I use to work in a Dog refuge, and we had all kinds of dog brought in, rescued from the street. Some had a difficult previous life, some a ‘not too bad’ life, some actually had a good life and maybe their owner passed on and there was no one to look after them. Turnaround for dog was quite interesting and never followed any defined pattern, it was more of a random walk. We get to know all the dogs, some were incredibly lovely despite the life they have lived, some were not particularly nice, others were wary of people and kept to themselves. Their motto was ‘feed me and leave me alone’.

There was Mifu a light brown Labrador Retriever, easy going, peaceful and playful, she had a massive heart, complimented by her looks, a stunning dog with beautiful soulful eyes that spoke volume. Sometimes she lacked confidence other times she was boisterous, her parent died in an accident shortly after she was born. Her first carer was abusive and treated her roughly, she still had scars on her though they have healed pretty well. Her personality was a bit restrained and atimes she was unsure of herself. But she was so easy to teach, an eager dog , keen to please and willing to learn. So appreciative and would reward each session of play with a unique dance, wagging of tail and spinning on the floor. I would take Mifu home if I could but I couldn’t.

Lots of people will come in to the shelter wanting to adopt a dog, Mifu had a run that made no sense to me. They would come in, stop at Mifu’s pen, stare at her, play with her, she will get all excited thinking she has met her new owner, but ‘No’ not to be, the person will move on and pick another dog. Sometimes potential owners will come in that want Mifu but not meeting our criteria we couldn’t release her to them. It was heartbreaking seeing her rejected one after the other. Someone would walk in, all the staff will think ‘yes’ this is the day, it is this one then it will turned out that it’s a ‘no’, not this one. I was counting, some will spend a few minutes, others an hour or so checking her out, appearing very keen, saying all the right things but nothing will come out of it. Today the 11th person to show interest in Mifu walked in, a man named Tigg, he really wanted a dog, always liked dogs, his last dog went wild, attacked him and destroyed his things, so he was rightfully cautious, we tried to reassure him that Mifu was a peaceful and loving dog. For 12 weeks he kept coming to the refuge regularly and spent a bit of time with Mifu, he wanted to be sure. He will skip a week or so but he kept coming back. We were all hopeful and excited, he was an expressionless man, so quite difficult to figure out was going on in his mind. But given he kept coming back we thought this was the one. Mifu was growing fond of him and always happy to see him. Tigg was saying all the right things, asking all the right questions about process and procedures. We were all sure that it was just a matter of time and all the paper work will be sorted out and Mifu will be in a happy home. Last minute Tigg developed cold feet and just never came back to the Shelter again, nobody knew what happened, Mifu was devastated, all the staff at the shelter were disappointed and crushed for Mifu.

One Sunny spring day, walked in Danny, a dog lover, done all his work, knew all the procedure, had his place all ready . All arrangements for a dog had been done, house all sorted out, vehicle kitted out, house stock up with dog food and toys. Holiday arrangements all in place for Mifu to be cared for when he travelled, this was interest no 12, Mifu had calmed down by this time, she had been disappointed many times. Though still keen, her confidence had build up, she was confident in her skin, no longer over excited, more relaxed, dignified in her appearance and approach. There was a connection and willingness, after a long wait, Mifu and Danny went home together. Mifu was happily settled with a caring dog lover.

So much to learn from the story of Mifu, so many times we go from one rejection to another, problems to problems, trial to trials, tribulations to tribulations with no apparent reason. People tell us to go and wash in a river to cleanse the failures and rejection away, others tell us ‘there is a force of darkness’, spiritual attack, suppressive pressure etc surrounding us or we are just accident or rejection prone. We go after this and after that. We are hopeful and believe it is this one, but it turns out not to be and then we think it is the next or the next one and the one after but again it is not. Yet another rejection letter, failed projects after failed project, another car accident, another failed relationship, another planning refusal, another builder has done a runner, we came down another wall, nothing is working, we can’t see any result for all our efforts in the gym, all our tradings have gone awry, family have turned sour, our health is struggling, life makes no sense etc. We are on the 11th run and we are ready to pack it in but just when we felt it was over, that it can’t improve or turn around, when we heard so many ‘No’s, when our hearts have sank over and over, when we have lost it all too many times. When we have heard ‘Not this one’ 11 times, let’s please keep faith and hope, for on the 12th round our Danny will arrive and it will be a ‘Yes, this is the one I want!’

Wait for Danny!

