Last night we watched the latest episode of American Horror Story. It was gruesome. The show is known for this, so it was not surprising, yet the twists that led to its most gruesome moments were surprises, unexpected. Earlier this week, on Sunday, The Walking Dead stunned its viewers with similar gruesome moments - perhaps even less so than American Horror Story - but we weren't surprised.
My reaction to both stories, both narratives, is quite stunningly different. I almost couldn't watch TWD. The images burned into my memory, haunting me through the night and for days after. I'm already over the scenes from AHS last night. It's quite amazing to me thinking of how similar things in different contexts can affect us so asymmetrically.
There are many reasons for the differences in how we react, but I think there is an element of expectation and hope that factors into how we perceive our observations. TWD was devastating because we knew from last season's cliffhanger what to expect. We knew what was coming, in some ways through the whole episode - all of it - we knew it. We felt it, we expected it. But we also expected to have some hope. Hope in our own belief of the characters pushing us through the difficult narrative. We cling to the notion that there is a right and it will pull through. But TWD's episode did much to bludgeon that hope, especially when for 6 or 7 seasons we've come to associate that hope with an unfortunate character. The episode was physically gruesome, but it also did nothing to build on better expectations, to foster hope.
AHS did an interesting thing this season in that they set up the expectation of Hope prior to this episode. We know things "turn out" for someone... who is the reveal we're waiting for. I purposefully put "turn out" in quotes as who knows what this actually will mean - but it's that glimmer, it's that expectation of something better out of this dark situation. And we're not as invested in these rather superficial characters.
I like scratch off tickets. I often wonder why I continue to buy them when, although I have won many times, I lose more often than not. But there is this warm feeling of hope that bubbles up as I start to scratch off the card. Maybe today will be my $30,000 day! I'm even satisfied if I just win my money back. I keep buying because that initial feeling of hopefulness is addictive. It feels good to be optimistic.
So perhaps that is the practical from all of this.
This isn't a horror picture. At least not for most of us. Invest in the things that give you hope. Build into relationships that you will cherish when they are gone. It feels good to be optimistic, yearn for and seek out that goodness and celebrate your moments of goodness and grace. And be the embodiment of that for each other. Do not bludgeon your hope, let it define who you are.