Starting Over

Born number 6 of 7, I came to the conclusion that either my parents were devout Catholics or they didn’t believe in contraceptives. Thinking back at my childhood church experiences watching as husbands and their wives walked into church followed by a liter of children, ruled out the latter half of my conclusions. It was obvious that fornication was a prevalent lesson at Sunday mass and the people in attendance were receptive to the literature presented. I mean who wouldn’t be intrigued by a fantastical story of Immaculate Conception or Deception? Of course, it all depends on whether you believe Mary or not.

Anyhow, as fate would have it, I didn’t absorb much of the lessons being taught in mass, even my mother’s subtle underarm pinches couldn’t coerce me to pay attention. The fact that I wasn’t listening to the words of peace and love was never more apparent than with my sibling interactions. The constant bickering or physical altercation with by my siblings resulted in my father suggesting I start boxing.

Aside from learning how to throw and take a punch, the boxing ring established parameters acknowledging that you had two things working against you, your opponent and most importantly time. Any form of safety was invalid for three minutes between ringing bells; thus, it was vital to learn your strengths and weakness, and adapt those weaknesses in a manner that would undermine your opponents strengths and capitalize on the remaining time you did have.

For 23 years, I took advantage of this defensive mentality and was able to successfully achieve what I wanted. However, the past year I found myself contemplating the long-term effects of continuously being on the defensive. Incessantly wearing armor and building the walls is not something that should be done, thinking others as your opponent and being suspect of them only breeds pessimism and cynicism. Essentially, time is all we own and depending on how you spend it determines the mutual relationship; by default time is not your opponent.

So as the wick of my 23rd year burns its final inches, I’m reassessing how I deal with situations that I encounter. Peace and love? Carpe Diem? Loving-kindness? Whatever avenue I choose to take, I hope it’s a good one.