2,252 miles April 9, 2015
It has been said -and it’s even possible- that ever since childhood I’ve been stubborn. Not out of miseducation, ill-manners nor a need to prove myself the wiser. It was more a sense of freewill, of having a mind and body of my own, freedom and the absolute thirst to challenge every single conclusion I arrived to, every ideology I conjured up.
Yes, I had to prove myself for my own sake.
That is, to live a life that was up to my own standards and ideas because living any other way would be, well, incongruent. You lead this kind of life because, well, because that’s the thing you do; it’s a character trait, this thinking and acting coherently.
Time and time again this kind of self exigence has proven to be just the right fuel to propel change and personal growth. The perfect tool to keep me hungry of thought and acquiring knowledge through praxis. The fire to kindle the need of learning by research and action, to keep eyes wide open and take responsibility not only for myself and my actions, but in some sense, for my species the never ending upgrading of my former version. Change as a modus operandi can only mean self improvement, never a step backwards -although in some cases a brisk sidestep might be appropriate and even beneficial.
The sense of satisfaction, fierté and reassurance of being proven right -to yourself because that’s the opinion that counts, right?- is one of the most pleasurable feelings one gets to experience. It has a high price that is either naturally worthy or best made it be. It comes form hard work, strong will, perseverance, patience – lots of- and a general sense of the consequences you’ll go face-first to.
This time, I’ve proven myself right again. I’ve found a place that sits well with me, that lets me be as proactive as I want to be. A place I no longer feel misfit, where I don’t need to swim against the current all the time. A land I can call my own; I finally reached Home.
Yes, I am proud. A proud Canadian.
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