'O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' For I no longer have to organise the cricket match!
It's now a game of softball, and thanks to a lucky meeting that happened without me, I don't have to do anything to organise it. Not a thing!
While I might have just lost the only chance I might have of being Hero of the Month, I still consider that a fair price for not having to organise a cricket evening. I am experiencing... relief.
It's paying off, this chilled-out coolness! A younger version of me would have been quietly upset at what's happened, even though he wouldn't have really wanted to do it in the first place. He'd have been... undermined, offended... but I'm not. I haven't got time for all that any more. I'm happily quoting the end of Jabberwocky* like a child who's just got out of doing the washing up.
This is sort of what I mean when I talk about the freedom that comes from giving up stuff. I mean giving up caring about stuff, relinquishing the control it has on your heart and your personality. It's so easy for the things we do to shape our identity - and then for us to spiral into breakdown when those things are taken away from us. So give it up, and guess what? Its power over you goes with it.
Not that I ever wanted to be known as the Cricket Match Organiser. I'm very happy to give that up and let someone else do it much better than I could. It turns out it'll be on a night I can't go to anyway...
... 'he chortled in his joy'.
*Jabberwocky is a nonsense poem by Lewis Carroll. Not only is it awesome but it also is the origin of the words frumious, gallumphing, and chortle.
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