“Never whine. Whining lets a brute know that a victim is in the neighbourhood.” ― Maya Angelou
This post has taken a while building itself. I might have indulged a little inactivity and mingled far too long with self-doubt when the fears hit me. I’d been terrified at the thought that my attempts at creative nonfiction might render me a tad whiny and so I did nothing.
In addition, I must mention that I went on hiatus in order to gather my wits. I’ve wanted to change the narrative for a long time not knowing the first thing of how to begin. And I toiled a bit too much if you ask me, the thing is it never occurred to me that I could just … change. Like that. In one moment be one thing and in the next moment be a totally different being. I suppose change has always seemed an event to me; a kind of formal affair requiring seasoned preparation, maybe a little fuss and a little stress. There is a quote I quite like by Sharon Salzberg which says,
“It is never too late to turn on the light. Your ability to break an unhealthy habit or turn off an old tape doesn’t depend on how long it has been running; a shift in perspective doesn’t depend on how long you’ve held on to the old view. When you flip the switch in that attic, it doesn’t matter whether it’s been dark for ten minutes, ten years or ten decades.
The light still illuminates the room and banishes the murkiness, letting you see the things you couldn’t see before.”
You would think that my liking for this quote would be paralleled by my understanding and practicing of it but up until a couple of weeks ago you would have been wrong.
Once so helplessly bound to what I now call voluntary hopelessness I once wrote, dreams can be murderous and cruel, and one who dares to chase them must be willing to sustain the sting and desolation on the way to reaching them. A very false statement. But to appreciate my miscalculation I should mention that this came about from my inability to reconcile my growth balance sheet if you will, to recognize my joys and pains and to really acknowledge and accept all my losses and gains.
The sincere truth is that I did not know that good friendships end; that the sparkle of love fades; that hope unnurtured fizzles into space and is hard to reform. I did not truly grasp that soul-mates could one day leave or that a loved one can suddenly fall ill or die. I did not know that I could be an utter fool, sulking over the various people who’ve walked out of my life instead of celebrating the ones who continuously stay.