Hope Springs

It’s very easy at this time of year – especially when the weather’s inclement – to get downhearted. Even the nearly-always-cheerful postman Paul said yesterday as the rain cascaded down that it was beginning to get to him. But we hoped for better, soon, and here we are, today, with blue sky and the sun shining – like a miracle. Of course it’s not. It’s just that the weather is constantly changing and often gets better, all of its own natural accord.

But what with that and the Thought for the Day this morning on the radio which was all about hope – it got me thinking. Fact is that the minute we even mention hope we feel hopeful. And that means we feel better. And when we feel better we’re kinder and behave more positively and who knows how that will ripple out into the world and make a difference – somehow, somewhere – for others too?

Another thought about mood-lifting from my agony aunt days: when we look up we feel better. There is a physiological reason for this which I can’t remember – but the very act of raising your eyes and lifting your chin actually releases feel-good chemicals. And of course if you do it while you’re out in the open or at a window and you look at tree or hill or even roof tops and best of all the sky it’s a double whammy as all the interest and/or beauty there lifts the spirit too.

So next time I’ve got bad weather blues (or any other kind) I’m going to remember to think hope and look up. Marvel at the sky. Know that things can get better and that most people are intrinsically helpful and – well – good.

Call me Pollyanna (many have) but it isn’t rose-coloured glasses. It’s true. Even in the direst, dreadfullest of times, hope endures and so does love.

Sorry to rabbit on. But it just struck me this morning and immediately my spirits lifted – so I thought I’d pass it on.

If you’re still with me, back to art. Of course art we love is a joyful thing too. I wrote to a friend yesterday how incredibly lucky we are to find such happiness in paintings.

So now I’m going to paint flowers. Another multi-whammy of happiness – the way the paint feels, the thought of and vision of flowers and gardens and wild meadows, and with a bit of luck a painting that someone else will love emerging and developing. And even if it all goes wrong and I have to start again, no worries – for there’s always hope.

I wish you hope - today and always.

With love and light, Jenny