Category Archives: From the heart

Be Strengthened…..

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A friend recently commented on how emotional she feels when she reads my posts and uncharacteristically requested that I write a happy post. Happiness and Sadness, Joy and sorrow, Riches or poverty, life and death….these are like the two sides of a coin. It is what makes the balance in life, knowing that no matter how thin a slice of bread is, there will always be two sides. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” is a declaration based on divine revelation. Many would, if presented with the choice, probably opt not to go through that valley but you cannot be whimsical about the order of things. Like ill-mannered kids, picking only the good stuff from the bag when it gets to our turn to pick, you just cannot eat your cake and have it.

Now this is no dirge or eulogy, this is simply the musings of one who has, not by personal choice, being given the opportunity to reach out and touch lives. Sometimes my feelings want to conflict with purpose but not anymore, as long as this heart beats and there is breath in my lungs. I have not yet had the wondrous experience of walking the streets of gold in God’s celestial city but what I have is the opportunity of witnessing how trials bring out the best in us…..when we do not collapse and keel over in defeat. This is not a journal of every pain and sentiment I feel since I got diagnosed with dystonia in 2012, it is almost impossible to do that – how do you describe accurately the feeling of helplessness as you watch everything that you thought was you being stripped away? How do you chronicle the sheer frustration of trying to rebuild a life from the rubbles or pen down the emotions that well up in you as you are faced with medical bills without knowing how those bills will get paid? How do you narrate the disappointments that come from being told you cannot do this by your own body or illustrate in clear terms that the way and the will are two different opponents that must be conquered concurrently? The proverbial town crier might regale in the sonority of his voice in the stillness of the African dawn but when the market is at its busiest, nobody needs to tell him what an exercise in futility it would be to cry out a message.

Money answers everything but what good will all the wealth of the earth amount to when you are confronted with situations that transcend the realm of physical riches. This morning, I answered a knock at my front door and there stood a delivery lady (slightly dampened by the early morning shower) with a huge envelope. Tucked inside the envelope was one of the prettiest handmade card (the largest I have ever received or thought of making) with the words “Be Strengthened” boldly inscribed upon it. Beautifully crafted between the covers of the cards were signed handwritten notes from several of my College/University mates, twenty names in total, if precision means a thing to you as it does to me. Just a few minutes before that I had hung up the phone, thoroughly exasperated with a call agent because she explained that my phone line would only be restored if a specific amount (to the cent) was paid. Opening that card and reading every note contained in that card was quite emotional because these notes were from my mates, now scattered all around the globe-most of whom I haven’t seen in the last 17years. Hold on just a second, if you may please, almost simultaneously I got an email informing me that my PayPal account had just received some funds from these guys who I know have their personal issues to attend to.

I have always loved surprising people, I would rather surprise than be surprised because the logical and analytical part of me usually categorises surprises as something akin to reading a 300 paged book; but commencing at page 85 and ending at page 200, or a shirt half tucked in (in itself, a very glaring and incomplete design, entirely unsatisfactory and requiring me having to work my way; back to page 1 and forward to page 300). Oh yes, I do have mild OCD, so that really can be aggravating at times and so I tend to tell people right off the bat that I do not like surprises! Juxtaposing mild OCD and dystonia is a chemical equation of horrifying  proportions, it almost always have a disastrous result. However I have learned to change what I can and force myself to walk away from what I cannot change (the walking away part is really difficult but in order to prevent triggering an episode, I must walk away). When you find yourself in certain situations, you must quickly adapt or face the option of getting steamrolled, that is what I have learned on this journey with dystonia. There is so much I have had to learn in order to adapt – I have learned that faith is not just a word, it is a lifestyle. Love is not a word, it is an action. Sacrifice is not just an action, it is a painful decision expressed through actions that are quite unsavoury. And that giving, especially when you have to deprive yourself of something, has a longer lasting benefit than the extremely short high of receiving.

I have learned that worrying only extends inconvenience, all activity and no progress and so being told that I am a source of inspiration by men and women from different origins, categories and location is something that is extremely humbling. All I aim to do with each new day is to make someone else’s life and struggles just a little bit lighter even as I struggle with dystonia. Proclaiming that even though I cannot control the storm, I can smile even in the darkness because the strength to go through each day is not mine to dispense, it comes from an inexhaustible Source. All I try to do each day is choose to stick with the design that He has laid out for me, I choose to acknowledge that even when it seems like the ominous winds of life is about to snuff out my candle light, He is still there with me. I choose to acknowledge that even though I am about running out of resources, He has promised to supply my every need and so I have learned not to bother myself with how or when because He always shows up on time.

I am particularly grateful for the immense privileges of sharing paths with men and women of such incredible potential, purpose and focus. Grateful for the recent opportunity to be in such awesome support groups, because with every life I have been blessed to encounter, I have come away with truths that truly liberate – truths that are so deeply engrained in the entirety of my being that even when I am knocked down, I know that there is but one option available – ‘Pick yourself up and press on!’  For the bonds of friendships that have stayed true and the accepting hearts that still receive me till this day. The true description of fulfilment surpasses Rupees, Dirhams, Pound Sterlings, Dollars; it lies in the ability to allow yourself become a vessel through which someone is blessed because when the time comes for the curtain to drop, no stack of gold will prevent it from dropping. For those, who like me are struggling through their own storms, I encourage you to share these words with me, ‘Be Strengthened!’ No life yet created was ever created to be confined to the dumpsters of failures, despondency and hopelessness; your life is no different.

And so, as I reel with gratitude from the sacrifices of these few and others who have refused to just be bystanders, I just want to say that every penned or spoken word comes from deep within my heart. Knowing that we are all on a journey, and as you press on and still choose to give freely even if you are yet to get the spelling of dystonia or insomnia or myoclonus or Parkinson’s right, realise that “there is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.” – Proverbs 11:24. Within our hearts, desires lie; noble and pleasing but if we refuse to apply our hands, then we amount to nought but mischief makers, truncating the cycle of life. A soothing word, a little prayer, a look of genuine concern, a little token of compassion; these are what should define us as humans. And when a need is seen, do not first concern yourself with the genealogy but rather do something about it, because if you can see the need then you can do something about it even if reality kicks you in the teeth about your lack. Our lives are more than just a string of academic and professional titles, they are more than the string of mansions and stockpiled gems, they are easels that God uses in writing out a message of love, hope and perseverance to those around you.

Do not bask in the euphoria of your acclaimed fame and status because that in itself is no purpose, do not delight in the flurry of high-falutin verbage because that in itself is no purpose, do not pride yourself in your finely honed skill of bashing people with your beliefs because religion is just a word and not a purpose. Instead I choose to awaken myself each new day with a thankful heart for life and another opportunity to make the day count. Remember ‘Be strengthened’ might just be two words but the value of those two words are beyond the grasp of a life that is devoid of purpose.

