… “a cat has been here” said my estate agent friend. We couldn’t see any cat, there were no droppings and every thing was as we left it. I wasn’t sure what he was on about. “I can smell cat” he said, a cat was here. He pointed to the cat flap at the bottom of the door and he said that the cat must have come in at some point to warm itself. I felt that was truly interesting, if the cat had sprayed some perfume on (I know they don’t do that!) or rubbed body with another animal, maybe it would have been more difficult to tell.

Animals use smell, scents to send messages, to mark territory, to attract mates, to lead other members to them, to fend off predators etc. Some have a particular strong sense of smell and use it accordingly. Human beings have their scent as well and the sex hormone, pheromones is well known. Some people prefer the natural smell of another rather than the pefumed or deodourised smell. I guess every now and then we have been guilty of over doing the good old bottle of our preferred Eau de Toilette. I love perfume and I have a few that I am partial to, however I believe there is a place for allowing our good clean self be, and allow the natural scent of our being be. I believe our natural scent is representative of our true self, who we really are and as animals go around with their natural scent allowing others to locate them, I believe as human we can learn a lesson to apply in our lives.

We must allow the world to smell our very own scent, to see who we are, allow our very own light to shine, our very own voice to be heard, and by so doing, our very own tribe will locate us, because they can smell the scent, see the light, hear the voice they know and understand. But when we try to be what we are not, when we don’t respect our own individuality and try to be like others in order to fit in, we muddle our own identity, our own essence and we loss out, we have layered all kind of smell on top of our own and no one knows who we are or what we stand for. The light we shine is not our light and it attracts the wrong kind of people, the voice we speak with is confusing and nobody hears it (now or then) or we end up attracting sheeps that do not belong to us and we wonder why there is confusion in the fold. Most time it is because we do not have the right sheeps, we have lit a strange light and we and the people with us are consumed, we have released a muddle up scent and we have muddled-up people around us living a muddled-up life.

One ask “what happens if I release my scent and people find it offensive?” My response is “welcome to the real world!” No smell is universally embraced! In some cases a lot of people will even find it offensive, but that still is not a good enough reason to mask our scent. The skunk is one of the smelliest animal and he still goes around strutting his stuff. The point is when he finds his tribe, his fellow skunks, they are not offended as they all smell the same. No one hates himself yet. To be honest, most of those that find the scent unpleasant are predators. Possibily, the quickest way to get rid of those that do not belong in our lives, the predators, leeches, vampires, unsavoury characters etc is to just release our scents, be our true selves and they can’t hang around for long. So my advice is release your scent, find your tribe, find your fellow ‘smelly’ buddies.

Let us be crystal clear about who we are and live proudly that way. Someone once said, “but when I speak as me, and release my voice as it came, not a single sheep turned up, when I shone my light as it is, no one saw it, when I release my scent, not a single female or male or anyone for that matter showed interest” and for that reason they change their voice to the voice of the people they live amongst, and lit the light of the people they know and assumed the scent of the people in their midst, and by doing all of these they become ‘recognised’ and got the desired ‘likes’, but what a fallacy!

The simple truth is that our tribes are not always near by, our sheeps are not always within immediate hearing distance. Our light might not yet reach our target. Light still travels and we must allow it to do its journey. What great injustice we do to ourself and to those we are called to, when we cease to operate as who we truly are. We rob the world of the uniqueness of our being that can not be found anywhere else.

Sometimes our true tribe are not anywhere near us. The fact that we are born into a family does not make the members of the family our tribe. Some people have little in common with members of their family. In our church, mosque or other religious group we might not exactly fit in. Our current friends might not even be our true tribe. Our neighbours, colleagues, schoolmates, etc might not be it either. Sometimes our tribes are not even born yet and might not be born until we are gone. ‘So what do we do’? You ask. We must continue to speak, to shine the light, to drop the scent, and when we are gone, the messages we left will be found and do the work it needs to do. The people that need to find the message will find and use it accordingly. Some people do things atimes and it seems pointless, nobody acknowledges, respect, validates or take interest in what they are doing. But what I believe is that if we remain faithful to the prompting of our inner being and we make our voices heard, shine our light and drop our very own scents. The very earth that we dwell on, will bear witness, our very soul will bear witness and He that sent us will bear witness and whether in our life time or after, our sheeps will hear our voice and our tribe will find us.

