In the mouth of babes and suckling comes wisdom, strength and wisdom. How can that be? How can truth, purity and insight come from the gibberish nonsense that babies utter? Who pays any attention to what they say, who listens to it? Who even understands it. They can hardly string a meaningful sentence together, yet we are admonished to sit at the foot of one of the greatest teachers. Praise is ordained from those stuttering lips. Age can speak, multitude of years can teach wisdom but there is a spirit in man, the inspiration of the almighty that gives wisdom. It is not only the old who are wise, not only the aged who understand what is right. Without meaning to be disrespectful to venerated elders, we have all had encounters with some that has left us wondering. Paul was speaking and said something along the lines of … when I came to you, I did not come with eloquence of speech or persuasive words, there was trembling and weakness, the speech lacked punch and oratory prowess but the potency was undeniable. Some were slow of speech and slow of tongue, yet they were the chosen and the sent. Sometimes the treasure is in vessels of clay. Sometimes the truth we seek is not in the likely places. The greatest gift known to man, the gift of a new life, does not pop out of the most likely place.

The path to truth, insight and revelation is atimes littered with confusion, false starts and incoherent gibberish. Sometimes the only way we will have our sight opened is by having someone’s sputum rubbed into our eyes. The greatest truth is not always found in the four walls of an Ivy League University. Our leprosy sometimes can only be cured by bathing in muddy contaminated water. The mire can be the scrub that scours us clean. Where does that leave some of us that seek for system, structure, order, precision, organisation? We need things to make sense, to add up, to fit, to click together, like a fully solved puzzle we need all the parts to fit snuggly . We want to stand back and admire the neatness of it all. But atimes it is far from neat or tidy, it emerges and stand tall on a bed of confusion and chaos and you wonder how can anything worthwhile come out of all of these? But it does! Our own personal truth may not save us in the day of tribulation, it is ‘the truth’ that unlocks the door. The key is rarely hidden in usual places, otherwise it will be a easy find.

Natural birth is rarely neat and tidy, it is messy, painful, chaotic yet the most beautiful miraculous event. Truth also like volcanic eruptions emerges out of that which is puzzling and least understood. Can you handle the truth?

They saw it before I knew it ever existed and they resented every part of it, they also resented me as well. They wanted it but they can’t have it, so all that was left was for them to undermine it, to badmouth it and invalidate it’s existence. Rather than acknowledge the giftings and give thanks to the generous giver of all things, they labelled it, they called it pride and arrogance. They felt it existed to thwart their own giftings, they fail to see that each had his own path and that He giveth to all severally. How they all gathered in their numbers to question the source of the shine. How they tried to replicate it to no avail. How they tried to dim it and destroy it to give their envious soul some peace. The shine went from one level of luminousity to another higher level. How effortless it shone, how frustrated they are? The war, the battle, the confusion, the unease and the restlessness all because of the shine. Yet it did not end there, all the abuse, the tramping on, the discounting, the invalidating, the squabble, the rivalry, the condemnation, the gaslighting, the judgement, the falling out, all because of the shine.

The power of the shine draws those of a pure heart and a clean spirit and repels those of contrary disposition. Like a magnet, like calleth unto like and deep calling unto deep. Light is drawn unto light but darkness and foolishness can not comprehend that which illuminates. The shine is here for the benefit of mankind not the glorification of self or the pumping of the ego. It is for edification and not for destruction or belittling, it is for lifting and not reducing. It is not for self aggrandisement but appreciation and gratitude to the giver of all gift, to understand that the same God is rich unto all. My shine I will continue to polish to radiate brighter and brighter. I will not hide my light under a brushel but station it on a candlestand that it may shine boldly and the whole world will see it, benefit and rejoice from its shine. My light will forever shine, no force of darkness can withstand in the day of the shining of she that is favoured by her maker. That shine is their enemy, it brings out the strangest of manifestations. It is disturbing, affecting, smarting, discomforting, destabilising and annoying to them. It wacks them in the face.

