Back in the day, I was the unofficial marble-playing champion of my neighbourhood. The best battlefield?
Those scorching summer afternoons, when the roads were deserted, and not even the 42-degree Celsius sun could stop my quest for marble glory. I wasn’t just collecting marbles; I was collecting memories. My first brawl over a disputed shot (which, for the record, was totally fair), and friendships that have lasted longer than those heated debates over the rules.
What did my dedicated training in the art of marble-shooting teach me?
That victory was directly proportional to the pain endurance in your finger. You know, that finger-stretching, breath-holding, eye-squinting concentration before launching your trusty shooter? That was the real game. No pain, no gain—or in this case, no marbles.
It hit me later in life that all that finger gymnastics was more than just child’s play. It was a metaphor for resilience.
I started thinking of life as a human-sized slingshot. Just like stretching that finger back to send a marble flying, the further life drags you back, the more spectacular your comeback is going to be. In my lows, I started to believe that I am about to bounce back at a velocity I have not seen before, only if I can stretch a bit more and for a bit longer.