… and it is a struggle indeed. When people tell me I am authentic and they are still hanging around me, it hits me for one. I feel incredibly happy and at peace. When people tell me ‘just be yourself’ it sets me free and allows me to soar, I smile sheepishly and it is like ‘you mean I can really be me, operate as me and deal as me?’ And you will still like me and be my friend and still love me? I feel like I am in heaven already. The peace, joy, liberty, childlike carefree release that comes with strutting our stuff in our very own skin is the very best of bliss known to human being. I never cease to be amazed by the carriage of animals, the ease with which they navigate their world without appearing to feel the need to be something else other than what they are.

Human are such interesting species, the amount of energy, effort, money and time we spend (or maybe waste will be a better use of word) on presenting ourselves as what we are not is staggering. The struggle is real, the cry is true, the need is undeniable. We all want to be accepted, the longing for acceptance is the holy grail of our longings and we erroneously assume that the more we change, adjust and move away from our innant nature the more likely we are to acquire the elusive commodity of acceptance. It is saddening to see the torture and torment some people subject their physical bodies to in the name of acceptance. I am one for grooming and presenting oneself in the best possible way, I also endorse and subscribe to personal improvement but at what stage are we crossing the line and loosing the plot altogether? I have seen people change their whole manner, presentation, behaviour not in the name of improvement but for conformity and to pursue acceptance. That, my friend, makes no sense to me, people that will not accept us as we are, will not accept us if we try to conform and if they do, then that being that is accepted is not truly who we are.

Rejection is one of the hardest thing for a human soul to tolerate. But the nature of life is that no single man has universal appeal and from time to time each and every one of us will have to partake of this unpleasant pill, atimes some of us will have to swallow more of it than we feel is necessary. The truth is none of it is necessary but the fact is, necessary or not, it comes to us and we have to take it. At the point of rejection, the struggle starts, rather than accept the rejection as part of life and living, the temptation comes, we want to be accepted at whatever cost and we commence the fruitless journey of losing our authenticity and began the metamorphosis into ‘only God knows what’ . An unnecessary journey in my opinion. Ours will accept us and those that do not belong in our camp, do not belong.

Having done all to stand, we must stand, having done all to be, we must be, let’s all be real, let us swing through life in our authentic self, rejection or acceptance, let us not sway from who we truly are. To be able to do this, we must invest in self acceptance first and foremost. We must all find a way to tell ourself and believe it, that we are good as we come, not perfect, no man is perfect, but we are good, you are good, I am good, so be real! Put off the act, swing as you!

Stay good! Stay you!

… some insects move, flock and fly towards the light. They buzz and circle round the light. Such insects are considered Positively phototactic organism. Whereas the ones that move away from light, such as cockroaches, are nocturnal and are referred to as negatively phototactic organisms. It is believed in some groups that the insects use the light as there internal navigation system. Why I can not prove or disprove this, the concept resonates with me. Light helps us to see and find our path. Light can also be used to describe weight, whether something is light or heavy.

If we are discerning, intuitive and sensitive, we can tell from our dealings with people of what make up they are. Some people without saying a word emanate darkness and heaviness. Theit energy is downward, you spend some time in their presence and you feel a great need to immerse yourself in positivity bath, to cleanse off whatever has been ladden on to you. Some places are the same way, you enter the environment in broad day light yet it feels dark in your inner man. You leave confused and disoriented. Whilst artificial attempt to brighten up a person or place can help somewhat, the presence or absence of real natural light will determine the energy that comes forth. A person can be wealthy, well connected, well spoken, well positioned, etc but just lack light for whatever reason and if sensitive you can tell their presence takes you down.

On the other hand, some people and presence are full of light and lightness, contact with these people and places, set our spirit free. We feel light and clear. Our navigation system is aligned and attuned, we see and understand our path. Our soul and spirit is at rest, there are no striving, peace prevailed.

As far as I am concerned, it makes no difference the name or designation of a place, if makes no difference the connections, the position the person is to us or how we are related to a person, if there is no light shinning forth, if there presence suppresses and constrain, if they confuses and disturb our psych then we must move away. If a place quenches our spirit, be it a church, a mosque, religious centre of whatever name, a school, a workplace, a town, a street, a country, whereever etc. We owe it to ourselves to move on, to the light we must flock, for that is where we get our direction, peace and freedom.

Let no man trouble you, we bear on our body, the mark of he that made and created us to freedom and light. To the light!