עד שנפגשנו שוב, אולי התענוגות שלו להיות העונג שלך לעשות

Adios!

Forging the link……

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Forging the link

Forging the link

I somewhat, till this day, see myself as a hands-on type of bloke although going by prevalent circumstances, that phrase by itself seems untenable. The truth is that while design and handcraft has always appealed to me, I have also allowed the process of building things from scratch influence my daily actions. Growing up, my parents insisted that in addition to the traditional education, you had to learn a skill and that period of internship usually occurred between the end of high school and the beginning of college. I still hear the words. “God might favour you and send you to a strange environment and while others are clinging fiercely to the stereotyped job ladder; many bruised, bloodied and with dreams dashed – you can take a step back when you don’t land that dream job and begin doing something on your own.” Maybe that, to a very large extent has influenced my mindset when it comes to education and career.

For me, when the break came and it was time to ‘go learn a craft’, I opted for carpentry and photography. Carpentry, because the artisan who roofed my father’s city house was a very smart fellow, skilled in his work and despite having a aspeech impediment, was not fazed at all having a conversation with me. My choice of craftsmanship was instantly made when I found out Zippamore was in his third year at college and was actually self-sponsored, and the acquisition of that snippet of information pretty much killed the idea that some jobs are meant for some class of people. Yes, my parents ensured that there were no airs about us, we might not have been wealthy but we were not poor either. Both my parents were educated and held down white collar jobs and so it would have been quite easy to develop an air of privilege based solely on that, but I can tell you that they neither allowed or tolerated any of that foolishness. We earned what we got and learned that unto each person, a purpose lies, a path beckons and a destination awaits. I still remember the very first day I walked into the carpenter’s workshop and found the other world where brawn was almost as equal as brains, where I learned the necessity of taking care of yourself after being bloodied once or twice. Oh, it was an eye opener indeed.

Unfortunately, there were not many blacksmiths that we knew of but besides carpentry, blacksmithing had always appealed to me because I really loved working with metal. Throw in the classic Robert Louis Stevenson ‘Treasure Island’ into the mix that was my life then, and a blade, a spool of cotton and a match book became constant companions of mine. Nearly four decades after, my fascination with metals and their hidden potential still remains and now I am also an avid watcher of History Channel’s ‘Forged by fire’. The importance of design was also conveyed to me then because without a design to keep you on track, many days will be spent wandering around in circles. So it is truly impressive seeing how an otherwise innocuous piece of junk metal, steel scrap can be forged into a beautiful tool…..but there is a process before that junk becomes that beauty. Three essential features of any process; the furnace, the hammer and the anvil. You do not go interning at an active blacksmith’s forge dressed in duck whites because you sure are not going to remain that way within the first hour. Copious amounts of perspiration, lots of heavy lifting and wielding are inevitable elements as you try to draw out that steel into lengths and patterns that meet the specification of your design.

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It is quite appropriate for life and its many events to be likened to a couple of days in the smithie’s. It is a process and if the steel could talk, I know for sure that sound mufflers (not just the ordinary ones) would be a critical tool because the screams of refusal from the steel would most definitely deafen you. But it doesn’t protest as it is thrust into the forge where it is left until it is almost white hot and only then can it be taken out and pounded by the hammer (pneumatic ones now) on the anvil till it has a rough semblance to the design that you had in mind. One lesson that I learned at an early age is that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, it does not matter how long or heavy the chain is, its fate is down to that weakest link. At the shipyards, those huge anchors that keep the ship in place are usually at the end of a long chain and more often, a key part of a ship mate’s daily role is to inspect that anchor and chain to ensure that the each link on that massive chain is devoid of cracks, fracture or any form of impediment because when that order “heave to” is bellowed out and the anchor is released, just that one weak link could determine the safety of the vessel and the lives on board.

We are in the summer and each day is a struggle for me because I find myself totally exhausted with just the least amount of work done. Heat ironically is one of the triggers for the primary generalised dystonia and myoclonus that I have and so I would trade Alaska or Melbourne for a proposed vacation in a heartbeat. However I know that you cannot go through life having just one season and so I try to stay as hydrated as possible, take as many showers I can, forego the layered clothing and still cope with a body that is hurting in almost every joint at each day’s end. At the onset of this unique journey that I am presently on, I learned painfully that there are smarter ways of getting a task done than just applying sheer muscle. Despite the number of comments I receive about how ‘toned’ I still am, it amuses me because I really wish I could for just one day, instruct my brain to let my nerves and muscles be. The tremors are physically exerting and just having a severe dystonic bout lasting more than an hour is pretty scary to even imagine but life is a process.

These days, I have taken an entirely different approach, I choose to be as welcoming as I can be especially on social media because if only individuals could read on the face what each person is going through, I am optimistic that our world will change for the better. Being a member of so many support groups has and is still an honour to me, I have encountered so many people from all over the world with medical conditions like mine and just being a member of such groups continues to drive home each day, the fact that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Each day, somebody somewhere is having a really torrid time and being strong enough to utter these three words “I need help/prayers” is actually a testament to the intrinsic strength that defies human comprehension. Having a private conversation with someone who’s almost at their tether’s end; encouraging them on, reminding them of the fact that to every beginning, there is an inevitable end is so gratifying because it takes my mind off of my own struggles and lend an ear or a shoulder to someone else.

Entirely disregarding the picture that we may present, like two totally inebriated chaps exiting the pub in the wee hours of a new day, we prop each other up and stagger on, choosing to ignore the ignorant yet scathing looks and comments, we acknowledge that we are a chain and if one of us goes down, then we all go down. It does not matter if the ache in my neck is killing me, or I can barely get out of bed, when someone cries out for help, I choose to be there because as long as my vocal chords or fingers don’t tap out on me, there is something I can do because I am a link in that chain. As we constantly encounter life’s events, I choose to see this dystonia as the forge and regardless of how long I spend in it, I am confident that the finished product would be worth the pain and agony. The longer I spend in the forge, the better and stronger I will emerge and as the hammer and the anvil painfully stretch me out, I choose to remember that there is a design to my life. A design that was not drawn by me but one that in due time, show off every strength, facet, allure and usefulness that had hitherto been buried within.

God’s design is not flawed, that I tell myself each day and when the heat of the furnace threatens to becloud my senses or the pounding of the hammer seems like it is going to irreparably break me, I find comfort in these whispered words; “I am being strengthened and purified and designed. I cannot rely on my own strength because I truly do not know my own strength. I am but a link in this chain and I refuse to be the weakest link!’

