… it is a saying, not exactly to do with biological age but not unrelated. We have heard in various movies, time and time again, the actor goes, “I am getting too old ….”. In Lethal Weapon (1987 – 1998) Sgt Roger Murtaugh (Danny Roger); Blade (1998) Whistler (Kris Kristofferson); Behind Enemy lines (1986) Col James Cooper (David Carraldine) and the list goes on. Jack Nicholson, in a number of his movies muttered this same line, of being too old for this or that.

I believe that most people get to a point in their life when they just feel too old to tolerate certain things, too old to accommodate, too old not to confront. Enough becomes enough and we are no longer prepare to beat around the bush, soft pedal on issues, carry around dead weights, blunt the edges, tip toe around, we damm the consequences, become a mini rebel, an activist of some sort and we just say it as it is.

We get tired of hiding behind whatever we are hiding behind and do what we need to do. We find our tongue, we dare to stand face up to the bully, we dare to say ‘No’! We dare to unpick what we were told, to question unchallenged doctrines, to check the old landmark that was set. We get too old to be standard, to be regular, to conform. Too old to be silent at injustice and unfairness.

We just want to be whoever we truly are and to be loved or loath for that, as the case maybe.

Too old for silliness, brain numbing conversations, energy draining relationships, too old to care, we just want to be. Too old to be shy, too old to be timid, too old for nonsense, too old to engage in aimless battles.

Some get there in their lifetime, some never. It is not always a matter of biological age. Maybe this is maturity, maybe this is just being too old!

… to get home, I had to go through murky waters, I walked some rough terrain. I lodged at dodgy places, I squatted with undesirables. Some days without food, water or sleep but I kept going. Others days I survived on scraps and dirty water. I kissed a number of frogs in my search but I kept in mind that my prince exist. I looked a sight, my clothes were torn and tattered but I did not give up the dream. My shoes were full of holes, water, dust and insects found their way in, but I kept going. From time to time I lost hope, I despised of life and longed for death. As I start to sink down and deep, an invisible hand lifted me up and gave me enough strength to take the next step and the next and next and so it goes.

Yet, I had to keep up an appearance, I had to look the part. On top of my dirty face, I applied my make up and plastered a fake smile. I covered up my bleeding heart the best I know, looking for home, in that city where the sat nav couldn’t find. The only navigation system that could do the job was my heart. With intensity I listen closely to my heart as I wade through the deep and terrifying forest. My heart beating fast at the horrifying sounds that surrounded me. But I kept going, I must find home, I must get home, I must put my head on my pillow at home.

Few understood my journey, even less understood why I couldn’t not make home wherever I found myself. Some condemned me, I was called names, a serial squatter, an unfaithful lodger, an irresponsible and unreliable sojourner, a promiscuous tenant etc. Few understood what I was about, what I was seeking, where I was going, but I was not deterred. My heart seek for a city, a home where the light never goes out, an enduring city.

With each waking day, the hope of getting home became dimmer and dimmer. Without warning I felt a nudge in my heart, like the three wise men I saw a tiny glimpse of the star in the far far skies and I knew I was getting close.

The journey was very rough, I went through some murky waters, but it is so good to be home!

Home is where the heart is!

… I love a neat and tidy life, I really do! I love everything to be in it’s place, I don’t like knots and kinks, neither do I like twists and turns. I like it to be smooth and straight. I hate conflict, I really hate it! I like to live and let live. I like peace, I like harmony, I like serenity. I like calmness and gentleness. I do not want to upset anyone and I don’t like to be upset. Generally, I love to do good. I love good people, straight and honest ones. I do not like complex and complicated situations. I sincerely hate to hurt or offend anyone. I like life to run in an orderly course, one after the other, one finishes and the next commences, no overlayering.

But life is nothing like that! It is full of twists and turns. It is layered, twisted and turned, it is bendy and bumpy. Don’t get me wrong, I do my best to straighten out my life, but like a recalcitrant child it snaps out of my grip every now and then and does it’s own thing. Things are not as sequenced as I want them to be, behaving like the impatient new tooth unwilling to wait for the milk tooth to fall out before commencing it’s own journey, creating a very higgledy piggledy look. I hate to admit but sometimes, my life looks very higgledy piggledy. It is complicated!

