Friday, 30 December 2011
Imagine if we had the real calculation of time is, looking past the definition that already exists beyond our knowledge that was passed down and is beyond the knowledge of just what night and day is.
Imagine if we saw night and day as the same thing, with the illusion being in the perception of that which was foregathered for us by passed generations, the difference being what we do in between the two. Who could imagine a gift, a favor far beyond what we already know because of what we were taught, which is by experience, the hard times, the lessons by and from others and what we learn innately because of curiosity. In my view, none can do this as it is the mystery that is bestowed upon us by the mystery and fate we all consider, that governs enlightenment in us in the view of miracles, the beauty of us evolving and knowing more, the beauty of discovery.
We try look at ourselves in a daily, in a perception that is not found in and about our conscience, but daily we make the effort to do so diligently like the result is monetary or tangible. We find difference, more than we are privileged to and that is the point where that we are only human comes into play. We are eluded into thinking that we can do much more than we are already are which is above than that which we are told we are and somewhere we heard that we are everything. A true contradiction. It is because of this illusion that we “try” that becomes the effect, thus the existence of effort in itself. Then we hear of such sayings that “if at first you don’t succeed you dust yourself off and try again” why can’t it be said that if at first you don’t succeed, dust off nothing but change the entire outfit.
My question is; when does the trying really end? When does it become an act that is just like breathing, an act that was determined before we elaborated on what time is and what time can do for us! When does trying be what we are, a force that can give us more than what science can explain. Think about the wind that whispers with its flit on the surface of the earth, no matter what other external factors exist, in the effect of biological change externally and within; you will no doubt feel it. We are like the wind and God in us is like the wind that calling to our faintest desires in earth’s quiet murmur.
The fact that we do not know some things gives our minds the privilege to acquire more knowledge. The inquisition that is paid as a question and the satisfaction that is in those thoughts well assimilated is the result of triumph. Triumph in mind, triumph in heart, triumph in spirit and a triumph in reality. This is my beginning of the knowledge of time.
Friday, 9 December 2011
We often relish the opportunity to experience something new; we go head on into that chance unknown with an eager spirit and meek fear. There, we find all our questions desires fulfilled, we get to experience everything.
There lies a journey within that all of mankind has to take at some point in life. At that time, the pivotal mark known to us as the crossroads, are realized and that ultimate decision lies in acceptance. The movement is growth and none of us are willing to go back from which road we come, with insatiable spirits it is innate of all of us to choose any of the three other roads at this crossing. We are only silenced by the defining voice that is within us that digests all altering decisions to that ONE that is just, the one that will say that you are one within self.
We describe virtue as the true value of patience, the epitome of hearts that have been quieted, hearts that have gone beyond the knowledge of needs, of wants, of imagination far above the metaphysical world. We accept things based on the knowledge we have of them. We asses our situations we best know how, the evaluation of which plays the verdict to the stimulus that determines that we either accept what is or we do not. The process is grueling in that within it being itself, a process, detailed information is required for the outcome to be as just to us in reality.
There is a powerful source within all of us and we all know it as our character. This character known infinitely well to all of us, is groomed over the years in our lives. The traits that it is comprised of are essential in its definition of the people we are and somewhere in there, in sobriety, amidst the “products” of character is the key, acceptance. This does not mean that it is the most important but it stands out above the traits humans’ possess. It gives room for movement; it is the breath of fresh air when your system has been clogged up with confusion and frustration. Acceptance stands out on the shore of liberation, we can only board our emotional and progress boat and set sail once we have checked in with it. We have an innate boarding pass that can only be authorized by acceptance on every journey we take. It is amazing how we can view the sea as far as our eye is privileged to see and to imagine its depth just as we are able to dream and aspire to make these dreams possible is the mystery, what we should indeed realize is that acceptance is just the beginning.
The things that we are able to change are within our ability to do so, those that we are unable to change have been set apart by the universe, by the source, to promote growth within self in the light of lessons learned. Acceptance is there to let us know that we are human and we all share the relation of difference. Evaluate paths, conquer decisions and maximize acceptance.
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
The sound of my mother’s voice changed my mind. After a long day of taking condolences sincere, my heart can only be dumbfounded by the genuine factor that eludes some of the characters that come my family’s way in this trailing time. It is only God that knows about their motives.
