Don’t bring your flippancy to my craft, no, I wouldn’t take that. My sweat, my blood, my tears went into that. I put my soul and my love into it. You don’t have to love it, not even like it. It might not be your taste, not your cup of tea, maybe you like your coffee milky and weak, that is fine, it is allowed, but this coffee is strong, it is black and bodied. I demand, I insist that you acknowledge the effort, the strength, the brew, otherwise you must leave.

Give me energy, give me life, hit me with your comment, good or bad, critique me if you must, but let it have strength, depth and fairness, yes fairness. Make it constructive, I can take it. But don’t give me some limp lifeless feedback. Get your slack hands off my work! You are not allowed! You can’t touch it, you must not handle it. Move on, please.

I will not entertain mediocrity, I will not succumb to it, your tardiness is unprofessional, your wet handshake I must withdraw from. This is not playground superficial small talk, this is my life.

 

Yes, dilute it until you can swallow it. When life hands us some very bitter pill to take and take we must. But you can’t take it whole, you can’t take it neat. Crush it, make it into powder, mix into the juice of life and take it. Mix it with laughter, joy, love, work, with every beautiful and sweet thing you know and can lay your hand on, then take it. Don’t take it whole as you might choke or spit it out. The bitter pills of life must be taken, it is for the healing of the soul. It is for the balancing of the man.

Water it down, weaken it if you must but you must finish the dosage. Take your time, but finish it. The bitter cup that is assigned to us must be consumed. But life gives us water and allows us to dilute it. There is no bravery in taking it neat if we have to spit it out again.

When the night has come and it is pitch dark, we must look for the moon to light our way as the journey has not stopped, and neither is it ended. We must open our eyes to find the only light we can see. Accentuating the darkness with our eyes close does us no favours.

We can’t run away from life, we can’t avoid the bitter pill, but we can spread it out, we can stretch it, we can break it up, we can mix it up, we can dress it up if we need to. But still, we have to take it.

There is no crown or merit in taking it the most difficult way, the aim is to take it, and the benefit is in imbibing the lessons. Take it in the easiest possible way. Dilute it!

 

 

I  am leaning, yes I know I am. I don’t want to lean, I want to stand tall, straight and erect. I want to carry my own weight and I have tried, but a much bigger tree is leaning on me. My roots and truck are not strong and developed enough to carry my weight and the weight of the bigger tree.

Like a frail apple tree with more fruits than its fragile branch and truck can bear, I am leaning. “Why can’t I just stand straight like the other tree?” I ask myself. The other tree has more fruits and is still standing straight, it is not leaning and has no support. “Look closely at the other tree,” you said to me. “Study it!” It is bigger, I noted, it is in a different location, it is older, its truck is wider, its root spread further, its branches are more, it is a taller tree, the fruits are different, the colour, size are all different.

There is a myriad of reasons why some lean and others don’t. Some don’t lean at all, they just drop and fall,  some lean with no support and eventually fall. Some lean with support and become stronger till they no longer require support.

A tree bigger than me is leaning on me and I am leaning. Thank you for the support,  I will get stronger,  and I will not fall. I will carry my weight. I will stand tall, straight and elegant. “How?” You ask.  “I will go deeper” I  responded, but I need time, time to develop, to get stronger, to reach further. Maybe I can not bear the weight of the tree leaning on me, maybe I need to find appropriate support for the tree leaning on me. I will try my best, I will become stronger.

I  am leaning, but I will straighten up, I will become strong, tall and elegant. Like an athlete with an injury I am leaning, but I will rest, I will recuperate,  I will exercise, and correct my posture. I  will be strong, tall and elegant.

“Too loud, too loud, too loud!” I  screamed. The noise was deafening , it was hurting my ears, damaging my eardrums. I needed to move away, far away to make sense of what was going on, to hear a word of what was being said. Too much was happening, this was sensory overload. There was no answer, none at all as I stood close to the issue. The closer I was, the less it made sense. The more I heard, the less I comprehended. The louder the voice the more inaudible it became. If there was any answer at all, it was tucked away in the distance, not in the near. It was stored far away, very far. But how far do I need to be to hear? I guess until it stops being noisy. Just keep turning it down until it becomes audible. Or rather keep moving away until it becomes clearer.

Too far, and there will be no sound whatsoever, simply unreachable, outside hearing distance, out of range. I  need space to process it. Sometimes, the only way to hear is in absolute silence,  in the stillness and silence is the answer.

The solution sometimes is in doing nothing, moving away.

Juggling is my profession, Juggling is my trade, Juggler is my name. I have many Clubs in the air, they must stay up. I can not afford to drop a Club, I must stay focused, very focused and steady.

My Clubs are not physical Clubs, as I am not a Circus Juggler,  I am a life Juggler. I don’t juggle for entertainment,  I juggle for survival, preservation, sustenance, I juggle for life.

Don’t distract me please, as I can not afford to take my eyes off the clubs. My eyes must remain on my clubs. ‘It is desperate, it is about me, my wife, my children, etc. we need you!’ You say. ‘Can’t do it’ I replied. ‘It is fun over here, you added ‘I know, but my eyes must remain on my clubs ‘. ‘You will miss out on what is going on here!’ you stressed ‘I know but my eyes must stay on my clubs’. ‘Just for a minute’ you begged.  ‘A minute is too long’ ‘what about a second?’ ‘Too long’ It is the Juggler’s eyes that keeps the clubs in the air.

Jugglers do have a rest, and a break. When I place the clubs down I will attend to other issues, but not now, no not now, I will not drop the clubs, I am a Juggler.