I offend people (not intentionally though) and people offend me. Some I understand, some I don’t. Some get me, some don’t. Some like me, some don’t. Some I like, others I am not hot on and the journey goes on. With each waking day, aiming to make the best of the life I find mself in. I am doing the best I know to do, to make it neat and tidy. Like my son’s bedroom, sometimes I wonder if it is worth the effort, maybe just let things be and they all just fall into place in the end. As my dentist says, the teeth will all fall into place and find their level and space, things get straighten out in the end. (though I have seen some that never do! 🤔)

Ah! What am I to do? It is my life and I just live it to the best I know!

Live your life the best way you know, it is not always a straight line.

.. like an insane man in a strait jacket my heart was bound up. It had sworn allegiance and obedience, the fastening strap of my jacket was made with ‘the document’ . I had sworn an oath and there was no letting off. ‘Still’, I was told to stay and ‘still’ I stood. My once robust and rotund heart was fast drying up and shrivelled. I was promised nurture and nourishment in the document, yet I was allowed to shrivel up. “Breathe and live” I was told, yet there was no space, no air, no nourishment or blood.

Unaware to me, my heart picked up the aroma of nourishment and without hesitation or consultation it went into a self preservation mode. My dying and starving heart, through the gaps in the strap of the strait jacket stretched out its valves, its arteries in search of its blood . As the drop of blood hit its arteries , it came alive, started rocking, slowly initially but then picked up pace within the jacket. With each rocking movement, one by one the fastening strap of the jacket broke off until the heart stood free.

“How dare you break free?” They shouted. You have sinned!

To live I must breathe, to breathe I must be free and nourished. The heart must rock and to rock it must love and be loved. In a strait jacket there is no love and therefore no rocking.

Yes, I am guilty, I broke free, I found love, I rock!

… “we wouldn’t play with you!” The taunters spluttered out. But why? The girl ask. “You look different, you are brown!” They said. “Yes, I am brown and I am very beautiful, my shade is as a result of Melanin. Moreover this is how my maker made me, I had no say in it”. Apparently they have never heard of Melanin. “Why don’t you read up on it?” She challenged. Melanin is a good thing, it is an effective absorbent of light, the pigment is able to dissipate over 99.9% of absorbed UV radiation. Melanin is thought to protect skin cells from UVB radiation damage, reducing the risk of cancer … It was getting too heavy for them.

“Your shape is different, girls are suppose to look like us at this age!” They continued. “No, girls come in different shape and size! She told them. ” I have bum, I have thigns, I have tummy, I have strong muscles, I am tall, I am shapely, I eat well. I am strong, I am fit, it is in my genes! Again this is how my maker made me, I have no say in it, but I love me. I look more like Serena Williams than I look like Venus or Shaparova, they are all strong and beautiful women”.

“But, your hair…” they started. “My hair is the best thing about me” she replied. “My hair is curly, it is kinky, it has coils, it has life, it has depth, it has strength, it stands straight on my head and pay homage to its maker. I can braid it, I can twist it, I can weave it, I can put extension on it or I can leave it as afro, I love my hair, it is my glory!”

With nothing left to say, they blurted out in frustration, “but you are common, you don’t have our manners, your lips, neither of them, neither the top or the bottom is stiff, they move! You are expressive, you have soul, you are confident, you do not have the external fineries that we have, you do not have the sense of entitlement that our heritage bestows on us, we are of a finer breed, a superior one!”

Really? The girl quipped. “Common is when you look down on another human being. Common is when you consider that the worth of a human being is based on the frivolities of life and externalities. Common is when you have no manners, and manner is a person’s outward bearing or way of behaving towards others. Common is unkind. Unkind, I am not. Uncommon I am! I am a rare gem that will forever sparkle!”

.

