Find Pride in Small Things

We spend our lives acquiring accomplishments and accolades; collecting titles and trophies; and seeking the approval even of people we dislike.  It is the curse of society.  In that sense, we are all alike.  I have had the privilege of achieving many things, but as I get older, some of the things I am most proud of are meaningless to others because they belong to me.

The world may take away our wealth, our health, our names and titles, even our lives.  But only we can sell our values.  There is a dignity in never compromising our values, even when others think we are mad.  I believe that is what defines actual courage.  This is because there is nothing material to be gained, no prize, not name, nothing.

When I was young, I was a devil of a child.  I never got involved in gangs - I will not be any boy’s lackey.  I never took drugs – I never like to lose control of my faculties.  I did not have a quick temper.  But I did have, and still possess, a mean streak, an absolute ruthlessness that sometimes escapes my carefully crafted civilised exterior.

On my second day of secondary school, I was sent to the principal’s office.  I stabbed someone on the inner thigh.  My parents were called.  The vice-principal asked me why there.  I said I missed.  Somehow, I was not expelled.  Perhaps he saw some good in me I never really found.  I did get caned.

On another occasion, during the school assembly, there was a guest speaker.  I was one of the boys who shouted out insults.  When the discipline master asked for the culprits, everyone kept quiet.  I stood up, and walked to the front.  I was caned before the entire school.  The students taught I was mad to admit to something when they could not find the culprit.  My thinking is that is we dare to do something; we should dare stand by our deeds.  I have never been the sort to stab a person in the back.  I am more likely to stab you in the front, and look you in the eye.

On my second ship, when I was sailing, I was shipped back home in disgrace.  I tried to stab the chief officer with a screwdriver.  They tied me up with a rubber hose in the ship’s office until I calmed down.  I was almost stripped of my rank.  I was 17 years old.

When I was in my mid-twenties, I saw someone I know manhandle his fiancée.  I found a quiet corner, and humiliated him.  I did not have to hit him.  I just used words.  He was an orphan.  I simply told him, that the reason his parents were dead, was because they knew what a failure he would be, and so they killed themselves.  This man was so distraught that he tried to throw himself on the road.  The car swerved.  I said, “Even to kill yourself, you are a failure.”

I am quietly proud of the fact that I am no longer the person I was when I was young.  I got older.  I learned to look the other way.  I learned to let things be.  I learned that there is nothing to gain in fighting the world.  The one thing I did keep is that I do not hide who I am.  I will say it, if I did it, and if I did it, I meant it.  I am self-aware that while everyone may be the hero of their journey, I am the villain.