The heartwrenching drama on Mt. Hood grabbed the headlines along with our consciousness over the past week. We sat at the edge of our seats. As each hour passed, rescuers getting closer to anything that could remotely point to the whereabouts of the climbers, the media didn’t budge from the scene.
I’d argue that whether at home or at work, most of us kept a handle on the gripping details. The story might have taken some from the craziness of the holiday season, or the intensity of a business year coming to an end, even for a short time. It seemed as if everything stopped, with a "collective hope" as the force continually driving us back to the TV or internet update.
But as the news turned grim with the discovery of one of the climbers, the remote chances of finding the other two men became more of a harsh reality. The news updates became less frequent, the families of the missing men retreated, and a "collective hope" faded.
I noticed the lump in my throat as I joined the rest of the planet in the reduction of the "hope factor" and examined my feelings and behavior. I thought, how often do we engage in, and then fall out of the "collective hope" often fueled by the media? Is it a bad thing – getting all worked up only to be let down?
Hope is defined by Merriam-Webster as, "cherishing a desire with anticipation." We all desired a positive outcome to this tragedy. There is instead a pervasive saddness. And while such news stories tear at us, they remind us of our humanity. We are a cross-section of culture and beliefs. But "hope" and the innate desire for it, somehow levels the playing field. In moments of chaos like this, it seems we collectively nurture compassion and a consciousness that we are all connected.
