A thirty nine woman I know woke up one day and said “I am getting a divorce”. No money in the bank, no real career and with two children that she wanted to continue raising, she said “I cannot continue like this” and she walked away, with barely nothing but this need for a different life.
A thirty six man I know gave his two weeks’ notice because he wanted to have his own business. He said that we all reach a point in our lives where we decide that we do not want to keep quite or patient with others bossing us around and that he always wanted to have his own practice.
It took more than that, a decay longer than them to reach my turning point. I was crying the first day I got back from my job. I knew it was not for me. I also knew I had no money and that was the best job I was able to find after two years of really entry level low jobs. I wanted something better for myself. So I settled for something that I did not like and did not suit me. It felt right from the start that this was a nice little cute conformable and safe cage.
I was making a living and had some regulated time off to do my things; to pursue more studies, to afford to buy things I always wanted to and to afford my travels. Soon, I was lost in the money pleasure and I was watching myself losing all of my focus. I substituted pleasure with shopping and food and I started resenting myself for not having success at my work place.
Despite fundamentally knowing that I did not fit there, I thought with hard work and presenting a different paradigm of ethics I would influence the environment around me and I would help to bring some positive change.
My minority presence was never transformed to a wave a change. Quite the opposite. I found myself isolated little by little as I could not stand the dominant selfish and opportunistic mentality of my colleagues. I started resenting one by one everyone, as the level of hypocrisy was rising day by day.
I faced unexpected failures and a lot of work pain; the realization of the superficiality and cruelty of work relationships, corrupted promotions at the expense of talented people, slanginess inflicted by a system that wanted to outsource the business for private gains of people in power, elevated levels of incompetence due to failed management. It was a madhouse for me from the beginning.
Yet, it provided a much need survival during financial crisis, harsh years of national unemployment and a series of all other painful national events that led a whole nation to come to its knees.
These are arguably valid excuses; but there are just that, miserable excuses of the world over courage.
I did not hold a vision for my life. Without vision very little courage can be induced into my heart and my brain.
The truth has been lying in front of me since the beginning;
I ate for two decays rotten, spoiled, unhealthy food of calories with no nourishment, artificial flavours without taste and quantity over substance. I was coming back and back for the worst fast-food quality dinner starved for safety, a sense of belonging and the chance to show who I was.
I killed slowly my enthusiasm and I exiled my creative genius only to match the mediocrity and impotence of my surroundings to the point I doubt whether I am still able to think, act and live authentically out of my own heart-mind work in the world.
These days are the days of my last supper. We all reach a point that no lie to ourselves can sugar coat the ugliness that surrounds our heart. We ate a lot of junks, we said a lot of yeses that were instinctively nos, we swallowed a lot of expired delicacies. Maybe we even burned our soft pallets and our stomachs with all these disgusting lunches, when we are forcing ourselves to attend circles of people that we could not care less or they could not care of us. At the end we activated the strongest of our reactions, with vomiting and gastro influxes because a life lived in the agony of the shadow of the lies for some of us cannot ever be digested and will not be supported by our system.
A good last super comes with twelve marvellous Judas. The strongest the hit, the bigger the betrayal, the deadliest the poison, the more courage we will get. No more of this food, no more of this life, no more of a devalued self-esteemed.
What comes next is really unknown. In one of the traditions of our world, a last super was followed by a crucifixion. And the crucifixion was followed by a resurrection. And the resurrection was followed by a form of life that was not human or known to us.
The last supper is a movement of courage with complete and utter awareness of all things known, familiar and intimate to us that we no longer want to support in our lives; a self-initiation request for life to open to what is good for us even if the new openings appear alien and extraordinary. Even if hunger lurks under prying eyes.