When I allowed the water to settle,  I don’t touch it or question the how or why. I don’t rock it, stir it or move it. I don’t consider it or try to explain it. I waited patiently to see what will float to the surface. Cautiously I walked over after a few days to see what I  could see and there it was floating in all its beauty and innocency, as calm as dawn, yet sure and confident in its honesty and authenticity,  unfettered and free, declaring with the simplicity and openness of a child ‘I  love You’ yet not a word was spoken. Unforced love emerging from deepest part of the soul, unapologetic in its appearance and timing, breaking into existence like a new born child, demanding it’s rights to existence just like any other.

Yet the heavy hands of culture,  religion,  structure, etiquette,  tradition and norm grab it in its infancy, declaring how it should be, but most importantly whether it should be. In its vulnerable and fragile state, it is taken to the ‘inspection room’ where it was subjected to the most rigorous and inhumane inspection, some allowed to survive,  some destroyed there and then.

The ones allowed to survive were placed back on the waters with a manual on how to love. I came back a few days again to check how the float was going, the formation had been broken, the water troubled,  the manual was a disservice,  love must just be allowed to be.

I love you!

He woke up with a bang right in the middle of the night, not slowly and gently as you would expect from a well rested sleep. It was around 3am any way and he was up till 1am so there is nothing rested about his sleep. He was going from one room to another in a frantic frenzy, picking this and picking that,  droping things hapharzardly all over the place, making a great racket in the process.  He had woken me up, so I  had no choice but to watch this craziness going on. He seem determined to wear himself out. After watching for a while, in a normal voice I asked, breaking his frenzy, ‘Are you the Devil?’ He sure was not expecting that, that stopped him for a brief second in his tracks, he turned and looked at me, asking ‘Why?  I answered him, that the scripture say the devil goes to and fro like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. That got him, he didn’t stop his annoying pacing, but now he had a puzzled thoughtful look on his face as he continued his to-ing and fro-ing.

That was my opportunity,  so I  called unto him and asked him to sit right next to him, he reluctantly agreed, he was still restless,  tapping his two big toes, then shaking each leg intermittently,  sitting there besides me he was  fidgeting,  but I  did my best to pretend none of these was happening.  I took one of his hands, held it, that helped to limit his fidgeting and softly I asked him to tell me all that was bothering him, and then he started, it was a long list comprising of everything from the important to the unimportant,  not missing out the ridiculous and incomprehensible,  I  patiently listened,  when he finished I carefully went through the list, debunking the conspiracy theories, outlining reasons why we shouldn’t bother about this or that, once I finshed he started all over again on the same points, so I  had to run through again, I did this about 4 times. I reminded him we had already made a list of all the things that needed doing and prioritised.  He insisted they all needed doing, I was not prepared to argue, I  agreed that yes they needed doing but not all now or at once, most if not all could wait.

At the end of the fourth go I had had enough, I  put my foot down and made him understand that God forbides if he was unwell and in hospital he will not be in a position to worry about all these things and that his focus will be his health and life will continue with or without him. He replied to me that, well he is not in the hospital, so he might as well continue with his unfruitful endeavour. I made him understand that if does not desist, he damn well is going to end up in that hospital.  He thought for a while and started again, ‘but, but ….’ this time around I was firm and insistent, ‘no buts, we are not going there!’ Slowly he wore himself out, the tapping stopped, only one leg was shaking but slowly,  he stopped fidgeting,  rested his head on my shoulder and went quiet, staring into space, before I know,  the one shaking leg stopped,  all was totally quiet now, the staring eyes became less wide and the lids began to shut, his head got heavier on my shoulder and before I knew, he was gone. First a soft snooze that became a deep snore. I sighed a sigh of relief, what a night? I  went off to sleep.

In case you were wondering who my companion was above, it was none other, than my mind, bullying me to succumb to all its ridiculous worries and pointless concerns, we have to tame the mind, otherwise it takes over and leads us to where we need not go. We are not the devil, there is no need to indulge a pacing mind. We hold the key, calm your mind, sleep, the good Lord gives his  beloved good sleep.

Everyone gets a new clean slate, it is a new day, a new beginning, all sins are forgiven, all favours are fogotten. All righteousness are like filthy rags and all sins under the blood. From today each man will be dealt with according to his dealings now. Enough of carrying the luggage of past behaviour, we are not sure if that person exists anyhow, all we have is who stands before us today. He might be the same man of the past or he might be a new man. We don’t know until we observe and consider. Show me how you are today and I wil decide how I respond. I will pay you for the work you do today not that which was delivered 77 days ago and already paid for. No, we can’t sit on our laurels, sowing no seeds and expect the harvest of the good old days when we exerted ourselves, tiled the ground and planted the seed. If we want a harvest we must continue to sow.

