… the story was once told of a married man in a remote village, a well respected pillar of society, one of the wise ones. There was not much to their living condition in those days. Extended families live together in a compound and each family just have a room to themselves and all other facilities are shared. There were no beds so couples slept on traditional woven mat, usually spread close up to a wall.

This man, respected as he was, had a wandering eye, sooner or later his eyes would catch a target, given his position in the village he could not carry out his shenanigans anywhere, so he always bring his mistress home to his one room abode with his wife. No, he does not have a threesome! What he does is that when it is night time, he will command his wife to ‘face the wall’ like a child with behavioural issues and right there on the same mat he will go ahead and make love to his latest catch!

The poor wife will have to lie quietly there or sleep off as the case maybe and either pretend that nothing happened or convince herself that something did happen but it was just okay, that is the way it is all meant to be. In the morning everyone carrys on with business as usual, nothing happened or whatever happened was totally acceptable. I can not help but to wonder the mental, psychological anguish that must go on in the head of the wife. Even in society where polygamous is embraced, I think this is taking things a bit too far, in the same room, on the same mat! The wife must face the wall physically, emotionally and psychologically. Nothing happened, nothing must be protested, nothing must be mentioned or talked about.

I can not help but think about the number of times in our dealings in life where abuse occurs, unfairness is the order of the day, inconsistency is the term, meaness and abandoning persists, we are taken advantage of, we are at the mercies of bullies and cliches, sometimes these behaviours are overt other times subvert, so subtle sometimes are the perpetrators that if we blink we will miss it. And for whatever reason, whether due to collective group convulted accepted standards and norms or whether due to our damaged perspective, we are told to ‘face the wall’ or we even tell ourselves to do so and we stay there, face, nose, mouth etc stuck to the wall, and we behave like it is not happening, we are expected to do that any way, and God forbide if we raise our voice and shout out that the respected elder is behaving in a disrespectful manner, that the nice cute human being is far from nice, that the generous man is unkind and brutal, that the fancy institution is nothing but a breeding place for viper etc.

The wall is the place that society expects us to face in order to maintain it’s delicately but sometimes falsely balanced image of respectability and order. A raving mad set up must still be donned in a spotless white gown and belted up to perfection and we must stay mute, nosed up to the wall.

When I think about the story, which happens to be a true story by the way of the respected man and his shenanigans, my blood boils, I feel sick to my core and all I can say is that “I am facing no wall!”. Easier said than done, I know, there consequences, huge consequences some times in disrupting the balance and well crafted image of society. The powers that be and that need to preserve the status quo do not lie low why we topple things over.

The price of disturbing the peace, distrupting the image can be huge, however I believe each person should be true to self and we must know that which we live for or are prepared to die for as the case maybe. The point is either way, at some point we will die, we will either die from the suffocation of facing the wall, or die from the resistance of the power that be, we have to choose our death. Though the jury is still out, when we choose not to face the wall, we might just make it, we might not die, the powers that we think are might just be powerless and we find out they are toothless dogs and suddenly we are breathing freely.

Move away from the wall, breath!

… I have always looked from afar, it seemed like a long long distance away. I could hardly see anything from where I stood. To be honest I could not see anything, but I knew it was somewhere over there. I know it is there because I have met people that have been and they told me about the river. I heard their story but I doubt I fully comprehended it. But it didn’t really matter because one day I will get to the river. I have been told it is a straight line to get there and we are all moving in the same direction, some of us nearer than other. Well, I didn’t give it much thought as I was a long long way away. My arrival will happen sometime in the very very faaaarrrrr future. I made no preparation for going in or on the river, neither did I prepare for coming out of the river on the other side. Everything was too far away. But was it really as far away as I thought?

