Hope is not a resting place but a starting point - a cactus, not

The words of H. Jackson Brown, Jr., “Hope is not a resting place but a starting point — a cactus, not a cushion,” are a call to awaken the human soul from complacency. They strike like desert wind — sharp, cleansing, and filled with truth. In this metaphor, Brown reminds us that hope, though gentle in spirit, is not meant to lull us into comfort. It is not a bed on which to lie and dream idly; it is the thorny seed of action, the first spark that must be kindled into flame. To have hope is not to rest, but to rise — for true hope stings as much as it sustains.

The image of the cactus is no accident. The cactus thrives in the harshest places, drawing life from desolation, storing strength for drought. It survives not because the world is kind, but because it is resilient. So too must hope live — not in comfort, but in struggle. Brown’s wisdom reminds us that the purpose of hope is not to shelter us from difficulty, but to arm us for it. The cactus bears spines because life is hard; hope bears endurance because life demands it. To mistake hope for a cushion — for something soft and passive — is to misunderstand its nature entirely. Hope is the beginning of endurance, not the end of effort.

To the ancients, this truth would have sounded familiar. The Stoic philosophers, such as Epictetus and Seneca, taught that hope, like fire, is useful only when tended with discipline. It must ignite action, not replace it. The Greeks told stories of heroes who, though sustained by hope, were tested in pain. Odysseus, after years of storm and exile, did not rest upon hope — he fought by it, clung to it as a weapon against despair. His hope did not shield him from suffering; it urged him onward through it. Brown’s metaphor stands in this same lineage — the eternal teaching that hope is not comfort, but courage.

In history, too, we see this truth embodied. Consider Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for twenty-seven years under a system built to crush both body and spirit. Many would have seen hope as a soft dream, a fading comfort in darkness. But for Mandela, hope was not a cushion — it was a cactus. It kept him alive not through sweetness, but through strength. It reminded him that even in confinement, there was purpose; even in despair, there was dignity. Hope for him was not the promise of ease, but the command to endure. When he emerged from prison, his hope bore fruit — not of vengeance, but of peace.

This is what Brown means when he warns us that hope must not be a resting place. Too often, men and women cling to hope as though it absolves them from action. They say, “I hope things will change,” yet lift no hand to change them. Such hope is hollow — a cushion that dulls the will. True hope, the kind that transforms lives and nations, demands effort, sacrifice, and persistence. It is the starting point, not the destination. It must be planted in the soil of faith and watered with work.

There is also profound humility in this teaching. To see hope as a cactus is to accept that life’s terrain will not always be soft. The road of purpose is lined with thorns — each challenge testing whether our hope is real or merely spoken. When hardship comes, the false hope withers, but the true endures. It draws nourishment from adversity itself. Like the cactus in the desert, genuine hope does not depend on the environment — it creates life where none seems possible.

So, my listener, take this lesson as both warning and inspiration: do not rest upon hope — rise upon it. Let it prick you into movement, let it demand more of you than comfort or passivity. When life grows arid and uncertain, do not look for a cushion to hide upon; seek instead the cactus that teaches endurance. Cultivate a hope that stands firm against sun and sand, that gives life through perseverance.

For as H. Jackson Brown, Jr. teaches, hope is not the end of striving but its beginning. It is the first step on the long road to greatness — rough, unyielding, but alive with purpose. Carry such hope within you, and you will not only survive your deserts — you will make them bloom.