My shine is for the nations, for the people and this is why none can dim it.

I have been with both, I have watched them, I have listen to their hearts and I have observed their ways. I can not question the intentions or aspirations, they both seek the truth, both want answers, yet they have arrived at totally opposite conclusion and unsurprisingly they are convinced that the other side is wrong. I have seen the passion with which they each hold on to their version of the truth, but I have also seen bigotry on both side, I see groupthink, I see narrow mindless, I see parochialism. I see arrogance, I see all or none thinking, my way or the highway and I question, how can the outcome from the search for the truth be so divisive? How can it be at such variance? Why wouldn’t we listen to each other? Not just with the outer ears but the inner ears, with the soul. Why must we hold on rigidly to that which was pass on without interrogating it? Why are we so afraid of being wrong that we will not even entertain the thought? Why wouldn’t we question our truth in case it falters and cracks? Why wouldn’t we throw it up and see if it can land on its two feet? What exactly are we trying to protect, is it the truth or our ego? Why don’t we want to re-measure, we have sophisticated measuring tools? Are we afraid the old landmark will have to shift? Why would we ignore current, recent, progressive, modern revelation and thinking and hold on nostalgically to ancient awareness? Why do we think our ancestors will shift in their graves when they only operated and spoke according to what was revealed unto them? Why do will think improvement, advancement and progress is regressive or sinful? Why do will think there is only one way to skin the cat? Why do we think that the rudimental ways of finding the truth is still the only way?

Why do the other side think that all that can be seen, measured and counted in the laboratory is all that there is? why do we assign just one organ the job of sussing out the truth. Why must it be purely sensual, relating only to the senses? Why can’t it be multi-dimensional and transcend all that we comprehend now. Why do we have to shut it, seal it and conclude on the matter. What arrogance! Why can’t we just leave room, for more to be poured in, for more knowledge, more insight, more awareness, more consciousness. Why do we short change ourselves? Why do we refuse to grow, increase and expand? What is it about our need to be right that prevents us from truly seeking the truth?

You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free. The battle of the two camps continue, neither sincerely seek the truth, it is about protecting the territory and the ego, about not moving the old landmark.

I woke up with the pungent taste in my mouth. It went right to my head and my heart. Nothing could be compared to it. Wasabi, horseradish, chilli or French mustard did not come anywhere near in intensity. It flooded my whole being, capturing my attention leaving room for nothing. It was sudden, griping and all-consuming. Talk about razor sharp concentration, being pulled into the now, nothing else stood a chance. Compared to a flow state, except that nothing is enjoyed here, it smarts the brain, agitate the heart permeating the whole atmosphere. Absolutely no chance of thinking or considering anything else. All these descriptions still falls short of what the actual experience is like, you have to feel it to feel it, to experience it to know it. You sit in the restaurant with someone and they ask you, ‘what does the food taste like?’ You are wondering, if you truly want to know what the food taste like, get a spoonful in your mouth and you will know, anything I say will be tainted by my own experience of it. When does the sense of hearing take the place of the sense of taste? I get it, the brain can use the words to provoke the memory of taste. But nah! not the same. Taste and you will know.

How do you handle your spice? Some handle it well, others don’t. Most spicy food will calm down on the palate if we can hold it together for a period, there are obviously some quick fire remedies like milk, honey or bread. When life frightens us, we can fight, flee or freeze. These three responses are reactions to the trigger and in most cases we have no other choice but to lean towards one of them. There is a fourth option which is to free ourselves from the effect of the trigger. People that can handle their spices have usually over time exercised their sense to handle and tolerate spice, in so doing freed themselves from the intensity or negative impact of the spice. Fear is the same, the more we exercise ourselves in taking on fearful endeavour, the more we free ourselves from the negative effect of unplanned negative situations. We taste it, but we don’t burn as readily. The magic time is 30mins, feel the burn and endure, tolerate or savour it for that time period. Live the fear and live to see the fear transform to tolerance and that is freedom my friend.

