In The Beginning

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.  

Acceptance

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.

In your absence I Thought...

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.

The Reason

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.

Letters of a Father

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.

At the end of it All

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.

With Him Above

Dear God,

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.

Your Son

Charles Dunn, Amen