A bag(gage) of trust.

A man once told me that I have to "stop bringing emotional baggage like that. You have to get over it and move on, for fuck sakes." The irony, of course, was that he himself carried such 'baggage' with him. It angered me greatly at the time that he would be so hypocritical and ignorant to have criticized me for my "emotional baggage" when he so clearly hauled around his own.

But, it must be first stated that his criticism has some truth in it. As I wrote a while back, there exists a certain point, after which one must learn from his/her mistakes, from others' mistakes, somehow look upon what's happened voyeuristically, and slowly walk away from it, and finally move on. For mundane matters this is a lot easier of a task, while for other, more serious matters, it proves to be quite difficult. Yet we all know that if we keep all of our 'baggage' (I dislike that term, but whatever) with us for the rest of time, it will eventually take a toll on our bodies and we might even stop moving 'forwards', if you know what I mean. That would be bad, and quite sad.

So yes, for fuck sakes, we have to get over it and move on. But the question remains as to why boldly 'moving on' is such a difficult initiative to take. Here is my temporary answer: we grew up with mixed messages.

Think about it for a second. When you were a kid and you had an ice cream cone, but you pressed your mouth so eagerly against the round, scooped mass of sugar that you accidentally pushed it over the waffle cone. At this very moment, you cry in mourning for the now-lost, delicious ball of sugar that has already begun melting on the ground. Ants are starting to crawl around it, and you think, "You lucky ants." Your parents or your siblings or whomever comes over and either A) tell you to shut up, stop crying, "I told you to be careful, look at you, you've soiled your shirt" and the matter ends there and you are left to deal with your agonies, or B) they give you another one and this time you're extra careful.

As we grow up, we find that reality is not as sweet as they once were, and situation B rarely presents itself. In fact, we realize that while we deal with our agonies--which already is a difficult task in itself--we long for a situation B to happen, and, here's the key to it all: when B does happen, we are extra careful that second, or third, or fourth time around. Thus, while we learn a great many things through more positive experiences, it is only through our other unfortunate experiences like tipping our ice cream cone, that we have learnt the art of being extra careful. At the same time, through negative experiences we have also come to form an appreciation for those positive moments in life, so any sane person who cherishes the positive ones will also be sure to keep those coming. This means, being careful.

For great things, however, one must take great risks, says the wise, and we learn this too. Things then become a bit of a tricky pickle, because all your life you've mastered the art of carefulness, but now you also learn that we must also at times be courageous and brave, plug our noses and take the plunge. What we are fearful of, then, is that the art of carefulness--i.e. what people call 'baggage'--will weigh us down to the bottom, so not only have we taken a plunge, but we have taken a plunge more as a suicidal act than one of bravery (which it was, just for a moment). All our lives we are thus fighting with a bag(gage) in one hand--weighty, of course, being full with our past experiences--and the urge to leap forward, hopefully for a great landing (or sinkage). How could one ever be blamed for fearing that?

So while the aforementioned man's criticism was immediately annoying and offensive (and a huge turn-off), it took me a second to realize that he too held a bag(gage) of his own, and thus anger was not the most appropriate emotional response, but rather, pity.

Well, what do we do? I know exactly what I do: I stick with my art of carefulness, and take plunges only when I know for sure that things are safe down there. I think I've lived long enough to know that, while we must take great risks for great things, truly great things--ones worth taking the plunge for--only happen a handful of moments in a lifetime. I am no gambler, and when I do gamble, I gamble smart. I've taken a plunge before, and whether it was worth it or not I will decide on my deathbed, but I know that it will be a little while longer before I take another one of those again.

Yes, I have a bag(gage) in hand. Look, you have one too.