# The Delightful Unreasonableness of Hope

There's a wonderful paradox at the heart of human progress: most of our greatest achievements were unreasonable before they happened. Flying machines? Absurd—we're far too heavy. Talking to someone on the other side of the planet instantly? Preposterous. Convincing millions of people to carry tiny supercomputers in their pockets? Well, you get the idea.

The philosopher Albert Camus wrote about Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the mountain for eternity, arguing we must imagine him happy. But here's what Camus understood that pessimists miss: Sisyphus wasn't happy *despite* the absurdity—he was happy *because* he chose meaning anyway. That's not delusion; that's defiance, and it's magnificent.

Consider the sheer statistical miracle of your morning coffee. Those beans traveled thousands of miles, touched dozens of hands, survived precise roasting temperatures, and encountered water at exactly the right moment to become delicious. Your coffee exists because countless people you'll never meet decided to show up and do their jobs well. That's not naïve optimism—that's evidence of a functioning cooperative species that mostly works.

Neuroscience tells us something fascinating: our brains are prediction machines, constantly writing little stories about what happens next. Pessimists aren't more realistic; they're just writing boring sequels. Optimists are the screenwriters who pitch the interesting plot twists. And here's the kicker—because our expectations shape our behavior, optimists often create the outcomes they imagine. It's not magic; it's physics meeting psychology.

The mathematician Paul Erdős used to say, "My brain is open," always ready for the next elegant proof. What if you approached your Tuesday afternoon with that same intellectual playfulness? Not everything will be elegant, but some things might surprise you, and isn't surprise the beginning of joy?

Here's your homework, though it's more like play: Notice one genuinely interesting thing today that you didn't expect. Not forced gratitude for "having sight" or other greatest-hits platitudes. Something actually curious. Maybe it's the way your colleague solves problems backward, or how that tree outside has been slowly tilting toward the light, or the fact that someone invented seedless watermelons just to save us minor inconvenience.

The universe is under no obligation to make sense, be fair, or care about you personally. So when good things happen anyway—and they do—that's not a transaction. That's a gift. And gifts, by definition, are reasons to smile.

Your brain is open. What walks in today might be wonderful.

This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI