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WHY DO THINGS THE HARD WAY? by James May


IT’S ONE OF those days. I wake up and my head is scrambled. I don’t know what’s wrong, I just don’t feel right. My breath is shallow, my chest is tight. Something’s got me on the back foot but I can’t put my finger on it. There must be something I have to say or do, something I need to face up to – but for the life of me, I don’t have a clue. I get soap in my eyes and cut myself


when I’m shaving. I burn the toast and spoil the coffee. I haven’t even left the house and I’m already having a panic attack, thinking there must be a stain on my shirt or a hole in my pants. I check the place over and over, thinking I left the stove on or a door unlocked. I wind up leaving without my bus ticket and mobile phone. I feel judged everywhere I go. People


whisper, hiss and shoot me down with bad vibes, energetically kicking the shit out of me. They know what they’re doing and where they’re going while I lag behind, waving down the bus as it speeds away, blowing fumes in my face. I spend the morning in class, barely


taking a word in, strangled by fears and doubts. Everyone else is on the same page, nodding with enthusiasm. Now and then they break out in laughter and I fake a smile to join in. Their chuckles reverberate in my mind like a chamber of horrors. The smile slides off my face and I crawl back into a shell. Rest assured, before class is over the


teacher will ask me a question and I won’t have a clue what she’s on about. Every face will turn my way, expecting an answer. I’ll squirm like I’m under a microscope, every thought and feeling exposed for the world to see. I’ll attempt to say something coherent but every nerve ending in my body will activate, every pore in my skin will sweat. Any words I form will get stuck in my throat like ping-pong balls. Anticipating humiliation, I excuse


myself and head for the soothing waters of the river. Only the hustle and bustle of


14 april 2012


the city streets stands between me and freedom. I’m swallowed up by a sea of people carving their way down the street, techno music blaring from boutiques, faces staring at me with pierced lips and noses, tattoos on arms and legs. The clang of a bell makes me jump and


a tram slides by with an advertisement on the side: Why do things the hard way? I take a deep breath at the traffic lights, waiting for the little green man to appear, imagining my feet rooted deep into the earth. The light changes and I charge ahead, dodging prams and wheelchairs, teens chewing gum and sucking slurpees through giant pink straws. My heart’s pounding, the world’s racing a million miles an hour. I see a few words chalk-scrawled on the ground at my feet: Shut up and listen. On the edge of the mall, I spy a guy


with wild afro-hair on stilts. He wears a brightly-coloured costume, towering over a crowd, spinning hula-hoops around his waist. A few feet away, a guy in an Akubra hat strums a guitar, an open case on the ground slowly filling with the c-ching of loose change. I see a guy with his face buried in a beard, etching drawings like he’s channelling them from the ether. Another tram slides by: Lift your game.


The universe is watching over me or taking the piss—I can’t decide. A dowdy woman batting her eyelashes hands me a flyer. A guy with dreadlocks asks if I can spare a few minutes for Greenpeace. A girl from the lost dogs’ home, an AIDS charity, the Red Cross. I’m almost out of steam, determined to make it out in one piece. I wish my guardian angel would appear


out of thin air and sweep me up in his arms. I hear a tune from a passing car; ‘Ohh...I can’t help myself...when I feel this way. I wanna be someone else.’ Just when I’m about to burst, I step into a beam of dazzling light. The sun erupts through clouds, the world opens up and it feels like I’m hovering on the edge


of the universe. I can see, I can think, I can breathe. The little green man pops up again and


I throw myself into a sea of people, taking the lead of a girl with a heap of attitude, torn stockings and a freaky haircut. I follow her through a mass of bodies scrambling from one side to the other. We run the gauntlet and resurface with renewed vitality. All I have to do is shake my head at a couple of toothless guys asking for a smoke and scurry down those steps to the banks of the river.


Sometimes it feels like my demons and I have called a truce. I wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bouncing out of bed with a smile on my face. I’ve got serenity and peace, my thoughts are crystal clear. I feel connected to everything and everyone, walking the street with a swagger in my step, taking time to look them in the eye. Everything falls into place, a perfect


****


rhythm. I’m comfortable in my own skin, I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere. I chill out and take in the scenery, soaking up the atmosphere, the grungy urban landscape. Drifting back in time, my imagination runs wild, thinking who else was pounding this beat 50 years ago. What was going through their heads? I study weird shapes in the sky, like


spirit guides watching over us while we chase our own tails, trying to find meaning in this rat race. I revel at the beauty of Mother Earth; incredible trees thriving in an artificial wilderness, rising up to the heavens, branches sprawling out like giant arms. Majestic creatures radiating power, energy, life. I admire charming terraces, art-deco


apartments, gardens springing to life. I’m fascinated with every detail of flora and fauna; bees pollinating freshly-formed buds, a luminescent dragonfly hovering over strands of purple lavender. I lean across a fence and smell a blood-red rose, blown away


by the sweet, delicious scent. I feel hugged by the sunshine and soothed by the breeze. Every cell in my body feels radiant, alive. Hundreds of cars speed by but I stand


my ground, feeling guided, protected by a force that takes away the fear. I think I know what’s going on deep down. I may not understand the minute details but it makes perfect sense; it’s just far more complex than we imagined. I know I’m not going mad at least. I’m tapping into the mystery of the universe, watching its secrets unfold like a cryptic crossword. Standing at an intersection, I hold my


head high, grateful for each day, glad to be alive. I could run out there and throw streamers in the air, let off fire-crackers and dance in the traffic. I feel like blowing kisses and waving to everyone but I know that’s probably going a bit far – so I secretly wave a wand and bless my fellow human beings with peace and love. I lose myself in meandering alleys


where signs of life are etched in glorious detail. Every word, every image speaks to me. I’m thrust into another time and place; the back streets of Manhattan, the Paris underground. A maze of passages with secret treasures. A parallel universe teeming with paranormal intelligence. On the other side, I step into a cafe feeling


safe and sound. Gazing into the street, I watch people come and go, in tune with their worries and doubts – as though we’re linked in a weird cosmic web. I feel genuine empathy, a deep compassion. I wish I could take away everyone’s pain but I know I can’t – so I say a little prayer and send it their way. I cherish every morsel of food, like


it’s the first time I’ve tasted something so delicious, closing my eyes as it rolls over my tongue and slides down my throat. I shiver like I’m having multiple orgasms, and I don’t care who sees because I want the world to know how truly incredible life can be. I want the world to share this bliss.


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