Each of us is an individual of hope. Each of us has a hope for the future, or at least we used to. Each of us, trouncing through the day, has a hope either for ourselves or for someone we care about.

Each of us has a ready-made aura of hopefulness, latent or active. Yet, hope is a terrible world because it's so true and it's so broken.

After days of rain, each of us knows it will stop... unless you were Noah and his family. They did not know, but after the third or fourth week of nonstop deluge, they may have begun to reconsider every ounce of hope they had ever carried. Being stuck on a boat with water below, water above, and water forever coming down, what dreary thoughts of theirs replaced all hope, individual and otherwise?

I think the youth have dreams of having children and a family. I did, tepidly, as a youth. Now, my dreams and hopes are for my children's families. I'm eager to watch my grandchildren grow. My hope is for them.

Hope is motive. Hope exists based upon the actions we have so far done. We can tell there was hope by looking at the action. There must have been hope.

Hope is an over-used word. We do not know how to define it. Who has it? Who thrives by it? Who rejects it?

Hope starts wars. Hope keeps nations fighting. Hope is a fickle bargainer, "okaying campaigns" that should be canceled.

Hope urges investors to invest, ballplayers to practice, children to have children. Hope experiences its own power. And that is why I say, "It is an individual hope." Each of us embodies hope in his or her own way. Hope, individualized, compartmentalized, noticed or not, is inside each person.

Hope looks at a bare sidewalk and places flower pots on it. Outside of hope looks at the cement and places a forlorn uncertainty upon it. As you can see, the mere prescription of a possible loss of hope leads to a world no one will actually go toward. Why bring up doubt? Instead, keep to the people of individualized hope.


8:33 AM, October 14, 2026 Wednesday, Busan, South Korea