Suggested listening accompaniment: Adele's, "One and Only."
When #Hamlet said, "To be or not to be," he began a soul-searching inquisition wrought with arguably the most odious dilemma: #indecision.
#Choices aren't easy. Do I give him my number or not? Do I invite him back to my place or not? Do I stay where I am or do I move on? Do I go to the gym or stay home? Do I stay with him or break up? Do I move to Queens, Jersey, or Harlem? Cream or milk? Peanut butter or jelly? And while some pursue more gluttonous avenues: why choose when you can have both (peanut butter and jelly)? Still others remain stagnant, making the choice to do nothing at all.
And why not? In a society where seconds mean millions and time isn't merely a luxury, but rather a loaded gun constantly pointed at our temples, making choices has boiled down for many to mountainous life or death situations. And understandably so. In a world that moves so fast with so many variables, how do you make an informed choice? How do you overcome the fear and dread of choosing?
Hamlet's plight caused such internal conflict that inaction resulted. Several months ago, I began a private and urgent journey toward actualizing a decision I'd finally made for myself. I'd returned from an amazing, unforgettable search into my resilience, my drive, determination, adaptability, sense of adventure, and renewed search for good, spirituality, and self, all in the name of my reluctant entrance into my thirtieth year of life.
What I found in Costa Rica was life. What I found in Peru was accomplishment. And Mexico? I found Tequila in Mexico. And throughout, I found the good of the world, and, more that is mine to own privately.
#Ghandi once said, “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would
also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of
the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do.” I returned ready to enact the change I wished to seek within my life. Early in the summer, YOLO was indeed my motto. To a certain extent, the principle remained the same. If we as people believe this is the one life we have to live, then why not enjoy every moment of it. We can make the world, and our lives, the way we want them to be.
And in that regard, a good friend, Stevie, inspired me. Stevie picked up his life in Key West and moved thousands of miles away. If he believed he could do it, if he could take that leap of faith, despite the risks, setbacks, sacrifices, and all in the name of pursuing happiness as he defines it for himself, then why couldn't I? Why couldn't I get up off of my ass and do it too?
With resolve, I tried. The moment I returned, I went out with my charismatic, trendy, and fabulous friend, Oso. Oso, in education, as well, and I met for a cocktail at Therapy. What happened next determined the next phase of my life. I met Tyree, the amazing actor, singer, writer, philosopher, and server at Bubba Gump Shrimp in Times Square at the time.
I was ready to date. I'd made the decision. I wanted to fall in love. Ty was there, we connected, and we tried. After a month of steady dating, we made the decision to see only each other. After several months of what became sporadic exclusivity, I made the decision for the both of us that we'd be friends.
During our exclusivity, I took a second job, and decided for my betterment, in the spirit of all I'd experienced over the summer, to make a drastic change in my life: I was going to take a PhD. I did everything I could to make this happen. I applied, studied for and retook my GREs, gathered my recommendations, and submitted it all in hopes that my choice wouldn't be in vain. I'd change my life for the better, to be happy living the life I wanted for myself, all while serving a greater good: educational reform.
Sometimes things don't work out the way we plan.
The opening lines of Richard III, spoken by Gloucester, says, "Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York; [...]" It was indeed a terribly difficult, long winter, stretching on and on like an endless night with no end in sight. Richard was an unhappy king, living in a world less than smitten with him as their ruler. And although we can all become plagued by unhappiness, blaming others and in fact, often the world, for our lots in life, we, whether by action or through inaction, make the very choices and decisions which oftentimes affect and dictate our lives.
It's true that we may not have control over much that happens around us. But one thing I've grown to realize - I mean, really realize - is that what we can control, or at the very least, mitigate, is our reactions to the events affecting and afflicting our lives.
I tried. But as the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer, and longer still, I sank rather much like Ophelia into a pool of self-pity, despair, and, of course, inaction brought on by a focused pursuit to one and only one end. It's funny: no matter how much you convince yourself of the many options you are simultaneously pursuing, like someone with OCD, you find yourself obsessing unknowingly about one option which, in actuality, isn't an option until, well, it is.
