Daring to Choose ‘WhatElse?’
I arrive within a body, shaped by the flow of life and a desire to be. My mind speaks a language of no words, gifting sensations that fill my whole world. When pushed and squeezed and pulled into the world of earth and light and air I gasp a virgin breath.
A new world reveals itself, beyond understanding or imagination. I am cared for and loved, welcomed into this strange land too big for my innocent eyes. As I grow the world shrinks. Words and ideas are gifted to my thirsty tongue, eager to join the throng of noise and movement.
I gain small footholds as I dance to the music of my tribe. Their stories become mine, their ambitions worn on my chest with pride. I yearn for acceptance and crave success, buoyed by each rung claimed as I ascend the ladder of adulthood.
Something distracts my climb. A change within, a question still unanswered by the wisest priests, a painful realisation of emptiness in all my pursuits. I stumble and stall, unsure of direction, without alternative role models to emulate, I question my questioning mind.
I cling to the rungs of old truths sold so sincerely and followed so serenely by my peers. I reflect on the efforts given and sacrifices made by myself and others for my progress so far. Those questions could wait. With no knowing what lies beyond each imagined horizon fear pulls me back.
Others climb higher still whilst I pause in questioning state. They jeer and joke. I am rescued from uncertainty and inevitable pain. I nearly choked. I continue along the path of my tribe. Safe and secure, with burning questions buried inside.
Comfort and conformity sweep my days along with repetitive haste. Youthful energy and identity fades, replaced with responsibility and familial roles. I provide, I entertain, I co-navigate, I refrain from extravagance, I survive. I occasionally notice my sacrifice, overwhelmed by the story of my own ambition. For what? Why did I strive so hard to arrive in this empty reality? Was the ladder not pointed at some greater prize? I never realised the elders were so hollow inside.
The questions return. I accept the sensation of fear and doubt. I challenge the unknown of whatelse against the certain death of self. I choose whatelse. I abandon my post. Anguish and revolt pulls from all sides. I feel insulted, making attempts to convey my discomfort and need for greater sense of self’s truth. I’m surprised by deafened souls who hear only garbled nonsense. My rejection becomes my release.
On the precipice I stand, challenged in silence. Fear grows, still greater than imagined glories of beyond. I pause. I applaud the moment’s surreal point. Was I sold a lie, or did I reject the truth? From the depths of my being a softly spoken roar propels me on. I surrender to its force. I wander.
Questions form, fade, and change. Experience and novelty grow my sense of subtle differences in available realities. I change in ways I was not sure I could. I notice more, sing new tunes, skip to fresh beats. I soar and sink. I forget myself and more. I feel the hard blows of doubt and denial. I open to whatelse and get stung by circumstance beyond my control. I learn to accept and reflect on my meanderings and whatifs. I long for certainty though not all else that came with life as it was. I feel reborn. Each day is a pure pursuit of my imagined reality.
I find new truths, more fluid, more mine. I learn new stories, widening perspective on what my younger self was sold. I scream to the heavens realising they don’t exist. I experience pain and confusion, mixed with a gratitude for freedom’s bliss. I find solace in survival, embracing more of less. I process my journey, allowing old scales to shed. I find myself naked once more, slowing sowing fresh threads. A strange unbecoming, revealing less beneath than imagined. Sweating off old layers through forgiveness, grit, and grief. Letting go becomes a habit, never easy, but glistened with relief.
This other road is longer and hard-fought never won. Sign-posts are lacking and destinations self-sung. I wonder if I could have lasted longer in my old closed life, knowing that a day of free-living is longer than a decade without choice. I laugh at myself, both then and now. Both lost and without answers. One hurtles through life, asleep, silenced by comfort. The other crawls through existence, awake and exhausted by raw experience. Rather a fool by my own shoe, than live following the heel of another.
I have found more questions than answers on my quest, but grateful to be free to guess. I struggle to watch old friends continue their daily motion; I suspect the feeling is mutual, from their looks of pity and confusion. I tried to bring some with me, thinking they would enjoy a wider view, though with difference laid bare our close connection was through.
Who knew how much I would have to give up just to explore my self?
I don’t know where I’m going, or who I will meet next. A gleeful unknowing that gives joy to each step. Slowly remembering all I’d been trained to forget.
Thank you for dropping by. To continue down this peculiar poetic rabbit hole…
