|Sharp Tounge: Luke Chueh|
And what does that say about myself? That I can’t be happy that a friend got the job and that he’ll do a good job at it. But those feelings are ok to have. I’m not a jedi, a Buddhist or a super hero of any kind. I am a man. A man who lives through his emotions, is subject to irrationality, psychosis and error. I’ve never spent a thousand years meditating under a waterfall, so I think it’s ok for me to feel how I feel. Reactionary to say the least, but nothing I’m not use to.
While the anime-esk dream I had the night before might have been a sign that my body/mind knew something before I did. In this dream, there was a young man who was training to the point of physical pain. Pushing himself to the limits and beyond to be better than everyone else there. Yet as hard as he trained, it was all for nothing when he was told that he only had three years to live. This young man begins to bawl his eyes out from this news. I woke up with tears in the corner of my eyes.
Then as I was taking a shower this morning, my mind and feelings going through a prism of rationality and hostility, I realized that I am not the dragon warrior. If this obscure ‘kung fu panda’ reference doesn’t make sense to you, well in the movie, the silver jaguar was trained by the chinchilla to be the greatest. He was told that he would be the dragon warrior one day, but when the elderly turtle said other wise, cat went on an emotional killing spree that lead to him being locked up, and later on seeking revenge only to realize when meeting the true dragon warrior, that not everything as is it seems and that there are things beyond our understanding sometimes.
While I may lack the necessary kung fu skills to vent those feelings of rejection in a destructive form, it is nothing I am not accustomed to. For my life is one met with rejection since my birth, when life tried to reject me from existence, but the doctors said other wise. Ohh if only I could articulate these herculean emotions in more constructive ways other than listening to selected music and typing what I’m thinking so as to process what is going on within myself in a healthy way that won’t make me look as if I have mental problems. I’m sure a good poem will come out of this eventually.
For the time being, I’ll just continue drinking my tea and continue working on the workshops, retreats and bike rides that I’m helping organize. And as I sit here and reread what I wrote, it’s always the same song and dance. I put my hopes on something that would improve my quality of life drastically. I’m supported and lead to believe that it’s coming down to a hair split decision, only to end with me being told no. To which my reaction is to become emotionally unstable for a few hours, have an epiphany of some sort and move on with my life. Rise, lather and repeat.