Sometimes we do not get a choice.
Sometimes we do not get to choose our stories.
Or the characters that come into play in them.
Sometimes, people see a strength that a person has and commend them for it.
What if they didn’t have a choice but to develop that strength, that gift?
Not everything is as it seems.
Did the disabled person get a choice as to whether they wanted to be disabled or not?
And yet, they have sometimes the most inspiring and commendable attitude towards life.
We understand that people with the least, often hold the most appreciation - we have all met these people and been inspired by them.
But rarely do we truly understand what that person first had to face and deeply embrace in order to actualise their gift of seeing things so beautifully.
I’m not sure we can understand unless we experience it ourselves.
We know the beauty rose out of a situation potent for so much pain.
My question is;
Did they really get a choice over whether to develop a beautiful attitude to life?
My intention here is not to discredit a person’s efforts, pain, or courage.
My intention here is to question what choices they really had.
Everybody barks on about how we choose our lives.
Do we get choice over which nationality we are born into?
Do we get choice over which gender we are born as?
Think over how much of your life is decided by just those two aspects.
If your still unsure, ask the immigrant, trying to get into Europe, just how much where you are born matters to your life experience, or the child born into abject poverty in an inner city slum in India.
I beg to differ with all these new age spiritual enlightened beings.
Sometimes, you just do not get a choice.