Much Ado About Beatrice (and me)

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“For, out of question, you were born in a merry hour

No, sure, my lord, my mother cried;

But then there was a star danced and under that was I born”

~ Much Ado About Nothing

 

I love Much Ado About Nothing because I love Beatrice. She’s a heroine to me because she’s a girl disenchanted but still spirited – a girl with a dancing star, in a night sky that blindly runs on.

She’s been disappointed by men and disillusioned with marriage. She can’t describe her birth as a merry affair.

But she has enough magic in her heart and magic in her words to be glad of life, and wakes herself with laughter after a bad dream.

It takes her kind of strength to realise that there’s no such thing as a fairy tale life, and yet smile, and yet chide, and know life must go on.

People ask me if I’m homesick. I really don’t think I am, yet. The fact that I have to go around asking people what it feels like to be homesick probably proves it so.

But both at home and in London, there have been strange, confused nights where I feel the grief I think Beatrice must have known – the grief of looking back to a disappointing past and looking forward to a lonely future and wondering if all of life is just a mistake.

But when the moon is high in the late night sky, I dry my tears, wash my face and look myself in the mirror, and sometimes really can’t help but smile. Messed up as my mirror image is, I realise I do know who I am, after all. The me that has been, and will always be. I am too, an undying spirit. I am not so much a gentle spirit, as some would envision, for mine is like the soldiering waters. And I have enough faith and enough magic left to keep me going, no matter what’s around the river bend. A star danced, and under that was I born.

 

[Edit: I’m a little shy about this post now because its so emotionally raw. But I guess we all have times when we get down and life seems terribly depressing. And time I crafted this was one of those moments for me. I guess hope, like faith, comes and goes a hundred times an hour. And that’s what makes life so bittersweet.]

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