How much the wound hurts! It wept and oozed. It was swollen, tender and raw. The plaster had done a good job so far. It came on smart and neat, fitted snug, concealing everything. Stamped on it, keeping it all together, presenting a respectable front. But like all plasters it got worn, tired and frayed and fell off. The wound was never healed and that was when the pain re-emerged. We blamed the plaster, kicked at the wrong pole, barked at the wrong tree. What has the plaster got to do with the pain? It was just a temporary fix, sometimes allowing healing to take place, other times deferring the healing while providing a temporary relief. We always have to fix the problem, get to the source of the real issue and deal with it. That was never the job of the plaster. Plasters are drawn to wounds in the same manner that wounds are drawn to plaster, a distracting attraction that enables indulgence and delays the work of healing, in some cases exacerbating the disease. If only we have the strength to say ‘no thank you’ anoint our wound, allowing it to weep all it needed to and breath, from deep within it starts healing then we will never need a plaster. Having said that, there are times the wound is a surface wound and it is a plaster job, but that doesn’t work for deep wounds.

“ … We can live to the fullest life without using igi gbogboro to court trouble…” a quote from one of my beloved readers in response to my write-up ‘Embracing the Unknown’ . ‘Igi Gbogboro’ is a yoruba phrase meaning ‘Long Stick’ in English.

The year was 1999 and I decided it was time a women of my ‘intellectual power house’ pursues her passion. I applied to one of the top Business Schools here in London to study MBA specialising in Finance ( my favourite subject being Finance). The school will not have any of that, they told me in no uncertain terms that the likes of me do not specialise in Finance and gave me another specialism. The Director of the Programme was adamant I could not cope ( I have no idea how he arrived at that conclusion, I guessed I must have ‘looked’ like someone that will not cope). Well guess what? in June 2000 I graduated with MBA Finance. This is after I got out my ‘igi gbogboro’ or long Stick and I stirred up so much trouble with the school and myself. I studied like my life depended on it. The Director came back to ‘repent’ and said he was Wrong. Of course he was wrong! You don’t argue with a woman with the stick.

As my MBA was ending I decided I wanted to do my internship in a top tier bank. I was not chosen or selected, some of my classmates were, I wasn’t. Some people have the luxury of being chosen, selected for almost any thing in life. Some don’t have to trouble life, life is kind, generous and biased in their favour. Some only need to snap their finger and life is at their beckon and call. Some need just a twig or a short stick to stir things and the business gets done. I have learned not to begrudge the hand that I am dealt and to ignore life’s preferential treatments and unequal opportunities but I am getting what I am getting and if I have to use ‘igi gbogboro’, a long stick or even a whole oak tree to trouble life that is exactly what will happen. After poking and troubling every one including myself, I completed my Intership with Citibank.

I can catalogue hundreds of instances where I have troubled life with ‘Igi gbogboro’ to make any progress. I run a male dominated business, for my sins I am a Property Developer, the only way I have been able to start, sustain and thrive in the business is by troubling life with the Igi gbogboro, but this is not just about me, anyone that has done anything worthwhile in this life, be it Human Right, Politics, Business, Ministry, Fashion, Entertainment etc and even in scripture have had to trouble life. Martin Luther King Jnr, Barack Obama, Michael Jordan, Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg etc all of these people troubled life to show us an example. Jacob wrestled with the angel of God all night and said I will not let you go unless you bless me. Jesus Christ went to the pit of hell, was crucified on an ‘Igi gbogboro’ to redeem lost souls.

I see no other way to do this life dynamically without using “igi gbogboro” to court trouble or trouble life. My respectful conclusion is that we trouble life, poke at it, stir it and as Dylan Thomas admonishes (especially for us of a certain age) we should not go gently into that good night but with ‘igi gbogboro’ we rage and rage against the dying of the light until we receive everyone of our blessings and then we sleep peacefully. Selah!

I love people that truly feel, some people are totally lost, almost out of their body, they feel nothing or feel in such a lame weak manner. Nothing is worth bothering about as far as they are concerned. They do not get hot and bothered about anything. I will never forget the image of a young lady in those early days of the eliminating chairs on X factor. As soon as Hannah Barnet started singing and hit a particular note we all could see the reactions of one of her fellow contestant, she felt it. She gave a sway of the head that says “I am in the zone”, for that split second she forgot they were competing for the same spot.

