Life Is Beautiful.

A new perspective on struggle.

Welcome to my weekly column! I’m pursuing a career as a writer, and I’m convinced that I have stories worth sharing. If you enjoy this journal, please subscribe.

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My girlfriend and her family are movie lovers. She and her sisters rewatch most of the Harry Potter series every year. They quote it at length and in excruciating detail. Her mother can name and recognise dozens of directors, mainstream and arthouse. Her father reviewed films for a significant portion of his journalistic career. Whether blockbusters or experimental features, the family’s buzzing is tangible. On occasion, one member of the family makes a reference to a film that I don’t catch. They then scramble to find the nearest phone or laptop to show me a clip of the film or interview or behind-the-scenes moment they are referring to. One of the first videos they showed me was of Roberto Benigni, Italian actor and director, winning the Oscar for Foreign Language Film in 1999. Before Sophia Loren, Oscar-winning Italian actress, even announces Roberto’s name, the audience is cheering for him. Roberto is out of his seat before the camera has a chance to catch it and he climbs the chair in front of him, wobbling on the seat back, waving at the enormous crowd. His smile is a child’s. He leaps and cheers and runs through the aisle with his hands above his head, lost in joy. He jumps onto the stage and embraces Sophia. He makes a touching speech in broken English. Then comes the part my girlfriend referenced several minutes earlier: somewhere in his acceptance speech he says, “…and also I would like to thank my parents in Virgilio, in the little village in Italy, they gave me the biggest gift, poverty, and I want to thank them for the rest of my life…” We all giggle at that part, naturally. Roberto’s words, animated as he is, are no joke.

I haven’t lived in poverty; I have never gone hungry. Even so, I am no stranger to struggle. An ever-present example is my poor athletic ability. For most of my school career, after-school sports were compulsory. Field-hockey in the winter, cricket in the summer. I was forced to play hockey with the year below me because I simply wasn’t as skilled as the other boys my age. I can’t remember being bullied for this specifically, but I remember being ashamed of my apparent insufficience. I was worse at cricket. I remember attending practise when I was around ten years old—in one exercise the cricket boys would stand in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, and each of us would take it in turn to throw a tennis ball to another player standing in the circle. If anyone dropped the ball, they’d have to run a lap of the school field (atmittedly, not an enourmous field). I was so poor at catching that I eventually gave up at re-entering the circle and continually ran laps around the field. My coach asked me why I was running around the field instead of pracising like everyone else, and I explained myself. I was then relegated to solo cricket practise for a short while. I would throw a tennis ball against a wall and attempt to catch it again while the rest of the team played together. I later traded cricket for swimming, and though it required no catching, I remember feeling ashamed again. Swimming, though open to the boys, was predominately a sport attended by girls. In the change rooms after school, all the other boys would change into their knee-pads and I into my speedo and swim-cap. I eventually took up running year-round in high-school. Accompanied by two teachers, the running kids would leave the school grounds and complete a three or five kilometre route. I struggled again, often returning to school in last place, sweating profusely. I was so soaked through with sweat that the head of school sport once asked me if I had gone for a swim after I had returned from a run. That was ten years ago.

My athletic ability has not improved since. At twenty years old, I was the least skilled in my group of thirty or so pupils at snowboarding school. When we ‘graduated’ after a week of lessons, my teacher gave each of us a little, silver, snowboard-shaped pin as a congratulations. When he gave me mine, he told me that he was really impressed by my attitude. He saw that snowboarding wasn’t easy for me, but I showed up on-time every morning with a smile on my face, ready to tackle a day of falling on my arse. I am still touched that he noticed my effort. It was normal to me, at twenty, to face difficulty while learning a new athletic skill. I knew that I would have to put in more time than everyone else to earn the same results. I didn’t think I had shown special tenacity at snowboarding school. I tried to snowboard for five days; it took me months to run my first 5k.

Hardships are undesirable. I know that my parents struggled with school sports, too. None of us are particularly gifted with throwing or catching. I am sure they hoped that their child wouldn’t face as many hardships as they did. I certainly hope that my son, if I ever have one, is never ashamed of himself because he can’t throw or catch well enough. I do hope that he faces struggle, though. I never really felt ashamed as a runner, but I certainly grappled with the physical and mental challenges running threw at me. The difficulties I faced and overcame in running, in every athletic task I have undertaken, have undoubtedly strengthened me. I suspect that what Roberto thanked his parents for is the inner strength he developed because of the adversity that they all faced in their poverty. I am continuously grateful for the perspective I gained through my physical struggles. It allows me to view new challenges with peace and confidence. I am also grateful for the emotional challenges I have overcome. For the ones I didn’t, too. Each period of difficulty makes me a little more flexible, a little more durable. I am enormously thankful and privileged to have loved ones that I can rely on when I am overwhelmed by the challenges I face; I often am.

I am not struggling with my athleticism this week, but I am struggling. Career, relationships, self-belief. I am reminding myself that I have faced struggle before and that I will face it again. I am equipped with the flexibility and durabliltiy won in previous hardships. I want to be like Benigni, thankful for the struggle I face, thankful that I am building resilience

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Though I, too, quote Benigni now, I have yet to watch the Oscar-winning film. If you enjoyed this journal, please send it to someone you love.