If everyone has a voice, then this becomes mine. Not the voice that I use in everyday conversation. Neither is this the voice that is used to proclaim (and more recently, lament) my dedication to Liverpool Football Club. This is the other voice: the one that has no sound, but that is spoken the most. Because everyone has a voice that they do not want anyone to hear. Perhaps it's got to do with that "still small voice" that Elijah heard when he was waiting for the LORD to appear on the mountain. Because the truth-of-every-matter is very rarely found in the roaring wind, the rumbling earthquake or the raging fire. More often, it's found in the stillness, where there are no distractions or pretences. And I guess that's where I find mine. Not in the places where there are many observers to critique and analyse, but in the wonderful place of calm where the best conversations are had, because they are had with myself. Of course, I am my biggest critic. But I am also my biggest fan. My sub-conscious can be both subjective and objective because I only have to convince myself. And in a world where you can be the prince and the pauper, the bowler and the batsmen, the striker and the goalie, you can win and lose all at the same time.
For some people the thought of 'self' is scary, but I think that it can be fun. Not because I have mastered the 'self' and know exactly who and what I am. I think the fun is in never knowing. It's in being able to change your mind. It's in NOT knowing who you are and NEVER finding yourself. Because if we never got lost we'd never find the deserted beaches of life, and where else am I meant to wear my bikini?
So this blog is my deserted beach. It's the place where I don't have to worry about wearing sunscreen, because I determine the temperature of the sun. My binoculars are always ready for whale-spotting, because I know exactly when the dolphins are going to appear. And over December, I never have to worry about overcrowding, because I am the only person who knows where this beach is.
However, the rest of the time, when I have to deal with the other people in the world (who, for the most part, should spend a little more time on their own deserted beaches and far away from me) I am going to try to bring a little bit of that bikini-wearing-dolphin-watching-care-free me to the fake-smiles that I encounter everyday. While my Still Voice is waiting for me to return to Lothlorien (which is where I have decided my deserted beach needs to be), I am going to use my real voice to speak love to hate, truth to deceit and joy to despair. Which is why, to end off my first Blog, I want to pose a challenge to myself, and to all others who might stumble upon these insane and somewhat incoherent - yet nonetheless phenomenal and, if anything, grammatically correct - ramblings of yet another soldier in this battle for purpose. I wish to suggest that since we do not exist on our own deserted beaches (unless you're Beyonce and Jay-Z), perhaps we should start creating the kind of world that we want to live in.
I'm not talking about weekly volunteering at a children's home or giving 20% of your monthly income to charity (although these are great ideas!). My challenge for the week is that when you come across the rashes in life, full of puss and irritating to the point that you actually want to scratch them (both figuratively and literally), don't. If I've learnt anything from those pesky rashes, it's that the best way to handle them is not aggressively, because then you're walking around with really nasty (pronounced nAsty, not nARsty) scars on your arms. The best thing to do is to cover the rash with a soothing ointment and, if that doesn't work, wrap a bandage on it so that you're not tempted to peel your skin off. Truth is, if you're aggressive with those niggly irates, you end up worse off than if you just walk away. You see, the power in speaking love to hate is that you don't end up losing a single thing. So when that limited taxi driver, intellectual-deficient co-worker or stolid cashier just makes you want to raise your right hand and swing it down as hard as you can, just don't.
Since Shakespeare is my secret lover, I will leave you with these words:
"Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful." Measure for Measure