I have changed my perception about people the day through and this is honestly because I am lost in my own world. In this world, I just see people that will come to me to just tell me about their situations, this allows me to relate therefore, perhaps the subconscious grace of the situation offers a hand to my mind and allows me to believe what gestures people are coming to me with. The situation in itself has exceeded what I have wanted to see from my own family members. An innate obligation that has been brought forth by death has not been met adequately with differences in beliefs shone upon the ritual beliefs of all, that stand just in life, in the affirmation that has been given by the family name. They, family members, look towards their own needs and wants as though they find life accomplished with dictating a proceeding that only life can present in a time that only the Almighty can offer. Death. This is what it is and it will remain that for a time that will be longer than all our thoughts put together with and exponential factor to it. Hypocrites I would say, but my upbringing does not allow me to even raise that epiphany to all those that do not see it but stand in light of it because of the apparent opinion that all these members are privileged to. I will say it again “that they are privileged to.”
I honestly have expected nothing from anyone that is outside of what my parents bore from the womb of my valor inspiring mother. She has taught me with lessons unknown even to her, about the treasures and potholes that life presents. It presents them in the example of the people that we spend time with, the differences we come across and them that we make part of who we are because we are constantly following in the hope of growing. Following the trend, following the journey unknown, I’m talking about the journey less travelled by boys and girls that couldn’t find an apparent match. It presents them in the situations we call trails and tribulations, the character developing moments in the life that we have inevitably borrowed. It presents itself in the awe inspiring moment of the appreciation that we have once we have come into a life threatening circumstance and when we saw that our life has come to an end… It just presents itself in every moment we find our lives given to the day to do what it will with it. I realized I have no control; I only have a thought in a mind that was made so powerful that at birth it was given a conscious and a subconscious. The same mind that was given a reality and a dream, a day and night, a Me and a You.
I cried in the thought that tears could liberate pain, but there I was again with a boyish ambition that life just took in and spat out with no second thought, I perceived. I find that sleep cannot cure an insatiable need of knowledge and the knowledge which I seek to acquire boils down to the question that all man in history gives up on asking, WHY. The debt of sorrow in my heart is settled by the numb feeling all my emotion has succumbed to. Shouldn’t I, by now, feel and see the brighter light that everyone before my life altering circumstance speaks of or do they just speak of it and not know what it is because it is God that holds the lantern which He said only a few will find?
I am just tired of everyone telling me that it will be ok! I’ll find my own way.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Each and every day we search the mass that is our thoughts, filled with anxiety, pain, happiness and confusion; so that we may try define what it is that drives us. This pursuit that we as a journey to discovery can only, to me, is one. We are trying to find meaning to all that exists within us, in our surroundings and that which would live on without us.
Today, a shimmer of the suns extensions caught my face in a peaceful state and interrupted the joy that was only a few hours old, I woke and could not return to the humbled nature that was of that moment I slept and my day had begun. In its abrupt beginning, my thoughts stood still when they reached the question why. In my knowledge of never getting the answer to this question I pleaded by my sanity for my thoughts to progress to another. In managing to move on, what now consumed me was the reason of it all happening. The reason to us humans sleeping as the most content specie and waking up in the thought of being the least of the least. The reason to the separation that stands between cultures and creeds yet the origin sees us all alike, human. The reason to put in the effort so that one acknowledged not for what they are but for what they are worth, which unknown if only defined by that scale which all man is not privileged to. The one reason to keep on living just as you and I know days to be, recurring.
A thousand faces cross yours daily, each with at least a million thoughts in mind and each of them is in search of the very reason that you are in search of. It may not be presented as it is in your own mind or be of the same magnitude let along the same nature, but what we find at the forefront of it all is that we are all seeking that one reason that makes us all… I stood amidst the consultation of emotion my mind had with my heart, I heard secretes far beyond my knowledge that now stand within my reach, the understanding of which came far with words being few in between. This conversation spawn’s soliloquy as I listen to the fine-tuned frequency my inner being is emitting to my soul. I may be closer than what I think to finding the reason that I seek, so all I can do is stand steadfast in what I believe and pray that the Lord grants me the spirit of Hope.
There stands one absolute force that concludes all the questions that may be in any form they arise. It stood far beyond our birth and far beyond the thought of our existence conceived. This force known as God in my heart is my only reason.
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
I see the morning as though it were the sun setting its gaze to the night. Upon light there is a journey to be travelled and misty trails to be unraveled. Though it will set after its hours of purpose, the light or rather the texture of the lessons it gives are never forgotten and often eagerly anticipated for the next day.
