sometimes / hope is worth it

I’m mostly an optimist, but anyone can get beaten down into submission with enough disappointments and challenges. After the aforementioned initial period of intense anxiety in starting to re-enter the dating world, I started to feel incredibly hopeless. I remember describing the sensation to my metaphor-loving therapist as “looking into a dark hallway” and not believing I would find a room I’d want to enter. We did some further explorations of this – closing the door on my ex, walking into the hallway and seeing doors that led into a variety of rooms. Trying to turn the dark hallway from a scary wasteland into a pathway to opportunity. This song tries to recall what it’s like to see a brightly painted door, with golden hour light on rolling hills behind it, full of the sparkly things I want to find in life.

I was going on some dates with someone who I knew wasn’t a long-term partner, but who I genuinely enjoyed. Even that flirty little filler relationship gave me a healthy dose of connective brightness. When I then fell into the general hopelessness and started writing this song, it felt important to somatically call upon that moment of excitement, of romance, of light hope. To dial into exactly how it feels in my body, and what it gives me.

My long-term ex used to be really into watching massage videos – ASMR videos of people receiving massages. I always thought it was so strange, but our mirror neurons, which help us learn, also help us empathically receive feelings that we are not experiencing firsthand. Meaning – the relaxation that the massaged body was feeling in the video was mirrored in my ex’s mind and body as he watched, to the extent that it was micrometers away from a physical sensation.

I’ve found that even just imagining the sensation of hope can have the same effect. The thing is, our brain doesn’t have distinct systems for sensing, imagining, and observing others’ sensing. There’s a lot more overlap than we originally thought. So… how can I trick my brain into feeling hope? One way is to get into the somatic sensation of it by describing it in great detail. Which, incidentally, was a very hard thing to do. Finding the words to describe the floating sensation of a crush is damn near impossible. I did my best with “Sometimes.” If not perfect, it does help me remember just how good that can feel.

One line I’m particularly proud of is “a smile spreading from your cheeks.” To me, this feels like such a more accurate representation than even the oft used “smiling with your eyes.” When a smile originates from your mouth, it’s often an intentional smile, maybe reserved for someone you’re walking by on the street. When it originates from your cheeks, it’s a little tug from your deepest insides – from your instincts. And it’s impossible for the rest of your face to not come with it – your eyes, your lips, your ears. And this is the kind of smile I feel, even if it’s small, when my heart is filling with hope.

It doesn't have to be the optimal, the biggest, the best thing to give me hope – it can just be some inkling that there’s a path towards connection for me. Absolving myself from pressure – saying that even a small thing can give me hope, and that I don’t have to feel it at all times for it to still be bubbling underneath the surface, is a relief.

If you haven’t heard, Portland is a cloudy and rainy place for a lot of the year, including when I wrote this song. It can feel impossible during the dark months of December, January, February, to believe that the sun is waiting around behind them there clouds. Visualizing her there, biding her time, conserving her energy, waiting to show herself, is somehow a helpful meditative practice to know that my hope will also come through again for me when I need her.

The second verse once again gets into the depths of describing that crushy feeling. Crushes can feel so electric – like lightning, and also like you’re starting to float – that your body is lightening amidst the atmosphere around you. Tapping into this sensation helps me remember why the lack of it can feel hopeless – interpersonal connection (both romantic and platonic) brings me some of the highest highs of my life. It’s so joyful that we can bring each other to such heights, and it can be so hard to maintain patience when you’re not in a period of feeling that energy.

But that’s ok – we’ll peek behind an inviting door again one day. And it will be worth the wait.