I write you this not because any of it is alien or new or alien, but that it may be a lasting testament for you and yours. I admit that it’s the longer route; I’m usually more able with two chairs and a round-table. But I understand that as the music fades, butterflies hibernate and emotions begin to rise, this note may bode better than a flood of spoken word.
I must congratulate you on the occasion of your wedding. Fine gentleman you got yourself; your mom is both delighted and relived. If anything, she’s ‘rid’ of the competition and can now boldly parade herself as my undisputed ‘number 1’ again. She was extremely eager to lay claim to you in the days following your birth. You obviously had her eyes. But then, as time passed and your smile got more defined, fact and truth traded places. You and I were knit from the same yarn.
You’ve always been incredibly special to me, dear daughter. From the minute you were born to my coming to terms with ‘losing’ you to another man, you and I have enjoyed an inspired connection. Your mom and I have dreamt of this moment from long before we care to admit. We fantasized about the kind of man you would marry – and those thoughts flavoured our disposition to much of the male company you’ve kept over the years (even the ‘innocent’ classmates). Continue reading
“The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue” ~ Napoleon Bonaparte
“One plus one usually means two – but it can also mean everything” ~ Imisi
It’s the start of December; the end of another year. I thought I’d mark the completion of another project by now. There’s this silent tremor at the back of my mind – and it gets louder the harder I push. I fear it may be right in saying I’ve bitten off more than my mouth can hold. This new dimension could the black hole that slowly sucks the universe in; keeping me from applying myself to anything else.
My mind still traces a fence around its deepest worries as I sleep. I’d like to think it’s exactly as it was a year ago. A ton of wool weighs about the same as the ton of wood. But Maslow points to the devil is in a pile of dust. A battle of desire is clearly nothing like one for survival. How time blurs the mind’s eye. Continue reading
“Ideas: they have a mind of their own; still, they try to make your mind their own” – Imisi
Hi and welcome back to DeMeStified. Hope you’ve been up to great stuff in the time it’s been?
They say every good story begins with a damsel in distress. It’s true, but mostly in the movies. In fact, maybe only on Hollywood. For me, every good story – everything I consider of any worth along this journey – began with a stupid and flat-out laughable idea. It’s happened so many times I’ve come to embrace it – even right from the very beginning.
“I’m gonna get a degree”. “How??? Get serious while you’re at it”
“Let’s get married”. “That’s a joke, right? You know we’re from cultures that don’t get along.”
“We’re having another baby”. “For real? Are you having a laugh?”
“I’m going to explore writing”. “With your handwriting? Come on!!! Be fair to yourself”
“I’m leaving”. “At this critical phase? You can’t be serious. I wouldn’t if I were you. What if those plans don’t come together?”
“I’m gonna take that course?” “And do what with it? There’s no market for it here.”
“I’m gonna do this”. “Are you sure? Hmmmn. What’s to become of all your education?”
“Don’t snatch; it’s rude and bad manners. Don’t you know your manners?” – Bethany [from the Book “In Comfort of Mary“]
“Our planet is poorly equipped for delight. One must snatch gladness from the days that are.” – Vladimir Mayakovsky
“Successful men usually snatch success from seeming failure.” – A.P. Gouthey
There are two cardinal types of dreams we all have from time to time; one type probably more than the other. There’s the one where we go over what already exists, and remind ourselves how good our lives are. That’s the kind that gives respite and soothes our many aches. There’s the other, more conscious, in which we reminded ourselves how undeserving of rest we yet are. Where we instruct ourselves never to settle for less than we deserve. It’s one that calls comfort a prison and questions the purpose of such courtesies as ‘taking whatever comes’.
