Someone wise once shared a nugget of wisdom with me when I was a little girl. She observed that getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.
Life’s really like that. And as the mother of modern day hip-hop, Sylvia Robinson, openly mused: "Some think it’s holding on that makes one strong; sometimes it’s letting go." It truly is. Absolutely.
About five years ago I completely placed my heart and soul into a new project had so much tremendous potential. I loved it to bits because it was my baby and as best as I could, I nurtured it with ALL that I could possibly give. It took a lot of love, time, effort and more.
I watched it grow rapidly under my care and it was a wonderful, beautiful thing. There was laughter and light, goodness and familiarity. It served the greater good – charities and children, the less fortunate and the art. It sweetly blossomed into something very special but inevitably, things started to change. With people coming and going. With time. And a lot of other factors.
Growth and success is good, but power (or pseudo power) can be a curse. Men were never made perfect and slowly, gradually, inevitably, my baby started to morph from the safe haven of positive energy that it was truly supposed to be… into something else entirely different to the point where I couldn’t even recognise it anymore.
Lord Voldermort was a sweet and innocent child once, and though he became who he was, I’m sure his mother would still love him very much. It’s the same context. Anyway.
Politics, ego, pride, judgement, segregation, power trips, and different schools of thought… such is life. In reflection, I’m mature enough to recognise that one just have to simply accept and let go. As heart broken as I am with my decision to walk away from my baby… a small part deep inside me finds serenity in the fact that it no longer needs me. Things always happen for a reason and I’ll definitely remember the good stuff. Always.