Remember that if God gave His very best for us when we least deserved it, He has by design placed us as a link in a chain of lives and therefore nothing is good enough to hold us back from giving. We are all distinct and unique signature pieces of God’s superb craftsmanship. There is no solace in the darkness, no display of strength in pretention, no truth in a cunningly crafted veneer of falsehood because at the very end, you have nothing but a life that has been lived either by the choice of never to be the weakest link or a life that like the will o’ wisp will be forgotten once it has barely even begun. There is no misery in sincerity, no victory in glorying affliction, no weakness in vulnerability however at our life’s end, all but nought will be laid bare and even as the anchor buries itself in the sand, our chain of lives will either stand in testament to a purposeful life or shear apart in dismay.

עד שנפגשנו שוב, אולי התענוגות שלו להיות העונג שלך לעשות

Adios!

Bucking the bull…..

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Stay on top!

“Bullfight critics row on row, crowd the vast arena full. But only one man’s there who knows. And he’s the man who fights the bull.” – Anon E. Moss

It is one of those days; those days where the storm clouds are all menacing and dark, when the sun has all but extinguished its rays and the air feels charged with static electricity. Those days when the waiting feels ominous and a sense of foreboding surrounds you. Those days when even an umbrella would probably want to take the day off, with defeat waiting to be embraced. It is the calm before the storm but this calm in itself has taken on another definition. This is one of those times when the very thought of just stepping outside the comfort of your home tilts between being adventurous and being insane; and for many, their lives are just an unending series of unexplainable catastrophic events, of harsh storms; winds howling and shrieking, trashing anything she can lay her fingers on. Yes, it is one of the those days.

I have bull-riding on my to-do list along with deep scuba diving, hand-gliding, car racing…..yes they are still on my list because before dystonia, there was the list. Now, I know that for professional bull riders in America, the rider must stay on top of the bucking and obviously enraged bull (hell bent on unseating you and possibly goring you to death), cling to the bull rope with one hand for eight seconds and not touch the bull with your free hand. Now that in itself is no mean feat because those 8 seconds can sometimes seem like an eternity when you are on the bull’s back, but in addition there are conditions to be met and these conditions are what the judges use to evaluate each performance. The bull rope is not something specially made, it is simply a flat braided fiber rope that is wrapped around the chest of the bull directly behind the front legs of the bull. To this fiber rope, the rider must hold on and stay seated for 8 seconds, if for obvious reasons the rider cannot remain seated on that bucking bull for the 8 seconds duration then the judges declare it ‘no score’. Not 7.5 seconds, 8 seconds! Despite it being called ‘ the most dangerous eight seconds in sports’ I still have it on my list because the list on its own is a statement of defiance and declaration that buck all you can, I am going to ride this storm till the end

However, like the wild enraged bull, life can present events that can and will buck you, attempt to unseat you and generally just be the worst thing that could ever happen to you. The question then is how do you manage the bucking bull that more often than not, you are compelled to ride at some point in your life. The difference between the success of your performance as a bull rider is to a great extent determined by the mindset with which you go into the pen. While many are still processing the fact that they are no more spectators, the pen is opened and the ride begins, and I can bet you that many never make it beyond the pen. The successful bull rider prepares himself for just that 8 seconds, knowing very well that it might be the beginning of greater things or the end of a season. Just 8 seconds, but with lots of preparation and a mindset that has so finely tuned itself to time that even if the horn signalling the completion of the ride fails to sound, the rider knows enough to make a dismount and give way to the next rider; either as an inspiration or as example of what not to do.

Being an avid watcher of bull riders, I have watched people tossed many feet into the air and come crashing down to the hard packed earth, I have seen some stomped on by the bull and even with all the distractions and the attempts of the rodeo clowns or bull fighters, occasionally the bull satisfies itself by doing a victory lap around the arena with the unfortunate rider impaled on its horns. A gory death indeed but we are not here to talk about death, gory or not, because death in itself is an inevitability for everyone. Alas, like every other thing; death marks the end of a season and the beginning of another. Back when I was younger, I always stated that it was better to leave this earth in a blaze – with so much fanfare that it would leave a searing impression on the minds of those that were opportuned to witness it. Now I know better, because it is not the moment that is seared in memories but how you lived till that moment of transition.

Dystonia in so many ways, is akin to riding a bull. It just doesn’t stop at dystonia or Parkinson’s Disease, it applies to every storm that you encounter in your life’s journey. And whilst you may find yourself prepared or unprepared, there is that window of opportunity to quickly come to terms with the situation you are in and grab a hold of that rope because that flat braided fiber rope is all you can cling to once the pen is opened. I have since come to terms with the fact that life does throw you curve balls at times but being able to respond and grasp the reality is what keeps you from being just another wounded rider. Am I going to allow myself be the jewel adorning the curved horn of an enraged bull as it trots around the arena or will I hold on until the 8 seconds is up, successfully dismount and give the next rider something to shoot for? Like we all know 8 seconds is not really that much of a time frame but while you are seated on top of that bull, it will seem like eternity. Regardless of how loud the applause is from the spectators, you have to embrace the fact that it is down to just two players – you and the bull.

As the critics holler their disdain for your ride or critic unfairly the style you use, remember that they are safely seated behind a huge barricade and rarely will they do more than just critic. However, amidst the spectators and other players, there are a few who are there to ensure you get done with the ride and dismount without severely injuring yourself. The rodeo clowns will do their bit when the time comes but you have to take charge and remember it’s just 8 seconds. For as long as life exists, we need to apply the right knowledge to situations as they come up. Bull riding is not the time to grab the bull by the horns, it is the time to hold onto that lifeline that you have so graciously been given. The fiber rope could be past experiences, it could be lessons learned, it could the kindly offered advise many years ago, it could be the out-stretched hand of a stranger but you have to recognise it for what it is or lose your seat even before the pen is opened.

And so remember this honest prayer as you press on

“Dear Lord, I have this feeling in my heart
when I slide down on my bull to do my part

It taught me a lot about life and
what it means to hold on tight

It showed me pain 
respect and all that is right

Lord, forgive me for taking my life into my own hands 
Cos being a bull rider has been my life’s plan

So please God, don’t let this bull take my life from me;
in happiness and humility, a winner I will ride to be, Amen!”

Remember that smouldering ashes can either mark the end of something that was once great or it can be the birthplace of the phoenix, the choice is yours to make.

עד שנפגשנו שוב, אולי התענוגות שלו להיות העונג שלך לעשות

Adios!

 

Behind the walls….