I ask you, son, to remember all the lessons that I have taught you and better yet the lessons I never had the chance to teach you. This lies in the sole reason that you embraced my mentor himself, Mankind. The day that I looked into your eyes to tell you that your mother had left us, not because she did not love us but it was because she was summoned by the heavens to look after us, I was not looking to you to be a man but I looked on in hope that you would mature because my efforts to nurture are limited by all of man’s prehistoric virtue of strength, which makes me just a pillar to lean on. My arms can only offer comfort to you and you siblings when things get a little rough for you. I will, too, use these arms to defend you although like your fragile heart, it felt as though these limbs were torn from me when I knew to this morning I would be robbed of my first breath of day and that morning’s light would not be as bright as I have known it to be all these years. That one light that stood as a lantern on my darkest days is gone.
It seems as though my every breath is unbalanced, with the taking in of air being so deep and the releasing of it sounding like sigh, this is because I cannot bypass the place she has in my heart, and every part of me goes past that portion which she owns after God. I need you to understand that I know every possible thing that you could feel at this present moment, the void that fills you in the knowledge that we will never have a moment to embrace her and feel the pound in her chest that had kept us all going. I look at you from time to time and in my heart I know that you are looking at the mental pictures you have of her, you still drift away to the words she shared with you, the sound of them is still so sonorous. I try to keep it in but the remanence of her last kiss still lingers my lips thus the tremble that resides my lips which begins the awful weeping which consumes me every night I look over your bed.
We men were made soldiers at birth, but non of us will say that they are well equipped for such a life altering event. The loss of a loved one is forever compounded in one day so live thousands of lifetimes in our own after they are gone. Live those days more than I can because your mother is all around us.
Friday, 12 August 2011
At the furthest that my eye can see, a mountain prepares itself for its daily pleasure of consuming the sun so the sound of the end of the day may relieve us all of our daily tasks, some of slavery dignified and some of happiness defined. At the shores of night time my afternoon ends and my mind starts the preparation of tomorrow.
Upon the streets I walk, many accompany me to a destination, home, that is similar but the distance varies with each person, everyone here, whose home is kept by them that have been left behind to tend to all that needs nurturing. Some leave children, many leave their woman and men behind and a fair portion of those that descend with us on that memorial path have left nothing, where they are marching to. Where the tar ends, a few elevating and on the other side of the platform a few descending steps, the presentation of our final gestures given. We wave, we utter the words we heard this morning from our loved ones, we chant the formality that was bestowed upon us by generations, we gave our final words as though the tomb has accepted one of us, GOODBYE.
Moving towards the metal based high ways of steaming transportation, we all pace ourselves to the tempo of the pulsating snake figure that has segments, of our different cultures fused in the song of breath taken in and out with sighs of disappointment for some that saw themselves in a different place at this age. On that ledge that has heard thousands and thousands of stories before we came, now, yesterday and the days before, we wait to be ingested. Rooted in certainty I am positive that this is the best place to stand to be wrecked into that diverse carriage that will see to the rest of my journey. As the frequency of its slither changes, so does the rocking of the seated ladies in front of me as they hum songs I knew before I know of the existence of the city. The momentum of the of the slither has now built up so much that the ladies are unable to contain the song within and a roar of tone has finally filtered through to every soul that is in here with us. “Se ngi khumbul’ekhaya aba zali bami, U mama no baba bangi shiye ngi sasem’ncani” (I miss my home and I miss my parents, my mother and father left when I was just a little one). The depth of this song is only emphasized by the countenances of everyone that sings and claps louder and louder, for some it even draws tears from the distant thoughts that have been rekindled in mind.
The sound and the beat of the round feet slowing down means that we have reached a destination and the first is mine. The juxtaposed roofing with scattered lights gives me comfort in the knowledge that I have arrived where I belong. Rehabilitated by the clouding smoke of the indoor flames made for the day’s last dish, in metal plated and coal heated stoves, on those zinc multi-coloured plates, is a fulfilling joy that makes us forget about how the day has tortured us. The calming aura of dreams that surrounds our walls harmonizes with the tune of all the stories told about a better future. At the end of it all, my home will always be wherever I take it.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
My fingers have gone numb from the anticipation of writing this text which my mind has informally prepared for you to hear today. The point of my plastic sword has been made limber and here I sit, all of a sudden the stupor of having gone blank has gripped my wits.
I have had the entire day to conversation but now that it matters most, I still cannot find the words to speak right now. The words I need to say so that the angel that comes to me each and every night to my bedside may have a message to take with on his departure at dawn. These are the same words that taunt me when I walk alone as the unforgiving sound of my own voice inside my own head. This deafening soliloquy should be part and parcel of the conversations I want to have with you at every moment. I took a look at my body this morning and when my eyes reached my lower limbs, at my knees to be exact, I realized that they could pass for a baby’s bottom and that is the kind thought about looking at them. The reality that hit me was that my knees had not been stained by the ashing of kneeling on the floor, not for any kind of labour but the humbleness that all Christians should have. I thought back to a conversation I had with one good man, Paul Mahlangu while I worked underground, in a coal mine, for Anglo American. I cannot remember specifically the details of the conversation or how it had escalated to it, but I remember him saying: “the answer to all the questions you ask yourself each day are as far as kneeling for a minute in your day.”
