hope is a form of rebellion

the radical, hopeful act of beginning again — and creating what the world actually needs

Exercising a beginner’s mind is a form of instruction a teacher might offer to remind a yoga or meditation practitioner to begin where they are. By practicing this, we cultivate an attitude of openness. Free from preconceptions. Ready to meet something new.

As someone who has taught and practiced yoga and meditation for over twenty years, I recognize this can be a formidable task. But also, a powerful way to approach anything. Dancing. Dating. Dreamlining differently. A beginner’s mind becomes a lens that gives us legs. Legs to start fresh. To imagine or reimagine. To shape or reshape something. To discover or rediscover new possibilities.

Practicing this way allows us to begin again. With courage. With humor. With curiosity, awe, and wonder.

While I’ve always loved stories and words, and writing has long been a tool I’ve used to reconcile my place in the world, sharing my writing publicly asked me to begin again.

In fact, I wrote a book over ten years ago. I even got as far as publishing it. But I quickly backed out after it went through its final edit. Why? Because I was riddled with anxiety about how my work would be perceived. Too self-conscious about whether readers would connect with my words, or whether the words I had penned onto the page had any real meaning.

This past December, just after my birthday, I picked up the manuscript again. I approached it with a beginner’s mind. Not to edit. Not to judge. But simply to read it and notice what came up for me. Giving myself that space changed everything. Had I not done that, I wouldn’t have decided to publish it.

The book is called Living Artfully: A Guide for Creating Without Conditions. It will be out later this year.

The thing about exercising a beginner’s mind is that it doesn’t lead us directly to the answers we seek. It invites us to live inside the question. It gives us space to let the process unfold.

In many ways, the life journey mirrors the creative process. Both require presence. Both ask us to stay open to what inevitably arrives at our heart’s door and beckons us to pay attention.

It’s the paying attention. The deep listening. That leads to curiosity and wonder. It’s the wonder that leads to awe and magic. And it’s the magic that is both the life path and the creative process.

As I sit with the idea of being a beginner again at forty-something, I feel lifted. Even in a time filled with uncertainty, in the states and abroad, I keep returning to this truth. Hope and the willingness to reimagine a path forward are part of the human condition. Just like creativity. Just like connection. Just like the need to belong.

The world, in all its complexity and paradox, needs more creativity.

In a society where capitalism is woven into the fabric of our social and economic DNA, I can say this with certainty:

The world doesn’t need more consumption. It needs a heaping dose of creativity.

Creativity to reimagine a system of government where billionaires pay their fair share of taxes.
Creativity that cares for the elderly, our veterans, those who are disabled, disenfranchised, and marginalized.
Creativity that seeks to educate and empower all beings.
Creativity that builds opportunity for small business owners.
Creativity that shapes more intentional and sustainable ways of living.
Creativity that makes room for and supports lives that are rooted, balanced, and sustainable.

Yes, there is plenty to be consciously alarmed and aware of. But that doesn’t mean we have to let our creative spirits diminish.

As I move through this final stretch of my forties, I have never felt more cynical and more hopeful at the same time.

Today, I choose to begin again. With questions still unanswered. With stories still waiting to be written.

Where do we go? What do we do? What do we create, together?

Your guess is as good as mine. But for today, I choose hope.

Perhaps that’s what hope is. That which is born from a beginner’s mind. If that’s the case, maybe anything is possible.

© Alana Foy 2025