I read Mark Manson’s book ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck’ three times before I actually started to give less of a f*ck. Well, less of a f*ck about shit that didn’t matter, and more of a f*ck about shit that did.
In his book, Manson tells the story of Hiroo Onoda…
On December 26, 1944, Second Lieutenant Hiroo Onoda of the Japanese Imperial Army was deployed to Lubang Island in the Philippines. His order was to slow US progress and never surrender.
In February 1944, Americans arrived and overtook the island. Most of the Japanese Army surrendered and died, except for Onoda, who managed to hide in the jungle.
The US Military and Japanese Government dropped leaflets throughout the jungle to let any remaining soldiers know that the war was over, but Onoda didn’t believe them – he thought that they were propaganda, and so burnt them and continued to fight.
In 1952, the Japanese Government made one last attempt at getting any remaining Japanese soldiers to come home – they dropped leaflets drawn by family members of remaining soldiers – but Onoda still didn’t believe that the war was over and would go on to spend more than half of his life in the jungles of Lubang.
Although Onoda’s story is an extraordinary example of loyalty, as said by Manson; it is too an example of how we humans often dedicate large proportions of our lives to seemingly useless or destructive causes.
After reading Manson’s take on Onoda’s story, three times, I realised that I had been dedicating a large proportion of my life to a seemingly useless and destructive cause – I had been dedicating most of my time to being skinny, looking fit – looking “good” – I had dedicated most of my life to an eating disorder.
And I thought, f*ck that.
I refuse to devote another day to this useless and destructive cause – I refuse to waste another hour worrying about being skinny, looking fit – looking “good” – refuse to spend another second giving a f*ck about shit that doesn’t matter.
I mean, you die twice. Once when they bury you in the grave, and the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name.
People probably won’t remember me for being skinny, looking fit – looking “good”. And if they do, I’m not even sure that’s what I want to be remembered for – I’m a bit more than that. I want people to remember me for something that is a bit more than that.
Bella
the skinny elephant 