I prayed and prayed each day with a growing persistence to see results, to prove that this formula that I had been given would work and with that, the end of emotional and spiritual impoverishment would come. Surely the time spent in this newly found ritual, would come a few answers and have my sanity deeply rooted in faith. I have had tones upon tones of positive moments and like ying and yang, I have had negative moments as well. You have saved me from death and permanent injury in all the car accidents I have had and many more that were on my path, but I could not see. This is not because I am a super soldier for the kingdom or a child that does not know his way, but I was saved because, somehow, I’ve always known, there goes an angel, that is the vanguard of my journey, at every expedition I take. Every day and everywhere. Have I lost something in the time that I have not spent in your presence? If I have, is there a way that I can “reboot” my system of blessings that I may too feel the joy that is naturally intended for all those that belong to you?
The older I grow I ask myself; “could I have not known all that I know now when I was a wee bit younger than I am now” and as I grow wiser I realize that all that I know now was intended and written in your palm that I should know now. Grace is given to all man, even those that cannot define it and Mercy… she’s the mother to all our comfort.
Charles Dunn, Amen
Thursday, 28 July 2011
Let us give ourselves a Great round of applause for making it to this day with the knowledge of our roots at the forefront of the description that which we are, for it is whence we came that we are motivated to dream and see where it is we are going.
Today, I gave some of my time to two delivery men that were dropping off a bed for one of the residents in our complex (residential area similar to flats) on the third floor. When all was done, the eldest of the two said; “u ngum’Africa wa nge mpela.” I reckon that one can say this when the monument of Ubuntu’s worth is exercised, a gesture that we as the new age tend to forget when we go about our way each and every day. A ‘thank you’ would have been enough for me, but clearly this one man wanted me to feel how grateful he is of my 20 seconds of workmanship. The bed was up and on my way I went like nothing had happened. It is only when I got into the house that I really thought of what the meaning of his words were. u Ngum’Africa wa nge mpela. My worth is of the flavour that scented the works of many in the age that I do not know of yet hear those of age speak of, the hand that describes the neighbor that is yearned for by many but only them that come from the hollows of the townships and grace seasoned backgrounds know of, the Samaritan that was once heard of in scripture and the son of willingness.
The feeling of being valued, to me, is better than the feeling of having everything. Having a value to myself, to start with, and having a value to my family and close friends breeds the potential I have to care for EVERYONE around me. This value is what makes me human in all rights of being, whether right or wrong it remunerates the essence of being human. Why then do we not look into the faces of all the women and men that have been our herders and give a solid word of thanks each and every moment of their existence to us, and by that too I, with intent, mean thank the God of the heavens for them in their passing to another life, for they still exist with Him too that gave them life first. Are we really blinded by times promiscuous toil with our lives in pleasures that could be barren to our soul’s voice, which be the source of deliverance to our out stretched arms and substance seeking palms? As sweet as pleasures are, I am certain that none will match the breath that you and I borrow at this very moment. No pleasure can match the sight of the rising or the setting sun in summers glow or winters overcasting blur. None will match the sound of the oceans swimming ripples that massage your ears lobe at the sound of a shell or the murmur of your imagination and would you dare to imagine a world without a touch…
I have learned through a great deal of lessons, both taught by nature and humanity, that though many are things that go unnoticed in this life, we should never let gratitude be one of them, so I will start here, right now. Thank you for reading this script.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
There is a fear that grips me every time I clutch my pen to write. The anxiety that builds up makes me feel as though my spirits foundation is shaken and because of that, it wants to part from my body. As great as my heart feels it also bleeds.
I lay down so much emotion on paper, flooding it with words that would not have meaning to any reader if they were not laid down in strategic form. I see them post my act of releasing them from my mind on the animated faces of them that relate to the message that is bound in every constructed sentence. “A vision is owed to ancient past’s tales; the tapestry of tombs and wounds is the fabric that weaves these tin thoughts. I live to see my thoughts propagate through the silent thoughts of many and them that will quote how I spoke of my experiences and them that were not my own but paid a particular significance in my life at that particular time. Seas serenity’s not satisfying with comfort eluded in thoughts of inexplicable expression, presented in ecstasy which is evident in elevation. Yes, the high we consider as supernatural.” We tell stories but in essence we forget that the life that we have is a story in itself, but do I, for one, live like it is a story? The day offers 24 hours and I’m certain that this is enough time for at least a page.
