When we were young we would stare into the deep abyss of the starry night hoping to wish upon a star, we would eagerly blow out the cake candles on our birthday, or we’d make a wish at exactly 11:11 if we were lucky enough to spot it. In whichever way it was, a chance to wish for something out of hope brought us joy. This simple conception keeps us all pushing onward whether we realize it or not. It is as if we carry a fire within us that enables us to glimpse ahead, stare into fate, and keep trying. Many may assert it’s hope, a yearning for a desirable outcome. Yet I think it’s much more than just a yearning, but having faith in fate. You see, hope can die, but when you have faith in hope, it can never die. This beautiful sentiment has a name, it’s called having (امید) ümid. The word ümid is of Azeri-Turkish origin derived from Middle Persian. Ümid isn’t about being optimistic, but about faith. It means to have faith in yourself, faith in your future, faith in your journey, and faith in the things that go amiss.
I recollect the day when I first heard this word. Once battling an eating disorder, I couldn’t catch a glimpse of recovery and slowly felt as if I was turning into dust, soon to be blown away. My body had become fatigued and weary, if someone were to touch it, like a sandcastle it would crumble and disperse into the air. All my efforts to ameliorate me had taken a toll on me, and eventually, bit by bit, I lost myself by ignoring the things I liked to do. I had become distant and unfamiliar to my family, friends, and even myself. Then one night, as I lay sprawled on my bed staring into the void, I felt the chillness of the night as the walls vibrated from the coldness. I heard the leaves knocking on my window, the chatters of the street, and the rain hitting the pavement. Then suddenly I felt the bed plunge. My mom sat beside me and took my hand in hers. Her face was radiant, yet her expression was teary. She smiled and comforted me, her hand stroking me assiduously. I felt my frigid body begin to warm up. I sat up and moved closer to her to lay my head against her shoulder. As I breathed, I caught subtle notes of sweet cherry blossoms and cedarwood probably coming from her perfume. Afterward, she started to talk and reassure me that all I needed was ümid. As I listened, I felt darkness start to engulf us as the sky lost its color. Amidst the darkness, I sat and listened to my mom. At the edge of hope, I promised her that I was going to have faith.
You see when a person has absolutely nothing to hold on it, they still have hope be it subconscious or deliberate. Hope prevents one from losing themselves mentally or physically. During that time when I had nothing to near me, nothing giving me hope, I decided to focus on self-growth and channeling my psyche towards the divine. I planted my trust in faith deeply, so that whatever happens, I was going to face it, whether it be one of my worst fears.
I don’t know whether it was fate that was testing me or finding a way to make me stronger but one day arrived when I had to face my most alarming dread. My father; the liveliest and most vibrant person I know had started to grow feeble. It was almost as if someone had unwinded him and slowly he had become despondent and lifeless. No one knew what was going on or why it was transpiring. Then one day as I was doing some work on my computer, I saw his monotonous and dim body lurk over, sit next to me, and smile. It was upsetting to see him like this, especially when he tearily declared that his body was starting to feel numb and some parts he was losing control over. I was shocked, in disbelief, and unable to say anything. My face gave away my reaction, and he asked, “nothing will happen right?”. His face showed uncertainty and barely any hope. I firmly asserted that nothing was going to happen to him, all we needed to do was get him checked. Even if I was trembling from the inside, I knew I couldn’t possibly let go of hope.
We eventually got him checked in and waited anxiously for the outcome. Time went by slowly as we sat at the hospital. I vividly remember hearing the clock tick, the cars stumbling on the poorly constructed road, some were nervous and ran slow, the others were mischievous and sprinted towards the road. As I tried to distract myself by listening to the sounds around me, I grew worrisome. They had been observing him for four hours but hadn’t updated us on any matter. As time went by me, my brother, my mom grew frantic. We all prayed and tried to think and hope for the positive. Then afterward the doctor reported that the matter wasn’t anything serious. Relieved and joyous, I reflected how what had been so hard at first for all of us had vanished by us as it had never been there.
Ümid. Maybe just an austere word, yet it taught me patience, it showed me the beaming light beyond it all, and it carried me with the wind and had the serene breeze take away my troubled thoughts. I have come to realize the importance of the existence of myself and everyone around me. There were times when I had wanted to end it all, but the times where I saw everything coming to an end, was when I was proven wrong, because what I had thought was the end was, was simply the beginning. Holding on to that brink of faith, whether it be in the divine, in someone you know, in yourself, or in anything is ümid. Ümid is pulchritudinous.
First of all, I liked the whole piece, it was detailed, I kept reading without feeling bored. I especially liked the parts where you described the surrounding “I heard the leaves knocking on my window, the chatters of the street, and the rain hitting the pavement” and “hearing the clock tick, the cars stumbling on the poorly constructed road, some were nervous and ran slow, the others were mischievous and sprinted towards the road” because it felt like I was there, it basically gives the reader a little sense or experience to use their imagery to imagine the scene.
I like how in the beginning you really explained (امید) ümid and gave little example of what the word means because it’s honestly my first time hearing the word and I felt like if you didn’t give those examples I would have got confused. Overall, I really like the way you started because it gave me a sense of what you’re going to talk about.
I loved the beginning of your writing. It was very descriptive and I can imagine just being there in that scene. I also love how you went into depth with the word ‘umid’ and compared it to the experience you had went through signifying a sense of hope. Overall, your writing allowed me to really imagine myself being there which is what I love because I find it creative as well.
I really liked everything. As my other peers, I would say the same, the draft was very entertaining and also very detailed which sounded poetic in a certain way. Great job.