If That Were True – Pull

I remember reading the words, “Freedom isn’t free!”
I can remember reading this in the post 9/11 days after the terrorist attacks on my City.
I can remember a movie too, from back when I was young – there was a slave who chanted pull to his people because they were pulling a rope to cover a moat around the castle walls to defend their own people and prepare for an upcoming attack.
I remember hearing, Pull for your life.
Pull!
Pull for your freedom!

I agree. There are times when we have to fight back. When it comes to peace, there are times when we have to pull with all that we have. We have to dig down deep within ourselves and pull out the stuff that warriors are made of.
We have to do this because freedom is not free and neither is peace, and otherwise, we give in to despair and prepare ourselves for more of the same.
However, and to be clear, I admit it –
The cost for peace and freedom can be high – but be assured, the prize is worth the cost. 

So, pull . . .

I have to say this before we go any further. I am not tough or so strong nor am I impenetrable or stoic or impervious to upsets or pain. I am very real. Often, I am painfully real, no different from the rest of the world.
I am completely vulnerable. I say this knowingly because although we try to act “as if” or we might pretend like nothing hurts or we don’t care – the truth is, we do care.
The truth is we all have a weakness; we all have an Achilles heel or a so-called vulnerability.
No one is above “getting got” or should I say that even the smartest or brightest and the strongest are vulnerable.
Everyone is. Even the most keen mind can fall for a trick or two.
Believe this and know that this is life. However, this is not an entry or a journal about strength or strength training. No, perhaps this might be a topic for another journal but for now, this is about peace.
This is about what it takes to find peace or to create that sense of freedom where peace is within and no one or nothing can take this away. Not a friend or an enemy, foreign or domestic can destroy this.

So, pull.
You have to work for this.
Claim it. Fight back. Own it.
Do whatever it takes.
Break it. Build it. Or create it.
Either way . . .
Do something because freedom is not free and neither is peace.
So pull.

I have to say though, I have never been very good in a fight. In fact, I have scars to prove my losses. I have invisible ones too which are proof from within – yet, here I am, or so I suppose.
This means that somehow, I survived.
This means that I have to be tougher than I assume or that I am more capable than I believe.
Alone or not, I have ability – it’s hard to see this sometimes and our vision can be clouded with an unfair or an emotional concept.
But still, we can do more than we believe.

This means that despite the falls I’ve taken and the emotional bombs or heartaches and the personal explosions that went off, like a nuke that detonated from within to break my heart – somehow, I am still here.
I can stand. I can walk. I can run if I have to.
I am not saying this is easy nor is this painless.
I am not arguing that pain does not exist.
I’m only suggesting that we can fight through pain.
I know this because we have done it before.

I can lift my eyes to the sun. I can turn my head to see when its clear to cross the street and if necessary, I can lift the weight of my body so that regardless of the depth, I can climb out of the depths of my own destruction, self-imposed or otherwise. 

At the same time –
I’ve never had a bodyguard. I’ve never had someone come along and swoop in to save me from a bully or some kind of unfair danger. I have never had a full-time, ride or die, no matter what or come to the end of the world, I have never had anyone sided with me.
At the same time, I can say that I have had a few moments where someone came along, unexpectedly, and stood up for me. I can say that albeit a few, there are people in my life who showed up when I was down and out.
I love them dearly.

There were times when I was down on my luck. I was alone or on my own. I had nowhere to turn and no one to turn to; and at the worst of times or during the lowest of my lowest moments, there were times when the walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe, let alone think.
I couldn’t figure out my next move. I could hardly stand, let alone get up to walk or move and walk away. I swore that I was done. I was finished. I was through. I was too afraid to move or try or do anything because the unknown is a frightening thing.
Maybe I swore that I was a joke.
Yes, there were times when this was so. I thought I was the joke or the last one to get the punchline and, of course, there were times when I swore that the punchline was me.
If nothing more, I swore that, in the end, it was hard to see any kind of light. There was no way for me to see what was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.
I couldn’t see the future or the benefits of my revival or any reason to believe or to be hopeful.
I admit to being here.
I saw the worst and expected the worst to be worse.
Not better.
I had to pull . . .

I swore that I was about to fold, that the idea of trying harder or moving forward was more impossible than flying. Though I was weak, somehow, I was able to get back up to my feet.
I don’t know how this happened. But somehow, my body defied my emotion and although I was down, I was still capable of more.
It was as if my body was listening because my heart and mind were both elsewhere. I was emotionally resigned, almost too beaten or too cowardly to try or try harder. But not my body.
It was as if there was something or someone deep within me who refused to quit
(or give up).