Then one morning, without any warning, I woke up and I was right in the middle of the river! How did this happen? How come there was no warning, no signs? The river is meant to be far far away! Have I been tricked? Maybe the river has always been much nearer than I was told. The truth is, I was never tricked and there were warnings, but somehow I ignored them. In shock I wadded through the river, totally bemused and confused. It was a short stint in the river and I was out, almost as if it never happened. Before I knew it, I had become an ‘after the river’ person. I so was not ready for this title, the river was one of the main defining description of a person, you were either a ‘before the river ‘ or an ‘after the river’ person.

In bemusement I wonder around the ‘after the river’ space. What a sloppy and slippery terrain it is! It is downwards! Prior to the river, we were all going up, now we are all going down, some just cruise all the way down, simply by doing nothing, to navigate the terrain with grace and composure, support and stability is required, fall protection needs to be in place. Like a seasoned mountain climber the gear needs to be in place, the harness, helmet, ropes, axe, crampton, poles etc. Some arrive fully geared up, others arrive empty handed and wonder why the journey is difficult.

Aging is very similar, we all reach ‘the age’, that is ‘the river’ after that it is a slippery and sloppy descend, we do well to have our gear in place at this stage of our life. We need our poles to stabilise us, we need our harness, our helmet. We need our faith, our spirituality, we need to know who we serve, who our creator is, how we got to be where we are, our health we must pay attention to, we no longer have the luxury of living any how, eating any how, not exercising, this is the other side of the river, to stand we must attend to matters of our health. Our mind we must cater to, we must protect, put on our helmet, exercise our brains, read, apply ourself to mental stimulating pursuits, our house we must start putting in order, we must learn to travel light on the other side of the river, excess weight will take us down speedily. We must be discerning and rid ourselves of things that no longer serve us, we have limited space as we make our descent, we must consider our relationships, we can not be unequally yoked, each step will be uneven and dangerous, taking us down. The manners, attitude and lifestyle of before the river does not work after the river. We all need to understand we are now in a different space.

There are great exploits to be done after the river, cities to be conquered, beasts to be slained, nations to be won, dreams to be fulfilled, goals to be accomplished etc but all must be done with consciousness, the time is truly short. We got to the river quicker than we thought, the end of the journey is even nearer.

The other side of the river is a great place to be, a land of opportunity, of maturity, of wisdom and exploits, however to accomplish we need stability and support. Like a seasoned mountain climber we do well to be geared up.

Enjoy the space!

… most of us love a good bargain, BOGOF (buy one get one free), eat as much as you can, the sales, the discounts, the freebies, less than half prices etc. Business use it to break into new market, introduce new products, shift slow selling ones etc but it is rarely forever, it is usually for a season and things go back to normal.

In relationships we do the same, we are new in a group, in the area, we are unsure, we are the new kid on the block and we open ourselves up, we reach out, we smile at people, we go out of our way, we lower our gaze, we take and accept things we wouldn’t take normally. We give our time, our energy, our applause, our goodwill, our effort for free or at a discount.

However a time comes, when the sale is over, no more discount, no more freebies, everything has to be paid for and at full price. Friendship now cost and requires reciprocating, applause is earned by effort, good effort, access to private space is now by invitation and not anyone can just barge in. There is a gate fee to be paid, toll is collected before entrance as promotion is over, no longer free for all.

There was a time of ‘ignorance’ when everyone was in everyone’s business, but the time of ignorance has now been winked at, this is the time of repentance, when those that want to be in our lives must behave as such, there is no compulsion to relationship. Someone once said ‘friendship is not by force’ and how true! A time comes when people have to pay their way into our lives, ‘free for all’ time is over. Twenty children can not play together forever. The time of childishness we have to put aside and start digging our teeth into strong relationship bones. We are not milk for people to slurp their absent minded unconscious tongue into. We are better and deserve better.

It is about protecting ‘brand self’ top brands would rather destroy merchandise than sell it at a discount. Whilst I don’t necessarily agree with this practice, I understand the principle behind brand protection. At the end of the day we owe a duty to ourself to protect the essence and beauty of who we are, as no one will do the job for us. The brand owner must protect his brand. To Him whom much is given much is required. Much is given to us and much protection is required. We are pearl, we are diamond, we are priceless, all we are, is not to be cast before swine.

