Pages of My Journal

On Life, Seasons and The Art of Letting Go

2011-12-04T23:02:00.000-08:00

“As you grow older, adding more years to your ‘years lived’ pile, you learn to respect the seasons of life, you involuntarily teach yourself the art of letting things and people go; of not holding on too tightly.”

My mother said these words to me with a gentle ease as we did random kitchen chores. It was her response to my question as to how, as a mother, she had managed to watch child after child go off to boarding school, graduate from campus, move out of the nest and get married. She said, with time I would learn how to let go; memorize this lesson like the alphabet until the time the words would easily roll out of my tongue without getting stuck.

The….Art of…..Letting... Go

Indeed we have to live to learn, if life was to teach me this lesson a few months ago, I would not have paid attention, because in denial I was once that person. Yes, that person who held on to things for too long, to friendships even when they had long died a hundred deaths. That person who gave people and situations chances; numerous chances, when what I should have done is walk away. And right now if you have a visual image of a woman saying goodbye, walking away but looking back one more time, that was also me. I was that person, up until that Saturday afternoon, seated on the floor in my room, with two boxes; one marked ‘KEEP’ and the other ‘THROW’, placed in front of me.

That day as I tried to get rid of what I didn’t need to make room for more, I learned an important life lesson; The Art of Letting Go. As I emptied drawers and unpacked bags, I found years worth of things. Some irreplaceable; reminding me of people, places, good and bad experiences of the past and others, well, others were just memories neatly tucked away in between doggy ear journals and in the back of long forgotten faded jeans.

Later on as I watched the contents in the THROW box burn, I unconsciously took inventory of my life; Were there things; like those I had cleared from my house, I was hanging on to even when I didn’t need anymore? Were there dead situations preventing me from moving forward? People I needed to stop dancing ‘two-step’ with and say goodbye to? Were there things that were filling up my life that needed to throw in order to make space for the new?

The Art….of Letting….Go

As I thought about these questions, I also thought about you and the awkward long silences we’ve been trying to fill with questions about the weather, where there used to be laughter and conversations deprived of commas. But now I understand. In life there are things and people we are meant to hang on to for the long haul while others but for a short season and I finally learnt the difference between the two.

The Art of Letting…. Go

I’m partly sad that our season ended but partly happy that the memories remain despite our current transitions in life. That’s why I no longer beat myself up because I’m unable to share with you every intricate detail of my life; of secret admirers and dreams or feel bad when we don’t talk for months on end. It’s okay. Like the other goodbyes I said this year, it happened to us. Seasons changed. I changed. You changed. We changed. And i finally learnt..

The Art of Letting Go.

Of Gratitude and The Day God Taught Me How to Count

2011-11-25T00:19:00.000-08:00

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It’s been a busy rainy November. I’ve managed to divide my days between work, projects, teaching my Saturday morning art class (a story for another day) and basically trying to keep afloat. I finally got a one week off and I’ve been waking up to beautiful rainy mornings, like today. It hasn’t stopped raining since I woke up. I feel the world inside me is at rest. I’m not rushing through breakfast, forgetting lunch or sleeping through dinner. I’m really enjoying this extra time, breathing easy, but most importantly reflecting on the goodness of November before it takes the next bus out of town.

One of the things I’ve been reflecting on is something I saw a week ago; Monday morning, rain pouring, stuck in a jam and getting late for work. I needed some distraction from the mundane thoughts that consumed me that morning; I remember looking through the bus window; past the hooting cars to the city council benches across the road. I love city council benches, for the very reason that many times they have been a pit stop offering me a break from the busy life. But that early morning it was the man sleeping on the bench; his comfort, his home which caught my attention and heart. I felt all sorts of emotion, the emotions I feel when I pass by the blind man near Ambassador singing old hymns as people drop coins in his collection cup. The same emotions I feel in the evenings rushing home when I see the man without limbs who sits on the pavement right next to my street book stand, with his weight scale. I always find him laughing or smiling with a customer.

On normal days I pass these people in a hurry to reach my destination with no thought of their circumstances. But the sight of that man turning and twisting on that bench, being rained on, forced me look beyond myself and realize I had been taking a lot of things in my life for granted. A place deep inside me reminded me of the many times I rushed out of the house without even whispering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the very breathe of life, times I ate food without being grateful I could afford to take three meals in a day or the fact that I had a place to call home.

As the bus drove off, a song from my childhood came to mind.

“Count your blessings name them one by one, count your blessings see what God, count your blessings, name them one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.”

Its amazing how God used the man sleeping on the bench that rainy Monday morning to remind me of the blessings in life, in my life. He taught me how to count and not with sticks like they did in nursery school but He used a man, sleeping on a wet city council bench, with his back turned to the cars in traffic. And now i count the blessings; the blessing of waking up to see a new day, of being able to walk and talk, hear, see, jump, sit and breathe. Blessings. I’m not entitled to these things, they may seem little and insignificant but it would be a totally different story if one day I woke up not being able to breathe, see or walk.

As I write this I’m thinking about God; His goodness and mercies over my life in November and the months before. If I haven’t said it today, I will say it now, Thank you Lord for the gift of life, for the air that I breathe. Thank you for sight. Thank you for the clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. Thank you for the many times I walk out of the door in the morning and come back safely at night. Thank you that I haven’t seen a doctor in a while. Thank you for more than I could ever list down and Lord if I ever forget to say thank you, nudge me, beat me upside my head, keep giving me refresher lessons on how to count my blessings. Keep reminding me that it’s not by my own strength that I’m alive but by Your Grace.

Dear God, Give Me Patience But Please Hurry Up.

2011-11-07T03:40:00.000-08:00

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Hi, my name is Patricia and I have waiting problems. I’m not a ‘waiter’ so I’m certainly not the ‘sit in the front of a yellow light waiting for it to turn green’ type of person. I’m impatient; impatient with long bank queues, food that takes forever to cook and situations; especially those that I have no control over the ‘when’ it will happen.

I have been struggling with waiting on God to come through in certain situations and therefore made the above prayer numerous times. There were times I thought I would make it easier for God and so gave Him choices; told Him I wanted A, B or C, but instead He picked the nonexistent option D; none of the above, and said that if I wait on Him He would make everything beautiful in His time. Seriously?! Me, wait for someone who sees one day like a thousand years? That wasn’t going to happen.

Other times, I gave Him deadlines, told Him I wanted to accomplish this by 25 and be that by 26 and when He wasn’t answering my prayers, I thought He was wasting my time. So I took matters into my own hands and took my short cuts, and after many dead ends later, I was back to square one; tired, hurt, confused and ready to stop arm wrestling with God.

There I was giving God back full control over my life. I was finally giving up trying to work things on my own and instead trust God and His timing. Do you know how hard that is, to take your hands off the steering wheel and tell God, let your will be done? But I did and that’s where I am right now; at the point of surrender. It doesn’t mean I completely understand God’s will but I do know that this amazing God who has taught the sun what time it should wake up in the morning and when to rest in the evening has a good sense of timing, how can I not trust Him with my life?

Therefore my prayer has changed to, ‘Dear Lord, teach me how to be patient, how to wait for eggs to boil for a full 10 minutes, teach me how to be still and know that you are God.’ Now as I wait, I’m continuously learning and growing.

I believe everyone has been faced with some sort of waiting situation. For some it’s a job, promotion, school, others it’s a relationship, marriage or a baby. Whatever your case is, God knows exactly who you are and what you need at every point in your life. He is preparing something wonderful for you and it doesn’t matter how many years have passed; in God’s schedule you are right on time and He will make everything amazingly beautiful in His time.

