… I remember like it was yesterday! As a child, I went to this party and was sitting quietly as I usually do, when the tray of sweets arrived in my face. Being a well brought up child, I was not going to be greedy, so I proceeded to pick just one of each type of sweet (I have always had a sweet tooth!). In an ideal world, this would not be a bad strategy, except that there were quite a number of different types of sweet in the tray. Oblivious to my questionable strategy, I proceeded to painstakingly identifying the various types of sweet and searching out such that I don’t miss any, in the process my little hand was expanding to the point of over spilling. I was at the same time delaying the serving of other children. The person serving, after running out of patience, gave me the most dirty look and screamed at me “pick two!” At the speed of lighting, I emptied my burgeoning (and at this point aching) hand and quickly picked the first two sweets, I had even lost the privilege to select the best two. I was traumatised by the event, I felt so small, cowered into a corner as I sadly, part sucked, part crushed my sweets in my mouth.

I have never been a big fan of buffet, my tummy always churns at the sight of all the food. I rarely enjoy the event. I think there are two main strategies to tackling the beast. Select one or two types of food and walk away or sample a bit of everything. I personally think the first option is the better strategy, but there is always the risk that what you choose might not be the best tasting food on offer. Option two is always a bit of a disaster. You get a bit of everything and your plate resembles something meant for someone that just broke out of a Loony bin. Moreover the tastes are all muddled together and your tummy curses you for the abuse.

Life is funny, from time to time, it behaves exactly in the same manner, places a tray right in our face, the tray is full to overflowing with all kind of goodies, other times it is palava galore. And depending on who we are or where we are in life, we can ‘pick two’ or overindulge. Life is to be enjoyed and ‘He has come that we might have life and have it more abundantly”, but I don’t believe that means to gorge all in one go. Problems, calamities and issues are similar, sometimes they all arrive at the same time in trailer load and without thinking we don our superman outfit, runing helter skelter all over the place, trying to run, fly, climb, jump etc all at the same time assuming we have some special powers. Yes, I hear you say ‘mighty is He that works in us’ I do not for once doubt that it, but maybe until He starts the ‘work’, we should just ‘pick two’ from the tray of life and move on before our tummy revolts.

I pick two from the tray of life, I pick my inner well-being (to include spiritual serenity, emotional balance and peace) and I pick health and then what’s gonna be can be.

Pick Two!

… I come from a line of hard working people. On both my father and mother sides , they have very strong work ethics. My father was self financing from a very young age and literally saw himself through school, he worked in the evenings to pay for his schooling. He was a very brilliant man and his hard work paid off, he got a scholarship to study abroad, which he took and the rest was history.

My Mum travelled with my Dad and she worked very hard while my Dad was studying. Back home she ran various businesses. Even now in her very honourable age she is still working. The woman doesn’t know how to do nothing!

So it is no surprise, being their offspring, I do like to work, I have a strong work ethics, I enjoy work and very much love the reward of hard work. I am a very rational being, I enjoy profitable pursuit. I wouldn’t call myself a materialistic person, but I enjoy the process of making money, I love the high of striking a deal.

However lately I started to observe something about myself. It seemed my sense of self was very much tied to my work, if I am not doing some kind of career or money making work, I feel I am not accomplishing. I hope I am not a workaholic! I doubt I am, but who knows?

I began to reflect that a life well lived is a balanced life, not just work, work, work! We are multi-faceted being and we must cater to the various facet of our lifes. Most of us are in relationships, have children, siblings, parents, have loads of experiences that can be passed on to others, have interests outside of work, are thought leaders etc. Catering to these aspects of our lifes might not be financially rewarding but sure brings about a more fulfilled and well balanced life. In addition we also need to cater to our mental development, health and wellbeing, emotional health, spiritual life etc. We must also enjoy life, actually thoroughly enjoy life, this ought to be worked into our pursuit.

As I ran around today attending to life in it’s broadest form, not lazing around but having not stepped foot in my office, a tinge of guilt was about to creep in. I quickly reminded myself ‘I am more than work’! My self worth must not stem from just one narrow facet of who I am.

As I continue to work hard, play hard, I remind myself, my self efficacy must not be from anything I can do (don’t get me wrong, I still strongly believe in hard work) but must come from the understanding that just being a human being makes me worthy.

I am more …!

You are more ….!

… he gave me what I wanted, just exactly how I wanted it, raw and undiluted. He placed it right in front of me and walked away. I looked at the plate and I cried! How could he have known what I wanted? How could he understand the deep unspoken, unexplainable cry of my heart? How could he? I didn’t tell him, I didn’t even have the words to explain or describe it to him. How did he know?

