In the past, I have not often kept much record of the various happenings of my life, much less have I left any evidence of my thoughts and feelings, and how they've evolved over the years. Being reminded, tonight, of the fact that I had started this blog was very much of a blessing, in being able to observe, in retrospect, my mindset directly prior to some seriously influencial things that have happened in my very recent history. The first entry I made in this blog revolved around the natural unreliability of people, and the general lack of solid morality among society as a whole. I can now confidently update this observation by stating the error in that argument. The error lies, not in that general theme, but in that I have for a long time excluded myself from that generalization. I held the opinion, until recently, that everyone is born with reason, and most other people choose not to use it. I have been shown, now, that the more accurate truth is that everyone is born with evil, and most people, including myself, have chosen not to do anything about it.
In failing to recognize myself as being willingly afflicted with the same flaw as the population I have grown so fond of criticzing, I managed to place a vain faith in my own standards, my own righteousness, and my own prevailing ability.
As it seems, I was let down, at that point, by the error consistent with the people around me. Since that time, I have been equally let down by my faith in myself, and my own calculations of what is "good" and "evil". My own apparent truths have failed me even more dramatically than the hypocrysies of the world around me.
So then it came to no hope in people and no hope in the strength of oneself. And since I've never been one to apply myself to hope for hopes sake, that came to mean no hope at all.
And, oh, if I have ever been so perfectly wrong about something, was I wrong about that. What a brilliant scheme, a perfectly executed attack plan, that I have been drawn to seek such a standard for "good," for so long. That I have been able to observe the depths of the shortcomings of every perceived answer but the right one. That I could be carried safely through every increasing level of dissapointment, to finally reach a perfect enough despair that, knowing no acceptable truth could be reached by worldly means, I would finally throw down my arms and plead to what I thought could be the emtpy air, for a solution to the impossibility of existence.
And to have that answer handed over, for no effort of my own. So subtly, but so undeniably. And with such swiftness and precision.
No hope at all? No, no. Hope is real, and in no short supply. It is by perfect Love, and endless grace, that hope is real.