Finding Life

2011-10-19T05:38:00.000-07:00

I’ve always been in love with October and its signature shedding of Jacaranda trees. Time has really flown,I feel like God has His finger pressed on the forward button of time. So much has happened; a cocktail of blessings, lessons, mistakes, new beginnings and more lessons and it’s been quite a while since I wrote here. I would love to unpack the last couple of months in neat summarized paragraphs for you to read but instead I will tell you about the now and why I have decided to write, it has a lot to do with life, God and a rebirth of some sorts.

Somewhere between the last time I wrote and now, my view of life changed. It wasn’t just a day’s event but a series of things and today I will share one of those things. A couple of months ago on my way home, I walked past a carpenter. He was making a wooden coffin. As I observed him drive in screws through the holes to attach them to the coffin, I thought about life and death all at once. I hate thinking about death and the finality of things but many times death teaches us a lot about life and that day it was as if God had stopped me by the road and given me refresher lessons on life and what really matters.

There was something profound in that small passing moment, the realization that in that coffin there was space only reserved for a lifeless body, nothing else. This small insight is something I’ve been learning from life, at the end of our different journeys, the sum of our lives will be more than the tangible things; the wealth we accumulated, houses we built or titles we carried. All these things are great but we will not squeeze our houses or cars inside that little box instead what will matter is the intangible; the things that don’t expire, like how we lived our lives, how we loved, the lives we changed, hearts we touched, hands we held, tears we wiped, the shoulder we gave. That’s what life is about; investing in people and the relationships we build.

I have found a new passion for life, for this very day and for every breathe I take. I used to be anxious about death; about the when? How? Would my purpose be fulfilled? I no longer worry about these questions; instead I try to spend every day answering the now, how and here. What does God want to me to do now? How can I make my life count where I am? How can I invest in someone else’s life?

Life is short, whether we live to be 40 or 100 doesn’t really matter, what matters is how we make those years count. Wake up in the morning and sandwich as much love, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, mercy and God’s goodness into the 24hours God has blessed you with, make them the best 1440 minutes of your life, so one day when the journey is over, you will look back to a life well lived.

"I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well"~ Diane Ackerman.

Present State of Life

2011-04-04T10:04:00.000-07:00

Mood: Happy

I have Richard Stoltzman’s ‘Maid With Flaxen Hair’ on heavy rotation. I don’t know much about the guy, I found his music in Dexter’s sample music while looking for something soothing to match up with this beautiful Sunday. Lately I’ve been having a complicated relationship with music, I can’t seem to find music that calms me or makes me lose track of time while doing mundane chores around the house.

But this one is nice instrumental music, great for a reflective afternoon in the country side; it rustles memories of me sitting in my grandmother’s wicker chair at the side of the house, swatting flies, fanning myself while listening to the words being thrown around during conversations between my cousins while drinking in the beauty of nature.

But I’m here, in the house; with Cookies&Cream and 24 episodes of Criminal Minds. I’m taking a break from all the blood shedding and behavioral assessment to write about the current state of life.

# I have noticed with great sadness that they have reduced the amount of chocolate chips in Cookies and Cream hence changing my Sunday afternoon ice cream experience. You kind of notice such things when you are enjoying a relaxed, slow Sunday evening with no thought of checklists to tick through. Now I’m having second thoughts about bending over the ice cream ‘thingy’ at the supermarket just to dig out for that particular flavor.

# I’m having some sort of hair emergency. In my attempt to embrace change I did something to it and by the time I walked out of the salon, I wanted to cut it all off. Right now I feel like I have no control over my hair, it’s everywhere. My sister thinks I have control issues; hair control issues. L

# My mother called to remind me to cook because she doesn’t want me starving her future grandkids. I told her I have been cooking and my gaining a few kilos was proof. She said to send her photographic proof via email.

I think my mother knows when I’m lying, but this time I’m not, I have been cooking. I’m taking this kitchen business seriously, no more burning water J. And while I’m talking about food; my sister got me hooked on fish balls but I haven’t seen or heard from the fish lady in two weeks. L

# The bills keep on coming! What did I expect? Last time I remember I was on cod liver oil and multi-vitamins, time really goes so fast. When I grow up, I want to be a child again J

# I went to my book stand yesterday, I didn’t find any book to buy or exchange so I went to the Love Shack; a really lovely shop I visit on the weekends. It has these little nice antique stuff, but I didn’t find any book there. They told me to check next weekend. I NEED MY BOOK FIX.

# Yesterday I found a hand band someone gave me 7 years ago, I’ve forgotten who. It reads ‘God keeps His Promises.’ I have been going through this phase called ‘in-between’; in between making big adult decisions, in between deciding if I want to go back to school; film school or psychology or will it be back to the cooperate world. So last week while I was busy worrying, God went ahead of me and made the decision easier. Time and again God has proven that He is faithful, that it doesn’t matter the circumstance is, He will always come through for me. Forgive me Lord for my unbelief.

#A couple of weeks ago I woke up with questions; about life and this constant desire for 'more' and when we get the ‘more’ it’s not enough, we want to get more. I started reading Ecclesiastes; a book King Solomon wrote about his life’s experience and his search for life’s true meaning. Solomon truly amazes me. He had it all and I mean all; the women (700 wives 300 concubines), wealth and power. He searched for satisfaction in these things and at the end concluded that ‘having all these things without God is futile’. Without God,satisfaction is a lost search.
Countless times in the past, I have searched for meaning,for this 'something' ; that missing piece of the puzzle, that I couldn’t put a finger on yet that missing piece was and is God. My search is over.

Anyway, I wrote this post on Sunday afternoon, I was expecting to post it in the morning but I missed the whistle of the train that passes nearby and on many mornings acting like my alarm clock, hence I had to do 10 other little things and now its Monday night and I want to post this so i can do 10 more little things, think about what i'll eat for dinner or fall sleep thinking about what i'll eat for dinner. I feel like things have been too ‘loud’ of late. The other day I found myself watching the television on mute; this is the second time I’m unconsciously doing this and it’s worrying. There is that voice telling me I need a break. I’m searching for perfect stillness; I need to relax, relate, release and regroup and maybe when I come back, I will be able to write a comprehensive post.

On January, Life and Alex

2011-02-01T19:25:00.000-08:00

First few shots of Mombasa Sunrise by Sami Khan

It rained two nights ago. I have just realized it’s been awhile since I last smelt the rain on the ground or swallowed a chestful of fresh damp air, just like it’s been awhile since I last wrote here yet so many days have passed and so many things I’ve wanted to tell you like about January, Life and Alex.

January came only for a brief visit; I feel like I just offered her some hot coffee and after a couple of sips amidst talks on the year to come, she announced she had a bus to catch, no it wasn’t the coffee. But before she left she introduced me to Alex. Alex is the little boy I met for a short time on that Sunday afternoon at the Cancer ward for kids. It was my first time, Shanis invited me, it’s something she does on most Sunday afternoons; spending time with the kids.

I didn’t talk much to him; Alex. It was a mixture of a lot of things, like the fear of getting attached, the lack of the right words to say or maybe saddened by the fact that his face showed a lot of pain. Two weeks later I got a text; it was Shanis telling me that Alex was gone. Just like that.

It’s the second day of February and here I am at 5:17AM thinking about January and Alex, about the brevity of life and purpose. And in a way these thoughts have deepened my longing to live for God. I don't want to just live, but to live an abundant life. And I'm learning that an abundant life is not necessarily in the length of days we live or the material things we accumulate here on earth but life in God, which is eternal.

There has to be more to life, really, and I want to find the ‘more’. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I have been chasing after the winds. On my everyday journey through this life I want to find my God given purpose on this earth.

I found this poem by Claudia Minden Weisz (the mother of a Rett Syndrome child) thought I'd share it.

And God Said No

I asked God to take away my pride. And God said "No".