The scripture just gives us a way to make things possible. It speaks in a universal language so that it cannot contradict itself when we all meet in the social world. Then God decided that He’ll give the world philosophers and all that speak positivity into being- you could be one too if you say the right thing at the right time to anyone that needs to hear it- making life a bit more interesting. Each and every day we dare to speak to the pure heavens with the turmoil that might be brewing inside of us, but we still do it because, believe it or not, someone somewhere said that you can do it if you just believe and wherever you were, YOU heard it and you believed it. This is where I found my marvel in words.
‘… words, had I not met you the day that I first spoke that One, MAMA, I would have searched for you in the virtue silence because the burning desire I have can only be yours, in every language spoken you are there, clearly the proof must have been found in the giggles of my infant state.’
Fascination in all things that we find some sort of magic in is what brings us closer to sanity in our minds that are of our own right, our own privilege. This in essence is a challenge for each and every individual to find their fascination and entertain it to the maximum which is the end of life, without intent, I have given you my own. WORDS.
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Point blank we stare into each other’s eyes with our wits end on our table, we mumble under our breaths with the hope that one of our suggestions to leave this place is taken heed of.
Once the sweet taste of conversation that has fruit has touched our lips, we indulge in one another's presence, but that is only with what I greatly emphasize, that it is only with mind bearing fruit in conversation that will keep us at this table of thought. Way across the room you and I sit from each other but the ebb of our thoughts has put us together at one table at the light of our eyes connecting in the brief moment we took looking away from our lavish dishes to call the same waiter. The confusion lay only with the thoughts we had of such an encounter not being possible in both our lives at the same time in the same place forgetting that we are now of the same space. We find that the debate within ourselves has escalated to the smiles we now have on our faces as my arm now drowns in the shallows of my table. With the courage I momentarily conjured to raise my hand to summon my next dose of coffee I nod to find your approval in the gesture I have just extended for you to call him first.
What is it that we have found so interesting in each other’s stares that has us now stealing a minor glance at the other every now and then? My hopes are only that you do not walk out without a word because of the many you have helped me express to my expression which had lost all hope of wonder in words. My imagination grows more active as I hurry to finish my sentences in this soliloquy that has me gripped in the translation of a stare that ends in mid-air thus the transmission of thoughts between us two is lost to the waitresses that giggle consumed in the “game” they think we play with our eyes. The back and forth movement of our heads that shows our burning anxiety to verbalize our thoughts is quite the entertainment to them that do not feel the burn of words wanting a way out. Weary cups of coffee signal the retreat valor as another is ordered to prolong my stay in my perfectly bum measured seat to keep on looking across the room.
As I sit here in question of what to do I find that the source himself, patience, has paid me a visit. Alongside my persisting ego they try find a solution to my self-inflicted endeavor to be heard- yes, but just a word would be my comfort at this present time- not to be seen. The solution lies at the door for whoever walks out first, for the one that follows is the victim of circumstance to the meeting that happened without word.
Thursday, 14 July 2011
A vision was born the day a decision was made to follow the dream that each and every one of us possess, though we may look at them differently at the end of it all, we all have a place we want to be. Today, strangely so, my thoughts hovered on the question why do we have dreams, visions, ambitions and so forth. Are they innately injected into our being when we are born? Are they a lesson all of us learn at the elementary phase of our lives? Are they a fool’s best hope of escaping insanity so to live amongst all who are “normal?” Are they a curse from the God of all things GREAT and SMALL, who claimed your life before you were born in his word, which lies as the conditions of you receiving your greatest desire, giving all of mankind a universal proposal that all can understand - Believe? Are they just another thought that is probably a thought that many before you have had and is not worth the perpetuated brief encounter you have each and every minute it is alive? Are they worth being measured up to our credential, which keeps on evolving?
“And when he picked up what he would use to speak out, and lay it on a canvass of unique texture, he remembered: “My words are not my own, I have them because I found these lips on a ball point pen and I am inclined to use them because I would die if I were silenced.’”
