Diary of a Booker Winner (in waiting) – 3

February 4th

Super Bowls Watched: 1

Letters sent to Literary Agents: 0

Life Changing Career Turning Revelations: 1

Once you stop caring the Universe relents. Once it knows that you know that it’s all one big don’t know it says okay, hats off, I guess now you know – so off you go. Do your thing.

I had this realisation at 1 AM.

It was the night after Super Bowl night which I’d stayed up to watch (it finished 4 AM Blighty time). I had been groggy all-day next day. And now, though thoroughly exhausted, I couldn’t sleep due to the consequent jet lag like symptoms. Thanks very much Mr Mahomes.

But actually no, seriously and without sarcasm I do thank you Mr Mahomes.  And the rest of you Chiefs and 49ers. And you Shakira and you J-Lo for the game and the show. Without the sleep-pattern disruption you were responsible for I would not have had the hazy head that heralded the lightbulb.

The realisation that hit with force at 1 AM.

I now knew the Universe doesn’t appreciate inward focus – it’s not about you, or I, or we or that noisy lot next door. Its aim is a collective – a mishmash myriad of interactions – it’s about all of us doing what we truly should be doing.

This was 1 AM philosophy at its finest. I was on a role.

I now knew that once we found what we wanted to do all we had to do was do it and not worry. As long as we did it how we felt it should be done then that was the secret to it working. If we let others influence our path then we’d never truly find our way along it.

Wow. I’d cracked it. At 1 AM on the night of the day after Super Bowl night.

I now knew what I would do – I would send my soul-sodden scribblings without concern. I now knew you could not be hurt by judgement once you realised the judges dispensing the judgement were purely playing their own role – traversing their own paths. Facing their own fears. “Did I tell you about the one that got away…That manuscript I was sent but let slip through my fingers…”

Mr Mahomes stuck to his own path – commentators and pundits (judges) were wondering if he was “choking”. Suggesting even. He proved he wasn’t. He stayed strong. He didn’t fold. He kept believing. He came good because he didn’t care what anyone else thought. He cared passionately about his chosen path but not enough to let fear interfere. And that was it – that was the revelation – the realisation – the truth and the key – once you stop caring the Universe relents. It accepts you’re serious.

And thanks to my Super Bowl insomnia now I knew. To genuinely not care is an incredibly hard thing to do. But ha! Now I knew. To not care was the thing to do.

And I could do it!

I truly could.

I smiled then closed my eyes. I could feel sleep coming. There’d be no insomnia now. Not now that I knew.

I hoped it would all still make sense in the morning…

H. B. O'Neill

H. B. O’Neill is a London born writer inspired by the City and its myriad opportunity for comedy, pain, drama and adventure. He is a prize-winning poet and short story writer, a screenwriter, playwright and author. His much-anticipated novel According to Mark is due to be published soon.

Leave a Reply

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

The reCAPTCHA verification period has expired. Please reload the page.