He said it was not for Him to take away, but for me to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. And God said "No".

He said her spirit was whole, her body was only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience. And God said "No".

He said patience is a by-product of tribulations. It isn't granted, it is earned.

I asked God to give me happiness. And God said "No".

He said He gives me blessings, happiness is up to me.

I asked God to spare me pain. And God said "No".

He said suffering draws me apart from worldly cares and brings me closer to Him.

I asked God to make my spirit grow. And God said "No".

He said I must grow on my own. But He will prune me to make me fruitful.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. And God said "No".

He said He will give me life, that I may enjoy all things.

I ask God to help me love others, as much as he loves me.

And God said "Ah, finally you have the idea!"

Down October Road

2010-11-05T01:43:00.000-07:00

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It’s drizzling outside, far off I hear the pelting of rain on my window. It’s 5 am in the morning. Its been awhile since I woke up with an urge to eat leftovers, listen to India Arie and just write. This is what I have missed; writing. The release in words. The comfort in words. The beauty of words. Words. Though life demands I speak a different language, I use the same words to get by. Love. Hope. Faith. Courage. Strength. Grace. God. I probably don’t use or understand them the same way I did when I was a child, but I still find comfort in them.

I feel the need to take you with me down October Road. It’s an empty paved road just outside my neighbourhood. Right now it’s carpeted with purple because of the Jacaranda trees lined up on the road side. I love Jacaranda trees. There’s a man who stands at a corner of October road under his umbrella, roasting maize. He stands there on a daily basis even when it’s not October. Sometimes in the scorching sun, other times in the rain. What I would do to go stand there with him, look at life through his eyes and eat some roasted maize while at it.

October was mostly hard but ironically,I didn’t feel the pain. It was a silent numbness of letting life just be. It’s the simple pleasures that helped me through it. Like the hour long telephone conversations spent laughing at nothing, the silly TV commercials in the bus, the guy at the book stand feeding my addiction of Toni Morrison, the background music in the supermarket, the hours spent in silence listening to the sound of absolutely nothing and God; I don’t know where I would be without Him.

And eventually I got by, one day at a time, literally.

There were times I searched for an escape; a piece of serenity; to get away from the stuffy life of being an adult and I found it. But then I had to go back home to the very thing I tried to escape; to find my to-do list barely ticked, the dishes waiting, sticky notes scattered, books piled up on the floor; chapters still unread. *sigh* Now I no longer runaway. I take deep breaths and face my fears head on.

All the while I wanted to write about it, I tried to find the words for it, but I couldn’t. I tried poetry but it didn't rhyme, I tried to write long sentences but I couldn’t find the right place to put the full stops. I was waiting for a time when I could write positively about hardship. And I finally reached that point.

I pass the October road daily but not as the same person. I have grown. I carry around lessons it has taught me. I learned that there will be times when life will allow you to be weak in order to find your inner strength. That every now and then we hit rock bottom to realize that God is the only rock at the bottom.

October taught me how to make courageous 'move this mountain from point A to point B' kinda prayers. It taught me to have unchanging faith even when circumstances changed, how to be still in raging storms and how to replace cloudy days with sunny thoughts. October showed me how to find beauty in flaws and it’s during this time I discovered great truths in the simple and great joys in small pleasures.

At last I can clearly hear India's 'Beautiful Surprise' in the background; it's stopped raining. I have reached a conclusion; life can be a little soulless without words and writing but I have finally found my words and my soul.

"Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, drink or what you will wear. Doesnt life consist of more than this? Look at the birds of the air; they do not plant or harvest or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable to Him than they?Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" ~ Matt 6:25-27

Happy November,

September Blessings

2010-09-14T02:54:00.000-07:00

Mombasa sunrise photo by Sami Khan

To September,

Here you are. I can't seem to squeeze you tight enough nor get enough of the enormous doses of beauty in the shades of the evening sunsets that remind me so often of how real God is.

It's amazing how things can change in such a short time but writing hasn't changed nor has my love for lists. Writing to you has been on the top of my to-do list. I'm grateful for so many things September....

# For God. For the quiet strength and courage He gives me in situations where I don’t see how I'll make it to the next day. He keeps reminding me that He sees the bigger picture, that not even my best laid plans can match His great plan for my life. I’m learning to let go and trust Him with my future; not just for the years ahead but for the simplest thing like what lies beyond the next bend.

# For family; for supportive sisters, a praying mother and lovely nephews who remind me that life is far much more than scheduling meetings and working late but also about the people in our lives and the precious moments we share.

# For imperfection; my warts, freckles and all. For two left dancing feet and a shower voice. For a carefree spirit, for long braids held loosely in a bun without care, for juice spills on white blouses, for mistakes and procrastination. I am grateful for it all.

# For the sound of music and how it nurtures me. How I can turn on the radio and a song speaks the story of my life story so well as if the writer was watching my life through a glass house. How I can find music in any tune, even the rustling of leaves on a windy day. How the sound of music can pluck all the pains and joys I try to avoid or hide.

# For nature. There is so much beauty in the winds that tangle my hair on a windy day and I love the refreshing smell of fresh fallen rain.

# For little children. I take comfort in their faces, in their innocense, in their playful childish dialogues, in the lessons they unconsciously teach through their skinned knees and bruised ankles as they learn how to ride a bicycle.

# For friends; for those who ask you how you are doing and actually wait to hear the answer .For those who try to reach out despite the clashing work schedules and demands of life. For those that know the bad and ugly but still choose to see the good in you. For those friends that know me so well they can see my innermost thoughts through the surface of my skin.

# For humble beginnings; For the little raindrops that eventually make a downpour, for the journey that starts with that single step. For the bits and pieces that finally make sense together.

# For strangers in the bus, on the streets..those who indirectly teach you about life through their own struggles.

# For coffee shops in the early mornings while waiting for a client and the unintentional rush customers seem to be in. For Moha and how he always smiles while serving tea at the same time trying not to mix up the orders.

# For the good days and bad. Whether in lack or in plently, I’m learning how to be grateful in whatever situation I find myself in.

# For the times I think am alone in the deep end waters only to realize that God is silently present keeping His eyes on me. For the perfect stillness He has given me in raging storms.

# For things I sometimes take for granted like good health, food on my table, clothes to cover my back and a place to call home.

# For 2nd, 3rd and 4th chances that God keeps giving me even when I know I don’t deserve it.

# For the comfort I find in simple joys; thrift shops, books, park benches, pages of old journals the serenity found in an empty church on a Saturday evening and listening to Ray Charles.

# For new people who breeze into our lives and become part of our tomorrows.

# For you, September and the blessings you are yet to bring along.

What are you grateful for?

Faith is taking that leap into the unknown without any certainty about "WHERE" you shall land, but rather on the belief that you "SHALL" land.

If I Were; 20 Random Things About Me

2010-08-10T03:17:00.000-07:00

I miss blogging. There is so much going on but every time I try to write a full post I only manage unfinished sentences. I promise I will be back, thanks to everyone who reads this blog. Here is a random something which I know does not pass for a post but will do for now.

#1. If I were a time of day, I’d be early morning; probably between Six and Eight. Because I’m a morning person; a very perky annoying morning person, who sings (off tune) and tries to make conversation while everyone else is trying to sleep.

#2. If I were a day of the week, I’d be Sunday. I love the random ties of Sundays; the long walks after church, journal entries, ice cream dates, how town looks like a ghost down in the afternoons, watching program re-runs, brunch and the sun; which never disappoints on Sundays.

#3. If I were a month, I’d be January. I love new beginnings; clean slates, a chance to start over again; to right the wrongs, make resolutions and eventually break them.