I had a moment this morning when I met myself again, courtesy of my mirror, which apparently never lies. “Hello fine sir. I see you’re looking splendid this morning- mind you, I just woke up and I picked up bags from the four hours I had of sleep- have you been working out? Oh, it must have been the pleasantries of last night’s dinner that evident with the glow of your face or is it that you’ve finally met with the mother of all impossibilities made possible… What I mean dear sir, is that, did you have a pleasant dream last night and I speak not of the one you had in puberty (he says with a silly grin and then a chuckle) oh no, not that one.” Looking back into my own eyes having heard another voice speaking I answer: “Well, it certainly isn’t that ‘one’ or I would have never wanted to wake up. The lady I met spoke as though she knew me and she watched me cry. To every tear that fell on her arms when she held me tight in her bosom she spoke, ‘I know, I feel, I mourn, I understand, I support, I believe, I comfort, I build, I stand, I reassure, I chant, I celebrate, I give, I bare more and I relieve,’ all these words that make feel my existence is of a virtue to my own and others. The glow that you see on my face is the remanence of her touch which has filled my heart with the acknowledgement of the presence of sleep in my life. Sleep like the other aspects of nature that take course a man’s life also fulfills its task and like a breath of air, for what it brings, this morning I greatly appreciate “
I think that anxiety, mine, is proof of the infinite possibility there is, not only to realize what it is that you want from life, but the fact that it is within your reach, and this is how I know that not only is it a blessing to whisk off into a world that only exists for your benefit, for that brief moment in time, it is a privilege to come close to the immortality that dreams give.
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
I am trying to figure out what it is my heart is trying to find. As my heart deeply meditates in the debates that go on in my mind, it strays to try finding something that I am not yet aware of
There is a void that fills it, that has it accompanied by a self-pity that sees and has no bunds. “Who dares come into my house demanding I change who I am. I am born of this right and I will, like a religion carry it out through all the ages I am carried in this heart.” Self-respect grows weaker and weaker by the infestation of sorrow that embeds itself to a suffering character, who’s credential now’ is drawn by the thought that exists as though it is immediate speech in an impromptu meet, the meaning of which is seen as reactive and nonproductive to self. This futile horrors gloom consumes every impulse that propagates from the matter grey as thought, spits it not out but into that black hold void eliminating all hope for rescue for the inner child, who could have been the same voice that spoke as the universe stood in its awe, and said ‘LET THER BE LIGHT.’
Time is really teasing and fate is not funneling or harvesting happiness when you start seeing the colour of transparent in your life. Bright is not bright when shades of black, grey, when in detail, should contrast circumstances to the spectrum of choice man is privileged to. Day is not tomorrows light when today has not been dried of its possible worth. The time, now, is joys fleeting emotion which needs to be kept alive by the embrace of each and every moment that life dines with your name at paradise table every-sec-ond. The mind confides its expressions in the heart which sounds a monotone blue rhythm. The esteem that liberates self seeks just a surge of positive to rearrange the tune that fabricates the very strand of life.
I heard once that our pasts make us who we are. Is this true though? Are we ERROR? Are we lies and deceit? Are we… ah man it just doesn’t matter somehow because we woke up to the people we are at this very moment. Sadness has just refined my appreciation.
Monday, 6 June 2011
We all tell ourselves every day that we are better than yesterday and all that it brought, but truth of the matter is IT ALL DOESN’T MATTER if our "civil" self, which is the conscious is not settled in the mind (sub conscience), which is who we are.
I am 22 years old and I honestly feel that I have experienced all that mercy and grace can give to me and for my life, in each and every moment life is taken into my body with breath, it is more than emphasized that I am privileged to plenty. There is still more to be offered which I imagine to be flawless and unexpected for my future which could be defined by this very moment I sit and write, to be sublime and interventional so I may grow and be better not only for myself but for those too I surround myself with. That, in itself is a gesture given by mankind that goes beyond any physical gift that anyone can offer at any time of need. Though the monument of help is seen in time of need, the deed is soon forgotten as the emotion of the gesture is relinquished to another trying time. The two minds we have in one are at a battle that we do not feel but it leaves its remanence on our physical being. Stress, anxiety, here and there there’s laughter, more stress and anxiety, we can all see it, and we can all feel it.
The delight of every lessoned learned succumbs to these foundation shakers as they pile beyond our building material of positivity, in every moment that is presented as hurt to us to blind us from the virtue that life is, which would not be as it is if we were not individuals. Differences, perspectives, visions and all, spawn from this very fact, yet in our knowledge of this we still look to ourselves and contradict it in question of why or what you are not. Life, HERSELF, is given life because of the great hand of the Almighty and our characters are what keep her alive and evolving. “She could tell me she loves me once in a while you know?” But we look sternly to that thought that our defining moment is what makes us belong to today, to this very moment that we are, when we are and wherever we are.
