Fabled to win

One thing I've learnt is that you can't hope to win if you're afraid to lose.

In Aesop's fable of the tortoise and the hare, we are meant to learn the value of perseverance. But what we don't often think about was that even though the tortoise wins, he was still taking a risk in even running the race. He wasn't playing it safe. Imagine how all the animals must have laughed at him for being stupid enough to take on the hare! But fear of losing didn't stop him.

He had something much more powerful than speed, he had strategy. He understood the psychology of the individual.

Friendships

Lately there's been a new topic of discussion that's been raging the blogosphere as I know it: Friendship. This is my take.

If we viewed the world in greyscale, there are many different shades of black and white. Once you view the world in full colour, these shades of black and white turn to actual hues, like turquoise, red, or yellow. Yet there are some which are so intensely black or white, that even after you upgrade to Technicolour, they will remain all black or all white. This is a story of Black and White, of darkness, and of light.

All along, White understood other Colours by shining its light on them. Some light was absorbed, but the rest was reflected back, revealing the hues in their resplendence. Since White is a combination of all hues, White took delight in the similarities it shared with these hues, in the colours that were reflected. What made it so beautiful to White was this: the longer White shone its light on these Colours, the more White discovered of them, the more hues were reflected back, and the closer the approach to White these Colours came.

Then Black came along. White tried to understand Black the same way it did with other Colours. It shone its light on Black. But Black being Black, reflected nothing back. It remained in the dark. White peered at Black long and deep, but could see nothing in the darkness except occasional cold glimmerings of light. White was never sure whether this light was the light that was reflected back from White, or from some internal source within Black, for Black, in its darkness, seemed to radiate an energy of its own, an aura of darkness.

Now, the chemistry between Black and White was different from the chemistry between White and other Colours. It was driven not by White's act, but by Black producing a reaction in White. White was piqued by the challenge Black presented. While White understood that it would never be able to understand Black the way it did with other Colours, White observed Black on its own terms, in its darkness, and thought that it had arrived at some form of understanding. No, the challenge Black presented was not merely the challenge to understand, but to influence. To establish some light in Black's darkness. It was a new struggle which energised and intrigued White. Of course, Black was darkness, and once light comes darkness goes. White knew this. White knew that despite all its effort, Black would still be Black. But White kept at it.

There were instants when White's light threatened to invade Black's darkness, and Black's darkness threatened to overtake White's light. These were instants when White's light completely flooded Black's darkness, and when Black's darkness completely engulfed White's light. But of course, White being White, it was almost immediate in its response to restablish its light, because White cannot be White without light. And Black of course, was likewise as quick to restablish its darkness, because Black cannot be Black without darkness. But sometimes in the struggle, there were lingering moments of balance and unity, and of great beauty. Snapshots of these moments would look like the yin-yang diagrams, a splotch of White in Black, and a splotch of Black in White, whichever way you developed the film (positive or negative).

All of us have a little bit of Black, and White in us. Most of us make friends the way White understands and delights other Colours. We appreciate similarities. But if we can respond to the differences in our friends the way White responded to Black, perhaps we can make the most of these differences. When coupled with appreciating similarities, friendships can be greatly deepened. And these kinds of friendships - which involve the embracing of the friend as a whole, their good, their bad, their similarities, and their differences - can be much more than just friendships for the sake for friendship, they can be empowering unions.

So what do I mean by empowering unions? I don't mean, as some might presume, the jump from platonic love to romantic, although it's true there's a change in intent. An empowering union is powered by the intent to work synergistically together to create something wonderful. But perhaps this isn't a change, but arises spontaneously as the result of being intent on knowing someone. Deeply.

The little girl in the secret chamber

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a beautiful land of great diversity. She was given lots of freedom to explore. She could go to the forest, go to the village, go anywhere she wanted. She could climb trees, hide in burrows, do anything she wanted. So, she was happy.

But slowly, the confines of her world became smaller. She didn't even notice it at first. But gradually, she started to notice how there was less forest to explore, less village to frolic in, less people to talk to. It discomfited her vaguely, but she didn't think much of it.

Then one day, she noticed she could not even unlock the door of her room, the grandest room at the top of the highest tower of that most-beautiful palace. She tried, and tried, but to no avail. She burst into tears, and fell asleep.

She slept for a long time.

She woke up to find herself in a small, dark prison. No light could enter, naught but a mere ray of weak light through a slit in the wall.

At first, she thought she was imagining it all, and pinched herself. Then, she thought her eyes were deceiving her, and rubbed them. But nothing changed.

She got up to explore the place, and fumbling, began to feel her way around. She discovered that it was furnished exactly the same as her old room, the one in the high tower.

The only difference was the Darkness. The way the thick inky blackness of It seemed to press round menacingly, waiting only for just the right chance to eat her. It was a fearsome combination of beasts. In the Darkness, of course she could not see It, but she could feel It. She could sense It.

So she felt Its velvety skin coiling around her like a black cat around at a witch's ankles. She smelt scent of want, of desire. She smelt also a deep loathing. A certain jealousy, even. She tasted fear on her tongue, and although she could not see, she felt as though Its jaws were always opened, about to sever her in two. She felt also, Its cool breath, as chilly as the drafts that occasionally entered the castle. And sometimes, she thought she could even see Its teeth glinting eerily in strange glimmers.

Yes, the little girl was very afraid. At first, She pounded against the heavy door. It felt almost like she was pounding on a wall, it was so stubborn and thick. It didn't rattle like the other doors did.

She was angry, and determined. But most of all, she was scared. So she screamed and shouted. And pounded. And again. Over and over and over, but, she couldn't get out.

She passed the days of her miserable existence in despair. Every so often, she would try to get out. Sometimes, when she pushed with all her might against the door, it seemed as if it moved a bit, once or twice she managed to get it so far ajar that she could slip her hand through, but the door was closed as quickly as she opened it.

She lives there still, deep down in each of our hearts, waiting to get out. Waiting for the iron will of Self-Control to weaken and give in to her, the child we all once were, and pure untamed - emotion.

And when you feel sheer anguish, or joy, you know it's her. For she almost managed to escape from that little room you keep her in.