#4. If I was a piece of furniture, I’d be a bookcase because I love books...mostly old dusty second hand books because I find all sorts of things inside like plane tickets, folded bookmarks and random writings done by strangers. (Side Note: I need to stop reading multiple books at a go.)

#5. If I were a direction, (though I suck at directions), I’d be north because for me North stands for progress.

#6. If I were a tree, I’d be the Jacaranda tree that sits at the end of the street on my way to church. It has a way of telling me that nothing is permanent, that change is inevitable. That sometimes we want to go back and relive the happy moments, hold them tighter but leaves fall and bring new life, usher new seasons and we have to live in the now moments.

#7. If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a clarinet, because it’s the only instrument I learned how to play.

#8. If I were a kind of weather, I’d be the sunny weather after the rains; a sign of hope.

#9. If I were a color, I’d be black because black is daring; I’m learning everyday to take a chance, so that one day I don’t look back and wonder what should have, would have, could have been.

#10. If I were an emotion, I’d be compassion.

#11. If I were a sound, I’d be a lot of sounds, like the wind blowing, leaves crushing on a windy day, the sound of rain on my window pane or a quiet whisper.

#12. If I were a flower, I’d be a rose because a rose with its thorns reminds me of the true reality of life; that it comes with the good and bad, the ugly and beautiful.

#13. If I were a fruit, I’d be a ripe tangerine because they are so easy to peel and so orangey.

#14. If I were a place, I’d be Aiken Village in Starkville, Mississippi because it holds so many beautiful childhood memories and dreams; of tire swings and nature walks, book reports and field trips.

#15. If I were a room in a house, I’d be the toilet. I love nice cozy toilets; the perfect place to reflect and read outdated magazines. I’m obsessed with toilets, when I was a little younger, when other kids wanted to be doctors and scientists; I wanted to be the best toilet cleaner in the world.

#16. If I were a scent, I'd be my mother’s kitchen after her baking on Saturday afternoons; I’d also be apple toilet freshener or the scent of ripe mangoes.

#17. If I were a body part, I'd be the eyes because there is so much beauty to see.

#18. If I were a song, I'd be many songs put together because my life is like a mixed tape; songs that remind me of early memories with my father listening to Alanis Morissette's 'Ironic', the ones that play in the house on Sunday mornings, the ones that remind me of childhood friends, my second heartbreak, of long goodbyes and sudden hello’s.

#19. If I were a pair of shoes, I'd be nice cozy flip flops or knee high boots.

#20. If I were a story, I’d be a story of faith; because every moment of my life has been about the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not yet seen.

What would you be?

While I Was Away; Of Lessons Learned

2010-06-21T05:07:00.000-07:00

(painting Still I Rise by Kelvin Williams )

I have been away on a long journey. It has been a mixture of experiences, of making mistakes, of overcoming and starting over again. I wasn’t able to write because I was too busy letting life teach me how to live; how to forgive easily and live freely, how to love beyond reason and without fear. Life taught me how to grasp air in my lungs and drink it for safe keeping in case I needed to release; to exhale, which I did.

There were days I felt I was sleep walking through life, surviving and not living, suspended between a rock, a hard place and thorns on my sides. For a long time I was holding on to nothing yet I was still standing; still afloat, allowing myself to bend but not break and in this I learnt that adversity is not actually our enemy; it makes you stronger, it shows you strength you have no idea you possess.

It’s during this time, despite hearing heaven’s silence; I knew God had not left me alone even for a second. Not always familiar with His ways, I later on realized that all along He had been loving me through new and old friends, comforting me through their actions of kindness, reminding me that angels on earth truly exist, they may not own visible white wings but each have their own way of teaching me about patience, hope, love and faith.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I turned to a friend; a voice of experience. We sat down that Friday afternoon, in a puddle of thick silence. Though she didn’t say much, she knew where I kept the softness under the hard front I gave. Slowly but with resistance I learnt once in awhile it’s okay to cry. I didn’t have to always put on my poker face, that tears are not really a sign of weakness, that therapy can be those nice shoes at the window display of Shoe World or stuffing my face with cookies and cream but it can also be tears; a warm relief.

After it all, I realized I had changed, my desires had changed. I had to go back to Eden; back to the very basics, to see where I had been, where I had gone wrong and to start from there.

So while I was away, I learnt to write my own happy endings, to believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I learnt not to postpone happiness to when the money would be enough, or the house bigger and situations convenient, because there will always be something preventing you from doing what you want, the best thing to do is just go for it, buy that car, start that business.

At the same time I learnt not to rush life because where I am today is where am supposed to be. I learnt not to compare myself with others because I’m on my own unique journey, different from the next person. I slowly learnt not to ask God to show me the future, because even if He did I would worry about how to get there, so instead, I put my life in His hands because not even my best laid plans can match up to His perfect will for my life.

I learnt that in forgiveness I set myself free, that it doesn’t matter how many times you love and get hurt, what matters is that you loved and that you love until it no longer hurts. I learnt the beauty of being broken, of having my insides empty like an echo, because it helped me appreciate the times I’ve been whole. I have learnt how fleeting and fragile life is and how in a whim everything valued can slip from the hinges in which you hung them so carefully.

Now I hold on tightly to these lessons I have learnt along the way because losing them would be like losing one of my senses.

Currently reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Of God,You and May

2010-05-04T02:02:00.001-07:00

On Sunday I felt suspended between the familiar and unknown, between fear and faith and I tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. Right now my mind is occupied by big little worries and mundane responsibilities that must be done. There are things they don't tell you about growing up; like not being able to understand lyrics of a new ‘hip’ song, but in this case it's the mounting needs and harder decisions to be made.

I slept and woke up to the very thing that troubled me yesterday. In an attempt to elude the ache that seems to wait around my every thought and the knot of undissolved emotion in my throat, I decided to lower the noises of the world and let little voices of peace and love talk to me instead; that of God and yours.

You called and said you were going to be there and in those simple words, I knew everything would be okay and all the worries seemed silly and my faith grew stronger.

All along you have been there, loving me out-loud with your actions, caring, listening and understanding even when I was undeserving. I was oblivious of this until one day I woke up and realized that you had gradually become part of my life and my reality, like that familiar tune that plays in my mind when I wake up in the morning…but sweeter.

And now when I think of the sounds of bass guitars and soothing music by Esperanza Spalding , I think of you. But when it all goes quiet and I can't even hear the music, I have you and your unconscious humming of jazzy tunes under your breathe.

I know that life has it's struggles (like now) and there will be hard times but at the end of the day, after my worries, all I have left is God and His promises that He has everything under control. I also have you; my escape and lastly, my promise to May; that this month I will not hold on to life too tightly in case I squeeze out all the joy it has for me.

Without struggle I don't believe humankind would be able to appreciate the gift of life. Life is beautiful. Life is a struggle. Life is a Beautiful Struggle.' – unknown

A Letter To My Sixteen-Year-Old Self

2010-04-20T03:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Trish,

It's me, you. I know it will be hard for you to believe that I’m an older version of you but I want you to pay attention to everything I tell you, you will thank me later.

I know right now ‘sweet sixteen’ tastes a little soar with all the self-discovery that you need to do. Worry not, you will realize that the journey of self-discovery is a continuous process, everyday you find a little bit of yourself in life, in the lemons thrown at you, in the people you meet and those that leave. Embrace it all.

In the time… you really have to do something about those baggy jeans and T-shirts. You are blossoming into a woman, and if God wanted you to be like a boy, He would have made you one. So stop hiding those curves, let your hair down and to put on the six-inch heels once in a while…

Nobody can ever prepare you enough for the uncertainties of life, and more so college, so buckle up for the roller coaster ride; just when the coaster goes up it will go down then up again; you will learn that it’s all part of rapidly growing up. In college everyone’s trying to find their place. There will be all sorts of pressure to act a certain way and do certain things, the pretenses are exhausting; save yourself the trouble and just be you.