We still open shop, we still are people lovers, we are still good decent people, however there is a price tag and the full price have to be paid, even to come before the throne of grace, we still have to come with boldness and confidence. To receive salvation, we still have to believe in our heart and confess with our mouth, there is a price to be paid. Without running the risk of repeating myself, discount is over, there are no more samples, testers, tasters, samplers. Those times are over, buy if you want and even if you want and can’t afford it then sorry the price is the price. It is as simple as that.

Horses for courses, we will never be everyone’s cup of tea and that has to be acceptable. The true boutique shops are not full of crowd, whilst they run promotion sometimes, it is not all year round. It makes no sense to position ourselves as the discount store, the 99p shop, we end up attracting undesirable elements in the mix.

Without arrogance and puffiness, whilst still giving acknowledgement to our maker, let us walk like kings, princess and prince that we truly are.

Promotion over! Promo code expired!

…… NO RIGHT! “…. you have no right to be beautiful, to be stunning, to glow, to shine, to radiate”
You have no right to be clever, to be outstanding, to be intelligent, to stand out in class, to be in top school, to study the best subjects, they told me.

You have no right to look after yourself, to be healthy, to be fit, to eat well, drink well, make the right choices for your health, put yourself together well. No, not you, you have no right.

You have no right to higher thoughts, better mindset, positive mental attitude, growth focus, awakening, It is not for you.

You have no right to better relationships, empowering contacts, supportive structures, uplifting people, no right at all, you do not belong.

You have no right to run a good business, be profitable, grow your business, advance the trade, cut the top deals, have top clients, develop stunning products, no right whatsoever.

You have no right to a top job in a top firm, not that department, not that industry nor that sector, definitely not that place, you can’t do it, it is not for you. Remember, you have no right.

You have no right for your voice to be heard, for your work to be publish, for your efforts to be acknowledged. You have no right to be known, to be recognise for what you do. You have no right to do anything.

You have no right to dream, to think, to desire, to want, to expect, to long, to yearn, no right to change, to transform, to project, to speculate, no right to plan, have goals. “Dream on” she sniggered.

You have no right to be loved, to be cherished, adored, wanted, to be nurtured, nourished, to be desired, to be elevated, to be applauded, you must settle, for you have no right!

No right to be great, powerful, outstanding, awesome. No right to shine, to be polished, crisp, articulate, no right to excel.

You have no right to be happy, to be at peace, to enjoy life, to be satisfy, to be content, to be fulfilled, to be motivated.

He said, she said, they said, and painfully I believe them, added my voice, my thoughts, my actions to the ‘no right ‘ camp and dealt as one that has no right.

No more! I have right to be all and more and so do you. You have right!

… there were 5 us in the room. I know it because I counted and recounted and counted and recounted again. Why did I have to count so many times? 5 is not a difficult number to count or comprehend. I don’t even need to count, I just need to observe and the number sticks. I can see 5 people, I don’t need to count, but I needed to. Why? Because they ask him a question. They asked him, “how many people are in the room?” He said, 4! Really? How come? He said there are 4 people. They asked him the names, he called out all names, my name was not included. I though he must be short sighted, so I went over to him and introduce myself, gave my name and told him I am in the room. He nodded. So they asked him again, the number of people in the room and again he said 4, and my name was not included.

I got it wrong, he is long sighted, so I moved to a distance where he should be able to see me, and I spoke to him from there and introduce myself again and gave him my name. He nodded. They asked him, how many people were in the room and he said 4 again and my name was not included.

He must be deaf, I thought, so I dressed in the most colourful apparel and became very animated, I did a lot of tricks and turned myself into a clown and he laughed and laughed. So they asked him again, how many people were in the room and he said 4 yet again and my name was not included.

