Andy: “. . .That’s the beauty of music; they can’t get that from you. Haven’t you ever felt that way about music?
Red: I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it, though. Didn’t make much sense in here.
Andy: Here’s where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don’t forget.
Red: Forget?
Andy: Forget that. . . there. . . are places. . . in the world that aren’t made out of stone; that there’s somethin’ inside they can’t get to; they can’t touch. . . it’s yours.
Red: What’re you talkin’ about?
Andy: . . .Hope.
Red: Hope. Lemme tell you sumthin’ my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane. ‘Sgot no use on the inside. You better get used to that idea.
Andy: . . .Like Brooks did?
Hope is a risk. It does take audacity to hope— especially in the face of appalling danger and imminent failure. And we so easily forget our one “inner bastion” that is unassailable, the soul; that “somethin’ inside they can’t get to; they can’t touch. . . it’s yours” as Andy said.
Andy Dufrane hoped for redemption from injustice, redemption for his imprisoned soul. But unlike most men, Andy didn’t need the trauma of prison to get introduced to his soul; he had already discovered it through the beauty of music, and his love for his wife. He hoped of regaining his freedom in the world; he hope to regain a life he knew was real, and waiting. Red, however, needed to be coaxed and gently lured to rediscover the vital role of hope.
Dear Red,
If you’re reading this, you’ve gotten out. And if you’ve come this far, maybe you’re willing to come a little further. You remember the name of the town, don’t you? [Zijuatinejo] I could use a good man to help me get my project on wheels. I’ll keep an eye out for you, and the chess board ready.
Remember, Red. Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.
I’ll be hoping that this letter finds you, and finds you well.
Your friend,
Andy
Hope, like faith, can grow until it becomes unshakable. But it must be regularly exercised, just like a muscle. And once you realize the genuine power of hope, you’ll be ready to use it in the most audacious way possible: the hope for never ending life. Audacious as that may sound, it is the divine promise from God to man, and is freely offered to anyone willing to accept the only struggle; the good fight of faith.
Let’s append Andy Dufrane’s maxim to reflect the real audacity of hope:
“Get busy livin’ forever, or get busy dyin’ forever.”
