For such a long time earlier in my life, little girl, then
teenager, hope did not exist. Hope was wishful thinking. Often in hospitals,
and with parents I was totally unable to satisfy to have them stop yelling at
me, all my energy was dedicated to emotional survival. It is only in my early
thirties I fully realized I could do anything I wanted to do with my life.

Even today, I am not totally at ease with the word. It has
magical connotation I do not feel is enough anchored in reality, like magical thinking,
a form of naivete. I prefer to say I am an enthusiastic person, proactively
cultivating, as often as I can, a positive outlook on life. I have come to
strongly believe the organized chaos of life is aiming at expanding an
intelligent and supportive net that leads us to our best individual and
collective unfoldment.

Ultimately, hope for me is a discipline, tempered by a
strong sense of reality. The moments I like to share hope are when I am
communicating with people, and reminding them how magnificent they are. We are
alive, therefore I want to use this life to the best, and do good. That is when
we touch eternity: reminding someone that love can only grow from this moment
on, if that is their wish.

I am grateful to realize that everyday is a new day, that I
can re-create myself anew with these new moments I am provided with. My hope
resides in eternity, which means it is not related to time, to enduring happy
moments eluding suffering.