I made a good memory today. One that is only mine. The fact that I participated in the events of the day, gives me right over having it as a memory of my own. My memory, for me to retain, the way I would like to in the manner I have lived it. There is nobody else to claim that my version of the narrative is any less, inferior, or incomplete, in contrast with anybody else’s.
I have yearned for this, without ever realizing it was something like this I yearned for. It feels as if I have earned something today. It’s tricky to pinpoint what exactly. I have an old friend whose party I attended today at her insistence. Either she has practiced the art of formality brilliantly or she was genuinely delighted at having my presence at her party with her family. Either way, I felt satisfied that I could be there with her on her special day and be part of the celebration.
I fear I may jinx it by speaking aloud, but it feels like I took a small step out of my poverty. Just to be clear, I am not poor monetarily, nor in social status, not even in health per se. A different kind of poverty is what I am alluding to. The poverty of rightful freedom of leading my life as I deem fit.
I am afraid I may sound a little haughty in claiming this right. My elders are usually quick to remind that I may make mistakes on any path I choose of my own volition, as I am young and inexperienced and naïve to the machinations of this world. Select contemporaries, having taken traditional paths do worriedly warn that I may end up on the fringes of the established order.
I wish to state from the depths of my honesty – that I fully admit to the inadequate nuance in my maneuvering the world and conscientiously carry their advice in good stead to protect me from untoward circumstances.
Beyond these admissions however, I still wish to assert my volition in ironing out the creases of this existence I have been gifted at this time and place. I hope to learn from my mistakes and as I pray to draw strength from the residues of past messes.
They say I am impractical, well maybe I am. I want to marvel at the beauties and oddities of the universe and speak about them in whichever language affords adequate fidelity of the truth. Most times words are sufficient, but sometimes it can be music which adds value; at other times, music attributes all the meaning there needs to be fathomed. Sometimes, expressions (for instance of a dancer) may add substance to the foundation already laid by music; at other times expressions may be all one needs in understanding feelings emerging from the folds of one’s own or another’s soul. These few are mere illustrations of mediums through which one may understand and/or communicate the contours, both coarse and fine, of this world.
Is it incorrect to assume that all meaning hidden in all such languages is or at least should be accessible to all beings in this world? Then why not, can I partake in interpreting these through the lens of my experience, my life, my soul?
It would be irresponsible to not add that one’s assertion of independence and free will should in no way come at the cost of another’s volition or safety. If somebody else’s assertion of independence and free will has ever compromised mine, then I undoubtedly remain accountable that my own does not come at the cost of another’s.
It would also be unwise to not add that being mindful of another’s independence and free will may not necessary mean letting go of opportunities equally available to all, in anticipation that another might be keener on bagging them. An opportunity after all is a call to action and effort. It is only by effort that we ever become entitled to the fruit of our labour (if at all there is one).
I digress however, I do not intend to scale heights in lionizing one’s effort towards something as a barometer of one’s entitlement to it. The digression is merely a side thought, though an extremely important one, in claiming my right to a freely and fully lived life.
Gratitude is what I mean to express for having my friend who cares for me deeply, for having the wherewithal of maintaining our relationship and for getting to witness her special day with her. Is gratitude the currency of trade I need in pulling myself out of the poverty I feel? Is gratitude the means of flipping one’s worldview from focusing on lack in our lives towards looking at what we have in our lives?
I do not have answers to questions I pose above, but I do know that I feel richer by an ounce today. If the answers however, to all the above are a unanimous ‘yes’ then why is it that I stayed in poverty so long? Why did I not fuse my cautious lens with these glasses of gratefulness I happen to wear today? It does not matter why, when I do still get the chance of updating my worldview for life to come. I refuse to live in this poverty of gratitude when I can instead draw from its abundance.
Urban Shaman 