First draft of a couple of pages from something I’ve been writing-
Linked arm n arm, teary-eyed, swollen throats, ‘twas farewell not goodbye. Eight weeks of brotherhood, bonding, understanding, accomplishment, learning, failure and achievement proved countless times that’s all it takes to change a life.
I was only eighteen, more baby faces than I presently am but my deepest interest in humanity was apparently evident. I had never exactly known it, I was only familiar with the enjoyment I received from running around being lunatics with my well younger cousins. I only knew this as ‘fun’ and it’s partnering emotion ‘happy’. I never understood or realised that underlying the contagious happiness I was in fact, influential. Such a simple yet effective word. However, learning to understand this was one heck of an inevitably inspiration journey.
I’ve always said my inspiration and interest came from when when I was assaulted six years ago, yet I’ve never been able to completely put my finger on it. Six years have gone by though and now I think I do understand.
See, I’ve always loved being able to be a positive role model because I’ve been fortunate enough to grow up with one, my father. My father is my hero, and what boy/son/male/man doesn’t want to be their hero at some point in their life? So if I were to say the assault was the reason I wanted to be a positive role model I’d be lying. However, it did lead me to recognise it, therefore allowing it to evolve.
I was assaulted by a group of older males under the influence of drugs and alcohol, but that shouldn’t matter. I was at our local skatepark with my group of groms and in our company was our pal thought was in a wheelchair at the time, Jaydn is his name. Jaydn came by to show of his new wheelchair as he just came out of surgery, so of course we had fun with that. Jaydn is a few years older, unfortunately he was in a car accident when he was a baby which has left his pure soul in a limited body, he’s an amazing person. Suddenly we were accompanied with a grim presence, crossing the road towards us were my soon-to-be unfortunate influences. Within a matter of minutes a glass bottle came smashing down next to us creating a flock of innocent grommets to scatter in panic and run for their own lives. Instinctively, not wanting to but GOD DAMN instinctively, I went to Jaydn’s aid. Unfortunately that was enough time for the first drug infested derelict to meet his fist with my face.
- sometimes your instincts really are on point, what I sensed made me fearful and scared, yet my discipline found the slightest drop of courage and allowed me to become counter phobic to the situation. Like a needle in a haystack, that was my courage in fear.
One blow after the other, I just dropped. Noise of the punches is what I felt - no physical pain. Curling into a ball I cradled my fear and held my courage, but my courage was helpless whilst being repetitively stomped and trampled on. I became equivalent to the dirt I was put down on. Through the skinny torn vision I had, I could see Jaydn helplessly watch on. Tears broke from his eyes as I pathetically screened for help.
The ordeal came to a conclusion when my good pal became a distraction and nervously lured them away. He was always timid and soft hearted, back then he and I were the runts. Braving his life of odds “get off him” trembled out his mouth, he was now the target. Boy did he run after that, but anyone would if they had a cackle of scavenging hyenas on the hunt for them. He led them away and he led them astray, he did a brave thing that day and it’s one of the reason he’s my best friend to this day (cheers Aidan you weirdo).
Discovering courage was a ghastly lesson. Beforehand ‘courage’ was just a word describing an ‘easy’ solution to an inevitably fearful situation/event. Easy it is not, in fact, it is and will be scarier than it’s opposed situation.
A few days later I was to return to school and it’s usual testosterone banter. Expecting to cop flack and the usual taunts for being the only skateboarder in a school of meat-headed football jocks and simpletons, instead I was confronted with handshakes and a heroic praise. My story had passed through quickly whilst I was away from school, of course it escalated through Chinese whispers, ended up somehow involving helicopters.
Things changed for me that day. It was the first time I felt the reward for being human. It was the first time I felt acceptance, and I had been accepted for my rawest persona. Humbled was the state I was left in. I was captivated by the response, it was a humane reward for my humane action.
You could not buy what I felt with all the money in the world, I would not trade what I felt for all the money in the world.
Who I was then is who I am now, and who I am finally made sense to me during that given moment.
Erm, I find it a little tough but I do enjoy it. Sometimes it is easier for me to write in a poetic form rather than a story, it allows me to just explore a single emotion. usually that’s when I’ll write poem, stops me from going off topic hahah. Nevertheless, cheers for your words
I left here for their
I left their for here
I left myself on that side of the world and came back to fear
I wrote this at the start of the year, intrigued and inspired, yet bored and waiting for my plane to take me home from Sydney.
Frail and humble, a woman with endless years of life under her belt, eyes that have seen endless sights, ears that have heard endless stories, a heart with the experience of a lifetime suddenly but subtly inspired my mere 20 years.
It doesn’t take a blind eye or taught discipline to recognise or help the elderly/simply someone in need. Struggling up the trains shallow stairs, she caught my eye. Whether I was the first person or last to notice instinctively I was to her aid. All it took was a hand up the stairs and guidance into a seat, half a minute spent humanly. She was thankful and gracious. Sweet and sincere, a tender soul. There was a seat vacant in front so I smiled, spoke “my pleasure”, rested my little bum and long legs in the claustrophobic seats and went on with my day.
My stop approached, grabbed my things, checked the time and of course I was late for my meeting. Slightly in a panic I got out of my seat and as I stood up I felt a hand comfort my shoulder. I turned around to my new influence and her words spoke - “you’re a gorgeous boy soon to be a handsome man, a gentleman already. I want to tell you to never say no to love. Do not be like me and wait around for it or say no, learn it, because next thing you’ll be 70 without someone to share your life with. Find love, share your life with someone, you deserve it”. I comforted her closest hand in my hands, absorbing her emotion, I thanked her.
That was it for me. I explained how late I was and then parted from the stranger.
It was a moment I did not want to break. It was a moment that has brought light to many things. It is a moment that has created questions and for those questions I am to answer.
The power of our actions have such a powerful impact to lives we aren’t aware of. The apparent impact I had on her life has evolved to be an impact and influence on my life.
And that, I think, is a beautiful thing.
Another dumb tale of taking a step in someone else’s shoes we shouldn’t need to hear, or live, or think about.
We’re deceptively selfish and ignorant to our bones, to ourselves, without realisation. Not in extremes but to the smallest of things.
I tend to be thanked for my selfless character and often I do find myself arguing with greed - growing up my father was one to always emphasise the importance of giving, caring, sharing and putting others first. Once I understood his point it soon became an instinct.
I found myself a little down in the dumps today, being in a big city with more fingers then friends became overwhelming (not having a sook - the people I’ve met here are by far the greatest). Solitude I appreciate, but it’s hard for me to deal with when it becomes excessive. Constantly having only a few bucks to my name doesn’t help, or having all the time in the world as the only thing I have.
I (self(i)sh) went to the op shop down the road to find winter clothes, take this shit off my mind and get on with my day. When you do something to take your mind off of something, well it never fucking happens and we all know that. A lady came in with her husband - she was brittle, soft spoken, humble in a chilling way, her presence spoke of a heartbreak, a loss, she was broken. She approached the owner of the op shop not the volunteers - a sign of a connection, her fragility spoke about the phone call she made earlier on in the day about the passing of her mother last night. She was simply fulfilling the wishes of her passed mother. The little assets the mother possessed was to be donated. I soon learnt all that she knew and all that she had was this little family run shop and the love and happiness she had for her family, the shop and her life in general was far more powerful than whatever it is we search for, wealth or success, or the two together.
It was one of those situations that allows us to take a step back, recognise what we have, who we have and appreciate the two. A big kick in the bum to stop feeling sorry myself when my life is fucking great. After all, time does run out at some point.