Sometimes we live our lives not knowing what eats us up. We know it hurts, but we don’t know where exactly it does. We hop from one bad situation to another good one to another not so bad one and assume its the law of randomness at work. Not figuring out that there is a pattern behind it. A pattern that once deconstructed, though hard to, will give our situations a depth, that others call fulfillment. Which is better than just a good day or a bad day.
I went for a bad date a while ago. Had you asked me then, why I felt the way I felt about it, I would have given you a myriad of reasons. But seated here in my room, at 4 o’clock in the night, wondering why its so bright already and listening to silence, I realize, that the date was never bad. Or rather not in the way I thought it was.
I was bad. A part of me that has been faulty came out to play fully, and that spoilt it for me. And it has taken me over a month of self introspection to stumble upon it. A month of trying to find out where specifically it hurts.
I never thought I was good enough. I’ve never thought I’m good enough. Exhale. The kind of statements that let me be free once acknowledged.
I could go on and on about how that’s weird considering how good I am in one two three, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t think I was. Never thought I was. Except when I was a kid, and I thought I was wiser than Solomon, good old days those were.
There is a lightheartedness that comes with acknowledging that this part and this part of me hurt. Its like having my room bright in a night kind of way. Its still dark yes, but I can see almost every inch of it. In the darkness. Bright darkness. Like this shouldn’t make sense, but it does.
Healing. Hardest process I’ve gone through to date. Its like performing surgery on your own heart. With no anesthetics. Maybe someone to point out the abnormalities that stand out. But technically, only I can do this for myself.
Today i go to meet out some people that a month ago I would have chickened out from meeting. Because I would have thought that I was not good enough or achieved enough to participate in a circle of achievers.
And as I struggle with getting out of this hole of thinking that I am not good enough, I also realize that a part of me that couldn’t be bridled has always had my back. I have showed up to places even when I was intimidated by something or someone. I have dressed up and gone, even when I felt that it would just be as well if I slept. I have raised my hand even when I thought my neighbour knew it better. I have hoped on trains, not knowing what will sustain me there. I have dragged my nervous self to people I would rather listen to, and instead I talked.
Those situations have allowed me to see myself. Its like a mirror. To see the fear in my eyes. The scars in my heart. The unexplored vastness of my brain, the beauty of my tortured self. To see myself.
And though sometimes what I see there scares me, it mostly frees me. To know that next time when I’m preparing for abcd, it won’t be random preparation, i’ll focus on A, now that I know that’s where it hurts.
I feel still. Like clear fast moving waters. Its like my tumultuous world was waiting for me to realize this before it calms down.
There is this man, called David Attenborough. Man is old. With a voice for days. Not for TV. There is another man I met in church, and anytime he spoke, we all loved his voice. It belonged to a television set. Not to announcements in church. That church man knew he had a good voice. A booming good voice meant to be enjoyed when announcing grisly road accidents and corruption cases because that’s the only place a majority of us have heard good booming voices.
But not this our man. Not David Attenborough. I don’t know whether it was a case of him choosing or nature choosing. But either way, he ended up in nature.
That man makes you see the ant he is explaining as vividly as if you were an ant. He makes you a snail as he takes you through the life of a snail. From the moment he starts speaking, you lose yourself into that world.
His is not a booming voice. Nor is it loud. Its a voice that the gods choose to present the work of their hands to mere mortals. Its the voice that birds trust with their lives. Its the voice that lions allow into their space without being alarmed. Its the voice that underwater fishermen trust to convey not just the difficulties of their work but also the beauty of man’s resilience in any environment.
I love what that man represents. He makes my days. Seeing him trying to decipher nature. Maybe its not him. Probably its the scientists behind the project that do the research while he comes to bless their work with that heavenly voice. Maybe he is the director of some of those projects. I don’t know.
But what I do know, is that it would be a shame if he didn’t think he got this. It would be a waste if he struggled all of his life not knowing what he is made of and for. And I don’t want my life to be a waste or a shame.
So using kindness, I find my nature, and make you a female bowerbird, as I take you through the life of a male bowerbird performing for a mate. I find my voice, and its unique use, and be still in it. I find my nature.