A few years ago I attended Wing Fest in Stratford, quite a fun day, the buzz was infectious, going from stall to stall sampling different flavours of chicken wings. The highlight of the day was the Spice eating competitions, about a dozen people lined up on a stage to put their taste palate to the test. There was nothing typical about the line up. Made up of all kinds of people from young to old, male, female, Caucasian, African, Asian etc they were all their. Some look determined others were unsure. Some had pre competition rituals others just spaced out. Competition about to start, all where seated, bottle of water passed around, some wanted milk, bucket for the inevitable. Though to win, you couldn’t take any water or milk until done. At this stage we all had our money on who we thought will win. How disappointed and surprised we were, the race was definitely not for the fiercest or the fastest. The winner was an underwhelming unassuming looking young man. He held it together, gobbled his hot spicy chicken like it was Dunkin Donunts, he was almost robotic in his manners, his eyes was what gave him away. He was feeling it but just held it together, all around him, people were coughing, weeping with red eyes, spitting, spattering, sputtering, frothing at the mouth, slobbering, throwing up, almost fainting and all manner of drama. He allowed the spice to have it’s perfect work in him and he emerged the winner.

There is a time to flee and there is a time to Taste the fear and still do it, allowing it to have the perfect work in you, that we may be free, wanting nothing.

Every Afternoon after school we walk through the Park to get home. A large beautiful Park with benches strategically scattered around, peaceful and serene, well wooded and calming in its effect. It’s always a little treat for both of us. For me, a time to stop and reflect on all my goings of the day, the hustle and bustle of running a business, a little respite from the jarring effect of negotiating conflicting demands of the various business stakeholders. For my daughter, a recess from the relentless dodging of the feistiness at the playground, an escape from the gate keepers of good behaviour keeping a draconian watch on a child rearing to let loose and a relief from the unending competition from peers pretending to be better than others. Precious 30 minutes for both of us to sit on one of the benches and just be, not trying to prove anything to anyone, allowing the calm of the Park to wash off the agitations of the day and life in general, helping to restore balance.

There is a kind looking gentle man and his dog that we’ve noticed around in the park. He has warm eyes and easy demeanour. He gives a little nod and a half smile, it feels polite to return such an innocent and undemanding gesture. He never asked for more and we never offer more. Each of us gets on with the business we came here for, allowing the Park to bath our soul of the rigour of the day. We all continued our visit to the Park and do our doings. After a few months, one day the gentleman got a couple of sweets out of his pocket, unwrapped one, pop in his mouth and offered one to my daughter. There was a brief moment of hesitation and confusion. Should she? Should she not? Is he a stranger? Is he not? Is the sweet poisonous? Is it not? Will it be offensive to refuse? Will it not? Why was he offering? Is the gesture innocent? Is it not? Moreover we have been doing the little nod and half smile for a few months now. What is life without a little trust after all? Decision! decision! decision! She looked at me with a pleading look in her eyes, I had a split second to decide, all four eyes were on me now, this was harder than saying ‘no’ to George Clooney. In our usual communication mode, I gave a tiny nod, blink and you will miss it, with the approval signed, exchange took place, deal completed. I watched like a hawk afterwards, but she was neither sick nor troubled. She likes sweets anyway. With sweet giving ritual established, we got talking a bit, found out the gentleman lives with his dog a few street from the park, he lost his wife three and a half years ago. The Park was a favourite place for him and his wife and they would visit the Park every day, so he is just continuing the habit in memory of his late wife. The little sweet thing was just something they did together. Now that we know a bit of his story and where he lived, my guard was somewhat down. So he would share one sweet with my daughter, just one sweet every now and then. Sadly it became an expectation, the pattern had been set.