We are notorious for taking relationship for granted, sloppying around, failing to carry our weight and believing if we were once a warm and attentive lovers we continue to deserve the affection of our loved ones even when we are now behaving like the enermy of progressive and anything good, how unreasonable we are! Maybe the expecting one is not to blame, it is in the nature of man to be opportunistic, to reap where he has not sown. It is the rewarder of such slothful behaviour that we need to call into question and ask why. Even nature knows better not to reward a man that has not sown. Nature does not say, ‘you know what, you have been a diligent farmer for 28 years sowing your seeds faithfully and tilling the ground and I always give you a bountiful harvest, so even though this year you have been a lazy bogger, I will still give you a harvest for all the past years work’. No my friend, as long as the earth remains, seedtime and harvest will not cease. You sow you reap, you don’t sow you don’t reap, a very simple formula. Each season is a new slate and so it goes with relationship. We will have less trouble if we handle relationship in this manner. Relationships are organic, forever changing and we must be attentive and responsive. Do we then cut and paste, chuck and draw people nilly willy, no we don’t but we conduct relationship with awareness and a level of consciousness to the input and output. It is never a free ride. Each man has a due to pay in relationship.

If an evil person, repents of his evil ways and change, then also he must be given a chance. We can not forever penalise for sins that have already been attoned for. If they want you in their life and make the effort then we must consider on the basis of now, present behaviour, let the past be the past. Every man deserves a chance.

It’s a new day, a clean slate, live aware, what we sow today we reap, not a legacy reward.

I am a ‘picker’ not the type that picks fruits or pick things from the ground but the one that picks at a wound. I am guilty, I delay my healing process, I disturb the healing, I interfere with nature because I can’t tolerate the bumpiness that healing entails, I don’t like the peel on the wound, so I pick at it and I remove the hard layer of sanity that protects the would. When I run my finger all over it and I feel any roughness or bump, I feel it is my duty to smooth things out. I need that artificial satisfying feeling that all is smooth and levelled out, so I start the disruptive habit of picking at it and then I wonder why the wound is taking forever to heal. For my sins, I am an orderly and tidy person, I am restless when there is choas, I am not one of those that thrive on choas, I don’t leave a room if there are things on the floor, I must pick it up and put it in it’s place, even if it is not my room, I still must pick it up. It takes a huge amount of self restraint to walk out of my daughter’s room and let lying dogs lie, it’s not just natural. The interfering meddling hand is always at work.

I can’t stand the look or the feel of scab, that dry rough protective crust is me nemesis and he must be pulled down! How wrong I am, when I make the friend the foe, when I consider the protector to be the antagonist. It is not that I don’t know or that I don’t understand but I move to the lower realm of sense and try to satisfy my temporal discomfort. Relationships and life in general is similar, when the wound in relationship is healing there is that dry crust forming that we can’t penetrate, a protective layer and in our eagerness to smooth things over, we break the barrier, pick at the crust and expose the raw wound, now it is weeping, red and angry and we wonder what we have done. What we’ve done is simple, meddle, busy body restless hands. Some relationships, some situations need time and space to heal and during that time, things will have scab, will look rough, hard, difficult with an impenetrable crust but we must believe in the healing hand of nature and believe that under that ugliness, beautiful healing is taking place, unless we can contribute to the healing process, and most times we can’t, we must put our hands right in our pockets and resist the unhealthy urge to meddle.

Just don’t pick, mind your business and allow healing to be completed.

Humongous, way bigger than I though, pervasive, ingrained and inherent. Everywhere I turn, the beast is there, there is no escaping or avoiding, he is right there having spread his tentacles into every nook and corner. He has been around from time immemorial and worked himself into every aspect of life. He has come to be accepted as the norm without any questions. He bullies, derides, abuse and torture and everyone shrugs, ‘that is just the way it is’. But that is not the way it should be, he is a beast and has no place in a civilised and equitable society. Well I guess the society is run by the beast so there is nothing civilised or equitable about his rulership. The sad thing is that his prey and victims have come to venerate him, whether out of fear, weakness or ignorance it is hard to say. It is clear their self esteem, self awareness, value of self has all been eroded in the tautology of the beast.