… “your turn now” they called out. “No, thanks” I replied. “You have to” they continued. “I don’t want to” I insisted. “Why not?” They asked. “It is the forbidden place” I blurted out. Forbidden? They questioned. “Yes, forbidden!” I replied. “But, how do you know that?” They asked. “I was told” I replied. “By who?” The questions continued. “They!” I replied. “Who are ‘they’?” They pressed. The collection of people talking, my readings, observing from afar, conditioning, inferring, social media, advice, counsel, sermons, lectures, teachings etc. These are the ‘they’.

“You are of age now, it is time you find out for yourself if it is forbidden or not. You can no longer rely on ‘they’ for your experience or your understanding. You must check it out yourself. You are mature now, with maturity comes responsibility and discernment. Strong meat belongs to them who are of age, who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern between good and evil. You must check it out yourself, you are of age” they advised.

“I am scared, terrified, I am not sure what I will meet, I do not want to be grown up, it’s a trap, I prefer to be a child, I want to be told, I do not want to find out myself, I do not want to go, I am not even matured, I have no discernment, I can’t handle responsibility …. ” I babbled as I found myself in the tight grip of fear.

Your fear is the fear of the unknown, once you know there will be nothing to fear any more. Discernment will guide you, intuition will be by your side, conscience will not leave you. He is with you, never to leave or forsake you. Your heart is right.

Go! They called for the last time and so I went in!

… beautiful and elegant I stand, sensual and stunning I am, my maker created me with delibrateness, pockets of love are hidden all over me, to be discovered and filled with love and then I blossom all over filling your nostrils with sweetest aroma. I am a dressage horse in the elite world of equestrian sport. I am to be handled with care, delicateness, like a priceless fragile chinaware. Our dance should be light with freedom of movement and intense close partnership. It should be a delightful and effortless ballet, touching the very soul of the observer and bringing tears to their eyes, tears of joy, tears that stems from watching something too beautiful to articulate.

Know me and you will be glad you do, touch me right and I will take you to places you have never been, I will perform willingly to my maximum ability, ability neither you nor I know exists. Gentle does the job, with smoothness I will glide and respond with minimum prompt.

Yet, you brought me home and put me to work, for you thought I was a workhorse, your forced me to work, to do as told, to attend to your bidding. Your style is rollkur, unatural and vile. Duty and role is the order of the day. You whip when your needs are not met, other times you lash with your tongue or sulk. At the end of the day, I look worn out, drained and tired, exhausted from the heavy burden and expectations.

A workhorse, I am not, beauty is my name, tenderness is my game. Play me right and the elusive 10 is yours!

… I met three groups of people with three different religions. The first group invited me to their holy place, their place of worship, they ask me to read their sacred book. They told me to sit in their midst. They said their religion is the best and they are the only good one. They said I must ask other people to join them. I observed them, most of them are not kind. Not all of them, but enough to get me concerned. They have no empathy, they don’t feel another human. They gossip, backbite and are exclusive. They are covetous, greedy for filthy lucre. They dissmiss and beat their wives. They trample on the weak. They still do some good, but all these other things happen in their midst. I don’t understand their god, I don’t understand their religion.

I met the second group, they said they are the best, they are the chosen one, they are superior to every other. They hate strangers, but they will still go into strangers land and plunder them. They like to go on missionary work and show pictures of their good deeds. They are fulfilled as long as they are seen as the giver. Equality with others is troubling to their soul. They are really cold. I was invited to their midst but they made me to sit in a little corner. I could still observe them. They are not superior at all, they are definitely different but not any better. They have believed their narratives and others have bought into it as well. They are not kind people and they don’t care. They believe they are the only ones that will make the promise land. I don’t understand their god, neither do I understand their religion.

I meet a third group, everyone told me they are the evil ones, that they belong to the dark side. They do not claim to be anything and they did not invite me any where. They did not insist I read any sacred book and they did not insist I join them. They are not perfect, had their quirks like every other human being. Generally they were kind and seek to do good. They were not grabbing or covetous. They were not exclusive or discriminating. They accepted all as they come. They shunned evil and unkindness to fellow human. They seek to live to a moral standard that respect other humans. They are loving, caring and pleasant to be around. Yet they are meant to be the bad ones. I am perplexed, I don’t understand their god or their religion.

I prefer the pleasant ones!