I decided to befriend him personally, I invited him to my house, I cooked lunch for him, I took him out for lunch, I smiled at him every morning, I bought little presents for him and spent time with him in the room. He seemed quite appreciative and I was pleased. It was time for the question and I was quietly positive and expectant . They asked him the number of people in the room and this time I knew what the answer would be, he said 4 again and my name was not included! I was wrong! I did not know the answer!

I had ran out of tricks and exhausted all my options, there was nothing else to do or try, so I left the room and they asked him, how many people were in the room and he said 4, he was right all along, there were only 4 people and I was never there, why did I ever thought there were 5 and that I was in the room?

Time past and someone ask me, how it was in the room? “I don’t know” was my answer. “There were only 4 people in the room”, I told her and I was not one of them, so I really can’t say what happened in the room. So where were you? Was the next question.

Where was I? I thought deep and hard. Where was I when I was in the room, when there were 5 of us and not 4? I bowed my head for what felt like eternity and slowly I lifed my head and looked at my questioner in the face. I looked life in the face and with my head held high up, I responded “I was in the room, I was very much in the room and there were 5 of us and not 4, I was one of them” and I told all that happened in the room. I told my story with my own voice. I narrated the incidents as I saw it unfold and when I finished I rested my case and my questioner nodded and life smiled at me.

Acknowledgement is a powerful thing and sometimes people will not acknowledge us, but we owe it to ourself to acknowledge who we are, our presence, our contributions and whether anyone remembers or acknowledge. It is important we know, where we have been, what we did, who we saw etc.

Always remember, you were there, in the room!

I was in the room!

… I am not blind, neither am I partially sighted. I see clearly as the day. There is nothing wrong or right about being blind. Some are born blind, some become blind through life situation or circumstances. However I am not blind even though I live amongst blind people. I can see clearly, how dare I behave or pretend like I can’t see? Being amongst the blind does not bestow upon me the status of walking with a white stick and bumping into things. I am not entitled or required to walk as the blind because I live amongst the blind. I am to walk in the light that I see, the path before me. It is not my place to close my eyes and bump into things in order to be like those around me. I am not blind, I must walk as I am.

I am not unconscious, I am not asleep, I am not giddy, I am not dull or dense. I am awake, I am conscious, I am sharp and alert, I am aware, I am bright. It is not a crime to be unconscious but it is regrettable to pretend to be when not. I am awake in the midst of a sleeping people. What do I do? Do I go back to sleep? No I can’t, for I am not sleepy! I can try waking them up, I can try making them conscious, but more than anything I must operate in my own consciousness. I must move like him that is awake and conscious, I must not dull my edges, I must not lower my perception, I must not question my consciousness. I must not be proud, lofty or arrogant but I must proceed in the direction of my consciousness. I must progress like him that is awake. I am alive, I must live, I can not play dead. There is no virtue in joining the sleeping. I am awake.

I am not ignorant, I am knowledgeable, I know what I know, I see what I see, I understand what I understand, I must walk in the light that I see, I must bow to the person that I am, I must respond to the call, I must heed the calling. I must not put the light under a bushel, I must shine it bright, I must put it on a hilltop. My light must shine that the world benefits from it.

I am not perfect, I do not know it all. I must remain teachable, but still I am not blind!

… we are elegant, I am elegant and you are elegant! But the question is how do I make myself believe it without feeling the need to change or adjust something about me, myself to achieve that status? I can not be more elegant, no amount of wealth can make me more elegant, no education, no physical fitness regime can do it either, my elegance is in built, by design, I don’t have to be more or less of anything to be elegant. I don’t have to loose weight or add weight, I don’t have to tone up, I don’t have to change my wardrobe. All of these things are good and helpful in our social interactions and for our physical wellbeing, but our true essence is sufficient and good enough. A person can be fit, wealthy, educated, well dressed and well groomed and still not feel elegant. Another person might not have half as much but feel incredibly elegant.

