It is not surprising that it took a long Rhodetrip home to inspire me to start writing again. While I had known that my relationship with Joburg had ended when my love affair with Grahamstown began, I had thought that the break up was an amicable one. Sadly, I am not exempt to the age-old wisdom of: thou canst not a friend to thine ex be. And I finally understand why: because your ex is everything you were, who you used to be, the food you used to like and your waste-high, faded jeans that used to be in style.
Joburg and I no longer have anything in common. We do not listen to the same music, watch the same movies or find the same jokes tolerable. While Johannesburg is concerned with building of the road, I care more about where the road is headed. Johannesburg counts the pennies; I am more accustomed to not having any to count. At some point, Joburg became more of a 'Time Magazine' reader, whilst I took on a liking for 'The Economist'. When we go out for lunch, Joburg and I can no longer share a meal because I like the pasta, and Joburg prefers the steak. Johannesburg grew up listening to The Rolling Stones, whereas for me, it was Michael Jackson who really changed my life.
Not to say that there is anything wrong with this. I think that it takes a great deal of maturity (yes, on my part) to admit that I have lost familiarity with my oldest friend. And it is this thought that really gave me the impetus to begin to feel the feelings that led me to be sitting, once more, in front of a computer.
In as much as we find it difficult to say farewell to a relationship that has already ended, we also find it difficult to see that life is actually not as complicated as it may seem. Sure, the detail changes here and there, but for the most part the structure can be deemed as somewhat predictable. If [barely] completing Drama 3 successfully has taught me anything, it's that everything must have a beginning, middle and end. Nothing can last in this world, because nothing is meant to last. That's just not the option we are given. And so, as I have learnt with my relationship with Johannesburg, life, too, must come to its inevitable denouement. The sad part, however, is that instead of "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light', our lives become dim and pointless. We accept that because life began without our consent, and it is going to end without our knowing, we abdicate our control of whatever happens in between
And what a shame. Not a shame that we let our lights die, because that it how we are brought up. We are told to dream whatever we want, and then when we turn 8 we are told that those dreams need to be limited. We are told to strive for more than mediocre, but we are brought up to treasure a comfort and security that can only be achieved when we do what everyone else is doing. So there is no shame in letting our lights die out.
The shame is that we let the darkness in.
I do not have to travel very far in my own history to remember a time when I believed that I could be different. Where I aimed higher than the bull's eye on the ceiling. And now here I am, stuck (yes, I use stuck wisely, here) in a job that is pointless and with a life that does not satisfy. Back with Johannesburg, thinking that I can have a relationship with one that had stopped to satisfy me a very long time ago.
While I write what is in my heart, I never want this blog to be about me - a topic that, I do not doubt, is of great interest but that will not be of much value to whomever may stumble across my cyber space. What I aim to do is to leave you with a thought that started in my brain, and that would like to take residence in yours.
I no longer believe in the stars, at least not in the way that it has been taught. Our sun is so pathetic in comparison to the billions that sparkle in the heavens, and yet we seem so content with it. How very pathetic of us!
Week challenge: my light is not compared to the light of the sun, neither is it compared to those balls of fire that burn so far away. My light is exactly that: MY light. I refuse to let it be defined by anything or anyone but me. I am my star, and my light is bright. I will not suffer myself to settle for a light that shines dimmer than the one I know shines within me.
This is not a motivational message. This is a message to the little kid in all of us who IS Batman, who CAN fly and who WILL change the world. This message is to that star. I'm sorry I told you to stop shining. How foolish of me. I want you to take me to the end of the world, remind me what it's like to ride on a unicorn and to jump off a rainbow. I miss my star.
From now on, I do not just believe in stars. I believe in Shakespeare's "auspicious star" that catapulted the world's greatest romance, stirred up a Tempest, and changed the world.
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