May 5, 2006

• Setbacks

  Sometimes I feel like I am dancing through life. My steps are practised so that there is no more thought to them and I glide through the air like a ballerina on Citalopram, kind of elegant but a little more bulky. And then I think something like “Wow, I’m dancing, I really am dancing, how wonderful.” Then I trip and fall flat on my face, my dress goes everywhere, my pants show and it becomes obvious I haven’t shaved my legs. How awful. Sometimes human beings are like that, they get all happy and forget that they are pursing happiness and for one second they experience bliss. Then they trip up and spend the rest of the time lamenting that second where they lost their peace of mind (I just wrote an interesting typo there, instead of ‘peace’ wrote ‘piece’. Of course that would be a bit messy leaving pieces of your mind here and there, not to mention a health and safety catastrophe.)
  
  People fall flat on their faces every day. It’s how we react to such setbacks that makes a difference. Some people get up smooth their dresses and go on to dance another set. Others get all flustered, upset, maybe they cry, draw some attention to themselves. Others just mope off into a corner and hide, shrinking away from the limelight, hoping the more they minimise themselves the less attention they will attract, the less likely they will be to fall on their face again. But we all know, in the cold light of day, that hiding in a corner does not help. Sure you can sit out a few sets, that’s no a problem, you must attend to injuries including injured egos. But when you do go out again accept this: the minute you step out into the parquet you’re just as likely to slip and do a most wonderful duck dive, heels screeching out in opposite directions, so why not just have a laugh?
  
  
  Don’t you want, don’t you yearn to get out on the dance floor? Doesn’t your toe tap to the disco beat? Doesn’t the new mambo inferno dance move make you want to shake that body? I know it does. I know the love of life is stronger in you than anyone ever knows. I know you have this in you. And how do I know, because you’re still reading, despite all my crap, all my silly analogies, you want to know about how someone with panic attacks can still have such a spirit. You want to know because you have this spirit too, and you want to find it, to reach down inside yourself and set that spirit free. Am I right? I can see the tears welling in the back of your eyes. I can see I’m right. And you want it as bad as I do. So let’s take this journey together, and proudly don the new name tags I have made for us “buddies”. We know the truth, we are more courageous than many firefighters combined. So let’s take this journey together, and by the end decide what our new names will be.

  
  

  Question: Why do I have to write, so that I can listen to myself?

  
  

  
  

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  • 9:58 pm
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