You will laugh as much as cry. You will love and love will make you smile and then make you cry but despite of this, don’t stop loving. There’s something about love, about giving and sharing, it doesn't come back to you void. I don’t want to spoil the surprise but nine years from now you will know why am telling you this.

You will go through some hard times and it will reach a point you will have to take the long road less travelled, avoid the short cuts and take it anyway. Don’t run away from making the tough choices because through them lies your hidden strengths.

Believe me when I say hold on to your faith in God. You will have your moments in the wilderness but do not get scared because God will help you pick up the pieces. And remember that even when you change and act too grown for God, you will find Him right there where you left Him, waiting.

Cherish your friendships; don't burn your bridges because you will have to cross them later on unless you can swim and we both know you can't swim. You will need these friends later on and they will need you. It doesn't matter if you will be separated by life or your experiences, keep in touch with them. Once in awhile meet up and share life; laugh, cry and talk about your dreams. Make the best of every moment, take photos, keep the memories because some of these friends will unexpectedly move to far away lands never to return, others will become distant and you'll have nothing to talk about and one or two will unfortunately die.

I know you worry a lot about the future. No, you will not die before graduation. Just so you know none of the things you worry about will come true. Never give up on your dreams of becoming a writer, one day you will actually get paid for it. On that note stop procrastinating, write those scripts, you will look back and wish you took it seriously.

I wish I could tell you everything that's to come but then you would be tempted to change some things, then you would not be the person that I am today. I want you to know that am proud of who you are, I love you.

P.s Please listen to every word mum tells you…she knows what she is saying.

Yours Truly,

Your older wiser self.

What would you say in a letter to your sixteen year old self?

Art by Frank Morrison

Being Six Again

2010-04-13T09:54:00.000-07:00

(younger version of me)

I miss my zig-zag cornrows
and mama painfully straightening my hair with a hot comb
I miss full petticoats, knitted sweaters and pure white socks.

I miss my red pumps
I miss mandatory Sunday school and memorizing bible verses
I miss lazy Sunday afternoon’s watching wrestling matches and re-runs of the Young& Restless

I miss being a flower girl at weddings
I miss lacy dresses and pink leggings.
Red nail polish and plastic earrings.

(rocking the 80's boots)

I miss hearing mama retelling stories about life in the 70’s
I miss climbing trees and racing boys down the street
In pink tops and blue jean dungarees.

I miss playing in the rain
Skipping ropes and throwing stones then hiding
And playing house with neighbourhood kids.

I miss cassette tapes and rewinding them with a biro pen,
I miss eating hot roasted maize
And having dinner before Seven.

But most of all, I miss the innocence and beauty of being Six and because this week I will think happy thoughts like these that don't involve doctor's appointments, bills and matters alike.

What do you miss about being young?

A Thank You Note To God

2010-04-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

"I asked for so many things that I might enjoy life, instead God gave me life that I might enjoy all things. He did not give me all I asked for but everything I hoped for. Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among all men, most richly blessed.” ~ Unknown

Thank You….

For the month of April, the unpredictable weather and warm sweaters, for younger sisters who imagine I work in a bank, older sisters who bail me out when am stuck and for mum's constant prayers that keep me alive.

Thank You…..

For Monday blues, Terrific Tuesdays, Friday sleepovers, random Saturday plans and Sunday brunch, for brawn sandwiches, cookies & cream and home-made punch, for the occasional breakfasts at Maggie’s, long reflective walks, rekindled friendships and warm hugs in the rain, for the sticky notes that fill up my wall reminding me of the rent due and the list of things not yet done because of constant procrastination.

Thank You…….

For the cobbler who I pass every morning seated in his shed and the 60 yr old man who sells at the fruit stand and always forgets the right amount of change to return, for traffic that gives me extra time to sleep in the bus, for crazy voice mail messages left at midnight and weekend family conference calls, for morning texts and for the random Hi's on the street.

Thank you…….

For second hand books and dusty book stands, for the therapy I've found in journal entries, simple poetry and for the little notes slipped in back pockets of my jeans, for anger-management classes that have taught me how to breathe slow,for missed deadlines, misplaced house keys and broken windows.

Thank you…….

For all things new; friends, nude nail polish, green earrings and new music playlists, for faith and hope, for second chances in love, risks taken and fears conquered, for broken toe nails and nicely twisted braids.

But most of all God, thank you for the gift of life and the little things that make life worth living. What are you grateful for?

Happy April!

photo from here by David Garibaldi

A Single Ladies Prayer

2010-03-30T04:35:00.000-07:00

Because I'm going through a serious writer's block...

'Our father who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
‘Coz only you understand this crazy love game,
Lord give me today, a fine ass brother,
‘Coz the ones I've met so far, are all wrong numbers.
Lord I don't care if he's a baller,
Or six feet taller just let him know,
A woman's worth or else,
I'll kick his ass to the curb.

Give me a brother with game,
One who won't be afraid to proclaim your name.
I know this sounds a bit insane,
But even Abraham asked and you gave.
Lord let him know I'm not some gold digger,
And that I just love things romantic and simple.
Lord let him know when to call, when to text,
And when to just shut up ‘coz I might be on PMS…
Lord show him how to love me,
‘Coz so far I haven't seen a manual for this.

Lord teach him how to put me before his needs,
I know this may sound selfish,
But can you blame me?
Lord give him strength to handle me,
‘Coz sometimes I'm overpowered by my crazy mood swings.
There will be times I will give him the silent treatment,
But Lord give him have the patience to stand by me.

Lord help him understand, that just ‘coz I don't cook,
It doesn't mean I can't, sometimes I'm just not in the mood.
Lord forgive me my trespasses in advance,
That's if I meet him and forget you were my first.
I'll try my best to put you before all else,
‘Coz if it's not about you, then the love has failed the test.

Lead me not into temptation,
‘Coz there'll be times I want to go all the way,
Even when I know it's 'wait ’ I'm supposed to say.
Lord let him not be a player,
And if he is let him be retired.

Lord let him be on time on our first date,
‘Coz I don't want a man who'll make me wait.
Lord deliver me from evil,
So, keep away those brothers,
Who want to lead me astray.

Lord let him understand that everyone makes mistakes,And I don’t expect him to be perfect.Lord I know I’ve asked for way too much,But you say in your word to ask…One last thing Lord,I know I have told you what I want, but give me who I need.Because it’s in Jesus’ name that I’ve prayed,AMEN.

Photo by Frank Morrison

I Lost My Virginity...........

2010-03-22T04:31:00.000-07:00

It's said that there is therapy in talking about things; about opening up. Well I need to get this off my chest....

You see, I always knew one day I would eventually loose it but I didn't think I’d loose it at such a tender age. I was Twelve, no I must have been Thirteen because I could already spot the changes in my body. He was my English teacher and it was during recess. He told me to stay behind while the other kids went to play. Yes, kids at that age were all about hopscotch,paper balls and getting dirty.

He used to pay extra attention to me, I wondered why. He told me I was special and talented. Mama told me to beware of such men, but he persisted. I tried to avoid him in class, but he always found a reason to give me extra reading and writing.

That day I had to face him. I was scared, I knew what he wanted. Even though I was young, I wanted it too. I had so many questions in my mind. “Would I do it the right way?”, “Would he be impressed?” , "Would he still think I'm special after it?" I was so scared because I had heard how painful the first time was from my other friends who were older. But I knew I had to do it then or never.

So I let him lead me to losing my virginity. It was painful yet wonderful experience. What irony.

