His Birthday
It was his birthday today – a day worth celebrating, and worth trying to re-connect for. A happy occasion. Also a sad one, when I think of the time that has passed and how much time we could have been together this whole way. But here we are – the possibility of re-connecting, even if just once, over Skype. But I'll take it, for sure.
How much of our relationships – and our lives – are only figments of our imagination? They are so subjective – our state of mind and our perception really dictate how we live our lives, and certainly how we remember them. We could have been two completely different people, living completely different lives, if we tap into two different states of consciousness. Two different perspectives.
I guess that's what pains me, too – the life not lived. The roads not taken. The ones that were there all along, and always available to me, if only I were brave – or conscious enough – to take them. If only I could have been free of hesitation and free of my own hindrances that held me back from trying and doing so much. Held me back from even trying so many things. Things that I would have loved just to try, just to have the joy of stepping into that stream which felt like home to my soul. I never even allowed myself that – or only in secret, or in round-about ways. I would let it be an accident, I would paint myself into a corner where my “true self” would HAVE to come out, like some superhero tearing off his shirt just in the nick of time to save the damsel in distress. I could let the world squash me nearly flat before I sprung into action, revealing my true, superhuman self. What a weird fantasy. God forbid I speak confidently about my actual talents and innate value – that would be wrong. But you can press me to the limit until I have no CHOICE but to let my inner Clark Kent or Incredible Hulk come out and obliterate everything that sought to do it harm. If called upon, in other words, I can release that magic, but only when it is absolutely necessary.
Otherwise, I'm to stay in my humble little box, taking it gentle and easy and being the considerate one and limited in my skills. I can't even enjoy the talents I have, because they're not good enough. I won't let myself believe it. I certainly can't acknowledge them myself, for that would be conceited and selfish and all those bad things. What I can do is let other see them in me, shine a light on me. I can let others, at the breaking point, when I am in full hero/martyr mode, I can finally allow someone else to give me an accolade, and state a fact of my worth. Then I can accept it, because it's as if I'm doing it on my death bed. My last breath, when I won't be alive to deal with the repercussions of me making such an audacious proclamation. How dare I say in front of others better than me (especially God) that I have worth and talents and the right to be happy and proud of them? Who does she think she is?
So what does all that have to do with his birthday? I don't know, just got me thinking, that perhaps our time together before wasn't as magical as I remember it. It's common, when you see an old beau, that you're nervous about how you look, how you come across, and you question if things were really as perfect as you recall. Perhaps it's all best left in the past, but you can't help thinking about it, all the same. I wonder who I am now, and if it's the same person he remembers or he wanted.
I guess there's only one way to find out, and it starts with a Skype call. Real or imagined, we'll get to the bottom of it. Amen.