… well, someone must think I can assemble it, not just someone but all of them, because they have all gone and left me to work it out. I honestly feel like running after them and following them to the land of the unknown. But it is not my time yet and they had finished their job, it was their time to go. I am wandering around wondering what I am meant to be doing, why anyone thinks I am ready and able is beyond me. Why I am positioned to take this task is rather strange. No one prepared me for this, I was treated like the one that did not matter, the one that had no voice, the one that was surplus to requirement, now I am ask to speak, not just to speak, but to do all the talking and make all the decisions, is that not ironical? When I was not even allowed to voice my opinions? How does the shy retiring one become the leader? How does the unselected become the elected? How does the one whose name was not on the ballot paper become the president? How does the one in the field with the flocks become the king? How does the one that did not fight for the position obtain it? How? Because I honesty don’t get it!

How do you annoint and ordain the timid? Why is there a coronation for the bewildered and unsure? Why have I been left in the room to sort it out? Where are my counsellors and my advisers? Where are those that speak wisdom and directions into my life? Where? Where are they? The box of jigsaw puzzle is in front of me and the door is shut, by myself someone truly thinks I can put this together. I feel like shouting out, there has been a mistake, a mix up, the wrong person has been left in the room, but there is no one to hear my shout and there is no mistake or mix-up. It is just me and the box of puzzle, life is a puzzle! I was never schooled in puzzles. I was shielded and protected, sometimes simply forgotten and ignored, yet I have now been crowned the jigsaw puzzle master. Isn’t that comical? It is laughable. The crown fits awkwardly, I have seen better placement, better stride, better carriage, more prepared individual. But someone still thinks I am the one, when not a single soul thought so, my maker knew what he made, he knew what he deposited within me, He knew what he put into me, He knows my intricate being and parts, He knows my abilities, my enablements, my endowments, my capabilities, He knows my awesomeness, he also knows my limitations, He knows because He made me, He alone knows and He has left me in the room with the puzzle because He knows I can assemble it, He knows I am able!

Like a jigsaw puzzle expert, l considered my strategy, took a part of life I can tackle, the bit I can manage now, not ready for the 5000 pieces puzzle just yet, yes I looked at all that is happening around me, what is life doing and demanding of me and I picked one. At any point in time we must know what puzzle we are working on, we must not tackle life in an aimless, goaless manner. We can not hop from puzzle to puzzle without completing any, neither can we be a puzzle master without any puzzle. I chose my space to lay out my puzzle. My mental space, my spiritual space where there will be no disturbance or distraction, where I can process all the parts and put them together to fit. The importance of the space can not be over emphasised. Without a space, there is no completed jigsaw puzzle. Without a mental space, spiritual space we are unable to adequately process life. In our busy schedule, our topsy turvy lifestyle, we must make time and space to put things together.

With space created, I had to take all pieces of my chosen puzzle and flip them all facing up, seeing is important in tackling life, we all must do all we can to see as much as possible to tackle the puzzle pieces of life. Each intricate bit must be faced upward. There is no advantage to remaining in darkness or ignorance. We must follow on to know. People perish for lack of knowledge . What aspect of life are we tackling and what do we know about its parts? Which parts are hidden to us and what are we doing to face them up?

With all faces up, we start with the edges of the puzzle, in life this is defining our goals, the parameters, our objectives, attainables.What is my end plan? What do I want to achieve? Nobody assembles a puzzle half-hearted. I am committed. My end game is always peace and calmness. Then we start to study and sort shapes, colours and angles of the pieces, ‘what goes with what’ in our lifes? What goes together? What does not belong together? What must we team together or not etc.

As we work we learn not to give up, not to faint, have a break if tired and needed but we always go back when fully rested. The puzzle can be completed, will be completed and yes is completed!

Life is a puzzle and I am a puzzle master, you are a puzzle master, go for it, you are able!

… some things are too fragile, they are delicate, dainty, they just don’t travel well and there is no point in taking them on the journey, they will break, get damaged, be dented, some will disappear all together. The only way to enjoy these things is to leave them where they are, let them be. Preserve them in their natural state. Preserve the integrity and essence of such. Some things can’t even be touched, you can only stare at, behold from a distance, some have to be enclosed and do not withstand human contact so well. I have had the privilege of visiting some of the top museums and enjoying the beauty of the works of art on display. Most could only be observed from a distance, a lot can not be touched. ‘Why?’ I ask and the simple answer is that the work of art will not survive if exposed to that type of contact.

Some things wouldn’t survive physical journey, others wouldn’t survive the journey of time. With time some things just start to disintegrate unless they are proactively preserved and even with that, there are limitations.