I called him and ask ‘why did you do that?’ Do what? he asked? Why did you give me that plate? “I don’t know” he said. I just did what came to me to do. And then he said the word. “It is divine!”. It’s got to be divine, for only the Divine One could have known, He alone could have worked through the hands and mind of another. He alone could have presented it the way I wanted it. He alone could have been so precise. He alone could have cared so much. He alone could have given what my soul cried for. Only He and He alone could have done it.

… I am a church girl, I have been a church girl as far as I can remember. Church is my home, home is my church. Everyone in church is family, we call each other brother and sister. We even have church fathers and church mothers. We attend each other’s event and share our stuff. But one thing we do very well is that we smile at each other, we break into a smile every time we make eye contact. If smiling seems inappropriate because a solemn session is on, then we soften our gaze. We smile at friends, relatives, strangers, first comers, the young, the elderly, we even smile at the people we don’t like (not that we don’t like anyone) and our enemies (not that they exist!). If you are in church, you get a smile, period.

Imagine how we felt, when a Street Girl came into our midst, her gaze was cold and hard, her eyes were piercing and terrifying. Her presence was intimidating and unfriendly. Her whole energy was one of ‘if you mess around with me, I will punch your face’. Slightly confused, we did the only thing we were good at, we all broke into a unison smile. She stared at us all in disbelief, with the most ugly scowl on her face. We all retreated not sure what next to do.

A little child walked up to ‘ugly face’ to find out what was eating her up. It turned out ‘ugly face’ had a sweet spirit and the look was the street look. Street Cred is important on the street. With some coaching and loving we taught street girl to soften her gaze and smile a bit. I must admit the smile looked a bit weird but she gave it a good try.

It was my turn to visit my new friend at her turf on the street. I approached the street with my silly little smile plastered on my face. Everyone gave me a strange look, my new friend quickly called me to the side, if I continued with the stupid smile, they will call the men in white coat. She told me, people don’t go about smiling nilly willy on the street. I quickly adjusted my face, stiffen my body, putting on the best possible tough face I could muster. Nobody need to tell me, I knew it was not convincing, but I gave it a good try.

I met other street clan people, as I got to know them, I realise that they weren’t bad people at all. They are just not smiley, touchy feely people. I learnt a couple of lessons, looks can be deceptive and when you are in Rome you behave like the Romans. To win them, I have to become like them, to the Jews, I become like a Jew, to the weak I become weak. I become all things to all men that I may win/save some.

All said and done, I am still a Church Girl inside. We smile, we love people and that is it.

… inbetween incessant coughing, he managed to string together a short sentence pleading with me to stay. ‘How can I stay?’, I wondered. This is not a cough that responds to prescription drugs or over the counter drugs. There is a very short remiss and the cough starts again. I can’t sleep and it is a matter of time before I catch the cough as well.

The elders gathered to beseech me to stay. They shared their wisdom and gave their reasons. I sat down quietly to listen and ponder what was being said. Soon, I heard a faint sound from the back, so I raised my head to see where it was coming from, I thought the ‘cougher’ was joining in. I looked closely and realised it wasn’t the ‘cougher’! One of the elders was doing the coughing, he had the affliction as well! Almost as if planned, one after the other, from the back all the way to the front, they all started coughing, slowly at first but it worked it’s way all the way to the front and the whole congregation was now coughing. Conversation became difficult as every sentence was interjected with a cough.

With boldness, I stood up and addressed the group. “You are all coughers, I must go into the forest, there are herbs that can cure this affliction, if I stay, it is only a matter of time before I become a cougher and our children will be afflicted likewise, I must get the cure, I must leave” And so I left!

… there are consequences attached to the way we pop out. Consequences we have little or no control over. It would be nice if when we pop out, there is a little manual or folder included with a few necessary information, maybe a SWOT analysis, likes and dislikes, challenges we are likely to encounter, troubleshooting guide, similar to what we find at the end of the manual for most products. This woud have come in handy and be a tremendous help to our parents or carers, saving them lots of sleepless nights and premature aging. And as we grow older such information would have been helpful to navigate life and save a lot of trial and error. If nothing else, it would have cut the preparation time for interviews. As soon as you hear the question of ‘what are your strengths and …?’ just pull out the relevant page from the folder.

Obviously we don’t pop out with such information, so we have to go through the tideous process of figuring out who we are, what makes us tick and the unique consequences of arriving the way we did. Something simple as knowing that if you arrive with a certain shape you must be prepared to spend a fortune for alteration as nothing off the peg will ever fit. If you are short, and you don’t want to be round in later life, then you can’t afford to eat as much as other people your age. If you are female you must be prepared to navigate a sexist world, if you are black, develop the steel to deal with racism, if you are disabled, certain aspect of life will be unfair, if you are male and white, welcome to a life of priveledge, but you have to figure out how to make best use of the privileges.