I can tell you this much – I understand the demons that come with the internal conflict. I can relate to the internal arguments. I can relate to the doubts and fears that hold people back or weigh us down.
I can relate to the emotional chains that bind us to a worry, an idea, or a thought and a crisis.
I can relate to an internal conflict that imprisons me into an unfair custody or to the internal narrative that keeps me in a personal isolation and holds me back from being free.

I can relate to investing poorly in resources or depending upon the hopeful notions that I wished could save me.
But no.
I was on my own, abandoned or separated from my path.

I have been locked up in a sense or held captive. I have been a prisoner of “self” and worse, I have been locked up in my own personal dungeon. Although this idea was true to me, deep down, I knew that I was (and am) the only source of freedom.
I understood that it was only me who could allow myself to be released or set free.
I held myself captive and kept myself imprisoned by my own limitations.
I was an inmate and a casualty, all held up in the prison of the mind.

The skin I wanted.
The skin I was in.
The life I wanted.
The life I lived. 

The difference between the two was too big for me to consider or overcome.
I couldn’t get away from myself or maybe I couldn’t get out of my own way.
I couldn’t believe in my efforts nor was there any faith in my strength.
I know that I wanted to find peace.
But my life was anything but peaceful.
There was no one there to chant for me.
There was no one there to tell me to “Pull!”
Or “Pull for your freedom!”
“Pull for your peace.”
“Pull for your life!!”

I know that I wanted this.
I wanted to find balance. I wanted to be “okay” and not worry or think too much about all that went wrong.
I wanted to be free from “the bondage of self,” but I was trapped.
I wanted to be free from myself and from the ideas of what happens when we find ourselves alone – or what do I do if I find myself unloved, unwanted or estranged?
I wanted to be free from the worries of being ostracized or exiled and living like a land without a king (or queen) or to be country-less or abandoned completely.

I never had a hero –
At least not a hero that was around to swoop in or bend steel or break the speed of light or someone with some kind of superpower.
Maybe there is no such thing as superheroes.
Or is there?

I suppose the answer to this comes to us when we land on the doorstep of realization. At times when all is shot to hell or when we find ourselves with our backs against the wall – we have nowhere to turn and no one to turn to – and with hell at our heels and enemies at the gate, be them foreign or domestic or internal, we have to reach down deep.
We have to find that inner-hero.
We have to fight back, scratch, bite, kick or scream or do whatever is within our power.
We have to pull because when it all goes down – the truth is we have to save our own life.
We have to save ourselves. No one else can do this.
We have to be our own hero – so therefore, in my case or in this process called life or in the new beginnings, which is where I am now; or the stages of a personal reconstruction, which is where I find myself; I have to put on my cape. I have to swoop in and learn to fly –
I have to figure out how to be my own hero and save my own life. 

I have to dig down deep.
I have to pull.
I have to fight back against the internal oppressor – and basically, I have to unleash hell, if necessary.
This means I have to claw, scratch, punch or kick even if it seems like my body can’t take another step.
I have to pull for my freedom.
I have to pull for my life because if quitting is not an option – and though there may be enemies at the gate, both internal or foreign and domestic; and though I am weak, or if it seems like I have little to no energy and though my faith is not strong or my hope is not strong enough – I cannot allow my faith to become so faithless that my works become dead.
I cannot allow myself to fall victim to my own self.
I have to pull.
No one else can do this for me.

I have gone through life no differently than anyone else.
I have lived with love and unfortunately, I have lived with its antithesis. In the opposite of love, I have lived alone or loveless and in the muck of my own shame, I realize that I am no more special than anyone else.
I am me.
Only me.
Hence, I cannot be a victim
This means I have to pull . . .

I have no idea what tomorrow is going to look like.
I do not know what awaits me.
However, in the search to find peace and to create a sense of balance or more to the point, if I want the skin I’m in to become the skin I want, I think now is the time to step it up.
Now is the time to pull.
I have to rescue myself and pull for my strength and pull for my freedom.
I have to accept my surroundings and be my own bodyguard, alone or otherwise.

No one will ever advocate for me as strongly as I can advocate for myself.
No one can swoop down to save me.
I have to do this.
I have to pull because if freedom is not free, then neither is peace.
And me, I want to be free.
So, I have to pull with all that I have –
with all of my heart –
and with every ounce of strength that I have left –
Pull . . .
Otherwise, be ready for more of the same