There Is Talk Of Separation

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Window[3AM, Jetlag Speaking]

So it is out there at last,
the talk of separation and the finality of things being over. I always figured myself to be a fast learner (or maybe a better description would be “unlearner”), when I sense something is not working right, if it can’t be fixed, then I cut my losses, quick. It’s out the door—bye, bye, baby.

I think I unnerve people sometimes, with the speed that I am able to let go. Not just relationships, but concepts, beliefs, preferences, places, homes, habits, pets, grudges, grievances, smoking, fear, bad beer, false pride, unreasonable hope. Separation is not always an easy undertaking, you have to grit your teeth hard and dig deep inside for the resolve to open heart and hand, to utter the last gasp of possession, and then simply let go. It’s like a freefall into total darkness, terrifying, but also ultimately, freeing.

My sister, our eldest, calls me from Canada to inquire how my jetlag is. Her call rouses me from a deep exhausted sleep, and I have to swim back from the blur of dreams to be conversant. We start haltingly, the hum of long distance bridging what gaps there are in our talk of home, how we’ve been, what’s going on. Three hours later, I have swung from semi-intelligent mumbles to inarticulate explanations to concise, point-by-point dissertations.

Each of us try to explain our separations from people, ideas, cultural precepts, all the minutae of lives lived on opposite poles. I marvel at how alike we are, and at the same time, at how different we have become. She asks me if I think I will ever be happy again. I am taken aback; I say, “But I’m happy now.” And I am.

Still it makes me think, how do people view my life? Pass or fail? Hell, I don’t really care.

As swift as I am at letting go, I am as adept at taking on. Taking on skills, perspective, instincts, new friends, a different spin on beliefs, a fresh set of china. I find it easy to build from the ground up, to start from scratch and leave behind what is no longer essential, to move on to what else could possibly be, out there. Cue in cinematic metaphor: death, phoenix, fire, ashes, and the glorious rising, all lit up to dazzle.

Separation—some people may call it abandonment. I choose to see it as reinvention.


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