I think my brother in Christ and flesh was very onto something with an idea that hope emerges along with, or as a result of, collision. In his own facing-the-mirror story—which, after much reflection last night and today in the strange corners of that deepest mirror I beheld a similar moment of my own birth, or rather rebirth, of hope—there is a collision with self; a confrontation with self. Maybe the first true confrontation. Not merely of self with self. But of self with something else. Of self with the soul. Which forces a man to consider that hisself and his soul are not the same things. To see himself, not reflected, but trapped in the mirror; to see himself from the outside through the heart-eyes of his soul. To speak to himself from the outside, from that inner soul, to ears that must needs hear. And the message from the soul, repeated aloud in the form of a question by a self whose mouth speaks for the first time, to ears that hear for the first time is: “What if everything is my fault? What if everything I do is wrong?” And the soul begins to assume the position of master; and the self the position of the fool. There is a trading of places and the two are severed from each other because the truth was spoken by one and heard by the other. Known by one, not by the other.
And hope enters at the split. At the collision. At the annihilation. It is the first glow of the lone redeemer in the dust. For if everything I do is wrong, and yet something exists outside myself within me to tell myself this true thing; then, hope of all hopes! it might be true that outside myself and my wrongness—rightness may exist just about anywhere else. And if in my wrongness I despaired the goodness of God, then, Almighty Hope! His Goodness might be waiting just outside, at the deep center of all things.