I have an issue with commitment – or, rather, the lack of it around me. That is, commitment as I define it.
More often than not, we equal commitment with promise; with the ability to stick things out.
There was a girl at my university, engaged to be married. A few weeks before the wedding, she told her fiancé and the vicar that she could not, with a clear conscience, “promise to have and to hold till death [them did] part.” It was not that she did not love her boyfriend. She just felt dishonest promising something about which she knew nothing. She could not promise to remain a wife forever when she did not know what it was to be a wife. She asked if, instead, she could promise “to try her best” but the vicar said that would not be acceptable.
On her wedding day, as she spoke the prescribed words, a cloud drifted over her face. She committed to the unknown, but broke her commitment to herself.
For years, I heard this word “commitment” be listed as a virtue, without ever fully understanding what it meant. Then someone came into my life whose whole being defined the word for me. And then I began to meet other committed individuals. I am honoured to know these people. And so lucky.
Committed. Engaged. Present. Standing up to be counted. Never elusive. There. Fully there – in every inch of their bodies.
You look me straight in the eye, with the full weight of your person in your eyes.
You shake hands with me, and your whole person in your hand.
Even if forced by circumstances to act against the grain – you are always fully aware of your true feelings and thoughts. That means, you are always true to yourself.
You do not run away from yourself.
You say “yes” or “no”. Always a solid, committed “yes” or “no.”
You apologise to me wholeheartedly. You do not say, “Sorry you feel that way.”
You acknowledge me. You respect me. You listen to me.
You may choose to walk away from me, but you do so with a sure step. You do not evaporate, on tip toe.
You have that unfashionable quality – Honour.
You reject or you accept but you never avoid.
I want to be like you.
© Scribe Doll