Elegance is intrinsic, it is simple, it is beauty, it is original, it is by design, it is intricate, it is deeper than the societal established norm of physical acceptability, it is not eroded or corroded by age, basically it is ageless, it is not enhanced by anything we do, because it is complete in its form. I am talking about true elegance. It is not black, white, brown or any colour, it is colourless, yet it exist in all the colours. It is not fat, it is not slim, it is all sizes. It is not tall or short, it belongs to all length and height. It is not the exclusive right or belongings of a certain group of people or family, which is what the world will make us believe by it’s very skewed, biased and truncated definition. It is not limited to a geographic location. It does not abound with the excessive accumulations of wealth or the sparse scattering of it, it is here, there and everywhere. It is our very being. We are not becoming, we are, our understanding and manifestation is however becoming.

But how do I get myself to embrace my elegance, to believe in it and to live it? How do I shut my ears to the voice, demands and rejection of the world and strut my stuff in the arena of my exquisiteness? How do I wake up and truly understand the majestic of my being? Not just understand but to be awed by the person, not in an arrogant ‘I am better than another ‘ manner but in a true comprehension of each and every being. Not a comprehension that sees the totality of what is possible but an understanding of the limitless potentials, and also the appreciation and apprehension as it is. The elegance that does not need to be touched up or airbrushed, the beauty that is beyond skin deep.

Animals are incredibly comfortable in their skin and strut their stuff, irrespective of the form that they come in, as humans sometimes we do not grab this simple acceptance, we have managed over the years to convince ourselves and allow others to convince us that we are not good enough.

A lot of our strive will cease when we understand how awesome we are. Depression, anxiety and a whole load of mental distress will be done away with once we can just grab this simple fact, but how do we do it? How do we unlearn the lies of inadequacy? We must listen to a different source, look in a different mirror, we must pay attention differently, we must align ourselves vertically, our paradigm must change, our definition must be different, our acceptance must be absolute. The dirt must be brushed off the shoulder but that speck does not touch the integrity of the person.

The person is elegant, truly is and may we all walk in the understanding of this fact.

Be you, you are elegant!

… in a very uncomfortable place, she has been asked to sit, it is prickly and bumpy, she shifts and shovels all over the place to find the most comfortable position in the most uncomfortable seat. She can’t sit still for long, for it pricks, it hurts, it itches and it is just uncomfortable. It is difficult to relax, to rest, to concentrate for the environment is uncondusive. She tries, she really tries, to ignore the prickly seat and get on with the business of day. She succeeds for a while before the discomfort of the seat takes over, then she must rise and walk away to get some respite.

She returns, rearranges the seat, get some pillows, wedges to absorb the shock, she finds some comfort in between the bumps and she settles herself into it. She gets some temporary comfort and like a thorn in dry ground, she survive and thrive in a hostile ground.

She is a shinning star, a trojan, a jewel, she is rugged, she is resolute, she can swim in any water, she forces her way through dry ground, she survives in the desert. She will forever shine, her brightness can not be dimmed, she is assured in herself, she is a friend to all, but she needs no one to be, she already is, she is no respecter of person, she loves fervently, she is wise beyond her age, but she is still a child, seeking to fit her cute bum in the prickly seat.

She is my angel and forever she will be!

… I honestly did not know! I thought, seriously thought I had to be someone else, I had to be something different, me as I am never seem to be good enough, somewhere, somehow I did not feel I was okay.

I did not think it was okay to be born on 9th June 1969, how laughable that is, now that I think about it in the clear light of day. I have been inclined to give a different date of birth, depending on the situation to either add or deduct years as I deemed the occasion demands. And when I couldn’t do this, I went around with the discomfort or awkwardness of someone that was born in the wrong year or on the wrong date. I was either too young or too old for my audience. I have met people who can’t lie, but who will never reveal their age, for fear of what? I know not, sadly I must admit, I have atimes been that person.

