Hope without Hope (Part 2)

Dear Friend,

I hope you’ll allow me to express my regret at not being able to meet with you as anticipated.  In truth, the loss of your company was no slight grievance, and to miss this chance is bitter indeed.  But I was detained, and barring some great providence I don’t expect another opportunity for quite some time.

And so again I find myself writing to you.  This time I hope not to be so vague, and perhaps reveal something more of the turmoil of my spirit.  I had desired to speak with you in person, but as it stands that is not to be.  You have always been so patient.  To no other could I speak frankly as with yourself, and for that I am in your debt.  Let’s not allow absence to dull the iron of our countenance.

More than 7 years have passed since I was last at peace with myself.  Prior to that point, I cannot recall a single tranquil instance.  In other words, it was to me a unique experience, and one to which I can now only aspire in vain.  But I imagine I am not alone in this, and I suspect many who think themselves at peace do so falsely.

I had only recently passed through what, to my adolescent mind, must have been the most harrowing ordeal, wholly despaired of the outcome.  But much to my surprise, though I thought myself broken, I was not long to remain under the hoof of dejection, and instead began to discern in my suffering the footfall of an inexorable destiny.

But I digress.  At about this time I left home for a brief period and was graciously received by some distant friends.  In their company I found respite, and after several days, beyond all hope, my spirit was reconciled.  I did not worry about what was now behind me, nor did I take thought for what lay ahead: I was dispassionate, content in the instant.  If anything could be said to have disturbed my peace, it was merely the knowledge that I did not belong.  Indeed, I knew that the world in which I was taking part was not mine, and that soon, very soon, I would have to leave it.

And so I returned home.  At first, I pursued my goals with renewed vigour.  But the tasks set before me were not of my own choosing, and as time wore on, I floundered.  Most of the work was unsuited to my character and intellect, and began to seem juvenile and directionless.  This happened at a time in my life when the right direction was what I needed most.  But it was nowhere to be found; and so I began on my long, winding path to the knowledge no one had offered to teach, of the very existence of which I was still ignorant.

Over the next several years I gained little, and being preoccupied with the exigencies of present and future subsistence, succumbed in some degree to the false homeostasis of our double-minded society.  As yet I had barely an inkling of what was to come.

Now, friend, I can scarcely explain what’s happened over the past 2 years.  Nothing could have prepared me for what I’ve learned, and the impact of these discoveries has been devastating.  Every turn reveals a greater evil, and even as I rise to strike against it, I find my hands and feet already bound.  Here and now, wickedness has become our uncontested master, and we no longer know how to fight it.

But we’ve already spoken of this dilemma, and it is not my intention to retread old ground.  On the contrary, the last few days have brought with them something of a new concern.  Though I’ve been aware of the process for some time, I have only now been struck by the extent to which I’ve let fall my guard.  For long I’ve struggled daily with many difficult questions, but now I have also to contend with fear.  Yes my friend, I am afraid.  I am afraid because I hope, and not for some merely intangible thing.  I am afraid that this hope might fail, and I am afraid that I might lack the strength to endure such failure.

I feel myself exposed on three sides, my back to the wall on a narrow precipice, the ledge crumbling beneath my feet.  Below it is dark and I cannot tell how deep.  Across the chasm there is a green vine on the cliff-face, perhaps just close enough to reach.  If I leap now there is a good chance I will fall.  On the other hand, if I wait til the rock collapse under me, I will assuredly collapse along with it…

Though it may put off the inevitable, not to have made the attempt would be an unbearable regret — bid me godspeed!

Your Friend,

Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: