confidence

“Do not go gentle into that good night.”

It’s a line from a classic poem that sounds as valiant as it does lovely rolling off the tongue.

And most of the time I hear it quoted, it’s by those battling life’s malevolence. Overcoming hardship. Badassing through adversity. Picking yourself up by your bootstraps. But the thing is, not all boots come with straps. And that’s what Dylan Thomas’ poem was kinda about. Someone at the end of their life. Specifically, his father who was dying… and Dylan didn’t want him to die (‘least that’s what most of the poem reviews I’ve read have said). Though the poor dude was ready to throw in the life soaked towel and greet Peter (or Buddha, or whoever) at the gates, Dylan was acting on the same emotion we all have when we don’t want loved ones to leave us – selfish fear. And he was resisting the reality of the situation – that his father was in pain and suffering a terminal illness – by urging him to fight against “the dying of the light.” Was he trying to talk him out of dying? Was he just trying to talk him out of being so horribly ill so he could have a better last memory of him? Can I judge when I dunno if I’d act any differently?

No, because – despite my recent article on “surrender” – I find myself resisting reality all the time. I try not to, but my gangster brain loves doing secret mafia hits on my few shreds of logic any time I’m not looking. And then I’m left cocooning into a fleece blanket, crying, and missing Valium because it’s officially a week till I turn another year closer to death myself and less confident in myself. However, it shouldn’t be. Because it dawned on me again recently that that concept – of death’s imminence – is the reason why we should all be confident and fearless as hell. Every clean, clear headed, step of the way.

You see, during my active addiction, one of my main reasons for using was a deep insecurity encased in fear. A selfish self-consciousness that manifested as a fear of looking dumb, ugly, or whatever other terror my ego could dredge up when I was in front’a others. And while I often hear that all fear stems from the greater fear – the fear of dying, I tend to disagree with that at least partially. ‘cause, on the contrary, I’ve come to understand that the prospect of death – the reality of it – can be both a positive motivator and even… a comfort.

Not quite where I was going with it…but lemme try to ‘splain.

Though this fact’s come to me before, I always seem to forget it. So, when the concept resurfaced the other day, I decided that this time I’d share it with someone else. And that someone else was a friend who was sharing her thoughts on why we lack confidence and why it’s so hard to force ourselves to feel confident in our own skin. I added that there’s something that almost always helps tweak my outlook so that I can feel – not just fake – confidence. And that’s that’s the concept that we are all going to die. (Bear with me here.) All of us. Eventually. Dead. So, if that’s the case, why not mainline unfettered life into my consciousness fully now? What do I need emotional anesthetic for? Why wouldn’t I feel comfortable around people when there’s going to be a point when I will never see them again? What’re they gonna do – judge me? So what! (*Points individually to members of the audience, Oprah style: “You’re gonna die. You’re gonna die. YOU’RE gonna die real soon if you keep chewing that gum so loudly…Look under your seats! You’re all going home with toe tags!”)

Everything is ephemeral. Much like we self-proclaimed wiser adults tell high school children – you will never see these people in X more years – you ‘n I also will never see everyone around us and X many more years. Granted, it might be a little bit longer (“It gets deader” campaign, anyone?). But, regardless, it’s all going to go and there’s nada you can do about it. (What a relief; can you imagine hiking earth with brittle bones a million years from now and no relief from living? That’s like one step away from a Romero film.) And when it does, all these people and all their opinions will be a whole reality behind you as you go on solo, without them.

A.) Nobody. B.) Coming with you? Looks like you done already gone, my dude.

So why wouldn’t we make everything – every experience – as enjoyable as possible until then? Why bastardize it with our brains’ crappy attitudes? Why waste another moment feeling that you’re not good enough for these people who are also going to expire, decay, and reincarnate possibly into something worse off than you? So, ask yourself – what is the worst that will happen if I act with comfortable – not forced – confidence? Do you think that somebody’s going to come up to you call you a liar? Say you’re not really OK with yourself? Tell you you’re faking? I have yet to have that happen to me. I also have yet to have it fail me as a successful way of literally feeling confidence. It just takes time. We might be initially worried about it meaning we’re “fake”. We might ask ourselves, “Am I being less authentic?” And while those are valid concerns – isn’t authenticity merely comporting yourself in a way that aligns with what you know to be true? (Side note: If you still feel that false when you embody self-security, then that just means you need to mayhaps start doing the kind of things that allow for self-affirmation to come more organically to ya.) Now that we all know we’ve no reason to feel anything but confidence – now that we know that’s true – we can act in alignment with that fact, fearlessly. And this is where that Dylan poem comes in.

Because, before I knew what it meant, I always interpreted it the way my buddies did – merely a self pep talk. But maybe it can be both about death (like he meant it) and metaphorically about overcoming the obstacle of self-doubt. Maybe it can mean that – to truly defy death, we can rage on by changing up our inner fables that are causing us a fate worse than death: being dead inside all the way up until we actually die. And we “rage on” by changing (difficult though it is) pointless thought habits. It only feels like faking because you’ve convinced yourself of a false identity – a miserable, mythical, ongoing autobiography – for far too long. Now is time to leave it behind. Be willing to feel not right to leave what’s wrong behind. Be willing to embody someone you can respect by rewriting your identity into someone you’d look up to if they weren’t you. And soon that feeling’ll be reinforced when others do too. Why live like you’re dead just because you will be some day? Would you quit a marathon you’ve trained for – just because you know you’re not gonna win it? No. You want that damn 26.2 braggadocio bumper sticker for your hooptie.

So rage on with me, friend.

Right up till the light expires.