One day he stopped offering the sweet, he still came to the park, do his little nod and half smile. He now brings one sweet out of his pocket, pop into his mouth but stopped offering any. That was bizarre to say the least, it was clumsy to ask, ‘why did you stop’? We tried to ignore the change of attitude but the damage had been done, my daughter was heart broken, I offered to buy her sweets but it was not the same. She kept wondering what she did wrong. I knew she didn’t do anything wrong as I was always watching, she said her ‘thank you’s and all that. All I know is that when we give people the power to feed us, we also give them the power to starve us and when it suits them, they will use the power to starve us. ‘Why?’ you ask, it is just in the nature of the beast! So next time, ‘do we just say ‘no’ to sweet from the kind stranger?’ I don’t know the answer, the jury is still out.

We stopped going to that Park.

So here was me, making my gallant descent from the tumultuous birth canal, all stressed out and covered in all manner of ‘God knows what’. It has truly been a journey, why coming alive has to be this arduous was beyond me. All I know was that I was intensely hungry. I wanted to suck at my mother’s chest like there was no tomorrow. I badly wanted food. I wanted affection, to be smothered with kisses and hugs, I wanted my mum to see me and breakdown with uncontrollable delight, I wanted her to be overwhelmed with emotion as she gushes to all family and visitors how amazing I am. I wanted to feel a level of intimacy where I couldn’t tell where I ended and she started. I wanted selfishly for her to lay awake not being able to remove her gaze from me while I peacefully sleep off. I wanted her to scoop me in her arms and whisper sweet incoherent nonsense to me. I wanted her to lull me to sleep as she sings lullaby to me in her off key voice. I wanted to be touched, not just physically but emotionally.

My mum took one look at me and she seemed unsure. She did not utter a word neither did she outrightly reject me, but the look on her face was not what I was expecting, I couldn’t tell if I came out through the ‘wrong’ door or I wasn’t properly dressed. Well I wasn’t exactly dressed but that was due to no fault of mine and maybe there is the little issue of the fact that I was covered in all kind of stuff, I thought it was the job of other people including my mum to clean me up. You can’t exactly blame me, it’s not as if I was capable of sorting myself out. Ok there was also the other little issue of me making such a raucous noise as I forcefully emerged. There was no way I could have done that part of the entrance with style and class, moreover I am a bit of an entitled being, I did not care much for all the drama of ‘coming out’ I wanted food, peace, quiet, love, attention, affection and intimacy but it looks like I wasn’t getting any of those, all I got was this cool unsure look. I was confused, frustrated, agitated and disturbed. We now have two unsure people, I was lying there all naked, exposed and vulnerable wondering if there was a way I could manoeuvre myself back up the birth canal, concealed from all unsure, undecided gazes.

Touch is vital to human survival. New born babies without touch do not thrive, they lose weight, shrivel up and sometimes die. Touch is not just physical but in every ramification of our being. Humans do not do well without touch. Relationships struggle when the people involve do not connect and there souls are not touched. When one or more party is unsure, detached, disconnected, it is simply a matter of time before the fragilely stacked components of the relationship start to disintegrate and dissipate. Neglect, indifference, distance, abandonment or simply being unsure is slow death to any endeavour. In the same way that a mum can not be unsure towards her new born baby and expect him to thrive, we can not approach important relationship with such uncertainty and expect to reap anything of value.

This is the deal and this is what I will do. I made it here, I made it up to this point. I will stay focused, I will stay fabulous, I will stay true, I will stay honest. I will stay sane, I will self correct, I will self repair, I will make restitution where required. I will use all my mental energy to do right and be positive. I will take care of self. I will be the primary guardian of this fabulous human being. I will dig deep to the deepest place and draw wealth. I will not listen to the noise of the market. I will not draw my sword for fun or show. I will not lean when I ought to lead. I will not indulge in aimless fight and discussion, I will kick every toxic person out of sight. I will kick every confusing, deceptive, manipulative, draining person out.