Sometimes we stop feeling, we stop tasting, we stop seeing, we stop being awed. We become numb and we don’t even know, nothing excites us, trip us or amaze us. I actually know people who are proud of and boast about their lacklustre attitude to life. They say with glee, ‘nothing excites me’ how can that be a good, fulfilling or abundant life? But most importantly, how do we get to that state that we stop feeling the feeling? What is it that pushes us over the feeling edge? We live in an age and society where we are told to keep our feelings under control, it is unprofessional to let it all out. Our anger must be calmed down, our excitement must be contained, our displeasure must not be expressed. Little wonder a lot of us are unwell, too many unexpressed emotions are trapped in our bodies and until we let those out we are not going anywhere fast. Am I advocating we all go wild in a civilised society? No! Though there are times when I wonder if it is the civilised society killing us. At the end of the day we are human beings and not some robotic being with no emotions, it is part of our humanity for us to be expressive.

I remember once when I reacted appropriately to an act of unfairness and injustice and I was told that I over reacted. And I was like ‘how could I have overreacted?’ when that was the response from the core of my being. No thank you, I did not over reacted, I reacted just in accordance. What we feel is what we feel and it is as true as can be. Our feeling is always true, our reading of a situation that gave rise to the feeling can be flawed but what we felt, we felt.

Feel it!

None of it is accidental, random, unplanned, unforeseen. It is all part of the grand plan, very much intentional. People dropping off like overripe paw paw. Every attempt to hold on to them proves to be slippier than a well oiled *****. I have always wondered ‘why?’ what is the problem? Am I that bad? Why wouldn’t they just stay? Why are they easily offended? Why am I easily offended? Why does there departure make no sense? It’s very simple, because they are not meant to be part of the journey, because the particular calling is not a crowd one. This is not a herd or popularity assignment. This assignment is for the very select few, for the chosen, the picked out of the many to heed the bidding. When it gets lonely and there are no distractions, no stray humans, no unchosen, uncalled human beings lurking around, rather than pinning for them, It is the time to say, “Speak Lord, for your servant listeneth”, the eavesdroppers are all gone. It’s you, the creator and the assignment. There is a reason why the room has been cleared out.

Milky Way Galaxy! we don’t need to be astronaut, we have all heard or read about where we feature in the larger scheme of things and I mean larger. A quick research online starts to put things in perspective, in the cosmic arena, the earth we inhabit is just a tiny point of light, a tiny speck of dust in the vast expanse of space. Once this sinks in and it does takes time to hit some of us. All our humongous problems becomes infinitesimal. They just cease to count. Respectfully, we and our problems do not count in the larger scheme of things. With this awareness, things starts to shift in the brain, problems and issues starts to deflate and seep out. We all know people that like to make a mountain out of a molehill, sometimes we are those people. It will help to ground us when we remember that all the problems on earth gathered together is less than a molehill in the larger scheme of things. We then ask, why the worry, anxiety and panic? What is the point of all the drama? What exactly are we fretting about? All the wealth in this world is still a speck. Elon Musk and all his wealth does not even feature in the speck when considered from the solar system. We and our problems are just way too small. Dead or alive we just are an infinitesimal speck. The economy holding together or falling apart, it’s still a speck. Interest rate going up or down, it’s still a speck, our business blooming or not, it’s still a speck. One catastrophe happening here or there, it’s still a speck. Our health challenges is still a speck. Our financial worries, it is still a speck. Relationship issues, it is still a speck. Family drama, it is still a speck. Disappointments, betrayals, errors, misdemeanours, fights, wars, hiperinflations etc all just a speck.

Some will argue that to us who are in it, it is not a speck, it is out world. But it is not ‘the’ whole world and from time to time we need to come out of our world to get a more accurate picture. It is not worth all the aggravations we subject ourselves to because it is all speck and speck. This awareness will help calm us down, enable us to do our best, leave the rest and sleep peacefully at night. We can all stop sweating the small stuff because it is all speck and speck.

Someone once said, “you can’t be stupid all your life”. At some point we all have to grow up, grow into that person that we are destined and designed to be. For years a number of us languished in mediocrity and nonsense and we accepted this as the status quo, that is just who we are. We have a ready and willing society to rubber stamp and assure us that this is our state and station in life. We see nothing wrong and of course nothing is wrong, average and below average is a nice tepid water to swim in. Any glimpse of greatness in us is seen as fluke, an intruder, an exception or an anomaly. This is the guest coming to visit and must soon leave, a visit that is utterly uncomfortable. It is worrisome how being less than we are created and designed to be is so comfortable and soothing. We fail to realise that the version of us that does not deliver to the utmost and peak performance is actually the guest. I call him the ‘Idiot’, that is a strong and unsavoury term but used for emphasis and shock more that to demean. Awareness of the greatness of man is a passion I live for. Some have keyed into this consciousness and awareness and are running the race, some of us still lag behind. But the voice will not be quietened and we will continue to fly the flag for greatness.