A number of us have been blessed and enriched by books that were written well before we were born, music that were produced before our time. Archaeology findings have unearth numerous things that have been tremendous blessing to current generation. Our callings are not just to here and now but to all that will at some point have the benefit of encountering our very true essence.

So for that very reason, be you, do not dilute your essence, scent. Let those in the know sniff the air of the world we dwelt in and without hesitation be able to say ‘so-and-so’ was here!

By your very own scent, be known!

… a question that has boggle my mind for some time now? I have heard it said that all men are born free, though Rousseau argues that every man is in chain even if born free. Physically we come tied to our Mother and we have to be untied to continue life and why we can argue that we are then free, we are dependent to have our needs met, so it is a some what thwarted freedom.

But lately I have been thinking that we are born tied mentally and psychologically to some beliefs and way of thinking. Whether we were born with these or acquire by virtue of the environment we are born into is unclear. But this is the platform on which we find ourselves. Some of theses thoughts and beliefs are uplifting and enabling but some are incredibly limiting, incapacitating and other times down right destructive and those are the ones we need to work on. But just like a person born in prison (because the mum is a prisoner), knows no better, he or she has only known prison and accepts prison has home, having never tasted freedom, is unaware that he or she is imprisoned. Most prison only allow the child to be with the mum for 18 months. But I wonder the impact on the child for the rest of his or her life having started out life in this manner. The child is innocent and while the child’s cognitive awareness of the environment is limited, how much of the psychological state of the Mum is embraced and imbibed.

As supposedly free children born to free parent. I will like to argue that we are not as free as we think. We are born imprisoned to some mindset that might not be in our best interest. When we come of age , it is imperative that we become aware of such and break free. We have to then put in the work to set ourselves free. But how can you become free when you don’t even know you are a slave? When you don’t know the place you call home is a prison? When you don’t know the food you eat is prison food?You don’t know your friends are fellow prisoners. When you don’t know the people that you look up to are slave masters and prison wardens? People’s whose mandate is to keep you imprisoned? In the mental world, there is no sign outside the door that reads in neon light ‘prison’, neither do the slave masters or wardens wear the ‘title’ on their shirts. They sure have titles but it is spelt differently, it reads something else, the name does not give the clue, the clue is in the performance. It takes discernment and awareness to know where we are and who people are.

The only way to know without external influence is to look deep into the soul and listen to prompting of the inner man. A time comes when our very being rejects every form of imprisonment and this is when the excruciatingly hard work commences. A work/task we can choose to accept or not. The choice is entirely ours. The mind needs to be freed, I will argue it is not born free or it is nor brought up free. We can choose to do nothing and continue to eat prison food and live prison lifestyle and we will survive but as a prisoner and for some that is acceptable. Or we can seek and fight for our own freedom and eat the meal of a free man in a free place. Mental freedom must be earned, it must be fought for, it does not drop unto our laps or arrive on a plate unordered in our front on our table.

The freedom of the mind is an endeavour each man must approch with all earnestness. No man can do the job for us, they can aid in the process, but we must position ourselves and open up our minds. The key is in our hands.

Break out of prison, stay in prison, the choice is yours, but the mind is to be set free.

Free the mind!

… not sure if she knows, but I do. She is beautiful, very, not talking physical beauty but her energy, her presence, her demeanour is alluring. That said, she is physically beautiful as well. She is tall, slender and graceful like a beautiful gazelle

She is tender and gentle, she is creative and warm with a great sense of humour, she is also intelligent and well travelled. She is delicate but still strong. She can be dissmissive amd disinterested though. But I cut her tiny slack, none is perfect.

