The Terra Inc

Cursed

"We had to evacuate the house, and I asked my son, 'What should we pack?'"

"Don't pack anything, Mum, because choosing one thing will make you want to choose another."

This story has been recounted to me on a few occasions from my old ballet teacher, Mrs. Haddad, when she abandoned her family home in Lebanon and took her three boys into the unknown. Mrs. Haddad took her ballet tapes and a few sets of clothes then was off. She was well on her journey that traversed through the UK, Lebanon and Africa and would lead her to teaching over 25 years in the US. 

When meeting Mrs. Haddad, she instilled a fear and respect that I could never overcome whilst studying with her. Only as my life progressed away from home did I realize she was more a mother than a mentor, and throughout her bouts of strictness and expressivity, I loved her. Even though she abandoned her possessions, she still clung to the memories, the guilt, the triumphs and pains that she left behind. She harbors a regret that she's no longer close to her sisters, that Kenya has urbanized in her absence, that relationships have dwindled and passions were compromised. Perhaps she looks back at her time teaching, building up her business, her students, her accomplishments, and sees a fault. She probably looks back and wishes she did more.

I'm sure you've heard it before: when on their deathbed, people regret the things they didn't do rather than the things they did do. It's an interesting thought, especially in an age where we've so many options to explore. The "didn't dos" will automatically outnumber the "did dos", plain and simple. We are always choosing one thing (and are thus saying "no" to a plethora of other things).

There's more to it, though. The regrets of the dying are not trivial, but are choices that span the lifetime:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to be true to myself and not lead the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard.

3. I wish I had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish I had let myself be happier.

(this list is part of an article by nurse Susie Steiner, seen here). 

I've been at fault for all of these things to one extent or another. The first option resounds so strongly with me as a person who's been heavily influenced by my family and mentors. It is even more startling to think that I'm entering a point in my life where I may be influenced to choose with concerns for my future partner, my future family. Can't you see that choosing to "be true to myself" could upend everything one has fortified with other people?

Perhaps it just boils down to this: I wish I lived courageously.

The relationship between fear and love is undeniable. The passion one has for another is complicated by the fear of oversharing or offending. As I discern where my life may take me next, I also realize how important it is to choose friends who I can unreservedly share with. Of course there will be other relationships that don't progress to that level; I must not be swayed to feel guilty for not perpetuating those relationships.

It seems that the most compelling stories aren't the mundane, but the ones in which we're forced to look life in the eye and choose. Choose what's best in the present moment, rather than choosing for the future. And it seems a choice I made back in 2009, to pursue Terra Incognita, was one that continuously influences me today. I will never stop. It's my curse, but it also is my impetus to live courageously.

Some Things are Better Abandoned

Just because we've left something good, does not mean it was the wrong choice. There is good everywhere. I insist that you try to see this around you today rather than living in a cloud of regret. I've been coming to terms with this ever since leaving beloved Sydney, since beginning this blog. Last week, I chose to truncate "salena terra incognita" to "the terra inc" simply to simplify the url. The past few days, however, I discovered how refreshing it is to think about this blog without the influence of my ex (who calls me Salena). Sure, it's a small element, but every time I'd write the blog, I'd have that reminder there. Now I have this to think about: the good of the past does not have to be the good of the future for happiness to flourish.

Let's think, take courage and change appropriately.

Sal