Things go wrong and we fall apart, “hands up if you are guilty” all my hands and legs are up in the air. I am guilty as charged, I allow the ‘Idiot’ to take charge and I blow it up further. I panic, take the wrong steps, fraternise with the wrong lot, speak the wrong words, hide behind the wrong rocks and join with the nay sayers. We as a country are in a difficult position, interest rates are rising so fast we can not keep up, most have stopped opening letters, leadership face some of the worse turbulence it has ever seen, financial markets are in turmoils, we can not comprehend inflation, one of the worse recession in a very long time is forecasted, relationships are failing, businesses are groaning, NHS can not keep up, all of these is resulting in health issues for many. Listening to the news is tantamount to gloom broadcast. How do we rise to meet all of these head on? This is not the time for the ‘Idiot’. The fearful, timid, despondent, whinny, complacent, discouraged and complaining version of us can not tackle this. This is not the time for tantrum and throwing out our toys. We are in hard times when we must unleash the superior us, the premium version, the stellar version of ourselves. It’s got to be our vintage self.

Someone said, “I don’t think there is anyone else here, this is all there is to me”. Unless we are operating at the utmost upper level, then that is a lie, there is a superior version of us overlaid by the ‘Idiot’ fronting the show. There is a better one. We are feistier than we ever know, stronger than we ever imagine, wiser than we think. We will be astonished at what will be unveiled once we start to embrace our awesomeness. I remember a beloved brother I met in the midst of the last financial crisis. He said “the Soldier either wins or die on the battlefield” and he was a soldier, he came out of that particular crisis better than he went in, a winner. He had a small Estate Agent Franchise in a ‘not so great’ area of town, by the end of the Financial crises he had his own chain of Estate Agencies in the most opulent part of town. It was all about the state of the mind, our attitude, who we allow to run the show. Let us open the window, the door and just let him out. We know who.

In his life changing book, A Complaint Free World, Will Bowen shares a true story of how a hit and run truck driver hit and killed his daughter’s dog right in front of their house. The dog didn’t die immediately but died shortly after. Few pain can rival the pain we feel when someone hurts our child and in this case by injuring the family pet. Will Bowen was enraged and rightfully so, he jumped into his car in that enraged state and chased after the driver. He caught up with the culprit who was unapologetic and indignant. He was minded to enter into a physical fight and hit the man so hard he feels the pain he was experiencing. Thank God, good sense prevailed, he turned away drove back home. All the while the fatally injured dog was lying in front of the house while he tries to satisfy the understandable urge for revenge. On reflection, his reaction was dangerous, he was at risk of being involved in a car accident or of hitting the man and get taken in for assault. Whichever way you look at it, the damage had already been done and the most beneficial actions were to console his daughter, take the dog to the vet, stay with his family and grieve together.

We have all been there, someone wronged us deeply and treated us unjustly, every fibre of our being is crying out for revenge, our blood is boiling and we see red. All that executional style revenge fire has an immediate primal demand for fulfilment but a longer term detrimental effect. Rather than attend to the dog, do the best we can with a terrible situation, we launch an attack, we are cursing, spitting fire and tornadoes whilst doing our heart and blood pressure no good. I have been there, I am actually in the midst of one and I am saying to myself, ‘Elizabeth, bury the dog’ but it is hard, fury is not a rational emotion. Somehow we must find the strength to love ourselves and our own well-being more than the emotional hijacking that is taking place. I know this is really hard and I do not write as an expert that has perfected the art of self control but as a mere mortal in the school of life who occasionally flunk some life exams woefully, but just like riding a horse, every time we fall, we are well advised to get back on the horse.

No one wants the beloved pet to die, but we are where we are. Burial is costly and we do not necessarily have a budget or savings for this, be it emotional or physical savings, but we can do this, we can bury that dog and give it a befitting send-forth after which we soothe our bruised heart and grieve the loss. It is more harmful to our wellbeing, allowing the dog to fester, rot and develop magotts while we wallow in denial and pursue revenge. Life will happen, we will be hurt, offences will come, it is an inevitable part of living. The hit and run drivers of our lives have more pain to deal with than we can imagine, they have to live with themselves. Only hurting people hurt others.

