I just can't handle it
This thing called Risk
I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called Rissssssssssssk.
(With thanks and 'You're welcome' to Freddie Mercury et al)
To be honest, this is not a word or a concept or a 'thing' that I enjoy. Nope. I like my life risk-free, buttered all around and served on a bed of brilliant crystal, soft to the touch and shatter-proof.
And, to continue in honesty, I really deplore the claims that you cannot grow or progress or gain anything you value without taking risks. Either the world is inherently flawed in its creative process or we, I, have failed to master its true machinations. I'd prefer to believe the latter.
But how do I sustain such a belief against what appears to be an overwhelming body of evidence to the contrary? A body of evidence that seems to give support to the claim that I so deplore?
I think I can do it my redefining what I have thus far thought 'risk' to be. No more shall I see it as the treacherous wilderness I must navigate, fraught with endless possibilities of attack, pain and despair. No more will it be the loathsome suitor that I must court as the torturous means to the rainbow's end. No more shall I hide in its ominous shadow, afraid of being noticed and summoned to undesired action.
Instead, I shall redefine risk as love. Love? And what might that be? Or passion. Oh? Do tell.
Unconditional commitment. According to Kiekegaard. Whose work, Either/Or was mentioned to me by C.Bosco. That's what passion is - unconditional commitment.
Can you imagine that? To be unconditionally committed to something so that notions of risk and failure and pain and disappointment have absolutely no room, no meaning in your worldview? What kind of life would that be?
Perfect. Passionate. Wondrous. Glorious. Truly beyond belief for it would supersede all beliefs and all need for beliefs.
Actually, to me that would be the only worthwhile meaning of life. That life would be love.
Give it to me baby!
Better still, I give it to myself.