Not exactly—because hope is not the right foundation for meditation.
Meditation invites you to live here, now—so deeply and completely that nothing is left behind. When you are fully present, there’s no room for projection, no chasing after what’s not yet real. You simply move into tomorrow effortlessly, unburdened by the weight of today.
When the past no longer haunts you, the future loses its grip. When yesterday no longer clings to your mind, tomorrow no longer casts a shadow. Hope—contrary to popular belief—is not your ally. It’s the subtle enemy of presence.
Hope is a disease of the mind. It’s the voice that says, “Not now—later.” And so life keeps getting postponed. You hope things will change… that tomorrow will be different… but you remain the same. Tomorrow comes—and again, you hope for another tomorrow. And this cycle can go on endlessly. You keep missing the only moment that truly exists: now.
Drop this habit of postponement. Let go of the illusion that the future holds your happiness. Nobody knows what the future will bring. It is an open sky—unpredictable, unknowable. Yet we grasp at it, trying to read its patterns, trying to make it safe.
That’s why people turn to astrologers, the I Ching, tarot cards, or any number of predictive tools. These fascinate not because they are true, but because people are hoping. They long for certainty in the uncertain. Even if science proves them false, these practices persist—because the human mind, caught in hope, wants to believe.
But understand this: the more you try to know the future, the more you delay living in the present. Even without any insight into tomorrow, you’re already deferring your life. If you did know the future, it would only make postponement easier. You’d say, “Why hurry? I’ll live tomorrow.”
But tomorrow never comes. And when it does, it’s always today—and you still don’t know how to live today.
This is the trap: the structure of hope keeps you in chains.
Drop it.
Hope is not freedom.
Hope is bondage.
Meditation begins where hope ends.