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Behind the wall

Photography is a hobby of mine, getting more difficult with this journey I am on, but I learned as a child that a picture is worth a thousand words. Words come easy to some, not on account of the possession of a mouth, lips, vocal cords or hands, I opine that they come easy based on who you are on the inside. Words have always been an essential part of humanity or better put, communication has always been an esssential part of humanity. In war or peace, communication always played a pivotal role. I look around and realise that without words and communication, not much would be the way they are today.  It is therefore not very difficult to surmise that we all use words allbeit in different forms. How we use them is an issue on its own, but the way we use them guarantees either a reaction or a response.

A couple of nights ago, I was telling my daughter about the biblical story of Joshua and the battle of Jericho, and when I told her that the walls were so enormous and fortified that chariots could race above those walls. Now we are talking about at least two war horses (noted for their temperament, constitution and loyalty), the chariot (usually constructed from wood with a decoration of some metal filigree) and one adult. Now that there in itself is some weight, by the time you factor in the effects of the force transmitted into the walls by the running hooves, the rotating wheels etc, it is best imagined that those walls were not a foray into construction by some individual who felt bored. They were built to withstand, provide refuge for the inhabitants of the city especially in times of war and also exude a sense of peace as you gained entrance to the city.

This was not what I intended to talk about however, in the light of recent happenings, this has been birthed. Walls signify fortification and with the evolution of dynasties, we still require walls even as individuals for our residences; be they grand or tiny. Breach the walls of someone else, without invitation, and you are bound to suffer the consequences of whatever you encounter behind those wall. I recall my first experience in erecting walls; the walls for the family home built by my parents, I remember the foreman spitting out expletives when the wrong mixture of cement, sand, gravel and water was used. For the ‘security’ walls, the concrete mix differed from what was used for other parts of the building and despite the grumblings of the artisans and workers, they just had to get it right. In order to gain access to the house, you had to first get past the wall and it was so much easier when you were invited in (we have always had guard dogs, as children and when we were still in the nest, set loose at night). Behind those towering walls, there were secrets that could only be guessed by those walking on the outside and therefore in times of conflict, reconnaissance was vital.

As earlier mentioned, photography is a hobby and with time, I realised that I preferred staying behind the camera rather than being the subject of a photo shoot and till this day, my best pictures of people are those taken when they were unaware because it tells you a lot. And so I am of that quaint school of people that believe that man has yet again tinkered with the status quo because there are so many ways of editing pictures that they just come across as unreal and therefore the thousand words are inadvertently influenced to create a story that appeals to the subject. I can remember visiting a studio, just to get some passport photographs and when the passport pictures were given to me, I almost dropped them in shock because he had gone the extra mile of editing away my freckles! This was at least 7 years ago, so the leaps and bounds photo editing has come through is not something I want to even deliberate upon.

As an individual, I believe that words and instrumental music (classical, opera etc) are true expressions of the writer’s hearts and if you attempt to tinker with that then your objective had best be communicated as well. If the objectives are not properly or clearly expressed, not only is that an attempt to mislead but you taint the interpretation. Admittedly, it took quite a prodding before I joined Facebook and the like, however I try to stay true and for years, my Facebook account lacked any pictures of me. The other day, with my daughter going behind the camera, I made a short video of what an episode of dystonia looked like and I posted it on my facebook wall, I am still reeling from the flood of goodwill messages that are still coming through. The most popular comment from people has been been, “I’m so sorry, I never knew this what you were passing through”. I am still stuttering from the number of calls from people who called me after seeing the video. In all honesty, that will go down as one of my first attempts at emerging from behind my wall.

By virtue of the compelling and overwhelming need to conform, many of us have successfully, for years, hidden behind our walls; tucked away securely in our comfort zone reluctant to reveal the truth because the truth is not something that is a crowd pleaser. On the contrary, it actually reveals more that you had wanted to and the interpretation is best left to the recipient. Nobody wants to appear weak and vulnerable because we have become brain washed with notions that vulnerability is a sign of weakness and weakness is something that should be oft despised. What makes us human does not lie in what we have acquired over the years, it is in the everyday gestures and expressions of our hearts carried through on platters of kindness, compassion, hope , trust, faith and love. No matter how much concrete we pour into creating our impenetrable comfort zone, whatever you portray when you want to emerge, is a far cry from who you truly are and that in itself is a deception of gargantuan proportions. In order to deceive others, you first of all have to deceive yourself and rationalising it logically, the person bound to be hurt the most is YOU!

Discernment is a gift that many of us have been blessed with, but few have bothered building it up and developing it with the right nutrients just like we do with our bodies. We have chosen to ignore the needs around us as we journey through, confident in our own self told fact; “it is not my storm” and “if I were in your shoes, this is what I would done”. Can I kindly hush you before you make a bigger mess of yourselves, YOU CAN NEVER KNOW HOW YOU WOULD RESPOND OR REACT IN THAT SITUATION UNTIL YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH SOMETHING SIMILAR. As we saunter down life’s streets, we encounter walls of all kinds – some standing tall, some crumbling and in dire need of attention and some completely broken down. What do we do when we are opportuned to see beyond those walls? What do we do when we come across a broken down wall? Do we join in looting the spoils or we help in rebuilding? Self-control is a trait (scripturally likened to a wall) that we all must have as individuals but when our walls become less of a necessity for us and more of a ‘keeping with the flow’, then it is time to stop and re-evaluate.

Some of us have been so sucker punched by experiences that we lay in the dirt, completely spent, greedily grabbing air into our lungs and watch in dismay as our highly decorated walls fall to bits. We lack the strength to even pull ourselves up but there is a choice to be made here, “get back on your feet, soldier!” or curl up in the dirt and wait for the final curtain drop. I might still be reeling from the annoying attempts of dystonia as it tries in vain to re-define me, but I will rise and with tottering steps, get out from behind my self-built wall because just down the road, there is a city whose walls are fallen in battle and its citizens paralysed by the sheer enormousity of being prisoners of war. There is no joy in being a prisoner and while we are constrained by events that we didn’t choose, we can redefine our priorities and make our lives count for something. This might be that chance to reach in and pull out that gift that you have so selfishly used on yourself and for yourself alone, and instead choose to use it in assisting someone else. I can whole-heartedly assure you that your fears of it running out will not materialise.

True, money answers all things but does it provide all things? And if the answer is a quiet yes muttered beneath our breath then it would make so much sense to apply it to providing channels for those things that cannot be bought. There will never be a perfect life, no dwelling on the mountain top forever and whilst you are basking in the sun, and getting a tan or luxuriating in the freshness of the cool air from the ocean side, remember that the sun will set soon and when the darkness sets in, pray that you do not stumble. Storms will always come, we can do nothing about the size or strength of the storm but the factors that you can influence, please do not hold back. For today, you are able to shelter a wandering stranger as his night engulfs him, tomorrow is a mystery that we can prepare for today by just being human.