She is wealthy but not showy. She has her friend, she seems loyal, but I wouldn’t truly know. She has a kindness and grace to her.

Her dressing is simple and unassuming, but not boring or rough. I have encountered her looking really smart.

It will be nice to be her friend but only if she wants me as well. It must not be one sided. I don’t see that happening, so I will settle for liking her from where I am.

She might be shy and unsure, maybe even lacking some confidence. But she still puts herself out every now and then.

I like her!

… and a really good watch it was, it had a good face, easy to read, I readily knew the time any day, any night. It had a compass, so I knew my positioning as well. It also told me the date and year. So I always knew what time it was, where I was and what date. I was steady and stable, well anchored. My placing was reasonably sure.

Then they did something interesting, it seemed honest then and well meaning, but lately I have begin to question the action. It might be crafty, I think. They destabilised me, unsteadied me, unanchored me, they told my watch was faulty! I looked at my watch, it looked perfectly okay, I was puzzled. In my innocence I looked up to them and I told them I could not see anything wrong with my watch, the dial was still moving, the compass was still pointing, the date was still reading, it was very much alive from all I can see, nothing faulty to me. That was when they dropped the bomb! They said they have another watch, a superior one, and my timing, my readings, my positioning, my dating does not tally with theirs. My watch was still ticking away as the dialogue ensue, they did not take my watch, but they had rendered it impotent to me. So how do I stabilise myself, steady myself and anchor myself now? “Not to worry” they told me, I should just ask and they will tell me the time, the date and my positioning. And that is how I became an ‘asker’, I no longer know anything, I had to ask, I could no longer check myself, I didn’t know when to sleep or when to wake, when to eat or when to withhold, I didn’t know what date it was or where I was, so I kept asking and doing what I was told.

In my mind, I had some recollection of the days when I trusted my watch, my days felt right, my anchor was steady, I was very stable. There is something not right about the timing they are giving me. I am not hungry when they tell me it is feeding time. I am sleepy when they tell me it is waking time. I do not want to wake up when their alarm goes off. I feel the southern breeze on the back of my neck but they tell me I am east, it feels like Christmas but they tell me it is Easter. The day has the earnestness of the beginning of the week, but they tell me it is weekend, a resting day. Something is not right, my soul is agitated!

They never took away watch, but it is at the back of the drawer gathering dust, I wonder if it is still ticking. I got it out, cleaned off the dust, it is still ticking! Checked the time, it is different from the time I was told, I am not where I am told I am, neither is the date or day what it is meant to be.

I am holding the watch, should I put it back at the back of the drawer or should I put it on my wrist? Their time is not my time, their positioning is not my positioning, their days and dates are not my days and dates. Is their watch wrong or is my watch truly wrong? Or do we just have different timing, different positioning, different days and dates? Is north always north for everyone, irrespective of where they are?

I put my watch back on my wrist!

… and when I see him or when I encounter him, what about him will make my heart flutter? How will I truly love him? Not in a slavish, religious imposed, fear inducing, compulsory, demanding, expected reciprocal act but a genuine, heartfelt involuntary affection.

What about if he is ugly, unattractive, unimpressive? If I don’t like him? If he doesn’t do it for me? What about if he is too tall, too short, too dark, too light, too hairy, not hairy enough, talks funny, weird …? What about if I don’t like his energy, his presence? Do I have a say in the matter? Do I get to check my true feelings? Do I get to acknowledge my sense?

How can I tell if I truly love when I have been told I must love, I must adore, I must worship, I must revere, with my whole heart, my soul, my being, my body and if I don’t I am in trouble. But the question is ‘can I at least check my heart to see how I feel, or my feelings, my inclination does not come into the matter?

