Remember your Heritage

I caught myself having to swallow a few tears the other day while sitting in the movie theatre, and I doubt that there was anyone else around who was so moved as I was at this point in the film I was watching, for to most, it would seem to be a rather detached, unrelatable moment, yet for me the imagery resonated deep within my soul.

Four children had just been swept away from the monotony of their everyday lives back into a magical world where they once had spent their entire lives… until, by the magic of the story, they were returned to their original world where only hours had passed. Upon their return to the magical world, these four children discovered that centuries had passed in this other kingdom: the castle that they had once ruled from now was a pile of decaying rubble, looking long forgotten. However, a hidden passageway in one of the remaining walls led them to a secret chamber, where these children had stored their prized treasures—gifts given to them from their sovereign, the creator of this magical world.
As I watched these four children walking to four separate chests, each with a marble statue of their former selves standing behind the individual boxes, I couldn't help but be reminded of the opening sequence of the film, where we were shown snippets of their "ordinary" lives. In one of these, we watch as the oldest of the four gets caught in a rough altercation with several other chaps, and after the scuffle ends, he remarks on how he hates being treated like a kid. "But we are kids," said one of his sisters, to which he replied, "Yes, but we weren't always."

Now the director's brilliance really shines through here, as the whole gambit of lighting, framing, picturisation and the rest of those toys at any good director's disposal come to impress the contrast of what they presently were—as children in England—with what they formerly had been: kings and queens of a glorious nation. As each opened their individual chest, a wave of remembrance churned through the characters (or at least in my experience/take of the film) when they became reacquainted with their treasures from a time that felt so long ago…

Yes, it was at this point—and a few others within the first 30 minutes of the film—that I had to fight back tears and swallow the hefty lump lodged in my throat. I was deeply moved, having been reminded of how these characters' situations were ever so much similar to mine (and possibly yours).

I am told that I am royalty, heir to the throne of Heaven—well, actually, co-heirs with the firstborn Prince of this kingdom called Creation. This firstborn prince and his Father decided to adopt me and vest in me the same authority as they have, insomuch as I remain or entwine myself in the character and presence of this supreme ruler. I am told that this King and his Son have brought their kingdom near to this world that we currently see, but that their kingdom is neither of this world nor fully made known yet. I am told that "for a little while" I'm to be living in this world as a foreigner, all the while trying to recruit others into citizenship in my adopted Father's kingdom—for all who are citizens acquire the rights, authority & privileges inherent to co-regency with the Firstborn.

Yet often I forget this. Often I get lulled into a sense of "that's a great idea or memory, but how much of it really effects my daily life?" Often I feel like this image of me being a prince of Creation is a nice thing or a good memory, and I shove it to the back of my brain because in this world, it really seems to not have much of a bearing on how things progress—much like the eldest child in the previously mentioned film, wishing that he were treated less like dirt in a kingdom that wasn't his. And often, I feel as if I act like the oldest sister, regarding the former kingdom as a thing gone by: a memory that makes her feel good, but one that really has little bearing on where she is right now.

Yet, as they open the chests, they remember their heritage. As each child lifts the lid on each of their treasure boxes, a recollection of who they are and what their true identity is floods back. They are not helpless, ordinary little people, trapped in a position where they can do nothing. They are kings and queens, endowed with gifts of power from their only Lord, the Creator of this magical land in which they sit as royalty.

Fruit Salad

Fumaroles and watermelons floating through the sky
Peppermint & cinnamon have stopped to ask for apple pie
Rollie pollie butterfly stops stooped atop a flow’red heart
While zebra looks along forlorn, wishing so much he were a tart

Bumblebees and bubblegum fill ears and hands and throats and pants
While apples cooked in sugar cane parade along in lavish dance
Shiny orange glimm’rs a trance with tangerine twist lemonade
All in the eyes of little limes sat perched atop bolts of brocade.

No more apologies

I'm a retard. This morning, I realised how much of a fool I have been over the past year & a bit, and looking back at myself, I can't believe how stupid I've been. Well, no more. The charade ends today.

This morning, it occurred to my by random chance that I have not really been letting me by myself. Why? Well, there's a wide range of factors:
•New job; trying to learn the ropes
•New country; trying to learn the language & the culture
•New community; trying to feel out what other people are like (though, to be honest, this one shouldn’t really affect the way I interact with people, but it does cause me to be a bit more reserved than usual—I'm prone to being shy at first)
•Huge responsibility; I'm directly in charge of forming the minds of 20 teenagers.

All of these are well and good; I wouldn't really be writing this blog post if that was all. Instead, there's this one last nagging one that deserves enlightenment. For the past year, it came to my attention that I've been sacrificing who I am in service of making other people feel more comfortable or giving them the appearance of what I think they want to see. I've been a social people-pleaser.

How'd this realisation come about? Well, last night, as I was out with a bunch of people, I couldn't help but notice after the second hour of conversation that there was no effort to include me at all. Granted, the location was a bit noisy, so the whole thing was very difficult to hear—in fact, I think that I only caught about 15% of what was being said the whole night. So, what you're probably thinking right now is something like, "Well, why didn't you try to hear better? Like move closer or ask them to speak up?" Well, I did. After several gestures of straining to hear, and after several phrases like, "Pardon me?" "Sorry?" "I can't hear you," "What did you say?" it became clear to me that nothing was going to change.
The conversation was centred around the opposite end of the table, to no surprise. At my end, behind me there was a raucous crowd of Thai people drinking, laughing and smoking away. However, even before this crowd came, the conversation tended to be opposite-heavy, and this wouldn't have bees so bad if the people at that end of the table would have spoken loud enough for me to hear what the fuck they were saying. But did my requests for an increased volume come to fruition? Nope. Not a chance. As soon as they repeated the last phrase spoken (which once in a while was directed toward me, and when I didn't respond, they raised their voices and looked at me quizzically), the general tone of sub-audible volumes took over, leaving me afloat in the conversational doldrums.
This, too, wouldn't have been so bad, were I have not been told to go sit at that very end of the table, so as to accommodate one of my associates' personal desires. And this morning, that got me thinking. Looking over the past year, it has become apparent to me that I have sacrificed me personal well-being in service of making others feel more welcome, more at home & helping others achieve their goals. In light of this, I expected that a certain level of reciprocation would play out, but it doesn't seem the case. Instead, earlier in the past week, when I mentioned to one of my associates a situation where their reciprocated well-being would have helped me out, the individual turned the other direction and began to make the situation in question increasingly frustrating.

And I'm tried of it. I'm tired of being the calm, unseeming individual who's bolstering the initiatives of others when they in turn show not even a bit of gratitude (much less reciprocation). I'm tired of being walked over. Tired of suppressing who I am to help others feel more at ease or comfortable—and THIS may not even be a reality: it could just be my perception—maybe I am just subduing myself so as to give people what I think they want.

And that is the tragedy of the story. I've learned many moons ago that people don't like a people-pleaser. People like individuals who are strong in their convictions, strong in their personality, strong in their carriage. Ergo, in light of this realisation that I've been retardedly smothering my own life, I've decided to give the world the finger and act as I please; true to self, true to image, true to who I am in Christ. No more of this effingly irritating subduction. The game is over, the wet blanket's coming off & I'm ready to shine in brilliant glory, even if that scares some people away. And if that offends you? Tough. Go cry in your little corner until you're big enough to realise that the world's not all about you.