This is probably my favourite time of the day. The second coffee before the Monday madness officially starts. Doctor Leaf called it “Freaking out in the love zone” and our “real life enthusiast and optimist” will say it’s just a fancy word for trauma bonding. I call it debriefing – or as a wise colleague once said: “time to pull yourself towards yourself”. It’s those stolen moments when you just relax and take it easy with a partner in crime: Tête-a-tête. Sipping coffee and discussing all the juice in the wards and narrating a personalized version of the Bold and the Beautiful. And before you know it, you spiral:
Sipping coffee and latching onto the “who’s who’s”, the “he said, she said scenario’s” or “you will not believe what I’ve heard” – it’s the moments candy floss are made of: The drama. We love it, and we are there for it. It is in these moments where the “opinionistas” flourish – individuals will discuss different versions of others (especially those that are not in the room where it is happening). And all the opinions are obviously accurate…
But as for yourself – perfect, as per usual. Always playing chess, never checkers.
It was during one of these expeditions, sipping the second flat white in champagne weather, where this personal realisation was shaped. The matter was quite personal, and it sounded a lot like: “Life doesn’t discriminate, between the sinners and the saints, it takes, and it takes, and it takes, and we keep living anyway, we rise, and we fall, and we break, and we make our mistakes…” Erasmus said that the less talent they have, the more pride, vanity and arrogance they have. All these fools, however, find other fools who applaud them. Driven to justify your existence but oblivious to the beauty in authentic presence.
And then the root nestles deep within the soul:
Pride, oh how daring and exhilarating, how captivating…how reckless. Walking with your blindfold on, that you are reckless enough to stroll past the devil on a sidewalk, reach out your hand and greet him with a smile. Feasting in the ruins of Babylon, stupefied by suicidal pride. These are the things that the homilies and hymns won’t teach you: pride will rotten the soul.
If it was an object, I wish I could pick it up, crumble it up like a piece of paper, and throw it in a bin. Reduce, reuse, recycle. But I guess, I’m only human after all.
I always said that I will néver operate on this level…
Ha! I watched myself started nevering like never before. Sitting back and enjoying the show, sipping coffee, always there for the drama.
X o x o.
Leave a Reply