… I was sad, quite down and as far as I was concerned justifiably so. ‘What is the point of life?’ I asked myself and ‘what is all the toiling and striving about?’ ‘Why bother about anything?’ All is vanity upon vanity anyway. I was sinking deep and was looking for company for my miserableness. I didn’t have to look far, my mind was more than ready to feed me with more than sufficient evidence, mostly untrue, to justify whatever negative thought I choose to embrace. My sister is not here and today is her birthday, so why should I be bright and breezy? and the weather was in cooperation with me, it was raining, cloudy and dull. I was tired, had a headache and didn’t like the way my foundation looked on my face. As far as I was concerned I had very much earned the right to be sad, miserable and depressed for the rest of the day. I though I might as well add a few more days why I am at it, maybe one day will not get the job done, yes probably not sufficient. So I put on my ‘I am miserable T Shirt and pulled the gloomiest face I could muster and went about looking like …

Just before I reached the very bottom, I caught myself. “What exactly are you doing?” I asked myself ‘being miserable’ I replied. ‘Is that not what I am suppose to do when I loose someone, it is there birthday and moreover I have a handful of other situations?’ Just then, I remembered my sister, I know her, wherever she is, she will not want me to be miserable. So I started to adjust my mood, discounted the negative thoughts, began embracing positive ones. My mood picked up. It then dawned on my that I was not miserable because of anything that had happened or was happening, I was miserable because I embraced misery. Misery is like a fly always buzzing around us, seeking for a landing place. We have a choice, we can provide a landing place or drive it away. Life will always happen, love ones will fall ill or pass away, business deals will fail, friends will betray us, we will be rejected, health issues may kick in etc. That is just life, we don’t have to be miserable by allowing misery to settle on those issues, they mostly are just passing, if we look closely there are loads of positive life happening around us and to us at the same time. This in no way discounts or trivialise the pain we feel, but we still have a choice.

Give no foothold to misery, it is a fly constantly looking for a landing place.

… we live in an age where we know so much, information is surplus, excessive is probably the appropriate word. We can interrogate almost anything, poke our little inquisitive finger into whatever ‘sacred’ pot of mystery we choose. There is no awe anymore, nothing is sacred, nothing is forebidden, we have tasted ‘the fruit’ and we now know we are naked and because we know, our heads are swollen, we feel like an all knowing, all seeing, all understanding being! But, are we truly better off with all these information and knowledge? Can we extract ‘the truth’ in it’s purest form from what we know? Are we set free? Or has knowledge enslaven us? I can never endorse ignorance over knowledge or enlightenment, neither can I embrace darkness over light. Consciousness will always be preferred to unconsciousness. But are we better off? I ask again.

In the simplest things of life, I have always wondered the wisdom of introducing a child to the stark reality of life and telling them neither Santa nor the Tooth Fairy exists. Why steal the magic of the moment from them? I know there is the school of thought that believes that in the long run the deception is damaging to the child. I am not sure I fully agree.

We now know the trick of the illusionist, he didn’t cut anyone into halves, two people were cunningly folded in his table! We can now easily spy on our neighbours , we know where they work, how much they bought their house, and a whole load of stuff that really is none of our business, we can now easily find out how to lay our hands on that ‘if-we-don’t-get-it-now-our-life-will never-be-fulfilled’ item, that in all truthfulness we probably do not need. We all now know how to reconnect with our long lost childhood sweetheart or ex, an endeavour best avoided and on and on it goes!

It has been said ‘we will know the truth and the truth will set us free’, but are we knowing the truth and are we free? Or are we enslaved to the excess knowledge and information? Are we any wiser?

I once read a story, some of the fine details are forgotten, but it goes something like this, there was once a lady that had started to loose her mind and believed that she was some kind of very rich ‘lady’ that lived in a manor, she was extremely happy in her make believe world though in reality she lived in abject poverty. Someone asked her psychiatrist why he wouldn’t cure her from her delusion. And he replied along the line of why would he want to bring her to the reality of her existence and make her miserable.

Some things, I believe are better not known, some mysteries are better untouched. Let the mysterious stay mysterious, the things that are revealed belongs to us and the things that are hidden we might just want to leave alone and let the unknown be blessed!