I will be the true guardian of my soul. I will take care of my spirit, of my mind, of my body, I will respect every part of my journey. I will regenerate, I will make right decisions in life, I will make the right and best decision about My ward. I will help My ward to shine and be the best possible human being. I will make the best possible decisions about the trial, I will do that which is right and fair. I will prioritise that which I am made a custodian of. I will love and care for my body. I will break through, I will break forth, I will crack that ceiling, I will shoot out, I will burst out, I will move into the next level. I will not falter, I will not break or crack under this weight. I will run my race. Me and me will do this, Mentally indestructible! I will not use my precious mental energy to wallow in self pity, recrimination, trying to understand the ununderstandable, regret, revenge, navel gazing, explaining my side of the story, begging for support from those that can never support me.

My brain will work for me, my mind will work for me, my emotions will work for me, my spirit will work for me, I will excel, I will be a blessing to my generation, I will impact this world, my giftings will touch people, I will touch humanity, I will leave this planet a better place than when I arrive. I call forth wisdom, I call forth grace, I call forth mental agility. I am not doing anxiety, I am not doing depression, I am not doing insomnia, I am not doing addiction, I am not doing co-dependence, I am not doing stupidity, I am not doing evil, I am not doing weakness, I am are not doing wrong, I am not doing worrying, I am not doing despondency, I am not doing lethargy, I am not doing bad eating, I am not doing anger, I am not doing fear, I am not doing confusion, I am not doing limerence, crazy attachment or toxic relationship, I am not doing pity party, I am not doing misery gathering, I am not doing complaining, criticising and gossiping, I am not doing self battering, I am not doing self deprecation or self fault finding. I am digging, breaking, slicing, smashing, bursting, disrupting, kicking, cutting and then building and building and repairing and repairing and shining forth.

I have me, I have my back, in me there will always be room for me, a soft and gentle landing spot, there will be comfort, succour, acceptance, nurturing, hearing ear, loving heart, warm embrace, validation and total acceptance. I always make time for me. I can control that, I got me as long as I have my cognition, my emotional and mental wherewithal. I am clear, sure, certain and intentional about me. Me first, my favourite person being me, I am not harsh or unkind to me. I am not avoiding, dismissive, disapproving, discounting, disappointing, abandoning, neglecting to me. I fight for me, I defend me. I am delighted to see me. I nurture me, I nourish me, I adorn me, I listen to me. I love me, this is my promise to me.

Thank you for this madness. I will use it as a building stone.

We lay awake in the middle of the night, running the problems around in our mind like a spinning washing machine or a butter churner, we are well lathered up as we work ourselves into a frenzy. Considering nothing but the catastrophe that will ensue with all our problems. How small, dependent, unable and inadequate we are, how complicated, insurmountable and irresolveable our problems are. How inconveniencing and suffocating things are. How much we have earned the right to be anxious, perturbed and distressed. We justify and brag about our insomnia and we seek willing misery party attendees to prop up our desperate situation to the elevated state of pain and impossibility. We find a warped and twisted comfort in our justified response of panic and reactivity. We make no time to calm our agitations but accept that we have and are suffering beyond measure. We consider our losses to be absolute and irrecoverable, we hold tightly to our meagre resources as we operate from a state of scarcity. We figure we will lose so much money and time that can not be replaced. We fight aimless battles over what we consider dwindling resources. We do not see the regeneration, restoration, replenishment and abundance of the universe. Our approach to life is stifled, squashed, restrictive and limiting, pain runs through our heart as we consider our potential losses, be it material, financial or relational losses.