Imagine waking up in the cold and damp confines of a prison cell. The loudest sound you hear is the beating of your heart’s drum; clearly, you’re all alone and help is far away. The list of crimes for which you’re being held is neatly engraved on one of the walls. You smile. You may not remember how you got in there – but you know exactly what you have and haven’t done. The phoney charges won’t stick. You’re convinced. Continue reading
Posted in #512iMagInG, Change, Choice, Comfort, Dreams, Life
Tagged Choice, Comfort, Dream, Life, Prison, Snatch, Work
“Appreciation is the highest form of prayer, for it acknowledges the presence of good wherever you shine the light of your thankful thoughts” – Alan Cohen
Sometime this month, I stumbled on the story of a lady who’d just lost one of her legs. The trauma was so bad she looked forward to what many would consider a nightmare – running in her dreams. It was her escape form the reality of life without one limb; something that brought her brief comfort – until she woke.
The best I could do as I read the words was empathize – but it was absolutely impossible to fully understand the true extent of her ordeal. Such loss really is just not something even the most masterful words can aptly convey. I gave some thought to it, nonetheless.
In fact, the thought was still warm on my mind when I stumbled on the most hilariously sarcastic message I had seen in a while. It was a notice in an office parking lot (signed by the ‘less ignorant occupants of the building’) chiding those without disabilities with a habit of parking in spaces for the less able. “…….if you’re fortunate enough to be in good health and have no disabilities, we would suggest that you leave this space vacant for those who actually require it. I’m sure the short walk from other spaces will not delay your activities too much”. Continue reading
Posted in #512iMagInG, 5-12 iMagInG, Anger, Friends, Friendship, Logic, Loss, Soccer
Tagged Amputation, Anger, Friendship, HTC, Let Her Go, Logic, Loss, Passenger, Soccer
“At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice” ― Maya Angelou
“The greatness of the man’s power is the measure of his surrender” ― William Booth
Sometime, towards the end of 2013, I had the strangest feeling of all. From right out of the blues, I felt a prodding to write about my deceased uncle. The usual pattern had been to think about something consciously for a while – then, feel a push to write about it. I hadn’t even been thinking about him in the months or years leading up to that moment. I had simply accepted his passing, mourned him and moved on. So, there really wasn’t anything ‘bottled up’. I didn’t expect the ensuing post to make enough sense to complete – so I never bothered with starting. But, there was something else about that moment.
I would later find that it coincided almost to the minute with the timing of Paul Walker’s fatal crash. That definitely caught my attention. What ghastly coincidence! Made me think a little more than I was prepared to about the uncle. I started to think maybe there was a little more to that nudge I felt. Continue reading
Posted in #512iMagInG, 2013, 2014, Death, Disappointments, Life, Plans
Tagged Ayrton Senna, Brazil, Cars, Control, Death, Formula 1, Life, Maya Angelou, Murphy's Law, Nigeria, Paul Walker, Plans, Surrender, Toyota, Usain Bolt, William Booth
“Why am I dying to live, if I’m just living to die” – Runnin’ [Tupac ft. Notorious B.I.G.]
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” – John 12:24
It’s been 168 days since I last put up a post; about the same time since I wrote anything that wasn’t official, a tweet or status update. In all that time, activity around me has been teeming. Yet, for the craziest of reasons, it felt like everything stood eerily still. I won’t even bother to insult you with pseudo-apology for my absence. This one time, no matter how much I wanted to write something, no matter how well the words aligned in my head, I just couldn’t find the strength to put them down. The story of ‘why’ is what follows. But, more than a mere story, it’s like a song by a newborn about a painting etched by piercing sunlight during a riot.
They say a magic trick has three parts: the pledge, where you mentally commit to and assert reality; the turn, where all you’ve affirmed suddenly changes – and the prestige, where whatever is taken away is brought right back. But, this isn’t a magic trick. If it were, it’ll be all about turn – the all-defining change; anything before or after gets mindlessly muted. Continue reading
Posted in #512iMagInG, 2014, 5-12 iMagInG, Change, Christmas, Determination, Disappointments, Life, Resolve, Soccer
Tagged B.I.G., Bandits, Childbirth, Chinese, Death, Doctor, Fabrice Muamba, Failure, Fear, Heart, Life, Resolve, Soccer, Tupac