“My self-worth is ridiculed by what thoughts I have about how undeserving I am of such a pleasure that is privilege, in whatever form it comes, because it has greater substance in justification of what is happening at that time”…scdunn
At this moment I feel as though I don’t know what it is that I am to think, for myself at that matter. We make the connection between the conscience and sub conscience when we try to reason with what is happening in our lives at times where we define our challenges as walls and constrictions, we then loose it in the debate we have within and forget that it is as intended by life. Faced with one right now that wants to add its worth to my character, I do what I do and take heed of things the way I do because my truth is I NEVER WANT TO LIVE IN WONDER.
Friday, 13 May 2011
“The hardest thing, or rather the most intimidating thing, the greatest monument for every human being to conquer is taking the first step.”
I may not know the depth of this proverb or saying, in depth but I know that for me putting it down on paper it is of a peculiar significance. I thought about it in a place where not so many people choose to see the life that hovers all around the busyness of the city and the virtue of just standing still and listening. A place that we all know and look past and seldom into… Johannesburg, sitting at the core of where yours and my history lies, my thought today is well provoked by this place.
A ku khanyi (there is no light)
“With my eyes open, I have welcomed today and it is only now that I realize that even if a new day has come, it still begins in darkness. The midnight hour that sirens the breaking of yesterday and the present day is still one with the hour that brings the break if dawn in today and all that stands now is that it is before me. There, in the midst of the acknowledgment, comes a moment where desperation to be free of that time pulls into your mind and with it making a camp site at the forefront of your conscious self you forget that dawn is a couple of fighting hours away.”
How is it that we can know something and know it so well yet still question it for all its worth? It is an amazing feeling knowing that things are going the way that they should be, in accordance of course, to what it is you believe is right, believing in God or the Universe or whatsoever it is that your specific creed or culture promotes as right. The choices we make, the decisions we make all boil down to what we believe. However though, outside of all of the things mentioned above, we all marvel at the awesomeness of life that is equally matched to the unimaginable things that happen to anyone but everyone in our everyday life. We do this for the so called “explosive” moments in our lives but we seldom take the rime to look left or right to what is happening immediately around us and for another moment, our own walk in this world, our God intended path eludes us. Today I chose to look at Jozi city (Johannesburg)
This city with its entire self –centered entrepreneurial ability is so full of life, full of adventure, full of wonder as the ambitions of many are trialed and tested for survival. The weak come back for more on a different day with a different idea because of the knowledge that everything in this city SELLS. The strong come back to the comfort of their stalls only for the calculations of profits and new exploits to those they hire with no education. Like any other city ours too has criminals and yet still it is such an inviting place to learn more about yourself. Personally, I have taken the honor of humility and the persisting realization of dreams from Jozi city.
This moment has allowed me to view the spectrum of thought that we all think out of. No matter when in the day the busyness of the people that roam this place occurs, Johannesburg has remained the tree of life that all initiatives that are of this place. It is the cesspool of some money making activities and too the inhibitor of free will. This moment brings back to mind a question that I have had for years: “If the mind is what makes the heart work and the heart is what keeps the mind going, who controls who?”
It is just like Johannesburg to provoke thought I just decided to share my moment.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Thinking about tens and thousands of children in the world that have not experienced or rather, that have not felt the presence if this figure, wakes me up every night with bleeding thoughts of what is wrong about some men in this world.
In a world today of vast imaginings, today, who better than your own father is suited to be your role model. I stand today as one of the other handful that was graced with the privilege of having a father, Gregory Jobi Dunn. God, being the infinite He is, decided to relieve my father from his completed task on earth 10 years ago. I was only 12. All I have in my mind is a word of thanks for what brief input he had for an everlasting impact he had in my life. This memory serves as a replication of what great man he was when I see his reflection every time I look into my own heart. But mercy takes a different path for all in mankind. Parents get separated in divorces for reasons that are too great for us to sometimes understand. Some, consumed by lust, feel that they should only donate their seed and disappear like the morning due at in mornings light not even wanting the responsibility of the life they helped bring into the world. And for some people, death resides unexpectedly. We find people in the world that are not so fortunate and are infertile yet still have the power to adopt kids, so in turn another child is saved, but there are still more that need to be sheltered under a fortress of a FATHER.
I really do not know if I would be speaking any different if my father was around but what I do know now is how I feel about this subject. I think that some men do not realize that the presence of father has the power to breed or motivate a character in a child, or another adult for that matter, more than what a self-help book, a motivation book and speaker, a single mother and friends could give. Being firm and assertive made easier by seeing it in the household, setting goals, prioritizing, protecting your own, taking responsibility, the list could go on, but these are a few traits that I know one can pick up from a father figure. With no school needed, a child can learn these traits from a father.