I have known her for 31 years. Yes, that long I would say. Maybe not interacted with her all that period, there has been a break, a long break in between.  But we reconnected and it was as if there was never a break like we have always been together.

She was faithful, consistent, present and giving, very giving indeed. She paid the price, she sure did! And I trusted her. We became like sisters, tight sisters, like twins maybe, Siamese twice might be stretching the connection, but safe to say we were tight and it felt like we were a continuation of each other.

I was comfortable with her, natural, naked and not ashamed.  I guess, I assume she felt the same way with me. We talked daily, just continued where ever we ended the previous day. She had my back and I had her back.

A day came when she burst out most suddenly, she said things I could not comprehend, I saw a different person,  someone I could not recognise. I was scared, shocked and confused all at the same time. I was speechless,  could not utter a word, and nothing seem to make sense. “Who is this” I wondered and asked “where is the person I use to know” or that I thought I knew. I could not run to my sister, my friend to tell her all that had happened as she was “all that had happened”. We met up, I opened my mouth to speak but ‘nothing’ came out. Don’t get me wrong, I did speak and she did speak,  we spoke, but it was ‘nothing’.

We tried to continue as usual, but I noticed things are different, I am now an observer, no longer was I blindly and unreservedly involved, I was assessing and saw the personality unfold, unravel and stare me clearly in the face. “Has it always been like this and I just haven’t paid attention”? “Did I make so much allowance?” “Did I stretch the credit too far”?

As the personality unveiled all I wanted to do was stay away.

 

I just moved to a new city. I don’t know the people, the people don’t know me. It’s all new and unfamiliar. I have no friends or family in the new city. The people are different, and the setup is different, unlike where I am coming from.

I had friends in my previous city,  I had family as well, acquaintances and nosey neighbours,  strangers stop by to say hello. People are very friendly in my previous city, everyone had friends, some had thousands, others hundreds and some a handful. The city is colourful, with loads of photos everywhere and videos. The people are chatty and like to gather around for small talk, they enjoy a good laugh and share jokes regularly, they like to brag about their achievements and whine about their misfortunes.  They are quite an open bunch.

My new city is more reserved.  I hardly see the people,  I  do know they are there. They seem more serious and intense and are into longer and more involving talks. Some have lived here for a long time and are established,  they are known in the community and made a good number of friends.

I  have seen a few walking down the road, they look quite intimidating and serious. They seem to all know their way around the city.

Should I smile, wave and say hello to the next person I see? Maybe I should have a tea party and invite the neighbours? Not sure that is a good idea. I might as well wait, observe and get to know the city and understand its workings.

Will I find ‘my people? Will ‘my people’ find me in this new city? Only time will tell!

Ideas and thoughts keep rushing in like unruly children scampering for attention.  “Calm down!” I screamed like a stressed-out mum. I felt like the old woman who lived in a shoe. “Now! Now! Now!” they all chorus in unison. “I can’t attend to you now,” I plead and negotiated a better time. I agree to write a heading or point for each idea and thought, promising to attend to them later when I have the time.

I wonder though, will they still need me in the same manner when I have the time? Will the urgency still be there? Will the essence be diluted? Will the train of thought be lost? Will I still remember what they wanted? Will they still remember what they wanted? Will it matter anyway? Will they care? Will the thoughts and ideas have flown the nest like grown-up children? Will they come back? Or are they gone for good?

God, help me! I pray, give me the strength to be the available ‘mother’ to the thoughts and ideas, and give me the grace to attend to the ‘now’ needs.  Give me the wisdom to discern between the important and unimportant thoughts, the urgent and not so urgent ones. As some go and never come back or when they do come back, it is not with the same gusto, the energy is flat and the demand limp, let me strike while the iron is hot and the blade is sharp.

Ten years! Ten long, arduous years! That was how long he had to wait for his labour to be recognised. And boy, was it recognised! The great and the mighty came to applaud. But it was not easy, far from it, it was painful. It wasn’t even slow or progressive, it was not little by little, it was just silent, dead silent. Nothing happened, I mean ‘nothing’, no recognition, no appreciation, no validation. He however got ridiculed, people made sneer comments, there were walkouts, fallouts and mockery.

He was despondent, downcast, depressed, but he kept at it. He was very lonely, but he kept at it. He did not want to look at it, the emotion was intense, but he kept at it. He came to associate it with pain. His only saving grace was that he knew he gave his very best. All he had, he put in it. He left no stone unturned. He just kept at it. He gave it his love. His work was his love. His calling was his passion and he infused it with his energy. His craft was his refuge.

Then the dawn broke and it was time, the fullness of time! The light shone, the light of heaven beamed on his efforts. From far and near, they could not help but be amazed at the splendid work. They stood stupefied, he stood dazed. When his captivity was turned, he was like him that dreamed.

Wait for the light to shine! Wait!

My soul cries out for freedom, the longing to be free, the desire to roam unhindered, unrestricted. My soul longs to explore like a child, my soul longs for a childlike existence, to run around and touch flowers anew. My soul longs to experience the beauty of nature without caution.

My soul longs for freedom, to speak without censor, to express its thoughts without adjustment or adapting. My soul longs to spew it out whole without chewing it first, my soul longs to say it as it comes without passing it through funnels and funnels of appropriateness, sieves of refinement or pressing it through cheesecloth of political correctness.

My soul longs to love as love comes, to like as like comes, to dislike as dislike comes. My soul longs to feel as it feels. My soul longs to live and let live. My soul longs for freedom, to not be bound by political correctness, cultural relevance, societal pressure, religious consideration and governmental regulations. My soul longs to just be, just BE!