Our feelings are meant to be true, in the sense that what we feel is what we feel, it might not be true reflection of the situation, but the readings on the dial is the reading on the dial. Are we then to ignore the reading on the dial? Then what is the point of having a heart, that perceives? “The heart is faulty’ you tell me. Remember ‘ the heart is deceitful, desperately wicked, who can know it? But yet I am to worship Him with all my heart. The renewed heart, you tell me.

You rubbished the only means of perception I have and left me to operate on what I was told, what you tell me. I could never consult my heart, my soul, my consciousness , I must get my directions from outside me.

How can I love him? How will I know? How can I tell? Maybe I am just meant to love him, not consult my heart, just love him, do the acts of love irrespective of how I feel. Why have feelings then?

… babies cry! That is what they do and we accept it, it is normal, they have no other means of communicating their discomfort or needs. If they are hungry, they yell, hot or cold, they yell, needing love and attention, it is crying, wanting to sleep, the same, unwell , they cry. They can’t talk yet, so we accept this means of communicating even though it can be stressful for the parent usually the Mums. The most disheartening sound to a Mum’s ear is the cry of her child. It tells her something is not as it should be and begs of her to jump into action.

Babies cry because they can’t talk, but what happens when children that can talk, still express themselves by crying? How many times have parents said to their child “just tell me what happened or what is troubling you?” Yet the talking child can’t talk, even when he tries, he mumbles something incoherent and when he does manage to get his words out , the situation described does not seem to warrant all the drama. Well, I guess words are not always the best means of communication. Some pain, discomfort, distress are outside the realm of cool, calm, composed, logical, rational, articulate expression. Some things can not be spoken, they can only be cried. Spoken, written or even sign language is yet to be developed to the point where it can always convey the full range of complicated emotions going on in a human being.

“Talk to me” the grown up says to one another and we open our mouth, we try, we actually do try! Sometimes some words come, other times, we can’t get a word out. Even the words spoken don’t always make sense to the speaker not to mention the hearer. Other times it makes some sense, but not necessarily conveys the intended message, so we cry. But grown ups are not meant to cry nilly willy. So we don’t cry the wailing cry or the sobbing cry, we do the cry that does not look like a cry, but yet it is cry for help. We behave in ways that don’t make sense, we sulk, we throw tantrum, we get angry, we withdraw, we make weird decisions, we become harsh and mean etc and sometimes all of these is just a cry for help, a cry for what we can’t resolve by ourself. We cry for we feel helpless, we have needs that we don’t know how to cater to, that makes our life unbeareable.

When we read the riot act, sometimes we are just crying, when we hammer, dig our heels in, draw the red line, fade or fizzle out, it is just a cry.

Some cries are pure selfish, self centred, indulgent cry. Some cries are cries of the lazy and insolent, some cries are cries of the mean and wicked. But some cries are genuine heartfelt cry for help to meet a need.

May we have ears that hear another’s cry, even when it does not sound like a cry, may we have heart that feels the pain in the cry, may we have wisdom to discern the need of the cry, may we have compassion, empathy and the means to relieve the needs in the cry of the agitated.

Every man cries, everyman has needs, listen!

… success is heady stuff, knowledge is heady stuff and so is hard work. It gets to our head if we are not careful, we do and say ridiculous things and become oblivious to our strench. Unfortunately along the way we acquire sycophants, adherent followers, who can not tell us the truth, hailing us irrespective of the monster we are slowly becoming and yes without knowing or intending to, we attract the terrible twin into our lives, Pride and Arrogance! The point is that we can never tell if they have always been there and only emerge when we are at the height of our game, or if it is success that attracts them. But one thing is for sure, without any doubt they are the little foxes that spoil the vine, the dead flies that cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savour. Both men and women of weak disposition embraces these terrible twin and go around trampling on those they consider beneath them. ‘Consider’ being the operative word as these people are rarely beneath them! Unable to see their blind shoulders and without any visual aids they bump and crash into things they need not crash into.