I believe, outside of the destiny that we’ve all been given, there are a lot of children right now that are in the wrong places, in the wrong dealings with people of an explicit nature, children that have lost their ambition in life, children that have been deprived of another virtue greater than wealth, having a stronghold that they can call father. We all need to account for the things that we are responsible for but as men we have a greater responsibility in life. In or out of wedlock, that child is yours.
I know because of what I received from my own father that expression goes beyond impression.
“I would find him staring at me from a distance and wouldn’t notice that I could see his reflection on the window, see his shadow and feel his presence in and all around me. I would be hurt physically or emotionally, with my little broken heart I would find his comforting voice saying “tigers don’t cry.” His comparison of me to a distinctive creature means he knows my being, humble yet powerful. Gregory you make me happy, you give me everything, you keep on encouraging me, and I hold you close to my heart. Thank God you did not pass by but pass on, knowledge. You are my father, my confidante. Thank you Daddy”
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
They Believed in Us
A year ago if you had come to me and said that “Charles, you will be a world renowned writer and your words will touch many and you will be one of the best authors known in South Africa" I wouldn't have believed you. There is something that 'hits' you before you start seeing things in a different light. My light came to me on one Thursday night while I was sitting with my sister at her place.
I remember earlier that week I had asked her if I could sleep over because it had been a while since the last time I did. In accord, she picked me up on Thursday, late afternoon. The trip there wasn't like any other that we have had before. There, in the car, sat an unimagined silence that I did not understand and by the expression on her face as she looked yonder the windscreen, on the path that led to her domain, she was as baffled as I was of the presence of this silence. The avid conversation with this silence grew and grew and occasionally was interrupted by the question of hunger and the answer of yes. We draw closer and closer to the boom gate that signals entry into her court and brave salutations to this silence as with it we will depart when we disembark from the car. The engine dying from an opposite turn of the key in the ignition commemorates the sonorous sound of the silence that has accompanied us to our destination and now, now I know, we are here.
While our speech was kept at bay, in our minds, well in my mind, the brewing of thoughts never seized... "Will she be giving me a lecture about something? Will she tell me, well further affirm that I need a job? Will she in her, in total ignorance of my answer earlier, ask me again if I'm hungry? Wait, she has to call my mother and tell her that we have arrived safely, in the notification will she tell my mother that she need not worry she's got me, the situation, under control? Hmmmmm, must I eavesdrop on the conversation so that I can gear up for whatever she'll say to me? No, that would just be too senseless of me to do. But I'm still wondering why she opted for this day instead of the day that I had requested. Will she...? Will SHE...? I wonder would if she...? Come now, I need to snap out of "IF"" She opens the door to her humble abode and at the entry of our souls, gratitude of our arrival is embraced and we head into the night.
Getting up for work on Friday was a bit of a charm for her because the headache she's had for the past three days has disappeared. She leaves her home with me in it, with the love of her mind that a part of her is left behind. Not more than three hours pass and she calls to say that she is on hear way back because the burden of a bruised mind shell, her headache, has returned. She rests as I depart to have my day in the world of naught. I decided to stay until stay until Saturday at her place and she was ok with it.
The silence proves to be a shadow, constantly monitoring our actions and our whereabouts. When we sleep, it shares with our spirits what life we lead in the day. And in sleep, a new mystery is discovered.
In all these days that I spent with her, there has been one thing that has not eluded me. She loves me in a way that I may never understand. She does things for me without asking anything in return. She prays for me even on days when she knows it is my own doing that I am in a bad space. She is just unceasing. Her worth has been epitomized by her actions that are beyond any ovation and she just keeps on getting better. I say all of this with more conviction than that I can have for my own name. I know today, more than yesterday, that she is one of the few that have believed in me. She does this now. She believes in me. I may not know if it is a biological obligation, though I reckon it is not, for her to believe so much. God has a vessel of His hand in my sister and has cells of his mind in my mother because these people believe in me. These people believe that they see something in me that my worth has not paid respects to. They have, indeed taken believing to a whole new level in my life.
Everyone in the world has "that person" that ultimately believes in them. There may be one, two or even three, even more people that believe in you, I am just blessed to have two of them so close to me. These people believe in us not because in some twisted way, it is beneficiary for them or in so doing they get points for being good people while walking the earth. I believe that they believe in us to remind us that God exists, that our inspiration and motivation lies not only in our minds or unique characters but in our souls that are in an undocumented way, are intertwined with every other soul on this planet. In turn, what could be interpreted in what I am saying is that when they believe in you, it gives them the courage, the will, the innate ability, to believe in themselves. It is not a due that has to be paid for my existence in their lives, but merely circle that we are all part of in life that is divine.