Love, and I mean romantic love is one of those experiences that in certain circumstances must be left alone to be and not forced into the rigour of human relationships or marriage. The number of times I have met two people genuinely in love, get married and when faced with the rigour of a tedious relationship, the tender love shared loses it’s bearing and strength and starts to disintegrate. And people wonder, that we thought they were so in love. Yes, they were in love but the love could not survive the journey. In the same vein how many times have we seen and heard stories of love birds who for one reason or another never got round to consumating the relationship or embarking on a journey together. But yons later the heart still palpitates at the sighting of memory of the lover. The love is still intactas the very first time their heart was stirred. The reason simply being that the precious feeling was never taken through the ardous journey of life and relating.

So the next time you lament that you wished you married that heart throb of yours, remember that that delicate and precious feeling might not have survived the journey and thank your stars that life worked out in such a manner that you didn’t have to drag it along kicking and screaming. And as the memory of love remains intact, you always revisit any time you need to in your mind and experience the fullness of it without any lose of integrity.

Stay in love!

… I can hardly see anything, everything is blurry, fuzzy, how am I meant to navigate my journey of life in this weather? Yet I must travel, standing still is not an option. I can not see the obstacles in the way, just about barely make out the outline of my hand. ‘Keep going’ I hear the barely audible but yet assuring voice urge me on. ‘Feel your way through’ the voice continued. ‘Sense the way and listen deep for there is direction from the internal navigation’. I quieten my mind, switched on my lights, looking and listening as I inched forward gingerly.

Yes, I needed my lights more than ever before. I switched on my fog lights, both front and rear as I could not see the tail light of the vehicle in front of me. My visibility was compromised, only a low beam light will suffice. The low beam light can distract and affect other drivers, however extreme condition calls for extreme measures, I had to go low and deep. The uninitiated will be offended, distracted and confused by our concentration and focus but we must not be swayed. The time for carefree driving, fun driving and distracted driving was over. The time for nodding head music or pointless intense radio debates was gone, this was not the time for auto piloting and aimless mind wandering or careless humour. Concentration is the name of the game for survival. Alertness is the navigator that gets both the driver and the vehicle home.

As I held on to the car steering with both hands for my dear life, my knuckles white, I reflected on the journey of life and consider the accidents, the casualties of foggy times, the ones whose cars are not fitted with fog lights, the ones who do not know how to switch them on, the ones who can not concentrate and are easily distracted and finally the ones who did not make the journey as they did not bother to try, reasoning that it will was ‘too’ foggy and always will be. They reasoned that they did not have what it takes.

How we approach the fog of life is what makes a difference in whether we succeed or not. Foggy times will come, it is inevitable. To succeed we must see it for what it is. A temporary weather phenomenon that will clear with time, it always does, and while it persists we just take the necessary precautions. To cry, moan or lament the fog does not help any one, in particular our very own self, it only serves to slow us down further and impinge our journey. We are not the first and unlikely to be the last to face foggy times. We must take it for what it is, one of those things that came to pass and part of the passage through life.

The fog is clearing! My visibility is being restored! Fog is a cloud and cloud moves, as the air heats up the fog slowly disappears. Brain fog are not much different, they do clear! We help to clear our fog quicker by taking care of number one, connecting spiritually, sleep, exercise, healthy eating, pursuing passion, doing all those right things we know to do will all help.

Be encouraged, fogs are temporary situation, they will and do clear, visibility will be restored, stay firm, stay alert, believe, stand on in faith, sleep, be at peace, find your calmness!

… everyone faces that year, when you either swim or sink, the year that makes or breaks us. The period when everything caves in and we struggle to find anything to rescue. We are hit from left, right, centre, back, front, every possible direction, it is an onslaught from everywhere. All we know and trust in is violently rocked. We are at the championship point of the game and we know with the next swing we either win or loss. There is no in between. And when the shaking is all done, all we have left is just us and our birthday suite. Whether we make it or not is dependent on what is in us, what we are truly made up of. It is no longer about the ephemeral but the long lasting and sustainable virtues and character that we have either developed and cultivated or have not. This is the years that separates the boys from the men, the girls from the women, the leaders from the followers, the standing from the fallings. A truly pivotal point, the deciding year indeed!

The deciding year, is intense like no other, when we think we can take no more, a whole truck load of them arrives, when we think the camel back is already broken more straw is loaded on. When we think we have reached our very limit, we are pushed even further. The year when those things that use to make sense stop making sense. The equation can no longer be solved, the book no longer balances. Our positioning is disturbed, our bearing is unclear, we float, we wonder, we don’t know what will become of us, we don’t know where we will land, we have been buffeted on all sides.

