With a world population on the cusp of eight billion people (unbelievable!), I sometimes wonder if my single life matters. One person out of eight billion hardly seems significant.
Does my presence matter?
Do I deserve to exist?
I live in Canada, the 14th least densely populated country on earth. We have lots of land and few people. We probably have room for some of those billions, as long as they don’t mind all the rocks and trees and trees and rocks and water… (cue Arrogant Worms song here.)
In addition to being known for our pristine wilderness and Tim Hortons, Canadians are notoriously apologetic.
“Sorry” seems to be part of the Canadian identity. We make fun of ourselves for being this way. We apologize for being sorry. (Like how much more ridiculous can we be?)
I don’t want to overthink this too much, or take away part of our national identity, but the frequent use of the phrase “I’m sorry”, from a Canadian or otherwise, might be a clue about an individual’s sense of worthiness more than a guilty reaction about one’s offensive behaviour.
Definitely there are moments when personal responsibility requires an earnest apology, and “sorry” is the appropriate word.
But a shallow sorry (“Sorry I’m standing next to you in the Tim Horton’s line”) is like apologizing that you exist.
Don’t ever apologize for the space you occupy. It discounts what you have to offer, and it rules out what others are able to receive.
You don’t have to be sorry that you exist here as one in nearly eight billion that currently live on this blue-green planet.
You are worthy to be here as an individual.
We are worthy to be here as the collective.
Even if you’re a Canadian.
Join me for this episode if you question the value and contribution of your one life in the many, if you find yourself apologizing for your existence, and if you’re ready to embrace the truth that you’ve got nothing to prove and nothing to defend.
Music by Tru Genesis.