Our problems and issues are surmountable! Yes we might lose money, resources and time, but all can be replaced. The experience and learning process embedded in the problem can be leveraged to greater advantage in subsequence endeavours. Those difficulties are the essential building blocks for growth and entrance to the next level of accomplishment. Unless this seed drops onto the ground and die, there is no resurrection. Blockages in the mind, in our thought process are what hinders the free flow of ideas and solutions to combat the trials we face. In the same manner that plague, clots and fat clog up blood vessels, anxiety, worry and panic clogs up our creative ability. Our minds are weighed down preventing the solutions from shining forth. As long as the earth remains, there will be problems, difficulties and trials. There will be risks but how do we manage the risks? In the same manner that we need to widen and clear the blood vessels to ensure the free flow of life blood, we need to operate on our mind and clear it of the negative responses. Every time we feel compression, anxiety and panic we are failing to see the full picture and have limited ourselves to the ugly side of the frame. There is a good side and our situation is surmountable! Let us hold this thought and allow the brain to do it’s job of bringing out the solution.

The calling is great, the position high, the placement significant and the acceptance difficult. The reality of it all is incredibly uncomfortable. How in God’s name do we rise up to occupy our position? How do we propel ourself to our rightful place? How do we surge forward and upward? Where are our stepping stones? It’s time to climb up, but have we got the strength in our hands legs and core? Do we have the words in our mouth? The baby arrived before we felt ready, but are we ever going to feel ready or do we just grow into the role? The gift is great, magnificent and beautiful, but we feel unworthy and out of sort. We are agitated and conflicted, we struggle for we have never been here before. This is growth like we have never known. The accident propelled us to greatness, the chaos birthed destiny, yet destiny felt alien. Though we are eagles, flying feels alien when we have been told all our lives we are to move and cluck around like chickens. We balk at our destiny, we are unsettled and destabilized.

The royal regalia never feels right at the first fitting, the wearer must grow into it. We feel like we have committed an offense we don’t know how to repent of, the offence of soaring, of aspiring, of becoming. Our true identity has never been unveiled, our true power never revealed, a glimpse of who we are is scary. Accepting our magnificence is an act to be mastered. I am all that is revealed and more and the gift is all I am and more. I am as beautiful, as strong, as magnificent and as large as the gift and more, I am the gift to myself and to the world. Me without any air or need to succumb to the subtle or not so subtle duress to be less. No need to puff or shrink, I must occupy my scared position. I must quietly grow as I accept the gift. It is just right, a token of who I am, a remembrance!

I had a beautiful cup, intricately crafted, designed to perfection, gifted to me to hold everything that will nourish my soul. My cup had a lid and I had the responsibility to cover or open it as I will. I was the custodian of the cup, responsible for stocking and restocking. I drink from my cup and I also pour out to others from my cup.

Either due to laziness, neglect, ignorance or distraction I allowed my cup to run dry and empty, I have consumed, poured and not refilled. Then is no nourishment for my soul, the thirst of my patch throat drives me to the road side. Standing with my empty cup in hand in an obvious position, I removed the lid and stretch out my hand to every and any one or thing. I stretched it out to him, her, them and it. Some ignored me and walked away but a lot dropped into it. The man dropped, the woman dropped, the children dropped, the people dropped, the animals did their thing, the elements, the rain, snow, hailstorm, the society, the church, the users, the confused, the fool and lastly the wise etc all dropped.

Not long after, my cup was full and heavy, I went home to consider the content of my cup. I emptied my cup unto the worktop and all kind of unimaginable stuffed poured out, stuck together in a disgusting mess was the reward of my indiscriminating begging, lack of discernment and discipline. I had a choice, gobble down the whole stuff, throw it all away or sort through to find some worthwhile nourishment. I was famished and thirsty, I had no other choice but to try and rescue whatever strand and scrap of decency was contained in my cup. It took hours, days, weeks, months and years. At the end of the process I found some meagre worthwhile stuff, I consumed it, emptied the rest away. I scrubbed and washed my cup clean, put the lid firmly on. I promised myself, never again! The opening of the lid will be done judiciously and selectively, not just anyone drops into my cup. I take my custodian role seriously. My diet is my responsibility and I am proactive and diligent about what goes in my cup.

Cheers to healthy consumption!