We have been pushed out of the plane and we don’t know if the parachute will open up, that split second when in a crash and we wonder if the airbag will deploy, if the oxygen mask will drop, if the bulletproof vest will deflect bullets. We have never been in any of these situations and now is the poignant point, the pivotal one, we are struggling for breath, gasping unsure if we will make it. The glue that held us together has loosen, the umbilical cord is snapped and we wail as we enter a world we know not. The deciding year is the year we are born into a new era, a new world, new relationships, new anchors, we long to crawl back into the womb of that which we knew and understood, but we have been forcefully thrust out and there is no going back, we have been born into what we have been born into and there is no going back. We have landed into a family we are not sure we like the look of but that is our potion. We have been snapped from that which we use to know. We must learn the ways of this new world and swim in this unfamiliar waters. We must leatn to accept and love this new family.

The deciding year is a strong year, one of the hardest we would ever experience, if not the hardest. The year that propels us into our destiny. The worse tragedy is that some are right in the middle if this period amd have no clue, are unconscious and undiscerning, treating it is any other year and lamenting the woes that have befallen them in the same manner that a new born child laments his entrance into the world. We celebrate each year our birthday but the actual day of birth is usually a painful day for both the birther and the birthed. The deciding year is akin to our birthday and as we lament and wail from all we are going through we must understand that some are rejoicing at our arrival, because we are the ones that has been waited for. Pain is the price we pay for our birth, our relevance, our acceptance, our support etc.

Our deciding year is our time of birth into newness, therefore rejoice and yet again I say rejoice.

… in my camp there are loads of sounds, beautiful, harmonious and peaceful but suddenly it became noisy, confused and agitating. I could not hear my soul, I could not hear anyone, yet there were loads of sounds. “I can’t hear anything” I cried out to my friend, “it is so noisy I want to find quietness to hear the mind of God, but the noise is booming loud from all directions” he told me “May I suggest you create that time, for the noise never ceases until we find our own quietness within it. Hard but possible”

So in the midst of the noise I detached my soul and went deep, I found my quiet place within and in that space I was able to discern and listen to each individual voice in my camp as I did the sound check , one by one their voices came to me and I ticked off as they sang their part. A voice that I have always assumed belonged in my camp started singing and it was a strange song, strange melody that came forth, my soul got agitated again and I felt the unrest. How can a familiar gong make an unfamiliar sound? I wondered. As I pondered and pondered on the matter, I decided to give the one with the strange melody a bit of space and as I did, peace and harmony was restored in my camp. Then I knew in truth there has been a stranger in my camp. The familiar was not familiar after all. The one with a strange sound had been in our midst all along. He was not singing before but the moment he started singing, we couldn’t help but notice.

The one with the strange sound does not belong with us or with you. Let him go!

… the rain started falling a long long time ago, but there was a roof keeping things abay. The roof was far from perfect, it was tired but ruggered, incredibly strong. It did not look the part, but played well above the part. It did a job that no one else could do. The rain water was not all sliding off or falling off, so the roof carried the weight of the water and we were not drenched. The roof was bowed from the weight of the rain water but kept holding on. We were shielded from the full onslaught of the rain save the occasional minor leakage. The leakage was infinitesimal, more of a staining, we hardly felt anything.

The roof strained and groaned under the weight of the load but kept going, kept holding its hand out as wide as possible to collect as much rain water as possible. It sure kept raining and when it rained, it poured indeed and the roof kept holding out its hand. None of us knew or fully understood the amount of water the roof was carrying.

Today, the fragile but robust roof gave way! Quietly it collapsed, but it collapsed! We had no idea, none at all of the weight of water it had carried, our covering is gone and we are drenched to our very bones! Our clothes, our heads, our minds, are all soaked with 34 years of rain!!!! We walk around swamp, inuadated, flooded, we feel like we are drowning from the grief of the years that we have been shielded from. We feel the weight of the responsibility, we feel the pain, all rolled together in one almighty hit and we open our mouths as wide as possible to let out the groan of humongous pain. Our mouths wide open we listen with our ears for the inaudible, we heard nothing! Great pain has no words, can not be captured in sound! Silence greeted us.

Roof is gone and our soul is tortured! Our innermost being is wrenched. We stand dripping wet, shivering in the avalanche of sorrow, grief and responsibility. Who will dry us out? Where is our covering? We stand under the rays of our maker and we stay standing as we receive warmth and drying out. Our maker is our covering!