I did not know it was okay to be a female, I come from a culture that has no shame in showing it prefers the male child, a family that so badly wanted boys, but as nature will have it their first three children were female, me being the third. You can imagine the cry that greeted me when I popped out. ‘Not again!’ ‘Not another female!’ Almost like an unwanted order in the resturant, but you still settle down to eat it regardless, not wanting to create a fuss, nevertheless kept wishing you got the lasagne you ordered rather than this Bolognese! My parents were great and did their very best, couldn’t hide there intense joy when after me came a boy, at last what they ordered arrived! I did not know it was okay to be a female as I grew up and encoutered sexism and was discounted, dismissed and overlooked because of my sex. I did not know it was okay to be female, when to some of the opposite sex, all I was, was a sex object, for them to project their untamed lewd desires. I did not know I was okay.

I did not know it was okay to be the third child of a family of six, the middle child, the one that is neither here nor there. Not the first, not the last, not a carbon copy of my Dad or my Mum, just a mish mash of both of them, I thought! But there was nothing disorderly about me, I was a good mixture of both with my own God-given personality, but I did not know, I thought for a while there must have been a mix-up in the hospital. It crossed my mind more than once that I might have ended up with the wrong parents, ignoring some of the strong resemblance I shared with my siblings and my parents. I did not know it was okay to be me!

I did not know it was okay to have my shade of colouring, especially when my Dad was very dark and my mum was extremely fair, I wanted to be either all fair or mother nature black like Alek Wek not the light brown or dark brown I tend to be depending on the time of the year. I definitely did not know it was okay to have the amount of melanin in my skin when being in a predominantly white environment I am starred at, as if I was an alien that just arrived from outer space, discrimated against and sent to Coventry, overlooked for promotion, outcasted from the special in-group, refused some of those things that really should come to me, I did not know I was okay!

I did not know it was okay to have an ‘accent’ as they call it. The accent issue has always been a funny one, my english is not right because I have an accent, so I registered myself in elocution classes, but I guess it was too late as the tongue was set, my mother tongue was not right either, it was the odd type , whatever that meant, it invokes a butt of laughter every time I open my mouth. My native dialect was equally bad, atrocious was more like it, nobody from the village knew what I was talking about, plus my vocabulary was painfully limited. Whichever language I choose, my pronunciation, diction, phonics all seem to be lacking one way or another, keeping quiet seem to be the better alternative. I did not know that it was okay to sound the way I sound and talk the way I talk.

I did not know it was okay to originate from a village, or a hamlet as some will prefer to refer to where I come from. I did not know it was okay to ail from Rore, in Irepodun Local Government of Kwara State, Nigeria. Nobody seem to know about Rore except those that are from Rore. Got a bit wearing to hear the same ‘uhn, where exactly is Rore?’ Question. I was actually told it is the name for pimple. So there is always a long explanation following any time I have so say where I am from. The ‘where originally are you from?’ Question is one I have had a long practice of dealing with, it never got any easier. But, yes I did not know it was okay to be from Rore.

I did not know it was okay to live in the neighbourhood where we lived as most children in my school appeared to live in a different postcode. Well, there was no actual postcode! but I still felt I lived outside the non existent postcode that existed in my head. I did not know it was okay to grow up where I grew up. I did not understand that was just part of my own very unique journey. I did not know it was okay to grow up in Balogun Fulani.

I did not know it was okay to be quiet and introverted when everyone else seem to be outgoing, extroverted with loads of friends. I did not know it was okay to have a small circle of trusted friends. I did not know it was okay to want to spend some quiet time with myself, to be reflective, to get in touch with my inner being and my maker, I did not know it was okay to be different, if truly I was, to be mis understood by those that don’t get me. A friend once said, ‘your ways are so different from everyone else!’ And I took that as gospel, not the good news gospel, but the doom and fire gospel, I resented being ‘different ‘. I did understand that at some level we are all different. However I did not understand that he does not know everyone but more importantly he does not know what he was talking about. I did not know it was okay to be different. I did not know it was okay to be me, warts and all!

