Asking for It...

“You can hit me again if you want to”.

I was reading the above quote from a story my friend Jeremy sent me, when I started to wonder whether or not I was capable of requesting more punches in life. I’m referring to this same issue I’ve been talking about with my work permit in Zambia. I had written Jeremy an email asking about which path I might take in order to defend myself if I were to find myself in the midst of a boxing ring with another Zambian organization. He wrote back almost immediately reassuring me of his support and then sending me a short story centred around the idea of being defenseless.
I’m a little behind and therefore a little more confused, because I grew up in a society that teaches you to keep your ‘dukes up’ so to speak. I grew up defending myself in sports, in school, in arguments with friends and in arguments with parents. We are all innocent. I am innocent and therefore I have the right to do whatever it takes to defend myself in situations that directly cause me any harm. If this is the case then, I should regard Jeremy’s email as preposterous. Why would anyone in their right mind ask to be ‘hit again’? Haven’t I been hit enough? Can I not plea the blameless bystander in this case?

I know that I have to let my instincts lie on this one. That is, the superficial instincts of course, the ones that immediately tell me I should be writing that action plan for ‘Worst Case Scenario A through Z’. Ironically enough (those who know the inner workings of this mess will find this ironic), faith doesn’t permit a back up plan. You’re not allowed to stand in front of the masses and declare pure belief and trust and faith, and that self protection is a scam; unless you’re lying through your teeth. Jeremy said something about being humble in his email and I think I know what he means. Being humble in the midst of a fight whether you put yourself there or not, doesn’t meant turning your back and walking out of the ring only to receive a sucker punch as you pass under the ropes. It means walking straight into your opponent, begging for another hit, without a smirk on your face. It means throwing up your arms and believing that it’s all out of your hands anyways.

My true instincts have to do with a feeling that sat with me for most of yesterday. It was a feeling of peace. It was a feeling that told me that I didn’t have to worry about pulling my boxing gloves out of the closet. It wasn’t the same feeling I had when I wrote Jeremy an email for advice after I found out this morning that the issue may not be so easily solved. I felt alone when I wrote the email and I felt like I had to summon the forces to battle against Zambian corruption and blackmail. My true instincts tell me that I can take more punches. They remind me that I can even ask for more, being assured that I won’t be caught off guard when they come my way.

Stress for me in this situation is irrelevant. It’s maybe unavoidable, but it’s a lie. I do believe, even if I need a little reminder once and again, that everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. The result may not be what I want right now. The result I want includes a new work permit under SWSC and a bus ticket back to Kibombomene first thing in the morning. There are apparently other plans for me though, and I simply need to rest in the comfort of someone else’s boxing ring….the one I create will only see me fail.