I
am not sure of what happened, I still feel like I am not sure yet. It all has
this blinding, somewhat perplexing effect. The type of things you are sure
happened but you cannot explain why. In life I had not thought myself
capable of such experiences, such feelings, the type that in my previous
conscience I would have dismissed without even a second thought. But what can I
do? “Accept and move on” is what one of my friends believes to be the only way
forward. “If Raila did, who are you?” He always interrogates. Anyway I am not
seeking to pull politics into this, as that I realised is a hearty topic in
Kenya despite the seemingly calm outlook everyone dons. (I myself am a
politician so it is one thing I do not shy from, though I have a whole
different approach to it altogether. Maybe I’ll dwell more onto that some other
time.)
The
past few weeks have been the most thoughtful period for me in a very long time.
Thoughts of holding on against those of letting go, those of moving forward or
engaging me on reverse, a dive into the pool or to towel myself dry and dress
up. In short, many thoughts or should I say, decisions to make and live with.
Now that every Kenyan can relate to the not so necessary “choices have
consequences” lecture we received from the U.S of America, I thought it would
be delightful to use it (here I go again with the politicsJ). I have made
decisions, however I cannot for once term any of them as including the shameful
act of giving up. That’s very unlike me and will actually never be me.
There
is nothing that leads one into a state of Topsy-turvy more than having a clash
between the various ‘departments’ of oneself. I say this with confidence
because it is the exact state I have found myself in these past few weeks. Torn
between the heart and the mind, reality and fantasies and even worse ‘their’
opinion and my move. We make decisions and doubt them, but all in all I
remember picking up something from my business class to the effect that success
is premised on the willingness to take risks. The riskier the venture, the
higher the likelihood of healthy returns. But then again, are mine calculated
risks? A rhetoric capable of an answer only in due time.
When
you give your all towards something (or someone), it means standing it (or
them) at their worst, tolerating its pettiest and most annoying character and
if indeed it is someone, then laughing (genuinely) at their desert-dry jokes.
Why? It is not the joke that matters, but rather that the particular person was
thoughtful enough to attempt a joke (though lame) to try and give you one of
the most amazing gifts ever. A smile (J). With the foregoing
as the basis, I can say I have given my all once before. I am in fact proud of
myself for that, and would never regret or seek to change that, not in a
million years.
It
comes to a point that one has to choose between the easiest of actions and the
seemingly toughest and scariest of them all. I came to learn that the heart
mostly leads towards the former, with the mind or brain being a staunch
advocate for the latter.
Everyone has their preference and beliefs when it
comes to sorting out issues whereby there is a serious irreconcilable conflict
between the heart and the mind. I will not reveal which ‘department’ I followed
for my own reasons, however it took up a lot of my time and still does. Every
opportunity I get is utilised by a playback review of my decision. How I hate
regrets and hope I will not. If by any chance I do, exasperation rather than
anger is what I will be assured of towards myself. Those who know the
difference feel the weight my decision bears.
To
open a new alien chapter or to keep it as familiar and memorable as it was? The
fear of failure on a new course, or the fear of failure on a whole more
familiar one? Which between the two is the worst? Internalise your response,
for I have my opinion.
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