“Comin’ On Strong” … or just Running Smoothly With A Flow?
Now you might wander — what the heck this “newbie” talks about here, starting with such a puzzling header? Well, “newbie” is exactly the keyword here — so, how should a newbie would-be blogger like me debut-approach the world of established/experienced bloggers, considering (s)he has a lack of pre-blogging experience but (s)he’s quite willing to try his hand on it, feeling that there’s so much in this colorful, exciting, beautiful, crazy, ever-changing, frightening at moments but nevertheless amazing world we’re part of to write about and to share our impressions with our fellow Earthlings?
Should (s)he “come on strong”, being eager to convey her/his passion about the topic straightforwardly to others or just let whatever there is (s)he wish to say run out smoothly with a flow, letting his story’s message unfold itself seamlessly and naturally into his readers’ consciousness along the way?
Or is a secret of a good, inspiring story about being a bit of both, in the end of the day — let it come on strong, to reveal its initial powerful “thrust moment” to move on our readers into the story, but then allow them to contemplate those new information smoothly into its place, into subconscious, in a same way (yet with a difference it deals here with its emotional/intellectual/spiritual “food” it by no means need any less than the “phisycal” one) we let our body quietly digest a tasteful meal after it took pleasure in having it eaten? It just might as well be the case, apparently.
Anyway, she or he — the latter in my case, so I’ll stick to “he” from now on — obviously should be aware of two basic facts since the very moment he decide to hit his keyboard to tell the story.
Firstly, he should possess a reasonably healthy and steady “hunch” that whatever experience/impression/thought he feels he’d like to share with the “outside world” would prove itself to be well worth of both his and “world’s” time spent.
Secondly, to make his potential readers keep up with his own passion and about the story he has to both establish mutual trust by transforming that passion into his readers curiosity and by engaging others’ interest which in turn burns up their imagination, and to keep it up and running once he managed to set it all in motion.
That being said, let me try to tickle your curiosity with a true story recently experienced by a friend of mine, S. which I’m about to share with you. I dare to hope the story which is about to follow would justify your time invested in reading this debut blog of mine.
He is (since last November) unemployed 39 y.o. father of three young children and, having in mind my country’s (that’s Croatia) “not-so-bright” prospect for economical future it’s fair to say that all these months of his own utter financial insecurity brought him a plentiful of sore moments of uncertainty and unease which at times raised into pure despair.
Well, living in a tourist area in Dalmatian coast of Croatia — he lives in picturesque coastal city of Zadar, but spends part of his time with his children in a small nearby town of Filip-Jakov, in his grandfather’s house — he used to spend a part of his summer time doing his long-time passion, diving. Since he possesses a complete diving equipment for decades, he catches every opportunity to dive for any sea creature available, including fishes, shells, squids and alike.
Summer season is, although pretty lucrative for all engaged in tourist business here, relatively short in Croatia, the main part of it stretching from beginning of June to the end of August (if the summer is really good, however, diving could be practically possible all the way to the end of September or even a bit longer), so S. takes advantage of every possible chance to dive and thus, almost needless to say, to contribute to the feeding of his family.
That particular day — a month ago — S. has prepared himself for diving for oysters— a particular kind called here “periska”.
The weather was fine and sunny and the sea was calm and he did dive for periskas many times before, therefore being precocious and well backed-up by experience he didn’t have any special reason to worry about what looked like just another routine diving day.
All went just fine; he dove with his mask and diving-suit — he doesn’t use the oxygen-bottle, though — into some 5 meters of depth and positioned himself in front of the ridge where he found a plentiful of shells, and slowly begun to pick them up and collect them into his cotton bag. He continued to do so at several locations, rising up to the sea surface every time before changing locations until, suddenly, he tried to do so once again.
Then he sensed something unusual — and thoroughly unpleasant — happened; he raised the flipper on his left foot and then, as soon as he tried to do the same with a left foot’s flipper, he felt that something was still holding it in place, between two sharp pieces of rock. The right flipper was stuck. He pulled it again several times more decidedly, and his flipper finally went of from his feet, but only to let him realize, to his horror — his right foot was still stuck between the rocks!
He told me later on, recalling that dreadful event: “I felt a surging wave of panic beginning to rush through my body…now that was something one only has to experience to get to know the nature of emotions it brings with it, something you just couldn’t possibly describe or truly convey to others. During that fateful minute, a minute that seemed life-long to me — and keep in mind that I was already down there without air about 1.5 minute till the moment I felt stuck so I had to be out as fast as possible or never at all — I struggled for my life wildly and ferociously by trying to pull my foot out of its rock prison, having wildest nightmarish visions mixed up with memories of my previous life all the way, all entangled in indescribable cacophony of senses confused in utter chaos! “
“I knew instinctively that the moment I begin to lose full consciousness would be the beginning of my physical end”. — he continued — ”After some time I begun to hear my kids calling me back to them— I swear to you, it felt real, more real than our daily life we — or at least most of us — used to call and imagine being the only possible reality. I knew what it all means — I was on a threshold between “worlds”, and I had a choice. Now, I don’t fear death itself, as you know, there was one fear regarding death, though — the fear that it, death, would separate me from my children, and that notion was something that kept me struggling all the way till I was out!”
“I did that struggle for my own life, finally succeeding in removing my right foot out of the rock it was stuck into — severely damaging it in the process”
” …I mechanically propelled myself into the surface right after that, I used my very last remained power to do so; I hardly remember anything since that moment, when my diving companions, who were resting themselves at the beach during the time I was diving, saw me appearing on the surface half-alive and promptly jumped in water to rescue me”. — he recalled still.
S. needed several weeks to recover from the event, needing a week of oxygen treatment and about a dozen stitches along the way; no wander, he feels like being born again, no less.
And there’s a special twist in a tale, the one quite worth mentioning: most of the shells he collected in his bag, which he keeps attached to his diving-suit, he lost during his struggle. A few of them survived, however.
And among them there was one with a small black pearl inside it. His son, eight year old Adrian, was his discoverer. No, it wasn’t one of those really valuable ones, at least not in a financial sense, it’s not perfectly rounded and it’s radius is some 3–4 mm wide and he wouldn’t gain much even if he tries to sell.
Which he won’t.
’Cause that small pearl became a symbol. A symbol of man’s struggle, and his discovery of true meaning of life through his struggle. Didn’t somebody wisely say: “The meaning of life is life with meaning”
To reveal that meaning, a man needs to encounter pain and challenge. There is no wisdom gained in seeking shelters and easy ways out.
Without it, all our lives are just a cozy prisons.
We ARE here for a reason, though it, at times, doesn’t seem quite so.
The world IS your oyster, indeed. YOU are the pearl. Make world feel it.