Imagine Pandora desperately wishing her actions were undone. She hoped for any solution to make what she had done better. By wishing for a cure, no matter the cost, she allowed Hope to mutate into a spiritual malignancy. She inadvertently gave Hope a piggyback ride out of the jar. Corruptly binding it to the very evils she had just released. Hope became a cancer that spreads across the globe. It is a pitiful emotion that keeps the terminal patient reaching for a tomorrow that will never come.
Look at “hopeless romantics” as a primary case study. They are so saturated with this infection that they’ve been made a mockery of. Yet they openly acknowledge their condition as a humorous sickness. These people have an obvious disease of the mind, but they brush it off as a tongue-in-cheek joke. It’s possible they don’t realize that their “romance” is just a manifestation of that ancient impulse to wish away reality. It’s the same overwhelming impulse that drove the world to wish Pandora hadn’t done what she did.
Ask yourself this: Is there a single day that goes by where you don’t wish for something to go better? Do you ever hope for something different? Do you ask for changes without seeing them happen?. In those moments, aren’t you just contaminating yourself with false hope?. By clinging to the possibility of a “better” that never arrives, you are helping metastasize harmful thoughts. Nurturing the very cancer that rots the human mind. This logic explains the great human paradox: why we all hope for things constantly, yet things never truly get better.
Hope is an unanswered prayer whispered to our own conscience. It is a desperate signal sent out into the dark. Except no one is listening. It is the “try” that prevents the “do.” It is the reason we accept the status quo today while waiting for a mythical heaven tomorrow. If we are to ever truly heal, we must move past the infection of “trying” and expectation.
“Do or do not. There is no try.” – Yoda
Behind the Essay: The 21 Year Mutation
In 2004, as a college sophomore, I handed in a paper titled The Cancerous Philosophy of Hope. I was writing for a professor who literally wrote the school textbook on English. Trying to sound the part I leaned heavily into academic “sophomore-isms.” This included a few too many uses of the word ergo merged with a general edginess. I walked away with a “C.” I had a nagging feeling that while my execution was off, the core concept was right.
The original draft defined hope as “wanting something even when it is in vain.” This definition was pulled from a print dictionary in a library. This happened long before the internet became what it is today. To my 19 year-old self, this definition revealed a secret. Hope isn’t a gift. It’s a “disease of the mind” that keeps us from dealing with reality.
Looking back 21 years later, I see the threads of a philosophy I’m still pulling on today. Specifically, how systems (like certain modern interpretations of Christianity) use hope as a sedative maintaining the status quo. We eagerly await a “mythical future” rather than doing the work to create a “heaven on earth” today.
While I’ve polished the prose and removed the pretentious fluff the core concepts have survived. It’s a reminder that hope is often just the “trying” stage of life.
