Baby Steps

Yesterday, I woke up, and I wondered longer than I usually do, what it would take to be the “me” I know I can be, once again. Not to say I dribble away the mornings of each day wondering my accomplishments and what I should do, but the question felt of the upmost importance to me.

I shirked my volunteer work, and I stayed in bed for an hour or three extra. I drifted off a couple times from fighting the effects of the gravol I had the night before, but in my moments of clarity, I remembered staring at my ceiling, and being unhappy that there were so many bumps in the drywall. I wondered where in my apartment lacked those bumps, and that turbulence, when I was under the impression it was, for the most part, smooth.

But I got up, and I did my usual thing with a few exceptions. I showered, and I didn’t eat. My stomach feels to be a quarter the size it used to be, but I’m certain it’s the pills. None-the-less, it’s not of a great assistance to my general life. I sat on the couch, and I fumbled with my toys while keeping myself lost in thought. I was transfixed on Maslow, and his Hierarchy of Needs.

This theory, as ungrounded and ideological as it is, always keeps me transfixed. It makes a stepping pattern; a basic outline of what one should do with their life next.

Typically, I place myself on the X and look for the Y. So I did.



However, I wasn’t too interested. At least not compared to my regular self, who worships Maslow in some sick, twisted, hatred-kinda way. This time, my attention kept going up the pyramid a little bit more.

Self-Actualization.



I wanted to understand it better than I do already. This prime drive to be more than just you. It’s something… metaphysical. It’s the pursuit for the health of humanity, more than it is the pursuit for the health of the individual. It’s the best we can be. The writer writes because he has to, not because he wants to.

Sheer, untainted being. Interesting, if nothing else.

The pinnacle of human performance. The best we can be.

Of course, I was not truly in the mood to start grasping at understanding how this works. Honestly, I was hardly in the mood to shower, let alone roll the existential meanings of humanity around my brain for a bit.

But my Grandparents came by, and I had an appointment to go to, and I did. We didn’t talk much. Well, they did, but I kept quiet with a headphone in my ear and the occasional mumble of something to their conversation.

Laura sent me a song one day. She thought it fitted my old relationship well, and it did, which is why I started listening to some (or, rather, a few) of his other songs. And I heard a lyric, that got stuck in my head in that irritating way nursery rhymes do.

To want and to try, is the difference why,
Some people will walk, and some run.

And I got inside, and I kept replaying the song. I do that when I get something stuck in my head. I once replayed the Offspring over and over for a month. Not my finest hour.

I got inside, and I can’t rewrite what happened, not for confidentiality reasons, but simply because I wouldn’t do half the words any justice. She flipped my outlook, in a twisted way. I didn’t know I was so permeable.

And afterwards, there was this… awkward kind of silence, that I felt anxious about. I wanted to fill with questions and wonders from a woman obviously more wise then me. I asked her about self-actualization, and I mentioned the song, for some reason. I paralleled runners to people who are self-actualized. Fairly accurate, probably. I asked her what I could do to be that kind of person.

She told me that no one starts out by running. A runner is a person who starts off walking, and slowly picks up the speed, step by step, a little faster each time, until they’re finally running. She leaned back, and said “maybe you’re just warming up. Would it be okay to be in the middle of one of those steps, if you knew that you were getting ready to sprint?”

And I left afterwards, feeling… confident. Annoyed, a little, because Mittens felt tricked. But if that’s what it took, then it was worth it. I got back inside the car, and I went with my Grandparents to finish their chores.

Now, BC Transit has been… oddly good to me. I meet people on buses, it seems. Early this year, I met someone because I caught the wrong bus home, and didn’t want to spend the half hour walking home, when a new bus was coming in ten. There was a nice woman who kept looking at me, and it made me a bit uncomfortable, but flattered.

She came up and asked for the time. That kind of killed the idea in my head. I stuttered and told her.

But she kept looking at me after. She had a very large smile.

I’ve seen her on the community bus twice afterwards, but no verbal conversation applied. She just looked at me, and smiled.

I haven’t seen her since.

Grandma went into the butcher’s and I was finally getting hungry, so I followed. I like the butcher’s because my Grandfather acts odd, going off about how “they’re related” because they have the same last name: only one is Irish, and the other Scottish.

And she’s working there. And it was… odd? I’m uncertain.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
--Albert Einstein

I went to Sidney, and met up with a close friend before heading back to my place. It was relaxed, and I liked it. My mind was still thinking a lot. We went to the fair, and I had a lot of fun. I was relaxed, and a bit too passive, but I laughed. A lot. Enough so that we’re pretty sure one of the carnies gave us extra time on one ride because I wouldn’t stop. I don’t know what it is about going up and down over and over again, but I suddenly develop a REALLY childish giggle.

I'm actually terrified of Ferris Wheels.

The fair closed, and I waited around for the bus to come. I gave my friend my coat before I left. When the bus came, I just relaxed in the back corner, trying to really soak in the meanings of the day as I watched porch lights fly past. I listened in on a few grade nines talk about this cute boy and such, and instead of thinking of them as immature… I’m not sure. I just kind of liked that. That childish like, or affection. Interest. Dare I say love, on the most miniscule and broadest of scales. It made me feel good to know that they’d rather talk about the nicer qualities of someone rather then pinpoint the flaws.

I got off the bus and was greeted by the sting of cold air. I didn’t see the cars coming from the other direction. I was almost hit, but I leapt onto the sidewalk. I didn’t think I was durable enough to do so, but after, I felt good.

I looked up to the few stars I could see, and down the dark road to my home. The small sidewalk against the traffic. The fields to approach on my left and my right. This path was my path. I’ve walked it enough to lay claim to it. And I noticed my legs walking a little bit faster than normal. My steps, a little longer in stride, and a little faster in succession.

Things fall into place in life. The way things happened for me, whether I was five or twenty couldn’t have happened any other way, I don’t believe. I feel like I’m not bound to the path I walk, but that there’s a gentle hand on my back, encouraging me to keep to the side, and move toward my home. To keep walking, a little faster with each step.

And I started to run.