“When was the last time you did something quite impossible, something that you did not think you could do?”
He is a man I met at the library a few days ago; I am a creature of habit and enjoy sitting at the same desk whenever possible. There are four seats at each desk, and I often find myself sharing this space with a small group of regulars. We watch each other’s belongings when we step away for bathroom breaks, smile at each other when we sit, nod goodbye silently when we leave. Today, however, we are having an actual conversation.
His eyes are on mine, waiting for my response. I can feel the blood rush to my face and I have the sudden feeling that the Universe is working in one of my favorite ways- the unexpected awakening by a stranger. That this is one of those days when I think I know exactly how things are going to go, have planned my activities down to the last detail, and then feel myself being pulled in another direction by a friendly interloper who draws my attention to something else instead. I rack my brain for a good answer. There are many options; most of the things that I am proud of having done are things that I initially thought terrifying and impossible, beyond my reach.
Moving to Vancouver when I was nineteen, away from my family and friends. Acting school. Auditions, where I always felt like I was about to burst into flames (and where, in none of my imagined scenarios, did anyone make any attempt to put out the flames). Applying to university after three years away from academia. Donating blood despite a fear of needles. Skydiving despite a lifelong fear of heights. Standing in a river, ankle-deep in a writhing mass of glossy black, open-mouthed fish the size of my forearm as they noshed on my skin (supposedly they only nibble on the dead bits, but I don’t know if anyone had told the fish that). Petting a rhinoceros. Moving in with The Boyfriend. Dealing with death for the first time. Starting this blog. Treating patients at Jag Therapy. Applying to the Creative Writing program at UBC. Writing my manuscript.
But it’s no contest. I know which example I will choose, almost before my lips begin to form the words. Two years ago, I went to India for the first time. When that opportunity had been presented to me five years earlier, I had thought there’s no way I could handle the intensity of that country, and refused, too afraid to face the poverty and harshness of life there. Then, one day, I was ready. So I went. And it was incredible. Chaos, yes, but beauty as well. Everything has changed for me since then. India is the symbol of the fork in my road, the headwaters of all that has become important in my life. So I tell him that. He smiles. I ask him when the last time was that he did something like that. He smiles again and says,
“I’m only 28, and I had stroke.” He points to the cane propped up against his side of the desk. “I just applied to the Guinness Book of World Records to cycle across Canada.”
I stare in awe. The man clearly knows how to win at these conversations.
“This is not the first time I have done something like this,” he says, “I’m quite mad.”
And I can’t help but think that that is the best thing to be. I wonder what my next madness will be, and though I know that his is a beautiful example of a purposeful act of greatness, I know that every little act of rebellion against our inner naysayers is worthy of mention. Forgiving someone who has hurt you, though doing so may seem impossible at first, is something that may never garner recognition but will certainly expand your definition of what you are capable of. Learning to swim. Saying I love you. Even something as simple as choosing to wake up every morning genuinely anticipating a wonderful day is something that you may feel is impossible…but isn’t.
The only way to know whether it is truly beyond your reach, is to reach for it.
the bright side 