Some pain, sickness, confusion and agitation we experience will only be alleviated when we bury the dog. We have to find a way to accept the painful and untimely death, to accept that the unforeseen has happened, injustice has been done, the attack has taken place, the lover is a liar, the helper is a grabber, the friendship is toxic, the journey has come to an abrupt end, the chef can not cook, the structure can not hold it, the medication is not working, the business is a fraud etc we then let the curtain down, we pull down the shutters, we lock the gates, we close shop, we stand up from the table, we cut our losses, we dig the ground, we bury the dog and then we immediately start the process of healing. The unexpected has happened and we can and will recover from this.

Pay the price for closure, bury the dog!

He whispered the barely audible invitation to come over for a feast, not all could hear it, there was a question about it, but it was undoubtedly an invitation to come over. He did not give any address or direction. It was left to me to figure out where I was going and how to get there. My only navigational tool was the undeniable magnetic pull. I followed the pull in the same manner that the wise men followed the stars to find baby Jesus, I had to listen and feel my way to his destination. I got lost a few times just like when I follow the temperamental sat nav in my car, I was told I had ‘reached my destination’ when in actuality I was in the middle of nowhere. I was tempted to abandon the trip a few times but the erratic ‘pull’ was there. Atimes barely noticeable, other times intense. I was at the mercy of the elements as I search for my destination. I got beaten by the rain, I had no umbrella or shelter, unprepared I got socking wet, I got snowed under, I was shivering and caught a cold. Another time I got heat stroke from the scotching sun. Today I woke up to continue my search for his place, I was worse for wear, totally exhausted. Having exhausted my mental and emotional reserve for the journey I stopped at a lay-by unsure how to proceed.

A stranger saw me, he felt my distress, heard my rumbling tummy, noticed my parched throat, worn shoes and tattered coat. He opened his bag and gave me a morsel of bread, a small bottle of water, took off his coat to drape over my tired and cold shoulders, he didn’t have spare shoes so I kept my worn shoes on. The meagre refreshment and kind gesture allowed me to get back on track and continue my journey. Today I found it, I found his place and what a feast he had laid out for me! Like a mother forgetting the pain leading to birth as she catches a glimpse of her new born child for the first time. I forget all the trial of the journey, I was so glad to see him and the feast. He was equally glad to see me. He took me by the hand and led me to the table, he pulled out a chair for me and took off my coat. As he went to hang the coat he noticed the name tag and at the same time the remaining crumbs of bread fell out of the coat pocket. He was shocked and disturbed. He couldn’t understand why I would settle for crumbs along the way and wear a stranger’s coat when he had laid a feast for me and had a closet full of clothes for me to wear. I explained that the journey was long and difficult, without the stranger’s comfort I could not have made it to him. It happened before the arrival. He is destabilised and processing. I am also processing.

How do we make the journey of life without the support and comfort of the stranger along the way? Simply impossible.

White as snowflakes, beautiful to behold, free flowing, running effortlessly through the fingers, gently teasing the purlicue as we absentmindedly play. It promises all manner of deliciousness and it never fails to deliver to the taste bud, tantalising and titilating. When worked, it presents beautifully, a model of desire, elegant beyond measure. Sugar art at it’s finest being the desire of the poor and the rich. Easy on the eyes, comforting to the tongue but lethal to long term health. A slow poison taking it’s time to cause havoc. Slippery on it’s promises, spontaneous in its attempts, elusive as a rabbit. Sashaying around in it’s glorious whiteness, awaiting the magical skills of the confectioner to transform it to mouth watering delicacies. The use is extensive, countless recipes emerges from it, the ready coat for bitter pill. Innocent looking, slowly intoxicating, subtly addictive, dope of the uninitiated. Erratic and inconsistent, spontaneous in the release of pleasure.

This is what some people are, eye candy, good for nothing beyond a brief glance and then a speedy exit must ensue otherwise we live to regret. Quick to draw and entice, having nothing to offer beyond confusion and turbulence. Sweet is their first name, Toxicity the second and Destruction the last. Majoring in lofty promises, castle in the sky relationship, pie in the air future, sick to their core, masquerading as someone of honour but nothing other than a confused child clothed in an adult body. Unsuitable for adult liaison save casual boredom reliever, to be taken with a pinch of salt in tiny dosages. Not worth the time of day or night, to be related to in a distracted manner, energy drainer, convoluted souls. Space holder, useful for nothing other than decoration just like sugar.