Yet the beast must be falled, he’s got to be brought down, but where do we start the attack? How do you eat an elephant? How do you change an ideology that has persisted for centuries? Why was I shown the beast for who he is? Knowing brings it’s own trials, ignorance has a blissfulness to it. Who will join me in the fight against the beast? Who are the chosen that are awaken and seen the light? Where are the ones that have the guts to stand straight and tall in the face of opposition and objections? Who are the ones ready to be labelled with the stamp of trouble markers, peace disturbers, unsettlers of the status quo, distrupters of established traditions? Where are the change agents, the pace setters, the thought leaders, the fearless, the stable minded, the emotionally robust, basically the called ones? Where are they, the ones with the mantels?

The beast must go, the people must be set free, each and everyone of they deserves to breath the air of freedom, we must strive for all that is good, just and righteous. Our voice must not quiver, though it be soft, our message must not be diluted as we remain respectful and circumspect. We have a message to the beast and the people, tyranny has reached it’s end, the deliverer has heard the cries of the people. Pharoah’s reign is over. It is time for God’s children. Fight is not easy, the oppressor does not give up without a fight and fight we must and we will. The battle begins and there is a shifting of power from the beast to the people. Great is the number afflicted but greater is the deliverance.

As the beast goes down, we witness the energy of progress as the ones held in bondage began to flourish. We see the slave masters themselves release from the delusion of oppression. Great is the joy of the people as the beast goes down!

How I wish it is lying on the ground so I can pick it up or floating on the surface of the water so I can scoop it, bag it and take it home for keeps. How I wish it was hanging low, so I can stretch my hands without straining and pluck it off. How I wish I could just walk over to my friends and borrowed theirs when I need it. How I wish I can watch or read up about those who have found theirs and somehow there can be an exchange of strength or some sort of impartation. How I wish I can just walk into a store, grab as many as I need, run it through the till and check out. How I wish I can lie on my cosy bed, holding tight to my padded hot water bottle and day dream it into existence. How I wish if I talk long and hard about it, it will just come and make it’s abode with me. How I wish if I look sorry enough, put out the victim vibe, cry my eyes out, I will obtain it out of pity. How I wish if I was depress and miserable enough, the strong will keep company with me and hand it over. How I wish if I wished strong and hard enough, wishes will become horses and I can mount and ride off on it.

But no, it does not work like that, I had to dig deep and hard. I had to go on a journey to the darkest place to find my strength. In the most difficult and thorny place it was hidden. I had known about the journey all long, but I dreaded it. There is nothing pleasant or convenient about finding the hiding place of my strength. It was easier to allow myself to be distracted, it was easier to accept instant gratification and temporary relief. It was easier to play safe and pretend that there was no nudging in my soul to embark on the journey. None could understand the journey except the few that had to embark on a similar course, the rest consider that I was crazy and who wants to be labelled? Acceptance has a more pleasant ring to it than rejection. So with my face set as flint and determination I commenced the search. What a difficult journey it is! Lonely as hell, but so the search continues, I was exhausted, drained, famished and parched throat, yet I could not drink from the pool along the way, I had to drink from the well of living water, for therein lies the strengthen. Neither could I eat the sweet and savoury food that were offered as I journey, the bread of life was my food. Fasting and praying I continued my journey, one heavy step in front of the other I progressed, keeping it tight and focused. How I wish there was an easier way.

In the midst of a majority of weak people there is always going to be a delimma to becoming strong. The loneliness of the break away becomes one’s portion. Why be strong when most are comfortable being weak? Why go down to Hades when there is a form of life up here? Why search for abundant life, when sufficient life will do? Why give up the crutches when it keeps us moving, even if not at an acceptable speed? Who defines acceptable anyway, speed is speed? The fear of being different consumed me, the fear of appearing as my authentic self, the fear of showing forth my glory, the fear of being good, the fear of being strong and solid, the fear of being worthy and deserving, when all my life I have langished in the suboptimal, that is all I know and familiar with. How does one ever transact in the world of the strong? How does one weild the sword of strength when all one’s life, weakness has been the learned and mirrored choice, the default, when playing weak has brought it’s own miserable but accepted benefits and handouts. The journey to finding my strength is hard and difficult, but I see no other journey that is worthy of man’s effort and input.

With strength and power, I emerge, not to trample upon men, but to fight the course of the weak, to show the way, to lead the people to the source of strength. A leader I am, To be I live for!

