Sometimes it is best to not know.
There are levels of hope. There is the first of wishful thinking. Things, aspects, ideals that you hold of how you life should be or span out, and aren’t too attached to the outcome. Sometimes you only have a vague idea of the outcome. It is something that catches your passing fancy, a Pinterest or Tweet that takes more than a few seconds of your attention or a Facebook post you share, even it pops up on your ‘memories’. The level of detachment allows you the space to erase, defer or waylay these things.
Then there is the level of possibilities. This is a tricky level. This level can disguise itself easily as wishful thinking and then suddenly reveal to be something you are passionate about. It seeps into your reality and takes up space and time, scourging on past experiences, fleeting emotions and prying into the self-concepts of those around you. It first extracts information and then balloons into this pulsing being within you, pushing ideas, fantasies, dreams, desires and wants your way. This level bulks up and goes beyond material or tangible goals to also drawing a vision of what your life could be like and branches into the murky world of intangible and abstract.
But the trickiest aspect to this level is it’s tendency to gather supporting data. And when it gets backed by others around you, the balloon expands, and conquers more space, attention and energy than it should.
That is when it turns into the third and the toughest level of hope – expectation.
Expectations are definite, planned, envisioned tactics, the calculated moves in chess. They have boundaries, applied judgments and an outcome of some past analysis. They are a more nuanced version of possibilities; blinkered and acute. Expectations are also the most risky level of hope because they provide the maximum opportunity for disappointment, because they consume the highest level of attachment.
And when someone is at this level, with little or ambiguous control over achieving their expectations, they think – sometimes it is best to not know.
Sometimes ignorance can be bliss. Because without knowledge, feedback, circumstantial evidence and the likelihood of it coming true, expectations remain in the comfortable realm of possibilities. And when possibilities fail to translate into reality, one may regret it. But when expectations are not met, there is only extreme disappointment.
And sometimes, it is not worth it.