Remember “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. My thanks go out to those who in the last few days (and those to come) have with no hesitation accepted me as their friend and brother, especially those who like me have hidden behind the walls of dystonia and Parkinson’s syndrome, know this; Champions can be born great or they can learn greatness. Each of you are champions because as long as you arise each day not knowing whether it is going to be a good day or not, you are making the choice to make your life count for something. No matter how heavy or long a rainstorm lasts, it can never wash off the smile on your face.

עד שנפגשנו שוב, אולי התענוגות שלו להיות העונג שלך לעשות

Adios!

If Wisdom dwells….

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Pearls and Wisdom

What is that factor that drives you, confining every other feeling to the shadows? What is it that motivates you to persevere especially when it seems life has yet again chucked a basket of lemons at you? What is it that seems to soothe the painful process of journeying through life especially if you are handicapped in some way? What is it that silences the ticking of the clock as time inevitably passes by? What is it that makes you want to rise up each day, uncertain of what the day holds for you, and yet without a pause, you plunge headlong into another new day? For every person, there is that unique purpose that relentlessly drives you on despite what emotional turbulence awaits you. And there are those who are still unwittingly searching for that thing that like the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle, when slotted in, the beauty of the entire picture is suddenly clear.

A couple of hours ago, my daughter asked when would I really take a break from working because with her pure soul, she is still concerned about how I feel on a regular basis. And it is in moments like that I am eternally grateful that I do not have the final say with regards to the affairs of my life. When the regrets of past mistakes tend to shroud you like a wet cloak, if we can but shrug off the cloak and swat away the lingering cobwebs, it is only then that we can truly see the triumphs and victories that the regrets of the past so desperately want to block out. It is in times like these that I appreciate the sincerity of true friendship because “Good friends are like angels. You don’t have to see them to know they are there for you” – Moywaywa. I am truly grateful for those that I can call friends because though they be few in number, their concerted efforts have collectively propped me up when I thought my  gas tank was completely dry.

It is truly absurd that today’s world with its frenetic pace has so intruded into our personal lives that it seems that we are compelled to do things based not on individual choices. Where fame is measured by the number of views on social media, and parents are more interested in what is currently trending than in the imparting of core values to their kids. It is in times like this that I know that being different is not always necessarily a good thing but the courage to be different speaks volumes about your identity. If we could but capture life in a still shot and intensely study that one shot, then the thousand words would mean so much more than the seeemingly inevitable hustle and bustle of existing, which in retrospect is just like equating progress in a a journey while sitting in a rocking chair.

As I journey through life, one day at a time, there are always ‘those’ encounters that I know will never be forgotten simply by the impact it made in my life. I recently swapped experiences with a high school buddy whose journey into medicine has evolved into an awareness that life is not measured by material indices, knowledge or trend setting. Amazingly, his passion is conflicting with the traditional practice of being a general practitioner of medicine because he knows that what hurts the most is usually not going to be fixed by a band aid and a signed prescription sheet. What hurts the most is that there is much noise all around and so little being heard, and he has set out forging his own path at tackling the needs of those around him including lil ole’ me. Wisdom can be sought and gotten, the capacity of applying it appropriately however is a completely different issue but first there has to be the desire to seek wisdom. And from him, I am further motivated that with the end of life not in sight, hope silently awaits.

Are you a wanna-be trend setter or you have gotten fed up with the way things currently look? If the answer to the latter is in the affirmative then you can do something about it but it has to be your way. Little acts of kindness and sacrifice go ways longer than you imagined, and even if the appreciation is not forthcoming, persist in well doing because there will be that one person whose life you have unknowingly given a burst of hope. I have been on both ends of the spectrum and when the walls seem to be caving in on me, I remind myself to breathe because as long as there is breath in this body then I can delight myself in being a source of hope to another person. The future is not as bleak as it looks, and even when all else seems to be resonating at the same frequency of abject helplessness, remember you are a vessel of change. But you have to act if you intend to change the situation. The change you bring about when you act is not measured by magnitude, but by the intent to do right.

Show me a man who seeks wisdom in order to apply it and you have unerringly shown me a hero. Wisdom is not measured by years or some other human index, it is measured by the life you live and the impact you bring to bear on those around you……..if only you listen. Like the toddler playing on the beach with his little wagon, shovel and bucket, give him some time and room and you will be astounded by what he is able to build with sand just by using his imagination. I am not in a race for accolades or fame however I acknowledge that I am in a race to fulfill the purpose of my existence. And if I give in to the doldrums around me and allow myself to be distracted by the confabulation of wagon riders, then I would have lived my life in utter misery.

Remember that indifference is akin to sitting astride a fence under the delusion of being comfortable. If a need can be identified either through ominous silence or a flurry of words, I whole heartedly assure you that you and I can do something about that need. “I, Wisdom, live together with good judgement. I know where to discover knowledge and discernment.” – Proverbs 8:12 (NLT)

פרידה עד שנפגשנו שוב בתזמון שלו, וייתכן שאהבתו של אלוהים להיות אמיתית לך!

Adios!

…treasure in the trash!

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Life, like I constantly say, is a journey and like every other journey, it has got its fair share of twists, curves, bad patches, lonely stretches and quite a few ‘unprepared for’ events that occur. Most of us start out in life believing what we were told, not necessarily because we experienced it and so most times when we have our own unique encounters, it almost seems as though we probably might have been served a slightly garnished portion of truth. And then we go into those dreadful places where we think the isolation will take away the pain, but in all fairness, the process of living encompasses the good, the bad and the ugly. What we decide to run with will always be the choice we make, regardless of whether it was ‘an uninformed’ choice or not.

It is so seared in my memory, that I think it probably might show up on an MRI scan of my brain, the very moment when I was about walking into the consulting room of one of the most brilliant neurosurgeons in the world. I do not know if we each have those moments where everything seems to be perfectly captured in a still shot. Photography has always been and will always be a hobby of mine and where I defer from the modern world of perfect shots is in the fact that the best shots are captured when the subject is least aware of what is taking place. I do remember that was the very first time of ever hearing the words; “this is dystonia….it is a rare and incurable condition”. That I did not gasp was not about proper conduct or the presence of my kid sibling, it was me reverting to my default setting, applying sheer will and the relief of finally getting an answer to the myriad of questions that had been plaguing me

Till date, I remember the side glances, usually of pity as I struggled to teach myself how to still make the best of life. I still remember the words barely concealing their unbelief but very transparent in their lack of support when I really needed it the most. However we go through life, never really understanding why we pass through situations until it finally clicks that it was all in preparation for this moment decades after. Being the 3rd of 6 kids, I learned at an early age that being in the middle really puts you in a bit of dilemma – you are either too young to hang out with the older ones or too old to hang out with the younger ones. And so I learned how to make my life count for something that I would value as against attempting to fit in. This choice has actually made who I am and till date, it is a daily habit – choosing how to see a completely different perspective of any circumstance.

