Let me make it clear at the outset that I have a deep aversion for swear words and bad language. We were brought up in a world where even a word like ‘stupid’ was a deeply tarnished swear, and we were severely reprimanded if we used it. You can thus understand how I feel about an ‘f — ‘ word.
Coming to my title where the insinuation is quite blatant I am sure you must think I am a fraud. I humbly acknowledge that the faux pas is indeed deliberate. Sometimes the emotion that arises with a thought is so violent that one is forced into areas of erroneous irrational rhetoric. Simple eloquent English words just don't suffice.
This raises the fundamental question- what is that miscreant thought that dislodges me from my superior loftiness and brings me crashing down to lowly crass behaviour…
Let me confess, I am struggling right now. I am feeling oppressed and overwhelmed by my conforming, flat, predictable self. My mental domestication is sapping my sanity. I have come to the realisation that I just don’t have the where-with-all to be different, to make erratic moves. My monkey mind doesn’t know how to monkey around. I cannot be provoked into stimulating alternatives because that part of my brain is long dead.
I look within deeply. How do I perform. How am I perceived ? Let me tell you-I am terribly correct. I do the expected, and think penetratingly in very straight lines. I am sure I am productive. I am recognised as an achiever. I am also considered hugely dependable, honest and reliable… obviously , it doesn’t take rocket science to predict my moves. I jive along through life with small measured accurate steps… always in the right place, always in the right tempo, always within measurable distance. As a child I have been a model of correctness- a trophy child, never untidy, never obstreperous, always well behaved- always assessing adult expectations, always performing in accordance, always deflecting an altercation. The resulting product is a super robot, so actually I should be hugely proud!
Hey, I question myself! Why this dissatisfaction? Why do I have this shortness of breath, the feeling of being closed in a metal armour — dizzy for the lack of oxygen.. needing gulps of fresh air.. ?? After all these years I am at the threshold of a question… has life passed me by in a haze of predictability ?? Was I born with a uniqueness that has yet to surface… a uniqueness that got crushed under the hammer of conformity. Where is my spunk? Where are those luscious passionate crazy unpredictable ideas, which would drive me to areas unmarked.. where adventure, and innovation reside! I look back to catch flashes of myself expanded and extended beyond my own realm. I will the thoughts away- My appropriateness is too strong a force to fight against.
This questions only rings louder in my ears when I see someone quirky with a completely outlandish idea -I am awestruck! I crave that rush of adrenaline that comes with creativity. That’s how I now realise I wish to be..
The coach in me says that the sensation of suffocation is really the first step forward. In fact I have been endlessly debating whether to publish this article or not... It has sat on my desk the whole week staring into my weakness. I am not this bold or blatant but I do feel passionately and my belief is that self expression is the only way forward. It is my start point.
There is time still… there is opportunity…. there is a recognition of that potential. The morning has dawned- It is time to start breathing again slowly, with a new rhythm, in a brand new way. No one deserves to leave this world without experiencing that free fall…. to then take off upwards soaring into the skies…unlimited.