Well. It’s been quite the journey these past few months, my feet pressed against hot coals, skin against fire. How much has transpired. How much awaits. In this moment, however, all that matters is that despite the odds stacked against me, I emerged – victorious, tempered, integrity intact.
Except, intact is not exactly the right word. No, this fire, it blistered my outer layer, a layer I’d thought tough and impenetrable, but in fact had been porous, porous like Swiss cheese.
While I watched my skin peel amongst the licks of flame, I wondered if I would survive, if I would make it to the other side. Except, actually, if I’m being honest with myself, I never really wondered. You see, I knew. I knew for certain I would rise. One day, one life, one way or another, eventually, I knew I would rise. I only ever truly wondered if I was condemned to char for the rest of this particular lifetime, if I had done something wrong once upon a while, something that warranted such agonizing and unrelenting pain.
I suspected I must have, that somewhere in my previous lifetimes, I had. In fact, considering the temperature of the flames, I had little doubt I had done many things, many, many bad things. What else could kindle such despair?
But the fact that I stumbled out of the blaze to gasp in the smoky air, the fact that I not only survived the third-degree burns, but that my skin grew back like jasmine along a chain-link fence – it all made me question if I’d started out with a greater purpose way back when, way back when it all started, way back before my memory even began. If I’d survived, I surmised any harm I’d committed in the past must have been in the service of a greater good. And even if I sorrowed over contributing to the grief that this world carries, in whatever way for whatever reason, I also wondered if the dark side of the moon held just as many valuable lessons as the light side.
And could I be so upset at this peculiar turn of events if I had asked to walk through fire in the first place? Perhaps, back then, way back then, I had begged for it, demanded it, pled for the opportunity to prove my mettle once and for all. Who could say for sure, but all I knew was there was a whisper of truth in my soul.
And honestly? A whisper is all you need. Because when you get quiet, when you get really, really quiet, and all you hear is your heartbeat and all you feel is your breathing, the only thing left is the truth.
And the truth, it isn’t so pretty at first. We’re human, after all, and if there is one thing consistent about humanity across all space and time, it is that we make mistakes. We make all kinds of mistakes. Big ones, little ones, deeply troubling ones, ones we repeat ceaselessly, ones we make carelessly, ones we hide, ones that are brought to the light.
We all have them, those black marks against us, whether you’re from a city that makes policies that impact the rest of the world or from a town nestled along a river valley busy stealing labor from those whose power has been stripped from them. Whatever color your skin, whatever family you were raised in, whatever trauma you have borne, what matters at the end of the day is having the courage and humility to own up to those failings, those weaknesses, those compromises we make. What matters is taking the steps to redress those wrongs in material and significant ways, to apologize sincerely, to ask for forgiveness meekly – not from some nebulous higher power, but from those very people, creatures, places, and things we have harmed. What matters is making a commitment to never making the same mistake twice, and if not twice, then not thrice.
You want to know the point of life?
Siddharta Gautauma tells us it is to reduce suffering.
Anjana Gigi Radhakrishnan says it is to learn and never look back.
Originally posted on LinkedIn.
