Robin Small struggled to find what seemed so forever elusive – the answer .
Footnote: Robin seems to hold a flag for the sense of wonder and mystery that was more afforded in years gone by, than in our world today. Answers don’t always come easy, and sometimes there aren’t answers to everything. But Robin, although struggling, doesn’t seem (entirely) defeated by the struggle. Or the elusiveness of answers. He’s tentative? Undecided? Maybe ready to step or move? And those new paths often open up from not giving up when there seems no answer, but by having the determination to keeping seeking and exploring and examining what doesn’t make sense. Responding in your own way to whatever uncertainty arises and whatever struggle arises from it?
As choices lay before him, Robin whirled in the – well, well, well.
Footnote: Robin appears to be in a zone of great uncertainty – and cautiousness. He could be anticipating the next step? The ‘well, well, well’ could suggest he’s weary of the waiving finger of disapproval? Or maybe the ‘well, well, well’ relates to a discovery he has made?
And what if a BOy stops pretending he’s fine? What if a BOy cries? Lets out the worry? Says he’s scared? Puts his hand up for help? Why should he be called a sook, a pussy, pansy, poofter, sissy or EMO? Why do they tell him to pull himself together, keep his chin up, soldier on, tough it out – not to worry because … you’ll be right mate? Finding words can be hard for a BOy, so is finding his feelings – showing them even harder. But if it’s really so hard for a BOy to talk and feel and cry – doesn’t that make the BOy who does – tougher than all the other BOys?
So let’s champion for a new age BOy who has learnt that more is lost in war than won and fighting his own battle; conquering his own fears and demons; freeing himself from the silence and pretending will be this greatest victory – and contribution to the world.
“I wanted to let people get to know the man behind the mask and tell his story uncensored. My superhero is far from perfect but that doesn’t mean he is isn’t good. He’s just human. Perfect people is just boring and predictable and who wants that?”
Oh BOy. The bound up BOy. Crushed beneath the pressure, the grind to be tough and strong. Big. The overwhelming wave of responsibility to save everything from time, to the environment – the world itself. But I’ve seen the BOy dance and cry. Read poetry out loud. Wear makeup. Pick flowers. Speak his truth. Challenge his world. Name his feelings. Play piano and sing. Hug another BOy.
BOy oh BOy I cried…and a dream saw hands on the wheel of change. Ploughing a culture in where the feelings, vulnerabilities and experiences of men and BOys cannot be freely expressed and accepted. Burying the angst that has the potential of bringing BOy to his own end.
BOy oh BOy said the dream … may ideals and expectations of the BOy be reset, redrawn. May BOy be moved and freed from his grueling vigil by the roar for change. The momentum of the march towards it. And the wonder at a way and time when BOy is no longer required to be just one of the boys anymore.