Al Pacino, in one of his movies, kept repeating the line about how hard he worked for his money. It is interesting how people in what we consider unsavoury profession still have their sense of moral. I remember his wife saying something along the line of “I wish you didn’t have to work so hard for your money and someone gave it to you”. How many times have husbands come home night after night terrorising the wife and hammering it into her head how he has gone out to work hard to put food on the table? How many times have some women drum it into their children’s head how hard it has been to bring them into this world? How many times have some proprietors/ business owners tell their employees their story and how hard they work to build their business? How many times have some ministers work it into their sermon, the price they have had to pay for their anointing, the hard work that was involved? Hard work is a beast, an insatiable one that can sometimes demand unrelenting acknowledgement and validation. Yes, some, if not all of these people have worked and some are still working excruciatingly hard for everything they have and deserve to be recognised, but at some point we have to let people be and not force feed every details of the effort we put into what we do and what we are.

I know a guy, I will call him Mike, I have known him for a very long time, hard working, incredibly knowledgeable in his field and he does have some success. Someone, I must admit I have come to respect as being quite giving and selfless, I knew him from afar though. Not too long ago, I had a direct dealing with Mike and I notice an ever so slight whiff of arrogance and dissmissiveness. I thought it could not be, it must be my nose picking up non existent odor, so I paid no attention and allowed it to go, but somehow it stuck at the very back of my mind. More recently I had another dealing with Mike and sadly it was no longer a whiff, it was a full fledge stench of pride and arrogance. An attitude of ‘I know it all, I am the most knowledgeable, I am not even going to try to know who you are, I am the Almighty Mike’. It was truly difficult to swallow or breath. In my mind, I couldn’t help wondering, how did things get to this stage? how? Has Mike always been like this? Where did the terrible twin come from? My take away from the experience is to watch my steps, my ways, no person is that successful, that knowledgeable, worked that hard to trample on other people. The Terrible twin is no man’s friend.

Stay clear of Pride and Arrogance!

… I don’t like drugs! Yes, I don’t and I will avoid them if I can. I prefer to use faith, say positive things to myself, have a good mental attitude, even endure the pain and hopefully my ailment disappears, but sometimes it simply just does not work like that, the ailment does not disappear, my pain gets worse, not sure if my faith is not strong enough, my confession not long enough, my mental attitude not robust enough, I don’t know, all I know is that I need relief and I need it fast, I can’t even think straight to string a logical statement together, confession is a muddle. A grown woman like me is wailing in the middle of the night, and I wouldn’t consider my pain tolerance that low, it is just that I feel it, the pain has permeated my whole body.

Then the doctor arrives, armed with this tiny, innocuous, unassuming, underwhelming, non impressive looking pill. I was not convinced, but at this stage I will do and try anything. So I took this tiny blue pill, swallowed the pill with some water. In no time, I lie not, my whole body calmed down, my pain vanished, I can’t tell you if it was a temporary or permanent relief, but I was good for now and that is all that mattered . I felt like a very different person. Is this for real? Or is it some form of placebo? Mind over matter? Great is the wonder of nature and kudos to the pharmaceutical and medical profession for being able to harness and present it in a form that relieves pain!

I couldn’t help thinking, that in someway people are very similar, some are like the tiny blue pill. They arrive in our life, or put differently our paths cross, and on initial contact, there is nothing impressive about them, on the outside there is probably not much to them, their speech is wobbly and sometimes we make the mistake and we discount them, we dismiss them, we see and find no use for them, without even giving them a chance, and why should we? For starters, they are ‘tiny’ and ‘blue’ and sometimes even ‘ugly’. And then out of boredom, or loneliness, or politeness or political correctness or whatever, we give the ‘tiny, blue’ person a chance, we engage, we listen, we pay attention and we are pleasantly surprised how much punch they pack! They are good for us, they relieve our pain, calm our nerves, bring sunshine into our lives, stabilise us! Great is the wonder of nature in its dealings!

