The idea occurred to me, and it isn't a new one, as I was mindlessly watching the last installment of Harry Porter, the movie. And it was simple: The reason why we don't do as we want is because we're afraid. Afraid what others might think; afraid of rejection; afraid of the consequences. Let's take a logical look at fear, shall we? More often than not, it's exaggerated by our mind almost to a life-or-death scenario in which the survival instinct kicks in and we're rendered defenseless at its feet. We do so day in and out, in our relationships with others, or when we do against our better judgment, like smoking cigarettes, working jobs we hate, prolonging the unbearable agony of any undesirable affair. Shyness, it comes to mind, especially in my case where you'd never believe me from suffering such ailment. But I've noticed, that's exactly the case, whenever I don't call a girl I'd like to meet or whenever I experience anxiety at the mere idea of striking up a conversation with a complete stranger. Sometimes, I'm in my element, I rehearse the course of action and put in place all necessary. Except at the core, deep beneath the outer layers of that which is visible, lies the very cause: I am not in my element at all times, as I should, because I am not keeping pace with all the changes that need to take place. Said in a different way, there's unfinished business, and I ought to take on the fear face to face, jump in the water before finding out its temperature. Changes need to happen in a quantum leap, from larva to fish, mammal to superman, superman to semi-god, and then some. How about it, eh? Abolishing any fear that may manifest itself, moving out on my own, finally settling old scores, devoting the best energy to those activities that are most rewarding to my well-being: working out, meditating, writing, and spending some quality time with Esteban, for a change. That, I think, is where a supposed contradiction takes shape: perhaps I fear leaving home because of my son, or is it possible that I use this as an excuse? It is no time to be selfish, another voice says. And then, again, I am. It is my undeniable nature to be selfish, if only for a while. After so long, I still am afraid. I am afraid, I said. I say things and I say them again, and some are undertaken but in the long run, I am, still very much so, afraid.
I got just the solution: dare!
Challenge yourself, push harder, come on! Like the stonecutter, he doesn't know when will the rock crack but he keeps chopping and chopping at it until it crumbles down to dust. I will pursue this day in and out, and I'll leave these pages of confusion as testament that I was not really confused but just taking a break, a meditative pause, and marveling at all the things to come. For that, and more, we must persevere.
Do not throw the towel in yet, let life be as unbearable as it may seem, and just keep chopping. Chop, chop, chop.
Chop, chop, chop.
Oh, no. I'm not done yet. There's more. A lot more of it, it never ends. Suddenly, I feel less and less afraid, taking shape, morphing into a brand, newer being, in a quantum leap. Write your masterpiece, one at a time; separate from Isabel, one day at time; travel outside the country, maybe Dominican Republic, certainly Colombia; complete dental work, now!; work out, and don't feel restless, the only reason you feel sluggish is because, well, you're exhausted but you'll gain strength through physical activity. Start to flourish as of now.