Musings on movies, anger and choosing to be again
I watched an old Goldie Hawn movie yesterday.
Really, I never imagined starting a blog with such a line..
Anyway I ended up watching this movie. It wasn’t an instant choice or because I’m a big Goldie Hawn fan. Rather, I simply wanted to watch something that didn’t feel angry or sharp.
I don’t know if anyone else finds this right now but, for me, it feels like the world is angry at the moment. I don’t mean the protests or people struggling with the current lockdown, nor what our leaders are doing. I’m refering to something deeper.
I watched the Goldie Hawn movie as much because there was a certain innocence to it. There was no anger or need for great battles and true evil, no scarred depths, just a fun yarn and wild ride.
Oh, I know, a lot of people are having to face and deal with their scars or speaking out about things long buried which shouldn’t have been, but I, for myself, can’t be angry anymore. It takes too much of me away; burns too much of something I like in myself.
Not long ago I wouldn’t even have noticed what I was losing.
I so wanted to be part of a group; to validate myself by being with others who shared my views, because, after all, how can we be right unless there’s a whole horde thinking the same thing?
It was so easy to belong as well. All you had to do was drop everything you believed in that didn’t match the group you were joining and, hey presto, you were a member of a group and your thoughts and dreams would now be valid.
Hmm.. Yes, I know, but I didn’t see the obvious then. I didn’t really notice that I suddenly wasn’t living MY thoughts and dreams.
That’s what this blog has been about, even if I sometimes forget it. It’s been a chance to find my voice. To shout all those things I find I can’t in my physical life ( well, I can, but only to one person ). To belong, not in some group of hundreds but just in a group of 1 – me.
It’s not as easy as it sounds to join this group. For one thing it’s scary to stand on your own, to not have an army behind you validating your words.
It’s like standing on a cliff edge, ready to jump, and you look down and have no idea how you’ll survive the jump, or even if people will notice you’re gone.
It’s odd, now I come to write it.
How could I not have noticed the obvious.. The scariest thing about ‘belonging, alone’, well the scariest thing is that maybe, just maybe, it didn’t really matter that I was part of these other groups in the first place. Maybe all that time I was part of a big group made it easier to pretend that my existence mattered to the rest of the world, and now. Now, with only the vast open air and sea, and the sound of the wind echoing around, I have to wonder if they even noticed I was there.
It’s scary to think that. It’s also liberating once the fear has gone.
I grew up thinking I had to be valued by my peers and, to suddenly ask what it would be like to be valued by me, that changes everything.
Not that I can take the credit for finding this path though. I’m here only because someone loved me enough to want to see the real me, and I was too scared of losing someone so special and my defences slowly fell away.
Just one person was all it took. One person who thought, felt and cared about who I really was and was strong enough to not walk away.
If no-one else ever notices I was here I still think that it’s enough that I notice, and she does.
And the sun rises beyond the horizon, the wind is cool and hopefilled, carrying with it the sounds of a hundred birds waking. Thrift flowers colour the rock face and lichen gives brightness to grey stone. Water lapping gently. Maybe it’s nice to sit here a while.