Nine Lives or what?


I have got these feline furry and nocturnal friends who seem to have taken a fancy to my driveway for regular jousting bouts and it is always preceded by these eerie sounds (now I think I know why they are most probable companions for those in the dark arts) and it usually has me up and watching cos there is always a thing or two to learn from life and it is simply horrifying how many of us walk through life with our eyes firmly shut. Inevitably, the end is always the same; Ginger slinks away whilst Blacky enjoys the victory of a conquered territory…..but the next night they are at it again. I sincerely hope that there will never be anything like feliscatusophiles ever especially with flashbulbs always going off from my window in the wee hours of the morning…! However at the current rate of decadence, am guessing it will just be a matter of time and some required publicity…..

An acquaintance of mine recently returned from a three-month stint in the London Chest Hospital, and no he is not a cardio-specialist/intern or tourist, he is recuperating from a double bypass (lovers of House, Grey’s Anatomy, Scrubs – can I hear an Amen!). Now considering his age and background, it is yet another astounding display of God’s love for us regardless of the millions out there who refuse to acknowledge this truth. We are simply because He is and will forever be. There is something about having a life transforming event in man’s life that brings him to careful speculation of what priorities really make up life. There is something about sorrow that causes wisdom to permeate all the carefully layered years of crap whether we want to or not, if you are still reading with a smirk on your face – try crossing the A140 at noon with a blindfold on and then continue reading.

In the words of the preacher, it is better to be in the house of mourning than in the arena of gaiety because the transitional realism of life is starkly uncovered and much wisdom can be learnt (even that is a matter of choice). For those who love practical sessions, try going to sleep with the knowledge that you may never wake up because that is really what major surgery is like. Now I have grown a wee fond of him although proximity usually evokes such affection especially when there is more of sanity than insanity manifested by both parties and it is always a good thing when I saunter along with my staff of authority announcing me and spend some time with him. I usually find such brief periods stimulating because of his longer sojourn here and yet another opportunity to learn something new or refresh the old even.

During one of such camaraderie moments, we got talking about two of his previous tenants who immediately reminded me of Ginger and Blacky. Their daily romps were an inevitability and it was only a matter of time before the Met guys would be called in because they would go at each other day after day despite the fact that they lived next to each other. Why? Firstly because they were ladies (no pun intended pretty damsels) and secondly because they were both ‘single’ (no pun intended, all the single ladies…..if he wants you, he had better put a ring on it). Now what was the aggravating issue, it was simply a case of morals. Ginger, although a mother, would leave her kids (yeah 2 kids) unattended to at night and go in search of male company and naturally Blacky would have no option but to keep an ear out for the lil ones. And like it is popularly acclaimed ‘this is London, you ought to get paid for doing anything.’

Fast forward eight years after, they were both evicted for being public nuisances, and 46-year-old Ginger is still at it. Selena is 8 years old, a budding song writer and Jordan is 11, an intelligent well-mannered south-paw. I have also come to love these kids because even in the face of such despicability, you can still glimpse the beauty of their innocence and forming character and it is a wonder that Ginger still believes that they are blissfully unaware of her line of work but my acquaintance says “well she must pay rent and pay the bills….”

This brings me to the question, why do we often choose to play russian roulette with our lives believing that maybe we are like Felis silvestris catus and have spares somewhere in the probable event that the gun goes off because come to think of it, there are six chambers and one-sixth is worse than a zero. Why do we spend so much time pursuing the wrong things only to spend later years musing about them after a life transforming event, mind you, not many survive these events so it is a case of being like flotsam on the waves. Getting it right early is better than waiting for that transforming event, you may make it to the shore or get lost at sea. If you do make it to the shore, you may make it dead, barely alive or worse still decomposing.

Taking a look at Lady Gaga’s song, I want to ask why settle for the edge of glory when you can bask in it and leave a life and legacy worthy of emulation? Why opt for a life of derision hiding behind the all time lie of ‘I have got no choice’? Why spend your life hoping that just maybe you are one of the extra special ones with nine lives and when you get to the last life, it’s all gonna fall in place? It sure does not need to take that event to bring us to serious contemplation of why we are here because in the words of Dr Seuss “don’t cry because it is over, smile because it happened”.

I have to hustle because I am meeting an amazing Russian today but remember……….we were made to live for His pleasure and not just exist.


פרידה עד שנפגש שוב ….

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