Respair vs. Despair

A friend recently shared a post on social media that introduced me to a word I had never encountered before: respair. It arrived softly, yet with great meaning. I’m writing this on December 21st, the winter solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere. It’s the longest night of the year and a sacred threshold where darkness pauses and the light begins its slow return.

Respair is an old and nearly forgotten companion to the word despair. Though they share linguistic roots, their meanings point in very different directions. Where despair speaks to the loss of hope, respair gestures toward renewal. Its origins trace back to the Latin respirare (to breathe again) and sperare (to hope). Together, they remind us that even after profound sorrow, breath and hope can quietly re-enter.

The Oxford English Dictionary records the earliest use of respair around 1525, in the writings of the Scottish poet and historian Andrew of Wyntoun. While rarely spoken today, it remains a luminous word -- one that honors what happens after the breaking open, when something within us begins to stir once more.

At the Edge of Light, we recognize that grief and hope often coexist. When we experience loss of any kind -- of a loved one, a life chapter, a dream, or a sense of certainty -- we may find ourselves standing in an in-between place. This threshold can feel disorienting, tender, and deeply human. During the year-end holidays, these feelings are often amplified, as memory, longing, and love intertwine.

If you find yourself in this in-between space right now, know that you do not need to rush toward meaning or resolution. Be kind to yourself. Whatever you are feeling belongs. Just as the solstice marks a turning rather than an instant change, respair does not demand optimism -- only presence. The sun will rise again. The long nights will slowly yield to light. Breath will return in its own time.

At the Edge of Light, we trust that even in darkness, something essential is quietly forming. And when you are ready, hope will find you gently -- waiting just beyond the threshold.