Life is kind. It allows you to begin again, and again. There are new chances every morning, and every birthday, and every new year, and sometimes every sunset. You can wrap your long and painful past, shake off unhappy memories, leave your tears out to dry: there are always chances, if you decide to take them, anyway.
I took mine on Friday. I had just turned twenty-seven and had the kind of warm, and fuzzy birthday you can only hope to grow old every year with. As I was paying the rickshaw-driver, I realized the only change I had to give away was my lucky note and lucky coin, preserved in my wallet for years.
I took the chance, I gave it away. I didn’t have to hang on to my fear any more, I didn’t have to hang on to what was sacred to me: for maybe life would give me what is more sacred, in every way.
I ran my first 5km on Friday. I ran again on Saturday. I went out to a lovely dinner on Sunday. Had all my friends over on Saturday. Dreamed aloud on Sunday. Ran again on Monday.
I have no idea what life will throw me back this month, but I know it will throw me back something. Every one comes to me with a question, or a fear, and I try to put my head above it all, I try to not be a victim of my own doing: I try to look up at the sky, and not what is falling.
You have to do that sometimes. Not ask questions. Not hope for anything. Not ally with your fears. Not attempt to understand.
And, you have to do this sometimes, too. Challenge yourself. Set new goals. Run a 100 miles in thirty days. Give up the cigarette. Read a 100 books in 365 days.
Only once you begin, can you be surprised.