I didn’t know how to start, so he instructed me. I was shaking. He took of his pen and handed me the paper and without knowing it, I took my first step to loosing my virginity as a WRITER, as I wrote my first composition; “About Me.”

The first sentence was hard; I kept on writing and erasing, writing and erasing, afraid of making mistakes. But the good thing about him was that he didn’t expect me to be perfect the first time. He was gentle and patient. I wrote what I felt, my likes and dislikes, my heart, my fears, my dreams, my needs, everything about (the 13 year old me). I was sacred of what he would think about my article but I wrote it anyway.

It was painful then because I didn't have protection. I was scared because I didn't want to get any negative infections from critics but I wasn't old enough to know about protection or to understand that people will judge my writing. But it's not painful anymore. I've learned how to use protection, protection from critics, and that is to be true to myself.

There are days I get tired of doing it, those periods when I suffer from ‘writers block’, I've learned that it's okay to take a break because even writers need a holiday. I take that time away to learn new writing styles which eventually help me enjoy my writing experience to the fullest.

They say (I wonder who ‘they' is), that once you've lost it there is no turning back. Some people have regrets because they now become vulnerable, an open book to everyone else. I don't regret it because every time I take that paper and pen, I feel like it's the first time I'm loosing my virginity as a writer.

It's refreshing. It's special. It's an experience like no other expressing your self on paper.
That's why 12 years later I still write.

Photo from here.

Of Gratitude; A Random Post

2010-03-05T05:23:00.000-08:00

E. B White once said he wakes up in the morning torn between the desire to save the world and the desire to savor it and that alone is difficult for him. He must have had the same feelings I had last Saturday morning at the bus stop. After my numerous errands that excluded retail therapy (which I desperately need), I stood at the bus station waiting for a bus home. My feet gave in so I squeezed myself between total strangers on the stone bench.
I shamefully listened in on their conversation for a lack of earphones to zone out the noise. I leaned back and saw a very old man in foetal position sleeping on a newspaper just under the bench. He looked weak and lifeless like old leaves pressed between the pages of a book. I looked at him for a long moment as though he was a verse I had learned once then forgotten; like the time I forgot my lines during a school play.

But fact is I didn’t know him, but his face is a face I have seen before in other people; in the old man who hawks matchboxes at the roadside and probably earns less than Ksh 50 a day, in the sixty year old man who walks past our gate in the evenings reporting for watchman duty at a nearby estate. Every day he walks as though his body is about to give out to old age but he continues the struggle in order to live.

That's why that Saturday, I recognized that old man’s face; the face of despair. I thought of him this morning while I talked to my saloonist. You see this post is not about the old man but my saloonist; of gratitude.

Her name is Carol, a wonderful spirit, a single mother with a Ten year old son. She lives in a tiny single roomed house. As she did my hair we talked about everything from politics, to church, to men and then she opened up and told me about her son’s condition. He was born with a disability and he is her full time job. She takes him to a normal school but she says it is different there because he has special needs, something other students and teachers don’t understand.

She enthusiastically told me of her intentions to enroll him to a school for special children but it will cost her Ksh 80,000, money she doesn’t have at the moment, she is hoping her son will get a sponsor. I hope she will too, so her son can get the help he needs.

What truly touched my heart was the welcome she gave me; she prepared breakfast and we shared in bread and strong tea. The bread wasn’t buttered and the tea had no milk but as she told us to bow our heads in prayer there was so much gratitude in her voice, gratitude that I realized I had not shown in my day to day life. I was humbled that in little they were grateful. Isn't it where the secret of life lies; in gratitude, that at the end of the day gratitude has a way of giving us hope in our situations, that it can make enough out of little?

We wake up every day and it seems like we always find something to complain about; the weather, nagging bosses or workmates who never knock before they enter your office door and the morning and evening traffic, yet we forget to give thanks, we forget to thank God for the simplest of things; breathe of life.

I realize now there are many times I have overlooked my blessings and instead counted the many things that I didn’t have.

There is so much to be grateful for and Carol reminded me that. For the little things that I think is normal to have, like milk in my tea and butter for my bread, like good health. As for the old man, well, we may never get to know if life truly has a balance; why somethings are the way they are, we may not even have it all to save the world but there is something little we can do and it will definitely go a long way.

*long sigh*
photo from here

Of The Preacherman and Saturday Nights

2010-02-23T22:50:00.000-08:00

I hate going to church on Sundays.
I know you‘ll probably call me a heathen
Because I'm not religious
But only God can judge me…
Let me tell you the story of the preacher man,
And I'm not talking about the sacraments
Or the 3 hour long sermons
I'm talking about the late night fellowship meetings
When the world is asleep and darkness crawls in.

You see, the preacher man visits my mama on Saturday nights
Right after we are done with choir practice at the church house.
He doesn't come in his black robe or his NIV bible,
but in black jeans, a white shirt
And a funny swagger.
He is always on time,
Never missing his visits

Not like in church

Always extending the service

because he has been filled with the Spirit.

I wonder why mama calls the preacher man her customer,
I thought he was called the preacher of the Gospel.

Mama says I can’t disturb her during business hours
So she locks me up in the closet.
When the preacher man is in mama’s office
I can’t get any sleep.
Because mama is always moaning
And sometimes screaming.
But mam is known to be a loud woman, so I reckon
the Preacher man is removing in her all those demons.

In the middle of the night,
Before morning comes
I hear the door shut
And I know the preacher man is gone.
I tiptoe past mama’s room;
She is still asleep
But her clothes are all over the floor.

aren't we supposed to sleep with our clothes on?
The preacher man is good, he normally leaves mama
Notes and coins on her old coffee table,
I guess its because mama gives a lot in the offering plate
And the preacher man is nice enough to bring her back her change.

I asked Little Eric from across the street
What the preacher man does in mama's bedroom,
He said they play grown folk games.
When I grow up and little Eric grows up
I want to play the games mama plays with the preacher man
But I won't remove any of my clothes
Because I don't want Little Eric looking at
The little strawberries growing on my chest.

Sunday morning; mama drags me out of bed
She says I must wear my Sunday best.
I wear my red dress; the one I wear every Sunday.
Yet she has on a new dress with that red blood for her lips.
Today she plaits my hair in cornrows, she plaits them so tight
I won't get a chance to see the preacher man
Sneak a wink at her from the pulpit.

I can hear the church choir singing
They sound like they are filled by the Holy Spirit.
As we walk to the front, the women folk are whispering
I don't like them; they need Jesus.
They like to gossip about my mother,

Because she works at night
And has no legal business permit.
The church women keep their husbands away from mother
But I always see them in our house at night.
The women folk know
That mother and the preacher man have fellowship Saturday nights
But they keep quiet because the preacher man says,
Let him who has no sin cast the first stone.

I don't want to go to Sunday school
Because nobody wants to sit next to me.
Even my friend Angela won’t hold my hand anymore,
She says her mother told her that my mother is a whore,
And if she sits next to me, she might catch the whore virus
I don’t know what the whore virus is….
But of late I’ve been feeling a little sick
Does that mean I have contracted it?

On the pulpit the preacher man doesn't look the same
He is wearing some long robe with a white collar
Looking like he can slay any demon
I look at mother, but her eyes are hidden
Under her huge church hat.
The collection plate passes by;
I look at the coins and notes
I know the church people know that they will end up
On mama's old rusted coffee table.

When the sermon is over
The preacher man stands at the door.
He says praise the Lord to mama

like he wasn't with her the day before.
Mama is a Christian woman, so she says a loud ‘Amen.’
The preacher man gives mama a Holy kiss,
But I know Jesus never talked about exchanging spit
I don’t like the preacher man
I don’t know why he holds that bible in his hands.
Why can’t be just resign and become mama’s business partner?