The realities of our life we must face, but nobody tells us this, we all must figure it out. Some do early, others take longer, some haven’t got a clue what is coming. If you are born pretty, it comes with its advantages and challenges. If you are shortchanged in the looks department, you have your issues to deal with.

There is no right or wrong way to pop out, but there are definitely easier ways and there are more difficult ones. Equal opportunity sounds nice and politically correct. However in the true sense, equal opportunity does not exist, we are all different and the opportunities are also different. There is no way to truly measure the worth or value of a human being, or to measure the opportunities presented, so there is no way to ensure equal opportunities.

The earlier we understand the consequences of our birth, the easier life becomes and the less likely we are to get hung up on issues and take things too personal. It is what it is, ugly people have less opprtunites than beautiful people, this is statistically proven. As the world stands, black people will face more institutional racism especially in the western world. It is what it is. Why we must continue to push against the status quo we must still have an understanding of where things are and where we stand.

Knowledge is power, self reflection, self analysis are key. We must know who we are and the consequences of being born the way we are.

… life does it’s own thing whether you like it or not. Life just keeps going. Life is life a bus driver, just keeps driving, some get on, some get off, but life just keeps driving the bus. Some are born, some die, life does not change its route because of that. Some get on the bus and sleep all through the ride, other get on the bus and engage themselves positively, read a book, listen to audiotape, do a craft, the bus driver does not flinch, just keeps driving the bus of life. Sometimes the bus is empty, makes absolutely no difference to the bus driver, it just keeps going, other times the bus is full, all well and good, the bus keeps going.

The bus driver waits for no one, if it gets to your stop and you are nowhere to be found, the journey just continues without you, no drama, no sentiment, no grudges. If you get on the bus, he is neither happy nor sad, indifferent to your presence or absence. Life can really be like that.

Life is focused, on its mission, jump in and be part of the happening or stay out, entirely your choice. It will rain when it will rain and the sun will come out when it will come out. It will snow when it is time and be windy when it ought to. Stay indoor and be depressed. Life doesn’t seem to care, come out enjoy if you wish, it is all your call.

Whether you are well or unwell, life continues, when you are born life is there, when you die life will still continue. If you are employed or unemployed, life moves on. Stressed or chilled, life does not care. Loved up or unloved, neither here nor there, life continues.

Life is like a flowing river, get in and swim or stand at the bank and watch, it cares not. Jump in and swim well, all well and good. Jump and drown! Sorry! But the river keeps flowing.

Life can be like an unfaithful friend, almost like a cat. Some say unlike dogs, cats are unfaithful, they go with whomever. If you are there, you are there, life will interact with you if you participate. If you are not there, you are not there, life will get on with whoever is available, interested and willing.

Play the game of life well! no drama, just get on the bus and do what you need to do. When it’s over, it’s over the bus continues it’s journey. Don’t think of yourself more highly than you ought. Life continues with or without you or me!

…. it hurt so badly, it really did! Who wants to be tolerated. Hate me or love me, but don’t just tolerate me. Some wouldn’t even tolerate, it is preferable to pretend I do not exist. What about me is so offensive? so intolerable that you would not acknowledge my existence? Why? What world breeds people that treat other people in such a manner? How awful can people be?

I tried, God Almighty knows I did, I memorised there names and there daughters, I greeted them by their names, I invited them out for playdates, I had small talks with them. I approached them, I tried to engage them. They wouldn’t even hold a pleasant warm eye contact with me, preferring not to look and when they do, it is with cold blank empty eyes. Why must they be like that? Why?

I don’t want it to hurt, and I want to see this to the end. I want to finish the battle. I want to grow to the stage where one of me is greater than a thousand of them and ten thousands of them. As they do not see me, I want to stop seeing them.

I must be strong, I must not falter, maybe I should leave I thought. But why should I, why should I? Really, why should I?so they don’t marginalise me? so they don’t send me to Coventry? so they don’t take it out on my children? Maybe they are not as powerful as they pretend to be, maybe they are weak and fearful, maybe they are ignorant, maybe they are confused. Maybe they are just mean and unkind, so how does one deal with mean and unkind people. Avoid!

