By Hera Barrameda
We humans have been to trying so hard to exist from the head in a world that only wished us to play from the heart. In a world where people are measured based on the times they failed, there were times I would flee, because staying would mean compromising my own peace.
We always equate giving up to the phrase “retreat and surrender”. We retreat and surrender in shame and regret and wallow in the self-inflicted mystery of this man-made belief. But if there’s one thing I found special, it’s that retreating and surrendering can be the most therapeutic decision when done well.
Most if not all of our major life decisions are usually made with the intention of preserving our safety. For some, safety means living within societal constructs and rules we know to be true. For others, safety means staying true to the core of who we are. When that core gets rocked, we retreat, not to surrender, but to rediscover why.
Before the pandemic, I traveled a lot, mostly without an itinerary. And in these moments I encounter lessons I would have not encountered had I stayed still.
One of the most therapeutic walks happened when I was in Italy. Getting lost alone in the streets of Florence is a walking meditation, a pilgrimage even, that kind that shuts the brain leaving the senses as mere observers. It is when the brain sleeps that the heart can finally sing and the cloud of thoughts can just live the melody. That day, amid ancient walls and summer sunsets, I started to hear questions I didn’t know existed and answers I didn’t see have been there all along.
While in Florence, I realized how there is something about a bridge called Ponte Vecchio that makes my heart skip a beat. Just thinking about the millions of people who have crossed this bridge since the medieval Roman times, the floods it has withstood, the wars it survived and how despite the tides and great misadventures (a large part of it was reconstructed many times) it evolved into a piece of history worthy of poetry and song. It dawned on me how we have always wanted to succeed. But history reminded me that wars, famines and deaths contribute to an elegant tapestry of civilizations that will lead us to who we are now. Maybe the purpose of life isn’t to just win but to live through all of life until there is nothing more to unsee because nothing much seems to bother us anymore. In our lives, we have inner wars to win and chapters that need to be endured and though we don’t see the road ahead, win or lose, it will be part of history, and every bit of it will be beautiful.
I am bad with physical activity that hiking can be a challenge for me. On one of those trips, I tried to hike a mountain in Arizona, while in the cold and with the wind gloriously chilling my face. As I ascended to the summit, sensitive to every sensation of discomfort and scheming exhaustion, I remembered why I began. I got reminded of the many times I did and got reminded how we could always honor our why when the climb gets tough. Most importantly, we ought to honor the climb when we reach the summit. At times we scream of agony when the load gets heavier and the wheels turn slower, but if we only stop looking down and gaze upon what’s ahead, we may only find it’s only because we have commenced the climb to the summit.
I sat on this bench 2 years ago writing all my thoughts and dreams away. As I ponder upon all the prayers of a hundred moons, I found a few things certain: God leaves no table unturned, no thirst unquenched and no prayers unanswered.
I used to travel when I thought a part of me died. But I realized that when one dies it’s not always so one can cease to exist, more often than not it’s so one’s life can begin again. And this time, maybe it can be better.