In the same vein, we sometimes encounter some other people, they are like the big fat pill, oblong. Try as hard as you can, you can never get it down, forever stuck in the throat. Gallon of water wouldn’t get it down! Spilling it out, is an effort as well. More palava than it is worth. The only way to get it down, is to break it, or crush it and dilute it with something sweet. And after all of that drama, it is not even that effective, your pain is unabated! It comes in great eye catching package, promising heaven and earth but falling flat on delivery. Size and packaging has been of no relevance. And that is just how some people are. They are forever stuck in our throat, all they do is cause more pain, getting rid of them is arduous. We can only encounter them in really small doses and to do that we have to crush or break them to be digestible, yet the impact is minimum.

Never discount the tiny blue pill, give people a chance!

… honestly he is! This is a dilemma, what am I suppose to do? Anyway I have been considering becoming a vegetarian or even vegan for sometime now. Done quite a bit of research and do appreciate the health benefits, especially of the vegan lifestyle, so maybe now is the time. But back to the butcher, he is ugly and has a funny face, his nose is a bit crocked and he has this annoying habit of saying ‘yeah’ at the end of every sentence. Though, I have been wondering whether becoming vegan because of an ugly butcher is really the right way to go about making such an important lifestyle change decision. Maybe I should give it some thought, or I could just change butcher! But my current butcher is the best around here, he has the best cuts at very reasonable price, moreover he is quite a decent man and never quibbles about anything. There really is no point in going to another butcher, the other guy down the road is so expensive and his meat is not even that fresh, and boy, has he got a chip on his shoulders! I just wish my current butcher was not that ugly. There must be something that can be done for ugly people, I guess. People do plastic surgery, don’t they? Moreover, he should know that he attends to the public and do something about the crocked nose. He is handling food that people will cook and eat. He must know people will remember his face every time they eat. How does he think his customer will feel? And what is it with saying ‘yeah’ at the end of every sentence. He must know for sure that that is extremely irritating. I guess some people just don’t care.

I have been telling myself though, I can just ignore his face, look away or something, and maybe not talk much, limit conversation to what I want and hopefully I wouldn’t have to be subjected to the annoying ‘yeah’, ‘yeah’, yeah!!!. That way I can still get my meat and consider the vegetarian/vegan lifestyle at a more appropriate time. And so life progressed.

Physicality is such a big issue in making decision for a lot of people. I almost gave up on my butcher because of my narrow perspective of considering people. How many of us have been guilty of discounting great people because they have not met our exerting standard of physicality? How many times have people missed out on potentially very beautiful friendships or relationships purely because a person is considered not attractive enough to them. Maybe my decision about meat is not that crucial, but how many times have significant life decision been made on the basis of shallow physical appearance that is only skin deep! Giving no consideration whatsoever to the human being under the skin. People have lost potentially great life partners because he or she is not handsome or beautiful enough. I have heard of parents not being able to bound with a new born child because the child is not attractive enough. Over and over I have heard people say ‘I can’t marry an ugly person, I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night screaming when I look at my wife or husband. What then happens, (I pray not, but it happens), when sickness, accident or even just the aging process, means that our once drop dead gorgeous, stunning partner is now an ugly ducking? Do we just throw them out? What happens when the child that pops out of us is a bit lacking in the looks department? Do we then withhold our love and affection or send him/her back? It will be untrue, to think every child born is physically attractice. What if the best candidate for the role in our company is not prince charming but ordinary Joe Bloggs or ugly Betty?

Why deny a good man or a good woman their rightful place in life or in our heart, purely because their physical form is somewhat challenging for us to behold? I believe we can do better than that, where necessary, we must allow time and space to do the job, allowing us to adjust to the physicality and for the form to grow on us. The fact remains, not every form will be pleasing or easy on our eyes initially. Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder and sometimes it is our eye that needs to do the adjustment. Not all that glitter is gold and not all that is ugly is dross. From time to time we have encountered some of the ugliest individual gifted with a beautiful physical form and in the same vein some of the most beautiful individual inhabit a not so attractive physical body. The outward man does perish, but it is the inward man that is continually being renewed. Let us intimate ourselves with the inward man.