… so sometime ago, I walked into this gym with my friend, we were given a tour, had a 1 hour chat about our fitness goals, signed all the papers, paid our joining fee and I think we also paid upfront for a couple of months. We were so motivated and committed, we were going to do it, be fit and have razor sharp abs. This was about 20 odd years ago. Anyone that has seen me lately knows that the razor sharp abs remains an aspiration, we say no more! But the interesting part about the story was that, the day we signed up at the gym, was the last time we ever stepped foot there, honestly! It was as if we were bewitched and they just collected our money. We never even spoke about it for years, we just didn’t go, show our faces or step foot there. It was truly bizarre experience. The fact that we paid was not sufficient motivation, neither was the thought of being able to fit into my favourite jeans or any other health benefit I could think of.

Anyway, recently I decided I was going to learn a sport. An ex colleague runs the class. A man I truly respect, so we talked and he said to contact head office, register and pay. I called head office based in another town and they said there was no space, so I couldn’t register or attend. My ‘lazy’ spirit started jumping for joy as the classes were early in the morning. Anyway I ran into the instructor and he asked when I was starting. I told him I couldn’t join as head office will not register me. He then surprised me by saying I should just come as there is always at least one space due to non attendance and we just keep it on the quiet. I was so touched and grateful.

So I set my alarm for the first morning attendance, it starts 6am in the morning. As the alarm went off, my bed felt warmer and cosier than it had ever felt, all I wanted to do was pull the blanket tighter around me. But when I remembered the instructor had put himself on the line for me, I had no choice but to jump out of bed. Actually I lied, I didn’t jump out of bed, I dragged myself out, kicking and screaming. Anyway I arrived at the class, looking like something the cat just dragged in. I got into my stride after a few minutes of looking confused and I was pleased I made it.

The following week, I was even more tired than the first and so did not want to attend, I just wanted to stay in bed, but again when I remembered I was getting for free what I should have paid for, I dragged myself there again. But inside me, I wished I paid for it because if I did I would have justified lying in bed, arguing that it is my money after all and nobody should trouble me about it blah! blah! blah!!! Anyway I was pleased at the end I attended again.

At the end of the second week class, I told the instructor that I hope I am not taking the liberty attending class without paying. And he asked me back the question, if I thought I was. And I said ‘no’. My concern was that the day I pay for those classes might be the last time they see me, as I will be able to justify that it is my money I am paying afterall and I can do whatever I like. Indebtedness was giving me the right push, to get my butt to the classes. Maybe I should just take ‘liberty’ for a few more weeks to get into things before I find out if I can pay. Just trying to prevent a situation where I go AWOL. What do you think?

… almost everywhere I look, things seem to be falling apart and the centre is no longer holding tight. The well crafted and well stacked lie has developed cracks and the structure has come crumbling down, the well manicured and sculptured garden is all weeded up. What is happening to the world or what is happening to me? Where is the dream? Where are the dreams? Where have they gone? Where is the happy ending? What is happening to people? What is happening to me? What is happening to the world? Is this growing up? Is this reality? Is this awakening? Is this purely a part of maturing? Is the world changing?

Where is the sweet sweet euphoria? Where are the sweet expectations and projections? What happened to them? I dreamed, them dreamed, I talked, we talked, they talked. We all talked about it. But the reality I see bears no resemblance to the dreams. Who took the dreams? Where did they go? Where are they kept? Why did we have the dreams, if we were never to experience them?

My friend is lost and I am confused. But yet in the midst of it all. I must grab hope with the hardest and tightest possible grip. Not for a micro second must I lighten or ease my grip. I must see more than I see, I must see what I don’t see. I must find the dream, I must not settle. I must build the dream. I must do that! I must look where no one looks. I must look high, even higher. I must find the city where dreams are made. Where dreams live on. I must look high, even higher and higher still. There is a place where it is all beautiful and rosy. Beauty exist, it really does! Dreams come true, they really do! Good exists, they sure do! Abundance flows, it does!

It is not where I thought it would be, it did not end how I thought it would end, but it is not over. It just is not!

There is more, I have been asked to build something of beauty, with the debris of the mess I have witnessed. I have been asked to build the dream with the disappointments I have witnessed and/or experienced. What is the mortar that holds all these together? What is the foundations that keeps these structure together and stops it from crumbling again? Hope is the mortar, hope is the foundation.

It is easy, effortless you might say, to dream good dreams, positive ones, when we have never had nightmares, we have never woken up in the middle of the night, screaming our lungs out, drenched in our our sweat and holding on to the edge of the bed for our dear life. Yet good dreams we must dream.

The man we use to be, we no longer are, the man we want to be, we are not, but the man we must be, we must be. The future is our friend, now may not be so friendly, but we ride on now to get to then. We ride!

We take the fallen pieces and we build and build and build, focusing on the beautiful blueprint, the architectural drawing, the mock up. We are not of the them that draw back to perdition but of them that believe to the saving of the soul!