Thursday, 23 February 2012
It was not so long ago I sat in class listening to my teacher going on about puberty, that it was a stage in growth that we would all go through and that it would bring metamorphosis to our bodies. It brought change to all in my group, I personally loved what it brought to me.
I was that kid in that everyone in school could relate to. It went as far as being called Miss Universe because everyone that came in contact with me claimed to have had` a bit of their character brewing in my own. I really enjoyed being the centre attraction, even with my teachers and kids from other schools. I reckon what made me even more appealing above my character that was already of witty nature, was that I was culturally inclined and I was an athlete.
I grew exponentially to my time and my credential had far surpassed the school standards in academics, with that came boys growing fonder of me but there was only one that had my attention. What came as a surprise to me was that he was not even a part of the chess team or a worthy opponent for the Dux scholar, come to think of it, he never did anything for the school. He got into trouble now and then but never got suspended. In the light that we were similar in our difference, we spent a lot of time together and we eventually thought that forever had us in its creation. That is what I knew at the time.
We would toil with chance and risk disciplinary action from our parents as we would sneak off on some nights, hand in hand we were convinced it was spontaneity instead of irresponsibility. The thrill of being in his arms after midnight in fusion with the sweet nothings spoken, used to woe me out of my intelligence and speech. I only managed to wonder the following morning how I got on my back to view the fullness of the moon with no restraint to head movement, braids thrown back grass touching my neck. I wondered in numbness to what happened in the fullness of that night because on this night I wonder still with the numbness as I lay on this bed, still on my back nine months later.
It is three years later and I think of how keen I was at 6teen, I embrace a miracle now from a curse of a Five minute stupidity complex that more than a hand full of girls suffered from smooth talking growing serpents. The vengeance I seek upon him have been are a constant reminder to my forgiveness as she is painted with his complexion and she has his eyes. I curse genetics because apart from God I bore this baby alone. The harsh reality can consume ones worth, which is not defined by a past. I realise this with my own life and the possibilities that have spawned from accepting my NOW, for change to have been inspired or lived out, I had to let go. This child is now my world.
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Have you ever wondered what thoughts probe the minds the minds of “great” men. I personally wonder if they are all thinking in one absolute frame of mind, or if they are of one absolute state of consciousness. I wonder if they are in a league where they are the only people that were given and elevated sub conscious.
We all know the Legends, in leadership, in music, in sports, in politics and in education, the list could go on if we started naming them all, from those that were and those that still are. There is a saying that I am sure we have all come across; “great men are not made they are born” and I am too certain that not all of us have believed this. In this, the question of a possible catalyst to being so great a man comes about: what is the driving force that these men have, what is it that helped them realise on that one God given morning and infinitely know that whatever path they are on was guaranteed to be the one that would change everything about their future and ours and the very fabric that time is woven.
I look at some of these men and I, with no doubt, know that the greatness they have or that they aspired, was from the era in which they existed, the people in which they spent their time with, exceptional in their view, and the adversities which occurred within their existence pre and post their greatness evolved. I reckon, from this, that change or progress itself is inspired by the suppression of being stagnant, a frustration of seeing and feeling the thing day in and day out. I reflect to the awe that was and is conceived from the honour that these men have had in serving, the cunningness or wit in which they looked at challenges that made them see all of them as minor hurdles to what victory lies ahead, the people that stood in the way of things happening for them must have been considered as stepping stones. To those that have fallen, if their presence is resounds now in our age in time, they must have had an overwhelming persistence to living free, a persevering grit that shouted “FORWARD EVER AND BACKWARDS NEVER.” I cannot help thinking sometimes that all of these people will be forgotten in the generations to follow, my hope is now in the history books written that will paint the pictures of men that had a spirit that stood just in its cause.
In all the thinking that I do, I also think that the men that had to assume the roles of mothers when the family rock was claimed back into the bosom of the earth, should also be called Legends. I strongly believe that when genetics set apart men and woman, another force was at work to set apart the order of great men, including them that are not published about in the books of history. I look in the mirror every morning and the thought of greatness surges my mind in every obtainable and imaginable way to my life. I look in the mirror and I know that one good day, when great men are spoken about, my name will come up.
Monday, 6 February 2012