If I Choose To Just Be And Not Get Affected, It Does NOT Mean Giving Up!

After being in the eye of a storm in life and having my loved ones suffer because of me, I now choose to let go, just be. That does not mean I am giving up!

After being in the eye of a storm in life and having my loved ones suffer because of me, I now choose to let go, just be. That does not mean I am giving up!

The poetic justice in our cosmos lies in the unpredictable twists and turns that every life takes, meandering and inferring its way across the vast sea of choices, hoping to find solace and contentment. In a culture that is increasingly defined by a woefully inadequate understanding of success, it does not become immediately clear to the souls on this journey, that their ultimate goal is happiness and peace. I was, and still am one such mortal.

Crossing over into adulthood

I had the fortune of experiencing a perfectly lovely childhood. Once life crossed that vague line into adulthood, where my decisions were my own, everything started getting murkier. I knowingly and willingly stepped into a land of unknown. A self-inflicted suffering if one ever saw one. I knew I might not like where I was going. Yet I walked, skipped and jumped into the grey. It is my utmost regret that I took the hands of the few that love me and pulled them into my vortex. It was my choice, I deserved the consequences. It was not theirs however, and that will forever be my cross to bear.

The vortex swirled, gained steam, made us all disoriented, broke our innocence and ultimately spit us out. It was a blessing that on the other side, the hands that I had led into the storm, still held me strong.

Painful choices

One would think that the heart would now know better, the soul now couldn’t fall and that the intellect now wouldn’t fail. One would be wrong. I walked into yet another hurricane. It was a bigger one this time. As it mercilessly swirled, I could feel my organs being torn apart and my soul being crushed.

As a testament to my selfishness and their undying love for me, I was still holding on to my few, and they, to me. I was holding on to a nebulous cloud of principles that kept me from giving in to the force. I resisted and as I did, the wind hit me harder. Knocked the air out of me and my loved ones.

I knew this had to stop, but that meant giving in, giving up. That meant submitting. That meant letting go. Ultimately, I feared that meant failure, a devastating deviation from what I espoused.

Is it worth it?

Today, as I see the souls scattered by my side, the souls that bared and withstood for my sake, it all seems futile. We all know that we are just taking a short respite, garnering our fading strength to fight another gust, another blast, one that would eat away at more of our innards, chipping away at more of our hearts, leaving us more bitter for the world. We all are just waiting to fight our next battle, for me to walk into the next surge of agitation.

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I wonder if it all is worth it to hold on to a few lofty principles. Does my freedom really depend on the physicality present within the confines of a relationship? Am I losing my own identity and shattering the strength and belief of my few, by trying to bend the unbending. Even if I am ever proven right, would it quench the anger within me or my need to be righteous? As I see the sad but enduring eyes of those around me, I see the eternal hopelessness and self-indulgence in my quest.

Letting go

I maybe do not need to fight and resist in order to fight or resist. It might very well be that I do not need to be right after all. I just need to be.

For the first time, we all decide to simply watch the whirlwind, churning away in all its red angst. We can still feel it’s mirthless ire, but we are not in it this time around. There is something about watching rage from a distance, that shines light on the futility of fighting a force that is not run by us, and that cannot be stopped by us. It renders us a strength previously sorely missing, kindles a maturity beyond our age, soothes away the pain of open wounds of the heart and surprisingly enough, awakens a generosity of spirit in matters beyond our facilities. I know I will still fight, just never with my own self again. I choose to simply be.

The mind basks, drinking up the intensity of this revelation and the heart peacefully relaxes in its warmth. We quietly watch, holding each other’s hands tight.


Image source: shutterstock

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