The physicality of hope

Hope isn’t just a concept. There’s nothing intangible about it – nothing vague or illusory.

You can see it. You can touch it. It is happening right now within your very body.

Every day, more than a kilogram of cells in your body will die – and be replaced by brand new ones. Every second, 100 billion neurons in your brain are firing off dozens of messages each saying ‘Live. Begin. Move. Continue. Grow.’

Right now, across the northern hemisphere, plants and animals are noticing that the days are growing longer. Roots are detecting the building warmth within the soil. Subtle changes in air, earth and light are inspiring the web of life to plan its resurgence.

Sap is rising, sending water and nutrients for new buds. Seeds are germinating. Stems are pushing with divine force through the dirt towards a dream of sky. Birds who have spent the winter away are preparing for their journey home. Others are beginning to try out their spring songs.

The darker days will end. There is nothing uncertain about that. They will come again. There is nothing uncertain about that. There is decay, and there is new life. Skies turn black, stones are rolled away. All fades, all begins again.

You don’t need to conjure up hope. It’s in your DNA. It’s humming within the forces that sustain the universe. It’s everywhere.

Gideon Heugh

PS This is taken from the daily Lent reflections/poems I’m offering on social media. Find me on Instagram @gideon.heugh or on Facebook at to follow along. GH x