Nobody is born great, if you want to be different, you take the tools at your disposal and work at being different. That, I can assure you is not a walk in the park because in the park, everyone is doing something, some are seating, some are cycling or walking, some are feeding the pigeons but everyone is there for a unique reason and some of those reasons might conflict with yours or compliment yours. Now I am yet to ever go to the park because I want to engage in nothing, that is akin to saying that standing still makes time stand still too. It never will, and so every decision we make either propels us forward or drags us back. I have also learned that nobody can ever walk in your shoes and just like my daughter was telling me that her running shoes were getting tight, I have to choose to listen to her because it is about her feet and the comfort of wearing the right fit, besides she cannot wear mine anyway.

At the onset of this battle with myoclonus, I chose to read and digest every snippet of information I could lay my hands on, not for want of something to do but because I knew that choices would abound and so I needed to be ready to make the choices that would be for me not for my neighbor who could bound up and down the stairs 10 times faster than I would do in just one solitary trip. I learned that there was no shame in asking for help even though I struggled with pride and ego (two things that if not properly categorized would do you in). I learned that even though there were times I could barely afford it, I needed to make my regular appointments with the team of medical experts that dystonia calls for. I learned to listen to my chiropractor talk about new approaches. I also learned that if it walked for Nichol, when he gleefully talked about it in our National Dystonia Society meetings, it was not necessarily a green light for me. I learned that I needed to embrace reality in order to discover newer ways of doing old things.

As I write this, I remember painfully chronicling every head trauma that I had ever experienced. I was not resentful that of 6 kids, I was the only one who had been dealt this card but I would on occasions ask myself if my parents had missed something or I had downplayed the concussion I received in several unrelated events. Faced with such a barrage of questions, it sometimes felt that even though I pride myself a good swimmer, I was in waters that were too choppy to swim in. The ultimate question was what was I to do with this deck of cards life had handed me, continue to look for something to blame or look for newer ways of continuing on my journey. I realize now that the symptoms were always there but just maybe, I did not really understand my parents’ when they said ‘keeping an ailment a secret could cost you your life’ and that ‘hiding ailments is an exercise in futility because the ailment will not return the favour’.

Nothing emerges from the furnace unchanged, and so with every painful burn and relentless bouts of pain, I knew that there was only one person God had given the responsibility to call for a change in game plan – Me! And so the process of embracing dystonia began, not as I embrace friends but so that with each new day, I would continue to forge new ways to go on. I am thankful for the family that God has brought around me, thankful for the international calls, care packages and the best friend who might not be aware of how much of an influence the relationship has aided me. Honestly, being bull headed and direct is definitely not the panacea to every situation but for this battle, I will choke down the pain, stave off the waves of despondency that being in need always brings and just choose the perspective that gives me the opportunity to see the glimmer of light regardless of how tiny it might be.

I remember how it feels giving a baby his first bath at your hands, you just cannot give room to all the fears and doubts that anxiously await. Do what you have to do confidently because if you do fail then you have just learned another way of not doing it. My response to ‘how are you doing?’ will always be “it is a brand new day and for that I am thankful!’ and when events muddy up the water, I will find the strength to toss it out lest it festers and becomes more debilitating and hazardous to my well-being. When I stare at my medication holder, and wonder when it became a part of my dressing, I remind myself that time holds all seasons and this too is a season. When the bills pile up and the notices flood in, I remind myself that worrying is so much action but with so little relevant movement. Today is a new day, out with the old and in with the new!

Remember that the best gems are found deep in the dirt and so deep within you lies a treasure of inestimable worth, but you do have to do away with the sneering glances, the spiteful looks, the scathing comments and get it out because that is what is going to make your life journey more purposeful and meaningful to not just you but to every life that you are privileged to encounter.

פרידה עד שנפגשנו שוב בתזמון שלו, וייתכן שאהבתו של אלוהים להיות אמיתית לך!

Adios!

….bathing in the rain!

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It is exactly 12 years to this day that I unilaterally took a leave of absence from my cozy job with one of the globally recognised brands in the banking/financial industry to sign up at the orientation/boot camp for the Direct Short Service Corp into the Navy. To many, it would have come across as an act bordering on the vestiges of insanity but for me, I had become completely fed up with the monotony of the regular 9 – 5 and just needed something more adventurous. Being put through the paces was no exercise for the faint-hearted especially after the daily wailing of the bugle interrupted whatever respite I was trying to have. Nonetheless, this was what I wanted.

Today, I have no regrets because from that decision, my life took on so many twists and turns that being in a maze would not be too much of a stretch for the mind. Five years after that decision, my neurological system opted to become autonomous and I plunged headfirst into an unfamiliar world of neuroscience, neurologists, dystonia, myoclonus, sciatica, insomnia. Pain, both external and internal, became constant companions and suddenly my to-do list which included setting up funds for my daughter up to university levels suddenly became just a scrap note. Struggling to understand what and how I had started occupying a niche in the opposite extreme from the fiercely independent, highly analytical and logical fellow to becoming someone who pride meant little or nothing to as I struggled with the simplest of tasks like getting out of bed. It seemed as though there were myoclonus triggers hidden behind every simple chore

I can still recall how unreal it sounded (returning from my weekly visit to the chiropractor) as I boarded a crowded Bus 379 from Ilford to Dagenham, when the driver (bless her soul) turned around in her seat and announced “could somebody please get up and give this disabled man a seat.”….Oh yes, she was referring to me and even though I still did not see myself as being disabled, that was me and the picture people saw. It is kind of crazy when you have these flashbacks and suddenly huge waves of nostalgia tend to drown you. How did I get here? What happened to the detailed plan I had? But there I was, all alone, each day a constant battle raging within my soul as I strove to overcome the limitations of my physical strength. Mind over matter! Mind over matter! The mantra did not seem as easy as it was when I wrote it down or told someone else.

Fast forward to this day, I can attest how topsy-turvy this journey has been and I mark today as a notable one because it has always been about the choices God helped me make each day. Refusing to give into the waiting arms of hopelessness and depression, realising that my life meant more to some other person besides me, that even when the clouds were so dark that it could pass for midnight and the gales of the biting cold winter buffeted me so much, I just had to persevere some more even if it meant calling out to or accepting the help of a stranger. Today, I realise that as many strangers came up to me to thank me for inspiring them, they were infact the very ones who were a source of inspiration to me. Strategically placed by God for times when I wanted to just give up, today they are my family.