Roof, we salute you! You ran a good race, we bow in respect and appreciation. Thank you for being the one that bore it all, that did not falter until it was your time to bow out gracefully. You have ran your race, you have fought the good fight, you have finshed your course, now there is a crown for you. Rest in the most beautiful of peace.

… the ones to make a better world, a brighter world, so let’s start. The baton has been passed on to us, the torch has been given to us and we don’t feel ready. The clarion call has come and we don’t want to answer. The blanket has been removed but we don’t want to wake up. We don’t feel ready to get up. The big chop has happened and our heads feel bare, our covering is gone!

The era we know is gone, a new era has come upon us and we understand it not. The rich and vibrant life with our dads, uncles, mums, aunties, sisters, brothers etc is gone. We have move to an era we understand not, an era without that which we are use to. An era that feels stark, blank and bare. Empty and hollow the noise reverberates, like strangers we wander around lost and confuse.

Yet, we are the ones, the ones to make a brighter day, to make a better world, but we feel clueless. We are told the new era can be exciting and fulfiling, we are told it is stimulating and rewarding and we must not cheat ourselves of it.

It is our time, but we don’t feel like doing time, it is our season but we don’t want it to be. We stretch back our hands out to that which we knew before but we are told to stretch out our hands to that which is ahead, we are to reach for the stars as there are stars yet to be touched, new stars, never seen before, new horizons, new fortresses to be conquered, new battles to be fought, our own battles, our own journey, new frontiers. We shook our heads for we feel not ready but the baton passer has finished his race, the torch bearer has done his round and it is our turn.

Does anyone ever feel ready? Or do we just grab the baton ready or not? Yes, we must run, ready or not. We must not just run, we must run a very good race, we must run to win, we must run to win in style, we must run with class and elegance. For we are the ones to make a brighter place, we are the ones to create a better world.

We are the ones to break the barriers, we are the ones to smash the ceilings, we are the ones to push the borders, we are the ones to move the frontiers, we are the ones to break new grounds, we are the ones to have new conversations, we are the ones to forge new relationships etc.

We are the ones to experience the exciting, the stimulating, the vibrant, the rewarding and we will not cheat ourselves of it.

I grab the sceptre of responsibility with power, strength, purposefulness, determination and I look up. I receive the enablement, the anointing and I answer the call.

They left because they knew we were ready, We are the ones indeed!

… “make a choice!” They said. ‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Because life is about choices’, they respond. The quality of your life is determined by your choices. But I don’t feel like making a choice and I don’t know what to choose. Choices still have to be made, either we do it ourselves or others do it for us. It is a choice and doing nothing is a choice as well! Doing nothing means we allow others and forces beyond us to make the choice for us.

So I was taken to 4 spaces, the first was truly beautiful, it had marble walls and floors, incredibly spacious front room, bright and flooded with light. The people there were smartly dressed, everyone looked crisp. They moved with determination and sense of purpose. They wore well tailored expensive clothing. They had tense looks and sullen faces. They had to conform to rigid regime 75% of the waking day. To get into this space requires a competitive spirit and high intelligence unless you are lucky or well connected. The gate keepers are stern and ruthless dressed in designer suites, deciding the lots and futures of the people, their lifes being decided as well.

The second space was not as plush, it was good enough. The walls were not marble but in a decent decorative state. People were smartly dressed but with a few slack edges every now and then. There was some ease in the air but still highly political environment. The people are controlled and dictated to 66% to 75% of their waking life. The gate keepers are sometimes confused, dressed in whatever they can lay their hands on. The people are all at each other’s mercies.

The third space is dire, just the very basic of living conditions for survival. It is survival of the fittest. Control is 100% of the day. The gatekeepers are stern and ruthless dressed in combat attire. No one is happy.

The fourth space is bare, it has no door. Each person arrives and designs his own personal space as he wills, there are no gates or gate keeper. The person is his own gate keeper to his own space. No thing is given as the reward for freedom to go and come as it pleases.

I had to choose, which space to be in, the marble space was enticing and inviting, the beauty was spellbinding, the energy intense. The second space had a ease to it, hands off cruising seemed possible, but a journey to no where in particular. The third space was scary, not to be desired. The outcome of unfortunate choices. The fourth space had no thing, the initial reward of freedom. The first 3 spaces are varying degrees of prison were choices are restricted. The decor and attire of the gatekeepers did not change the controlling forces of these environments. The fourth space is the place of freedom, but not all can handle the stack truth and sheer effort required to profit from freedom. Those that priced the freedom highly, turn their space into a palace.

Life is about choices and some prisons are made of marble.