“But he loves you” my friend said to me. I opened my mouth to reply but not a single word came out. There was so much I wanted to say and so many questions I wanted to ask but I realised he that stood before me would not comprehend, so I gave a half smile and moved on. A longing soul is an undiscering one, someone comes along and says ‘I love you’ and that moment every cell jumps up in joy because from birth all the soul ever crave is this elusive thing called love. Growing up in dysfunctional home where love and emotional reinforcement is lacking does not help matters, one can’t differentiate the fake from the real, as far as we are concerned, gold plated and gold are all the same, there is no difference between real leather and faux paux, they look alike so they must be the same. An idiot arrives with tears in his eyes and the right tone of voice saying ‘I love you’ and with bright wide eyes and outstretched hands we accept the nonentity. Certain questions that should be asked are inadvertently omitted, we jump all processes and procedures, from falling in love to bedding to marriage we move at the speed of lighting.

But hold on! What does this Gumbie know or understand about love? What does love mean to him? Has he ever loved anyone? Does he even love himself and how does this love manifest itself? What eactly does he love about you? How does he intend to keep the flame of love? But if we leave the love to one side for a second. Who exactly is the person behind the profession of love? Do we have anyone at home? Is he worthy? Do we have anything in common? Is he an abuser? Is he matured, developed, evolved or do we have a man child in front of us holding flowers smiling sheepishly? Before we accept the flowers and allow both the flowers and flower bearer into our home and life, we ought to pay heed. We can’t just see the flowers and ignore the hands holding the flowers, but how many times have we done just that? Totally enarmoured by what is thrust in front of us. As far as my friend was concerned, the fact that he said ‘he love’ was all that matter. The ‘he’ professing the love was not to be assessed to see if he can deliver on the claim or not. The profession was all that matter. How stupid does the longing soul get, and in no time we are heart broken? I feel like saying rightfully so, but I also understand the vulnerability and difficulties of such journey. Even employers do better, they don’t just go by the curriculum vitae, they interview the applicants, they don’t just googly eyed select the applicant with the most flowery CV.

When we are famished , we need food, but must we just eat any food placed in front of us? Must we eat poison or rotten food? Must we not ask where the food came from? Who is the caterer or the chef? Where was the food prepared? Was it clean, decent or some deplorable dirty establishment? What went into the food preparation? Are the ingredients healthy and wholesome? Or are we eating chemicals that are incompatible with our bodies? No, the hungry man does not ask any questions, he just eats and that is the plight of the hungry soul.

May we not be too hungry to lack discernment. In our hunger may we have the strength and discipline to inquiry and enquiry.

With my cup, I arrive yet at the well, ready to draw water for my very parched soul, but it was as dry as the Sahara desert, not a single drop of water was found, not even a fluttering, an illusion, a mirage, an attempt to provide. There was just nothing, bleak and dry in every ramification possible. I left with my head bow. This was not my first time at the well, actually I have been coming for years. At the start it was slow and then the flow started, so much water, I almost drowned in it, I would arrive with my bucket and draw and draw until I could carry no more, I was fully saturated and hydrated. I never lacked or wanted. I guess you take it for granted and assume it will always be like that. We are inclined to believe that the good times will always be good and times will not change and then without warning or whether by our doing or not, the times change, the well dries up on us.

We are confused, cup in hand, we keep turning up every morning, expecting to get that which we are use to receiving, we already know it is not so, but habit is a lemon, when do we stop coming to this particular well? When do we accept the inevitable? When do we source another well for our parched soul? Whichever way we look at it, to survive we must be hydrated. Ease is our undoing, we have been fed and watered for a while, we have lost the hunting instinct and the seeking impetus, rather that seek for a new well, we find it convenient to stare at the depleted and yell at it, moan at it, cry at the base of the well, pray and fast for the unyielding, believing the forever gone good old days are coming back. We refuse to accept the evolution of our existence and consequently our relationships. Growth to the next stage demands a different kind of input, our diet must be different, our hydration must be appropriate, but no, when we should be on meat, we hold on tightly to our milk feeding bottle, standing at the base of the well that no longer serves us, confused and deluded, wishing and hoping, refusing to grow and move with the time. Why must growth be so hard? Why is transition so destabilising? Why must we endure this patchness of our soul before we find our next hydration Zone? Why must the nest be stirred? Why must our comfort be disturbed? Why? Why can’t life continue just as it is, was?

It’s just time for change, for growth. Nothing is wrong with us or the well. Parched throat we will always be until we find the next well. Each well serves its purpose and then dries up for us but maybe not to others and that is how the story goes.

