Some experiences have shaped who I am that I'll have to learn to live with as best I can. Or learn to make use of, channel them into an area of work or creativity.
thought that you weren't, couldn't be, defined by events and
occurrences, but I've come to realise that you are. Whether you like
it or not. Whether you choose to open or bury them. Whether you use
them constructively or negatively. Whether you claim or refuse to be
always disliked that word: Victim, regardless of its truth or if the
alleged is the genuine article, for its overuse. In one way or
another we are all victims. We all hurt one another and seek
recompense for that hurt. Life makes victims of us all: the wholly
innocent and the guilty offenders. At some point, we all create the
cause and feel the rippling effects. There is no escape from that for
this is a vast, deep pool, and individually we are only drops. Drops
that flow and form a vaster ocean.
claiming to be a victim empower or weaken? It can do both, but I fear
we are too willing to shout it from the rooftops of our house. Far
too willing to use that word as a powerful weapon or a defence
mechanism. Neither are easy to do; one demands courage, and the other
destroys strength, but both chain you to that title, and once there
it's difficult to break those binds.
as I find. I use the 'I' in a sense to hide, preferring it to
dreaming up a named character. Yet I know you're trying to guess
right now whether this is purely narrative or the real me – the
author. That, I am not going to reveal. Fact or fictional, it's
observational. What this 'I' sees, how this 'I' conceives it.
single one of us has a story to tell, a story that casts our
landscape. A tale full of twists and turns that leads us to our
present, and where we have suffered crushing blows, euphoric highs
and mediocre times. That landscape is our own and like everything
surrounding us it changes, but mostly there is a default position in
accordance with our outlook. Mine for the most part, and like my
vision, is hazy, but is nonetheless rich and beautiful, and when the
mist lifts it's glorious. A bright day with blue sky and a few
motionless clouds, or a sky that captures my sight as it moves. And
of course, the mist doesn't always rise, sometimes it gets denser and
muddier; there's a darker mood, a gathering storm sometimes within,
sometimes without, or sometimes evident in both. Darkness has to
meet, has to kiss the light for they are opposites and equals, and
all shades in-between.
us are perfect beings; those that shout are no better than those that
hide or those that try to cope in a more private manner. My landscape
may be ill-defined for the lenses in the vessel lacks far-sight, but
the 'I' behind is not unequal or dissimilar to others.
play the role of 'victim'. I could wallow in it, pound my fists
against a wall and scream IT'S NOT FAIR! Let tears fall unchecked,
why me? why me? Or I could use that energy to help others. Or I could
find a way for me to live and be at peace, without taking anyone into
my confidence. I don't have this overwhelming need to share or to
justify my actions to others. And nor do I wish to right wrongs or
dole out historical punishments. What the 'I' knows is all that
matters, and how that 'I' amalgamates or acts it out.
is never a slate to wipe clean. What ultimately shapes the 'I' cannot
be erased. The 'I' can pretend for an indefinite time that such and
such didn't happen, everything's fine, but that can lead down
self-destructive paths. There's only one person you have to make it
right with and that's yourself.
don't talk. Do or be. Reform if that's what you need. And realise
that the 'I' doesn't have to be a prisoner, a perpetrator or a mute
Picture Credit: Hazy Landscape (view to Faroe Islands), William Heinesen, 1962