Hope Is The Thing With Feathers
Emily Dickenson Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
This morning, I purchased a DVD entitled The Shawshank Redemption. It is a movie based on the same named title by Stephen Kings. It has a nice ring to the theme of the story, revolving around a man named Andy Dufresne, who was wrongly accused and incarcerated for life inside a maximum security prison for a crime he did not commit. I do not wish to describe the life Andy Dufresne experienced inside there. Instead, I would like to talk about the importance of having hope especially when your life is tumbling down the stygian depths of darkness.
In the story, an old man named Brooks had been prisoner inside the panopticon for over 50 years. He was assigned as a librarian there, which was an responsibility given only to those who come from a well educated background which inside prison, is a respectable job. After his 50th year of serving jail term and when he was too old too work with arthritis on both hands, Brooks was finally granted a parole to live amongst and working society. After receiving news of his release, Brooks lost his mind and threatened to kill a fellow inmate. At that moment, his cell-mates and I was confused. After all, I thought that there was no reason why Brooks would risk his chance of parole after receiving the good news.
What really got to me was that in reality Brooks did not want to be released. Red shortly after explained:
Red: Brooks ain't no bug. [pause] He's just institutionalized.
So what exactly does institutionalized mean?
Red: The man's been in here for 50 years. 50 Years! This is all he knows. In here, he's an important man, an educated man. Outside he's nothing. Just a used-up con with arthritis in both hands. [...] I'm telling you these walls are funny. First you hate them, than you get used to them. Enough time passes, it gets so you depend on them. That's institutionalized.
Brooks after released, describes his feelings on the matter with a letter to his ex-inmates:
"Dear fellas:
I can't describe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an automobile once out the outside when I was a kid but now, they are everywhere. The world, went and got itself in a big damn hurry. The parole board got me into this halfway house called the "Brewer" and a job bagging groceries at the Food-way. It's hard work and his hands hurt most of the time. I don't think the store manager likes me very much. Sometimes after work I go to the park and feed the birds and keep thinking that maybe Jack (his crow) might show up and say hello. But he never does. I hope wherever he is okay and making new friends. I have trouble sleeping at night. I have bad dreams like I am falling. I wake up scared. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am. Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the Food-way so they would send me home. I could shoot the manager while I was at it sort of like a bonus. I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense any more. I don't like it here. I'm tired of being afraid all the time. I've decided. . . not to stay. I doubt they would kick up any fuss, not for an old crook like me."
At this point I cried when Brooks carved his name on the wall in the place he stays, and hanged himself (Ya I know I'm a sucker for scenes like this). What makes this scene so special to me is how it impacted Andy's life after that. During lunch while have a conversation and out of 2 weeks in solitary in the "hole" for broadcasting "The Marriage of Figaro" a classic by Mozart, Andy when questioned "Was it worth it?" commented:
Andy: Easiest time I did. I had Mr Mozart keeping me company [...] It was in here [points to his heart] That's the beauty of music. They can't take that from you. Haven't you ever felt that way about music?
Red: I played the harmonica when I was a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Did not make much sense in here.
Andy: Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget. Forget that there are places in the world that aren't make out of stone. . . There's something inside they can't get to, they can't touch. That's yours.
Red: What are you talking about?
Andy: Hope.
Red: Hope?
Andy: Hope
Red: Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane. It's got no use on the inside. You'd better get used to the idea.
Andy: Like Brooks did?
At another scene after 19 years of serving his term, Andy was on the point of depression and he was describing his plans for the future. Reds on hearing that, said
Red: I don't think you should be doing that to yourself. This is just shitty pipe dreams. I mean Mexico is down out there and you're in here and that's the way it is.
Andy: Yeah that's the way it is. It's down there and I'm in here. I guess it comes down to a simple choice. Get busy living, or get busy dying.
Towards the end of the show, in Andy's letter to Red he describes hope.
"...hope is a good thing... maybe the best of things and no good thing ever dies."
How often when facing our troubles have we chose not to hope for a better tomorrow for fear of facing disappointment? It is as how Emily Dickenson's poem above describes:
"And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm."
Likewise, we during harsh times like a storm abashes this little bird called hope just as Red did in the show. Whatever it is, I just want to call upon you my friends, to remember this just one line that no matter what happens, it comes down to a simple choice- Get busy living, or get busy dying.
What will you choose when the time comes?
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