Sometimes…
the spaces within ourselves that we do not want to occupy,
the spaces we suffocate with our judgments
and narrow with our scornful eye,
can be the birthing ground
of our most precious gifts.
Yet we zoom into our complexities,
our hang-ups,
and idiosyncrasies,
condemning them,
desperate to disentangle them,
as though we were scrutinizing
the reverse side
of a colourful tapestry,
faulting the disorderly threads,
failing to see that it is
the unruly twists and knots
that make for the rich embroidery.
Our manic tendency,
our melancholia
and hyper-sensitivity,
our over-analysis
and deep rumination,
our obsessive compulsion
may be the verso of our brilliance,
the gateway to new ideas,
that extra spice
that makes up for the vice,
the courage and fortitude
that steady us.
Look around and back in time:
the most intricate details
in masterful artistry,
the most moving speeches
and tales in history,
the greatest formulae and theories,
orchestras and symphonies,
insights and philosophies,
these are not born out of neutral qualities,
not devoid of the intensities
we berate.
While some may be lacking
in what we are conditioned
to celebrate,
their differences are the dark side
of their extraordinary force:
an evolutionary trade-off,
like one arm in the absence of the other,
strengthened by its fate,
able to carry more weight.
Everything comes at a cost;
the greater the prize,
the higher the price.
And perhaps the price some pay
is in fact, themselves:
a noble sacrifice one could say,
as it can come at the expense
of a peaceful life.
Yet we don’t see it that way:
we judge,
despite reaping the benefits,
we judge.
Is it because we need others to be safe,
mild, neither here nor there,
rounding their corners
to render them familiar?
Is it because such persons
are often possessed
by a passion greater than their interest in us,
greater than the niceties that stroke our egos?
Or do we judge because, ultimately,
we judge ourselves as we teeter
at the edge of the abyss,
stigmatizing our attempts to cope
with our deepest wounds,
failing to see that it is
the unruly twists and knots
that make for our rich embroidery.