From those dark days, the light now shines and yes there are still dark days (obviously) but I look around and realise that the options I had back then are still the same two – quit and sink or struggle as hard as I could and stay afloat. We all go through life and what we eventually become is a reflection of the everyday choices you and I make. That the very bleak times we sometimes face can either be a garment that we get lost in or we can use them as the opportunity to train our eyes to see that tiny glimmer of light ahead. We could use those times to lose the individuality of our person or we could use them to further understand that to every limit and constraint, we still get to call the shot because we all were created for a purpose. We could use those times to understand that we were not created to walk alone as against using it as a benchmark for all the bitterness and pent-up resentment just looking for an outlet.

I woke up today, realising that when it is pouring outside – it presents an ample opportunity for me to just get out there and wash off the grime that has built up from listening to the wrong people. To wash off the grime that comes from basing my actions on thinking that my efforts will always be appreciated. To wash off the grime that comes from succumbing to the heat of the moment and letting scathing words do damage, if I choose to. To wash off the grime that comes from engaging in thankless tasks and expecting other people to be grateful for what I do. Today, as always, I choose not to stop because these very ones are there unwittingly to further propel me to heights yet unknown. The rain will always pour, what we see it as and what we do with it is best left to each person. Notwithstanding what we do with it, it will surely rain and as each peal of thunder reverberates through the heavens and the lightening slashes through the skies, it is up to us to choose on what side of the line we want to stand and live.

Remember that it is in the house of sorrow that much wisdom is learnt and it is in the times of adversity that you best count your friends. For on this journey called life, there will always be a meeting and a farewell and so make every opportunity an event that will never be forgotten.

פרידה עד שנפגשנו שוב בתזמון שלו, וייתכן שאהבתו של אלוהים להיות אמיתית לך!

Adios!

….into the foray!

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It really has been a crazy period. So much time has seemingly passed with so little achieved and so, desperate measures call for desperate times. It is time to jump feet first into the foray. All around me are signs and banners saying ‘you are just another hamster in a hamster wheel’ and honestly it sure feels like that most days and so shaking off the lethargy requires more than bringing the wheel to a stop, it means I have to get outside the box and do things differently.

What are the connotations to being different? I dare say that the connotations by themselves are the prerequisite to achieving one of the greatest compliments in life – ‘you are different!’ and if that is the only thing etched on my headstone, then I did accomplish something. The true measure of a man’s worth is not by the weight of his money belt or by the size of his fan base or going by recent trends; the number of views on social media, it is by the effect you had on the lives that you were opportuned to interact with. And so this is my way of saying, “tradition has its place in the system of things but creating your own system is the way to go”. Why do I say this, some might ask? Well I say it because I believe it and regardless of how large the naysayers may be, I will stand by my faith.

Loyalty is not as intense a trait or attitude as it used to be, maybe because there has been an enormous shift in who handles responsibilities these modern days. However for the few who understand the true value of life and its demands, it means an enormous deal. So many plagiarists out there, so many wannabes, so many warped reflections and still life with its passage of time continues to keep records of the little events that have such a monumental effect in the lives around us. We are not bound by time in our bid to tick those boxes, instead we are bound by the fear that comes from standing too long at the edge of the cliff.

There is so much out there, so much that can be done….it can only be done by getting out of your comfort zone and stretching just a mite more. It might sound easy but the task lies in the doing. So here I am, not holding back but giving it all that I can summon because I remember this; “in the effort lies victory”.

Adios!

….A Night’s Chronicle

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“Round and round the garden like a teddy bear…” is one of those childhood rhymes that seemingly defy time. Passed on from generation to generation, it epitomises the innocence of childhood and the desire to enjoy life as we live it. However, as most have found out, life is less of a merry go round or a Ferris wheel but more of a journey with the beginnings not made by personal choice. Life is a journey that begins with child birth and culminates in the transition of life through death. This is made clearer each day by the experiences we encounter, the choices we make and of course the unpredictability of life – each stretch of life followed by a bend and more often than not, what comes at us on the bend is what usually defines who we are and who we get to be.

I have in recent times, being given the opportunity to talk about my struggles with dystonia and myoclonus, the unique but humbling privilege of creating awareness of the neurological disorder termed dystonia. As is often the case, there are always the visible signs on faces as they struggle to come to terms with the words that I speak and so I want to write just a little bit of the battles I face on a daily basis. This is no nursery rhyme, I really wish it was, because most rhymes usually have happy endings based on the fleeting happy nature of most childhood stories.

The uniqueness of the human brain will never be completely understood but somehow I acknowledge that like a finely tuned automobile engine, when something is awry upstairs then seeking fun at a circus is definitely not the fun activity for me. Longing for the usually deserved rest for the human body, my brain is still actively firing away on all fronts; the highway of my nervous system is in a very sensitive state and so I try several supine positions to discover the least uncomfortable. Oh and yes, I definitely have to trick my brain into focusing on something so as to allow it relinquish its hold on my aching body. With my eyes shut, I still feel thoughts bouncing around my head like the hamster on its wheel. The pills kick in but the bad days are dreadful because my brain is just like the race car that has pulled into the pit stop, engine revving on all cylinders.

‘Send in the fire engines, this engine is about to blow a gasket or two…’ is literally apt because even while I try to rest, my brain is literally having a fun day. But alas my brain cannot have a fun day all by itself and so with little activity and response from a body trying to unwind, it becomes that race car with the brakes engaged and the gas pedal to the metal. Hallucinations are not that scary in this context, but somehow just by sheer persistence, I am awakened by the ‘fun’ my brain is intent on having. I definitely need more pit stops but in all honesty, it is a game that I am getting tired of. As the new day is birthed, it just seems like I have been chosen to always chaperone her and when friends comment on my ‘stamina’ and ‘limitless energy’, I choose to take it as a complement because this ship is not going down……not on the watch of Him who I solely depend on

Snatches of sleep when I can are actually victories and though they come in notches of two or three hours, I welcome them. There is a purpose to this life and whilst the vehicle I am in is slowly being worn out, I choose to remind myself that “it is better to wear out than to rust out.” Pills are not the panacea, yes they help but these are situations where the extraordinary becomes the norm. Where the unseen and the unheard become my chosen way of living, where faith is less of a word and more of an act. I make these choices everyday, resolute in my understanding that this is a season and every season has an end. I lift my eyes upwards, beyond the hills because therein comes the strength I need to make each day count.

