A Glimmer of Hope
There is a lot that feels dark in the world right now.
It can feel impossible not to absorb it: the heaviness in the news, the uncertainty in our communities, the quiet stress so many people are carrying.
And in moments like this, it’s easy to slip into hopelessness.
Or maybe not even hopelessness exactly… but numbness.
That frozen feeling of What can I even do?
But the truth is: we cannot afford to stay there.
Because hopelessness doesn’t just make us feel bad — it keeps us stuck. It keeps us small. It keeps us from taking the next step, from showing up, from acting with care and courage in our own lives.
That’s why hope has been on my mind so much lately.
Not the shiny, dramatic kind of hope.
More the quieter kind.
The kind that shows up as a glimmer.
Over the past couple of weeks, two experiences have stayed with me, both circling around this idea of hope in a way that felt especially meaningful.
One was a talk at San Francisco Creative Mornings by Stephanie Cowan, where the theme was “a glimmer of hope.”
And the other was a play that felt like it was written for anyone navigating the complicated terrain of midlife.
Together, they left me reflecting on what hope really is, and how we create more of it.
Hope Is Something You Generate
One of the most powerful ideas from Stephanie Cowan’s talk was this:
Hope isn’t something you wait for.
Hope is something you generate.
Because so often, when life feels uncertain or heavy, we think hope will arrive after something changes.
But what if hope comes first?
Stephanie shared that hope requires a belief that your actions matter and that what you do can have a positive impact on your life, even in small ways.
Hope isn’t passive.
It’s active.
It’s the decision to believe:
My choices still shape my future.
Hope as Joy, Intentionally Chosen
Another concept that stayed with me was that hope involves intentionally infusing as much joy into your life as possible. Stephanie called this “glimmer maxing.”
Not as toxic positivity.
But as a form of resilience.
Joy becomes a way of staying connected to what is still beautiful, still meaningful, still possible.
In midlife especially, joy can be an act of courage.
It can be a reminder that you are not done.
Midlife on the Faded Brick Road
The play I saw was called After the Rainbow, an updated take on The Wizard of Oz.
This was Oz through a midlife lens.
Singer-songwriter Amy MacClain plays Dottie, “stumbling along the faded brick road of life,” joined by a cast of re-imagined characters performed by Molly Kittle.
That phrase “the faded brick road” stayed with me.
Because isn’t that what midlife can feel like sometimes?
Not the beginning of the journey, full of certainty and clear direction…
But the middle stretch.
The part where the road isn’t as bright as it once was.
The part where you may find yourself asking:
Is this all there is?
What comes next?
How do I find my way back to myself?
This production met these questions with humor, music, and possibility.
It was an expression of hope, during what has been a challenging month for many of us.
How We Increase Hope
In her talk, Stephanie Cowan also offered several grounded, practical ways we can generate more hope in our daily lives.
I loved how simple they were:
Spending daily time in nature
Seeking out community
Creating ritual
Making art
Giving more hugs
Hope doesn’t always come from grand transformations, sometimes it comes from a walk outside.
A Glimmer Is Enough
I left these two experiences feeling lighter, not because life suddenly became simple, but because I was reminded of something essential:
Sometimes hope doesn’t arrive as a breakthrough.
Sometimes it arrives as a glimmer.
And maybe a glimmer is enough.
Enough to take the next step.
Enough to keep walking the road, even when it feels faded.
So, I’ll leave you with this question:
Where have you noticed a glimmer of hope lately?
Even the smallest one counts.
