“Don’t get your hopes up!” my mother used to warn. Problem was, I had no idea how to do that. Hopes have a mind of their own; certainly a power. My hopes were often stronger than the request to lower them. Besides, it felt good when my hopes were up. I didn’t know what was so wrong with it.

The logic, I suppose, is that if you allow your hopes to get up, you might get disappointed. But if I was going to be disappointed, I would do so whether or not I got to enjoy the anticipation.

If the degree of disappointment is intensified by high hopes, it’s not by much. Disappointed a little. Disappointed a lot. I’m still disappointed. Maybe I’m used to it, but I think a slightly sharper disappointment makes me want to try again. If I haven’t gotten my hopes up, I haven’t had the experience of tasting and feeling the joy of having whatever I was expecting. So I’m not as likely to care to try again.

Did the constant reminder to not get my hopes up keep me from being disappointed? Certainly not. In fact, it likely set me up for it. Don’t get your hopes up just about shouts it’s unlikely you’ll get what you want. The Law of Attraction, that like attracts like, would seem to indicate having high hopes would attract good things. If you expect to be disappointed, that’s what you’ll get. I wonder, could that repeated call to not get your hopes up eventually dislodge your ability to hope? Is that a situation a parent really wants for a child? Having no hope?

I love the feeling when my hopes are rising high. I think that’s a part of the Joy of life.

I choose to allow my hopes to soar as high as they can!

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