Research has shown that good looking and attractive people tend to do better in life, they are more successful and get better opportunities generally, no wonder it gets to some people’s head, making them arrogant, unappreciative, egoistic with a greater than life size sense of entitlement. I am not advocating automatic positive discrimination, where we disqualify a person because they are attractive and only consider unattractive people, but I am advocating equal opportunities as far as looks are concerned, all people should be given a fair chance and it is for us to work on ourselves and consider wisely our selection criterias. Maybe out of interest, we should carry out an inventory of our friends and see if we have been guilty of the crime of only befriendly those with the desirable physical attributes.

Physically unattractive people can be level headed and grounded, given that mostly they have been overlooked due to something that is of no fault of theirs, they are usually more appreciative of attention received and rarely take it for granted and therein might lie hidden gems for us all. This obviously is a generalised view and in no way gospel, the opposite could as well be the case in some instance, but very much worth considering.

Hollywood, the entertainment industry, fashion industry, advertising, popular culture etc have generally all been unfair to us in this regard. Bombarding our minds with what is considered the ideal and acceptable physical form. In their own subtle way, a woe is proclaimed on the soul that does not meet their usually unattainable standard in the looks department. And it is no small wonder that a lot of people are depressed, stressed out with an incredible fragile self-esteem and sense of self. Forever chasing after the so elusive fountain of youth and never fading beauty, a mostly unattainable myth. Cosmetic industry, plastic surgery practitioners, fitness industry are the beneficiaries of this our obsession to attain to the height of physical beauty.

We are physical being and there is no doubt that our initial reaction to a person we consider physically beautiful is attraction. However I believe we can all take a step back look closely and consider wisely, phyiscal beauty is only skin deep and it will fade, it is fleeting! The beauty of the inner man is enduring, non fading and sustainable and this is what we are to seek after, in people we meet and the standard we are to live to.

Stay beautiful!

… my people! My people! My people! I cry from the depth of my soul. I long for my people, I seek my own and I know not where to find them. I am lonely and lost in the midst of the masses. I long for my crowd, I want my troupe, I want my battalion, yes I want my people, I want to belong. I long for my tribe!

My tribe is not in my class, I went to school and I joined the ‘in’ group, but they were not my tribe. I didn’t understand their language neither did they understand my language. Their ways are not my ways, my thoughts are not their thoughts, they are not my tribe, I long for my tribe!

I am en route to my destination and my bus is full of people and we are all travellers, that we have in common, part of our journeys are the same, but our destinations are different, our outlook are not the same. We are passagers together, but they are not my tribe, I long for my tribe!

In my search I have met a few tribes and I have joined them and tried to learn and live their ways, I have learn to climb trees and eat nuts, but I am not a monkey, this is not really my tribe. I have joined with the swimmers and learn to swim, but I am not a fish, this is not my tribe either. I have joined so many tribes and tried to be so many things to so many people, but they are not my tribe, I long for my tribe!

I have made friends with the alien tribe and we have walked together for a while, but our core are different and we must path ways, I miss our friendship but we belong to different tribes, our ways are different. I long for my tribe!

I wander, lost and alone, I have no tribe, I am alone, there is none like me, I am an alien, I have no tribe, I am a one man tribe, my tribe is extinct. I am all that is left, I must compromise, I must pretend, I must be like another tribe, I must do their ways, I must hide my core, but I can’t, I can’t touch my core. I long for my tribe!

I shuffled along, lonely and downcast, doing my best to keep up the spirit, but convincing no one, dragging my core, my essence with me. In the far far far distance, very very vague, barely visible, I sense him, moving slowly towards me, tentatively, piecingly focused, his form emerging, like a magnetic field we gravitate towards each other, we stood face to face, without blinking we stared and saw! We knew! it has been a very long journey, right in front of me, stood my tribesman, my heart filled with joy, I am not alone, my tribe is alive!

Be encouraged, your tribe is alive!