Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Gollum, the Reason

Dave's brother Jon got in last night, after a 12 hour drive from their sister's house in Pittsburgh. He didn't get too lost, ending up within a mile of our house. Not bad, considering that we're kind of in the boonies. No, strike that. We *are* in the boonies.

I'd written this little piece on Gollum a couple of weeks ago, and shared it with a few folks. Yeah, I do have a bit of a fascination with him. In fact, it pretty much explains the naming, and to a lesser degree, purpose, of this blog.

A strange thing has occurred within me over the past decade. Gollum, of The Lord of the Rings fame, has become increasingly heroic in my eyes. I cannot pinpoint exactly when this began to happen, for that seems of far less import than the profound reason why.

I recall a creeping horror that slithered its way into my imagination when my mind first beheld his wretched form. Silently I pleaded with Bilbo to run, not to trust Gollum, for I did not believe a creature so vile, so detestable, could possibly have any good within him. Yet, held within the memory of that very first encounter deep within the roots of the Misty Mountains, I can now see the true reason for my horror.

When gazing into that festering heart, that heart that knew no hope, no love, and no kindness, I happen upon the very thing I loathe: the wretchedness of my heart. I had long harbored a disdain toward Gollum with an air of superiority. But this disdain, I now realize, had sprung forth from the revulsion of seeing my own fears given existence, given a name.

With great ease had I condemned him! He who had a mind long caged in its own lies and deceits, unable or unwilling to see beyond its depraved desires. His faults were seen and weighed, and swiftly did I pronounce his doom. Of good there was naught to be seen; had there been any, it came in a form so stunted and deformed as to render it unrecognizable. In due time, however, I found that my cries against his hideousness echoed back at me, mocking me, accusing my own heart. A painful brokenness came upon me the when I learned the aching reality.

How terrible and sweet was the hour of truth! Long had I myself been caged, yet knew it not; long had I fed upon the depraved desires of my soul, gnawing jealously upon lies. To see myself in Gollum mirrored was to embrace the sobering truth, which had been buried and forgotten for so long.

My pleas are not for Bilbo to run any more. No, they are reserved for Gollum, for myself, to turn away from the lies, and remember the truth that pierces through the darkness. Though Gollum failed in the end, he was shown the pity and the grace that should he eventually desire to change, he could. So when I read of his exploits now, I cheer for him, in hopes that I might learn what he did not - there is indeed hope for the wretched.

So there it is. If you liked it...hey, lemme know. If not...go surf or something. Don't be too depressed.

posted by Bolo | 1:50 PM
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