I have since learned the hard way that sleep and rest might seem synonymous but I can assure you that they are not. With a satchel of pills readily handy, I now waltz through life on my own terms; battered but not defeated, isolated but not alone – itemising with every experience, the triggers that lurk not in the shadows but in the every day activities of human life. I have hitherto stated that without the turmoils of the storm, life really is devoid of substance but for me, every night is a unique experience as I combat the sinewy arms of insomnia. Pain still lingers even though I choose not to accept him as a legal resident within this body.

It is a new day again, replete with all the special needs provisions I require to face each day, with aching joints I embark on today’s journey. Thankful for today, I strap on my accoutrements for this body, arm myself with my cane and indulge myself in a hearty meal for my Spirit because it will always be about the strength on the inside. That is what keeps me going each day as I carefully make my way through paths that have been lavishly decorated with extra sensitive mines, each one poised to knock me down. ‘Fire away’ I chuckle, there is more to me than a chemical imbalance, there’s more to me than trembling limbs, there’s more to me than dystonia……there is so much more.

פרידה עד שנפגשנו שוב בתזמון שלו, וייתכן שאהבתו של אלוהים להיות אמיתית לך!

Adios!

….Ubuntu!!!

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There will never be the ideal time, that’s a myth in itself….we make out time for what counts to us (either by true perception or by sentiment, preferably the former) and the last few weeks have been a sad reminder of that. Just like Professor Dumbledore of Hogwarts in the fictional Harry Potter world, so many thoughts (like his memories so brilliantly captured in the movies) have been swirling round and round like a colourful kaleidoscope in this fascinating display I reserve in my mind. Special thanks to two outstanding individuals for being my muse this time around because I only needed to start with a word and they each in their own way nudged my hands. The Zeal behind Graeme Blaque and The Earl of Dunbroch (someday I’ll be honoured to be your guest).

Remarkably, I’ve been really occupied with stuff ranging from the inevitable daily unrelenting battles with myoclonus to the fervour of parenting combined with participating in putting together a reunion of my peers from College after 3 decades of that first encounter in the age long halls of our alma mater. And nothing so truly brings to life this truth that “Men and women are like wine, age bettering the good and souring the bad”. Needless to say that in every association, there will always be the good, the bad and the ugly (mind you, the latter actually comprises the first two and looks never really count). The task is aspiring to keep the balance tilted in the favourable position of the good or how else will change be wrought if we allow the seemingly natural dictate of today’s world, that so readily celebrates the bad and stultifies the emergence of good, to become the norm.

My buddy, The Earl so graciously shared this and with his tacit approval, I do same.

‘An anthropologist proposed a game to the kids in an African tribe. He put a basket full of fruits near a tree and told them that whoever got there first won the sweet fruits. When he gave them the signal to run, they all took each other’s hands and ran ran together, then sat in a circle enjoying their treats. When he asked them why they chose to run as a group when they could have had more fruit individually, one child spoke up and said “UBUNTU, how can one of us be be happy if all the others are sad?”…’

‘UBUNTU’ in the Xhosa (Zulu) culture means: “I am because we are”

Now to many, this is just another of those many tales that gets hardly read before its so quickly shared on the scary and grossly misused world of social media but permit me to do what life has taught me, moreso since being diagnosed….it’s always in the details!

We have witnessed the birth of more than two generations now; the Generation X and the millennial so and so suffice to say that we have inadvertently been thrust into the world of imparting and mentoring but the question that begs answering is what can you give if you’ve got nothing. With the euphoria of reconnecting with so many distinguished individuals who inevitably played a role in making us who we’ve become, it’s very easy to get caught up in the rip tide of a river that’s been dammed for over 25 years and is now opened up. Nostalgic memories, childhood pranks, mischief and some choices that still haunt us today, like many of today’s kids, we had our own fill but now inexorably, roles are reversed and we have to give back…willingly or unwillingly, the choice is yours.

It is with a profound sense of pride that I can see representatives and peers strategically placed all over the world. From the glossy pages of the Forbes magazine to the pages of a cuisine book. From the oil wells in North America to the swampy but rich oil oilfields of the Niger Delta. From the sterile wards and surgical theatres of the best hospitals in developed countries to the derelict and abandoned communities in 3rd world countries where the almost forgotten are being taught community medicine. From the rapidly skimming boats and choppers conveying Safety Professionals and operatives from platform to platform to the Entrepreneurs slogging it out daily through chaotic traffic striving to grow their businesses. From the corporately dressed executives walking the halls of financial institutions in West Africa and Europe to the Stock Trader on the London trading grounds. From the literary uprisers to the parent who despite the looming recession, caters to the needs of their kids and home by whatsoever means possible. From the Metropolitan London Officer to the Investigator in West Africa. From the school administrators & teachers to the Optometrist working with kids in Europe, I can go on and on however just like a burst of pollen, we have all been dispersed by fate on the winds of life to wherever we find ourselves today.

Needless to say that we are who we are because we were inadvertently influenced by the lives that so sublimely surrounded us then and still surrounds us today. Now despite the frenetic and fragmented picture that today’s society shows us, we dare not stop fighting for positive change and development. It is so easy to believe that we are, simply because we did! Now that in itself sounds weird because no man is an island. We weather storms each day, and each day just like I do, I pick myself up regardless of how bruised I may be and I choose. I choose to reach out and grab just one more hand, grab that hand to pull someone else along towards the finish line because there is so much desolation out there and people just need to see that someone else cares. I have seen and experienced compassion from the strangest of places and the least expected however each tiny gesture aided me in making the choices by which I live today.

Now, life comprises season and every action proves a response or a reaction; equal or not. Now is the time for us to give back. Now is the time to reach across time and space, get someone else’s hands and pull each other towards fulfilment. Or how comfortable would you be with a stomach distended and engorged with the niceties of life while right across you, a homeless starving person is in your line of sight. Again, it’s a choice that has to be made but this thought I bring to you that notwithstanding where you are, what you are, the hue of your skin, the texture,tone or accent of your spoken words;  there’s but one common denominator to us all humans and that is, we all bleed red! No greater unifying factor than the blood that courses through our body signifying the presence of life exists, I dare opine.

As I mark this phase of life along with my compadres from every work and facet of life, battling each new day with its own unique challenges, I admonish everyone who has taken the time to accompany me on this journey that “I am because we are” and so let’s reach across every divide created by man, throw off the unnecessary weights of class, wealth, fame etc and link hands with each other and make our way together in the spirit of humanity and brotherhood to the celebration of life…..”BACK TO WAFFI 2017! Remember that the difference between ‘I’ and ‘WE’ is just one letter, let that one letter be at the very least someone else and no greater joy exists than one shared with others.

עד שנפגשנו שוב, אולי התענוגות שלו להיות העונג שלך לעשות

Adios!