I am not sure why, but sometimes no matter how hard we try to go with the flow, we hit a submerged log, get smashed on some rocks and get washed away down into the muddy waters for a bit. I imagine this is all part of our learning process. The main thing to learn is to not let go of faith. No matter how muddy, the one constant in the waters, is the rope that is thrown. There is always a rope, and just to believe that, and to fight to swim when drowning is imminent, is the lesson to be learnt from diversity.
When I hit a log, it’s like putting on a pair of dark, black glasses. Everything in the world is seen through the darkness and is coloured accordingly. It’s hard to see the rope. It’s hard to keep swimming. But we need to make a decision in the very beginning. To wallow in the muddy waters, or to have faith in the rope. There is a catch tho, there is a reason we choose to wallow. Its got something to do with responsibility. Or wishing to not have any responsibility. When we wallow, we want someone to come along and pull us out. We tell people about our misery, we think constantly of it. We sometimes alienate ourselves from others so that they will know something is wrong and come and rescue us. We smother ourselves with mud and goo and turn our back on the rope in the hope we will have the attention of someone, anyone.
There is a benefit in wallowing, we tell ourselves.
We have all been there, done that.
But not now, not today. Today I’ve decided I am not even waiting for the rope. I’m off people, to swim through the muck and make it to the beach, the cabanas, the espresso martinis and to paradise. Who’s coming with me?