Because the church folk know and the preacher man knows
That I know and mama knows what happens
On Saturday nights.

photo by Frank Morrison

Of Seasons and Letting Go

2010-02-12T11:06:00.000-08:00

As we laughed and joked over lattes and black forest cake on Friday, it felt so right, like nothing was wrong but deep down I knew it would be the last time we'd have this much familiarity before the awkward silences and the cautious one sentence text messages.

At some point I lost you in the conversation as I continuously circled the rim of my glass with my finger looking at you. I could hear you talk above the noises in the background and the sounds of the oldies music that sounded normal, but my mind wandered off to the thought of the looming goodbye that awaited us.

Yesterday I took a walk; a walk to nowhere and noticed the Jacaranda tree that stands at the end of the street; the delicate purple color had disappeared. The tree looked dull. Truth is seasons change and so do people and sometimes you feel cheated by change because you want to hold on a little longer; hold on to what brought you together in the first place.

It's painfully true that when the most important things to you become worthless or the most important people become strangers, then you are either changing or you valued the wrong things. Why couldn't the colours of that Jacaranda tree stay all year long? Who changed you or me?

While we stood at that bus stop to say our goodbyes amidst strangers waiting to start their own journey, I knew this would the end of a season and the beginning of a new one; a step to the unknown. That very moment the bus drove away, I closed my eyes and said goodbye to three years. The next time I would see you, we would be expected to act differently; not to share the same cozy hugs we had gotten accustomed to, we would be in a room full of people but would not have the freedom to share our secret jokes across the table or hold each others hands under it; for some time we would be familiar strangers.

In a quest to create a new normal, I found myself seated on a city council bench at a side walk on a Sunday afternoon, watching kids roller skate. The scenario of me seating next to total strangers trying to sort out my thoughts and my life reminded me of last year a time so similar I was with friends; we sat there talking about everything from office gossip, relationship squabbles and just everyday life, some of them are no longer friends; more like people who we once shared familiar experiences and enjoyed every bit of it.

And so, it is on that city council bench that I learned the essence of seasons and knowing when to let go. That change is inevitable; people will come into our lives and some will leave, leaves will fall and others will grow, that we should do is relish every moment, learn every lesson from whatever season we are in. We may not like it and it may be hard to let go...but just as we cannot wear flip flops or summer dresses during winter, we must learn to move on with the shift of seasons in our lives, we dare not get stuck with time because of the fear of change or having to let people go because eventually you notice tiny buds of a new season opening; you usher in a new period in your life, new friends, new experiences, new lessons.

photo from here

To All Things New

2010-01-18T00:38:00.000-08:00

There is a heavy scent of ripe mangoes that refuses to leave the insides of my house and I hope the scent can stay all year long. It’s a reminder that January is here, that and the unpredictable warm and cold weather.

Yes, weeks have passed but I still feel that ‘beginning-of the-year’ sense of blamelessness and impending change. I walk and I smell newness. Everything smells deliciously crisp and clean, people who are familiar now look new; new hair dos and all. Maybe it’s all in my head; after all it’s just a change in numbers.

Truth is, a lot is still the same but it’s how we choose to look at it. I still find myself dancing to the music in the supermarket, I get the same awkward looks from strangers but that doesn’t stop me from dancing any harder.

I remain thankful for the yesterdays that made last year because then there would be no today. Under the endless mistakes, painful tears, lost loved ones, broken friendships and long goodbyes, I learned the importance of simple prayers, mustard seed faith and hope in nothingness.

I found great friendship in strangers and learned immense lessons from little things like concerned phone calls, remembered birthdays and surprise gifts in small packages.

I learned there is indescribable therapy in tears and hugs, in cookies and cream, nice fitting sandals, neat cozy bathrooms and music, that time spent with mum baking apple cake or with my sisters having karaoke during black outs cannot be compared to the times we email each other during the day or call each other during the weekends. There is a great difference, the touch, something that technology can’t replace.

It finally makes sense that there are many moments that we will never get back because we were too busy on Facebook updating about the things we are currently doing instead of putting away the machines and truly embracing and enjoying those very moments.

There are days I’ve secretly wanted to move to a new town, where nobody knows me or my past, a place I can start anew; but soon even the unknown and unfamiliar slowly become known and familiar.

Here’s a new year; almost like moving to a new town. Most times we might change our environment; move that favourite chair a little to the left but if we don’t change how we do things, learning from mistakes and grow then we remain bound; we fall back to the same habits and even make the same mistakes. At times, in order to really feel the change, we have to make the changes.

So I made goals to take control of my life, to explore places I’ve never been to, to do things I’ve been scared to do, to get out of the comfort zones, move from the familiar and take a chance. Perhaps I will finally start listening to some rock music and maybe, just maybe I will stop planning every little step I take and exalt a little spontaneity, to embrace it all!

There many people, who didn’t make it to the New Year, like the old man who used to live on our street back home; an old man who was rarely sober but had the queen’s impeccable English. I passed his old wooden gate a few days after the New Year. He was gone. Then I remember Haiti and the people who lost loved ones.

I draw in deep breaths and thank God for being alive for the blessing of another day, another year.Here is to greatness; to jumping a little higher and screaming a little louder, to loving some more and hugging tighter, to walking that extra mile in your life because life is truly in the extra.

Here is to all things new; to life, to Twenty 10.

4am Conversations: A Note to God

2009-12-18T04:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Lord,

Sometimes I wish you had a telephone number or an email address where I could reach you on, then I remember you gave us prayer through which we can talk to you anytime, even now at 4am.

My world is asleep and there is absolute quietness, even in the trees. For a long time I searched for something that would fill that void in my heart, something that would ease my pain on cold rainy days and give me joy unspeakable. I was unknowingly searching for you but instead I pursued other things and I stumbled along life eager to get somewhere only to find I was chasing after the wind.

As a child I heard your name being mentioned during Sunday night conversations around the dinner table or in church among the faithful and I repeated the same phrases I heard in Sunday school. But I wanted to know you personally, a journey I realized I had to take alone. So I searched for you in the shades of the sun and the little things like the sway of the trees. I looked for you in church; in the choirs’ hymns and the pastor’s preaching. But I desired more. I wanted to know what you smelt like, to hear your still small voice and compare it to the pump of the jay bird.

Age lends perspective. Things changed, I changed but you faithfully remained the same. Sometimes I feel like a failing houseplant you keep watering and fertilizing but won’t blossom, but even with my inadequacies, you still love me. In my fears of today and worries of tomorrow, you teach me how to be still, how to walk by faith and not by sight.
And in my search for purpose, when I feel like the wrong answer to a child’s arithmetic problem, you wake me up in the morning and remind me of the beautiful plans you have for me.

Some bad experiences have in the past seed doubt in me, and I questioned you; why bad things happened to good people, like why the woman in church had to lose her three children in that car accident, but even in my doubts you prove you are still in control, that you see the bigger picture.

At times I wonder about coloured leaves and scattered clouds. About the flowers I see and the diversity in the people I know; you are real.
I know in the past I have looked for tangible evidences of your presence but now I see you in ordinary miracles that are within my reach, like the birth of a new born baby and the privilege of seeing a new day. Gradually I have felt your presence in little delights such as a loved one’s touch, concerned friends and a stranger’s random act of kindness. I know you are there.

Lord I can’t thank you enough for the blessings you have given me, for I consider myself undeserving. Thank you for the breath of life, for your undeserving mercies and your patience in my faults, for your love in my weakness and your providence in my time of need. Thank you for walking with me through distances I was unable to walk alone, through that you have given me the faith of Abraham. Thank you for loving me despite my impatience towards delayed answers to prayers and days that go by without acknowledging you are there.