During this, Brandon Lacy Campos, a renowned author and activist in the queer community, a spirit of light and love, someone I'd only had the privilege of knowing an all-too-short time passed away. He passed away around the same time that someone of similar strength and fortitude, love and light, laughter and fierce, fierce fabulosity also passed the year before: Alonzo. Several years earlier, I'd lost others, all around that same time of year. As many began to celebrate the mysteries and joys of giving in the spirit of whatever holiday they celebrated (Kwanza, Chanukah, Christmas...), I grieve and mourn, sometimes publicly, but often very privately in my own way.
How does one act to change when one's actions are confused in and of themselves, and, all the while, everything surrounding is working aggressively to pull one down?
Working two jobs (one of which maintains such wrong-doing, misgiving and toxicity that its existence pulls at the very fabric of the conscientious soul); pressured to study for a difficult test in an area that is altogether challenging for reasons too numerous to enumerate here; working through the self-induced excuses of a failing romance, and soon later, a breakup; trying to overcome weeks of sleep and peace deprivation directly caused by the two year old demonic energizer bunny living above me whose favorite pastime was and is mimicking the bass sounds of an after-hours nightclub from sun-up past sun-down; finding energy amid loathsome financial and vitamin d decline; suppressing those faculties related to grieving; and negotiating all of the other very real life stuff took its toll. The icing on the cake came just around my test when I was informed that a student of mine had made claims of sexual misconduct on my part. I've since been formally absolved of all accusations, but only after an investigation which had gone on, unbeknown to me, since November, only to come to light after the new year.
It was the longest winter I'd experienced in my life. And like Hamlet, I truly questioned whether or not I should be or not be.
Perspective is a funny thing. When we gain a moment to breathe, slow down the life or death pace of decision making and our humanity returns, affording organically, after some healing time, clarity. And suddenly, like Fergie bitten by the love-bug in "Clumsy," we're back.
#Holden Caulfield, the protagonist in J.D. Salinger's, The Catcher in the Rye, was consumed with angst. Only, it wasn't that he lacked options - not really. But he's sensitivity permitted him to recognize, at least, and arguably, unconsciously, that the options available to him were all plagued with some toxic facet. He called it phoniness. Whatever the symptom, the root is the same. And for those of us faced with choices polluted by some toxic aspect, sometimes we resort to what seems like the quickest fix; sometimes that quick fix is staying put, sometimes it's whatever option seems to avail of itself in the moment, sometimes it's the very action of deliberating itself, questioning with no end in sight.
This week I found my #voice again. I discovered a distorted, distraught, desensitized version of the voice that stepped (perhaps, in overconfidence) out of a month long trip south of the equator. Admitting to yourself that despite it all - the heartache, the rejection, the depression, the anxiety, the malevolence, the wrong-doing, the aggression, and the toxicity - at the end of the day, the options you seek begin and end within yourself, is the hardest thing to do.
Sometimes what you least expect to catalyze #change, when you least expect it, does. After over a week off from my general responsibilities, a little sleep, a little peace, I've found, yet again, a long-lost voice. And although I recognize that at this point I have very few real options in front of me, one thing is for certain: I have in front of me more possibilities of paths down which to travel than I can count and the one choice I have definitively is how I approach, perceive, and react to these possibilities and my current situations.
#Life is short. And it won't always be easy. If you realize you can mitigate and control your reactions to given situations, and if you're willing to let go of all the bonds that bog you down, knowing there are more risks than you can count, you take a leap of faith, then possibilities became apparent, choices manifest, and happiness... pervasive and continuous happiness within each and every moment will exist in your core.
If only Hamlet had realized these truths sooner. Maybe then he and Ophelia could've gone steady, moved to Tuscany, opened up an Olive Farm, had a few kids, and lived happily ever after.