Find your next well and erase the track to the ‘was’.

With my two hands I am doing it, not literally of course, but with my sweat, blood, effort, commitment. I am building my house, I am focused to make it just the way I want it. I am unwavering in the pursuit. I dreamt about the house I want, every part of it, every single feature, I planned it to the T, a functional house that will serve me and cater to all my needs, an entertainment space, a motivating and inspirational environment, a peaceful, restful, harmonious house. I am truly building my house and I am excited about what I am building.

I started out living with my parents, in the house they built, it was built to suit them and their needs and what they consider that we will need. Actually they didn’t built the house, it was the house they could get, that we all lived in. Since leaving home, I have lived in all kinds of direct places. I have lived with friends, I have shared a single bed in a poky tiny room with a big person, I have been squeezed and crushed to the wall, when I was homeless I have squatted with people, sometimes treated nicely other times with disdain, I have lived on the street and slept in my car for months. I have rented my own place, paid rent for a room in a house and shared communal areas with people I know not, people whose ways were not my way. I have lived in big houses, I have lived in nice houses where I never felt at home. I have lodged in palatial places and enjoyed luxuries and opulence for short periods, but I never felt at home as these were not my house.

Today my face is set as a flint as I build my house. I have carefully and purposely chosen the plot and the neighbourhood. It has to be right for me and what I am called and ordained to do, I will not just live anywhere any more. I am intentional about where I live. It has been a lot of effort, hard work, stretching to get the means to buy the plot, I was not born rich, there has been no hand outs or pass down, it has been mental, physical and spiritual committment. Self discipline has been my watch word. Grace and favour has been my companion. But I am building my house. I can not be distracted, I must not be, detractors are not allowed. Laser focus I am, as I build my house. Everything I have been through I put behind me, no more drama, my mistakes are behind, shame, guilt, fear, confusion, disillusionment, depression are all behind, I am just building my house. I do not yet have all I need to build my house, but I have what I need to start, with the foundation laid, brick by brick I consciously build.

It is messy and dirty, it is noisy and exhausting. I am very tired but I am still building my house. It is slow and difficult but I am not stopping, I have a vision of the house I am building and I will not stop until it is built, yes I will take a break as needed but I will keep building my house, brick by brick I will build.

I have been on every conference, seminar, talk on self build, I have read every book, magazine, journal, leaflet that helps me to build the right house. I joined every group, networking event, I am following everyone that has built a great house for themselves. I am on social media for one and one purpose alone, to learn how to build a great house that will serve me and everyone I am called to reach. Slowly but surely my house is coming together, just as it should as I am purposeful about it.

My house is my life! My life is my house, your life is your house, build that life as you want it to be. We all have to be purposeful, determined and focused about the life we want, it does not just happen by default. It is time we stop living in other people’s houses, living their lives, emulating their lifestyles, doing what they do, confused and bewildered, lacking energy and purpose, going with the flow, nobody builds a house on a whim or in the flow of purposelessness. A house worth living in is a house built with intention.

My life, my house, built for purpose with intention, no man will deter me including myself. What a beautiful house I built!

Yesterday was a different day, yesterday I did not feel like doing good, yesterday I did not know what was good, yesterday I did not have the means to do good. Yesterday I did not have the wherewith to do good, yesterday I was not thinking about doing good, yesterday was about survival, yesterday I was selfish, yesterday I thought about myself, just myself, yesterday I was overwhelmed, yesterday I was demotivated, yesterday I was sad, yesterday I was preoccupied, yesterday I was consumed with guilt, yesterday I was embarrased, yesterday I was insecured, yesterday I thought I couldn’t, yesterday I felt inadequate, yesterday I was a victim and felt helpless. Yesterday I was engaged in the wrong fight. Yesterday I allowed my mind to bully me. Yesterday I allowed the people to bully me. Yesterday I allowed hell to be my dwelling.

But today, I came to heaven and I do good, today my mind is a heavenly place with positive thoughts. Today I take back control, today I sow my own seeds, today I walk upright and tall, today is a good day, a positive day. Today I don’t try to figure it out, today I am not distracted, today I am just me, being me, striding off in the magnificence of me, littering the path with good. Today I am good, doing good, yesterday is gone, today is good!

Live free of guilt, shame, anger, confusion, inadequacy and all other negative emotions, they belong to yesterday, today is a good day, a fresh clean day, today is good and we do good.