I did not know that it was okay not to have a university degree at a time when everyone around me seem to have one. A University degree was a must have criteria to qualify as a valid human being, without it I consider myself inferior, less of a human being. How wrong was I and everyone else that shared my warped views! I did not know that the value of a human being was not tied to the academic institutions that he attended or did not attend. I did not know that I was okay, that I was intelligent, something that no academic or educational institution can make me.

I did not know it was okay not to have as much, as one continues to strive, I did not know it was okay to have needs, to have challenges, to have issues, I did not understand that life is imperfect and a journey with times of austerity and times of abundance. I did not understand how to abase or to abound. I felt inferior and inadequate when I didn’t have enough and I felt guilty when I had. I did not understand that my essence was not determined by what I had or did not have. I did nor understand that material things did not make me. I did not understand that I was okay.

The list really goes on, but brevity requires that I cut this short in righteousness. I stand before you today, the 9th June 2019, extremely grateful for my life, for my journey, with all its twist and turns, all its shades and flavour. I stand today, knowing that I am okay, but it goes beyond being okay, I understand that I am extraordinary by design. I am beautiful inside and outside. I am truly fearfully and wonderfully made. As I come to the understanding of who I am, I see everyone else better and I understand that not just me but everyone is okay, but not just okay, extraordinarily created.

No ifs, buts, what abouts, it is as it should be, we are all okay as we continue to improve and strive.

Godliness with contentment is our great gain!

… we all want to sort it out, make it work, straighten it out, put it in order, but sometimes, disorder is actually the order of the universe. And when nature is ready it sorts out it’s own mess. “… and what about when it is not sorted out?” Someone ask. Then it is meant to remain unsorted. Can we not give nature a helping a hand? Sure we can, but only a very little one.

It happened that when my little one’s permanent teeth started coming out, some were just a bit too keen, too eager and couldn’t be bother to wait for the milk tooth to drop off. The milk tooth seem to be in no hurry and was just leisurely hanging around. The impatient permanent tooth just started pushing forth and appearing in the most awkward place behind and in front of the milk tooth. It didn’t look right at all, it was disorderly, iggly piggily to say the list. Being a first time mum, I panicked and bundled the little one as a matter of urgency to the dentist. He (the dentist) calmed me down and assured me that the disorder in front of me is the order of nature and everything will fall in place, he said that milk tooth will eventually fall out and the iggily piggily permanent tooth will be knocked or if you prefer gently guided into place by the tongue and the mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder how the soft tongue and mouth will straighten out the hard tough tooth, but that is just how things works.

As if I hadn’t learnt my lesson, we had another over eager permanent tooth, doing exactly the same, but this time, it looked really worse, moreover the process appeared to be taking much longer, the milk tooth definitely was not going anywhere, the permanent tooth appeared vicious and determined, the battle ensued! Friends started advising we should get the milk tooth removed. Off we went to the dentist again. We got the same answer again, the tongue and mouth will sort it out! Let it be.

In our lives, we face situations and circumstances and we itch, we are eager to do something about it or well meaning people around us are pushing and insisting we take actions, but before we rush around like a headless chicken, we should stop and take stock, not all things are within our control, not all things can be resolved by our determination and motivation, somethings just have to be handed back to our maker, we must let nature resolve it. I believe there will be less depression, frustration, agitations etc when we understand that some things are purely for the tongue and mouth to resolve, striving ends immediately and we can just sit back and be amazed.

Chill and allow the tongue and mouth to straighten things out! Let the gentle hand of nature do its work. Our maker is in control. Someone reminded me that some adults still have iggily piggily teeth and the tongue and mouth seem not to have knocked or gently patted things into place. My response in that case is that maybe iggily piggily is their lot in life and the disorder is their own order. A revisit to the dentist may then be necessary to definitely knock things into place, but until then we all owe nature a chance to do its work.

Do we become complacent as we wait on the tongue and mouth? No we learn patience and we stay watchful and diligent. Having done all to stand, we stand therefore.

Show forth your teeth, smile! He is in control, the tongue and mouth must be allowed to do their job!