Lord you have given me peace like the calmness of a river and a certain joy that musters to the surface of my life. Now i know I have found you.

Amen.

Photo by Henry Lee Battle

His Eye is On the Sparrow....

2009-12-14T04:53:00.000-08:00

Most times I want to experience the loose freedom of a lazy Sunday evening; when the sun is strong and I can’t possibly sit in the house because of the heat.....so I take a walk.
Right outside the gate sits a group of old men in circles looking at the going-ons in the neighbourhood. Some are either smoking cigarettes, playing checkers or silent in their own thoughts. I imagine how observant they must be watching young boys in sagged trousers and young girls in short skirts. They probably shake their heads in disapproval of how the simple life has changed.
And like the old men, I have adapted the keen observation of the people and the things going on around me. I feel suddenly aware of my surroundings, in a way I haven’t been before.

Tiny details no longer escape me, like bathroom conversations while women powder their nose, café happenings; like the man seated sipping coffee as he waits for his date, how the row of shoe shiners uniformly shine their customers shoes as they read the morning paper.

But this entry is not about the old men or the observations I've mentioned, but about the two men I have noticed for a long time. One, a mad man who shelters himself under a tree. I see him on my way home every other day. I’m told he has been there for ten years. He lives under that tree, hangs his clothes on its branches and whenever the bus passes by, he is always making signs towards the heavens. Then there is another young man, probably my age, who walks around the estate talking to himself. I met him yesterday on my way to church. He was barefoot and half naked.I wonder what his story is?

Thoughts of them bring me to the worries that woke me up today; the uncertainty of next year. I find myself worrying about what next. I've struggled with worry most of my life. At one point I was scared the world would end before I cleared school, then I worried about how I'd make it through university with the fees and all, now it’s about the job situation and next year and so many other little things. If its not about this, its about another thing.

But here I am years later; the world did not end and God provided for my way through campus, none of my past worries ever came to pass, why then should i be worried? God has been more than faithful and He has it all under control; my life. I'm reminded countless times how worry shows a lack of confidence in God. I look back at my life and wonder why i even bothered about certain things when God had already taken care of them.

I think about the two men and wonder how they survive each day, if they eat at all and if they have enough clothing for the cold nights...but seeing them everyday is a sigh that God takes care of them too. He provides for them in their situation.

Maybe this entry is also about me after all and maybe you whose worried ; it’s about learning not to worry about tomorrow, it’s about giving God control over your life and not doubting that He will provide. Its about casting our cares to God. I look around me, at the splendor of the flowers, the birds and trees, God worries about these little things, how much more does He care for you and me?

If His eye is on the sparrow then I know He watches me.

'Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?' ~ Matthew 6:25-27

Picture by Linda Knorr

Peace, Love & Blessings !

Of Release

2009-12-04T03:45:00.000-08:00

It’s simple. I long for release; that easy abandon, forgetting everything else. This week has gone so quick; almost like how as kids we used to quickly forward music tapes with biro pens. But it has been more of routine and it is even scary that for the past three days I’ve taken the same bus home; same driver, same conductor. The lunch breaks are shorter and with every passing day the extension calls to the office sound more and more like a scratched CD being played over and over; ‘do this, do that’, 'come here, no go there'. And now i realize I've been piling things inside, things i need to release!

*insert one of those silent screams*

There is a certain war going on between my mind and body. My mind keeps telling me to go on; to continue keying in the information, taking the calls, the orders and running the errands, but my body is giving in…its screaming for rest. It wants to throw away the alarm clock when it rings in the morning and disconnect the extension line in the office.

I need RELEASE.

That release you get when you finally sit around with your girlfriends for brunch, and as anticipated, there will be wallowing so you cover all the bases with milkshakes and chocolate chip cookies. And the interesting thing is, as you catch up on the episodes of your lives you realize you’ve all been going through the same things but you’ve been too busy with life to meet, laugh, cry and rant about it. I want that.

Karaoke café’s are a nice diversion; the cool slide in booths, the nice waiters, the tall frosted glasses, the napkins you use to scribble little notes on and the young professional types having intellectual conversations over coffee lattes. You see, I want that kind of release you get when you go on stage at a Karaoke café and sing your heart out; wrong keys and all, but you don’t really care because when you shed off the six-inch heels, the short skirt suit and hold your hair into a chic knot deliberately loose enough to look casual but neat; nobody can tell who you really are. I want that.

I crave RELEASE.

After a long week, I want to have that weekend conference call with my family; you know the one where everyone talks in unison, laughing and asking lots of questions and at the end of it all, you get that cozy feeling like you are back home to that which is familiar and comforting.I want that.

I want that release you get from dancing in aisle six of the supermarket while comparing the prices of mustard and cheese and onion crisps as you mouth every word of the music tunes filling the air, with no worry of onlookers questioning your sanity. Is it wrong that I want that too?

I want to go to Central park, amidst the oasis of greenery, where the wind is calm and reviving and put my ear phones on allowing the music to slide around and into me until the batteries go dead. Or maybe just sit on one of those city council benches and watch people pass by and probably use my phone to capture the little things along the way like couples holding hands, the busy traffic, and the newspaper stand guy dosing off.

Today I’m in maudlin mood. There is a creeping sense of quiet sadness I feel. No tears; just a knot of undissolved emotion in my throat that I’m determined will not control one more second of my life.

The India Arie playlist I made in the morning is over and the next in the line up is Lauryn Hill. She is singing about ‘finding a peace of mind’. Its on repeat, I sing along. It says everything.

This weekend I will probably paint my nails a tasteful nude polish or maybe a screaming black color and finally make that trip to the park. I don’t know. All I know is I want to breathe. I want release. And hopefully this weekend I will get it.

Have a great weekend people.

photo from here

Through The Eyes of a Child

2009-11-23T03:13:00.000-08:00

On most Sundays I get a lot of time to relax, relate, reflect and most importantly time to release. I get to notice the silly little things I’m normally too busy to note; like the fact that my neighbour’s one year old baby now walks and tries to call me ‘Tati’.

This past Sunday as I walked home from church, I watched the neighbourhood kids playing in their Sunday best. The girls in their fancy little flowery dresses, jumping ropes and playing hopscotch and the little boys playing with their handmade football wearing over sized bow ties and trying to be men in their tiny suits and not so polished shoes.

I saw something in their eyes, heard something in their hilarity; a certain innocence. There is a way certain songs, smells and even noises can take you back to a specific time and place in your life. Well, seeing those kids rustled in me certain memories of my own childhood. It took me back to the Saturdays my sisters and I spent at Aiken village park sleeping on tyre swings looking up at the sun as the swing circled continuously.

These are warm memories of when life was simple; when the biggest decision I had to make was choosing whether I wanted to wear white socks or pink stockings, drink tea or brown porridge. Many years later; here I am. Leaves of time drop from the branches and before they reach the ground and lie still, I realize so many things have changed. I have changed.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and a stranger looks back at me. I stopped dreaming about touching the skies, now I only think of how I'll work to get the milk and butter. I stopped believing in the strength of effortless prayers made at 4am, the simplicity of faith in things not yet seen. I let the world in and it dictated my innocence, it told me how hard it would be to make it. It imparted fears i never knew of and slowly took away my courage. I packed away all my childhood dreams in that little box that contained simple immature stories written in the playground swings and verses of poems scribbled seated at the back of the bus and stored it away.

When did life get so complicated? When did we stop listening to the sound of music? What happened to the openness and spontaneity? While we were busy scheduling meetings and making conference calls and what not; the world silently robbed us of the joy found in the little things in life, like dancing in the rain.

Now I realize how much I have let adulthood box me in. I want to become a child again; to maintain my maturity but still experience the ease and enthusiasm of a child. I want to put away the apathy and stuffy maturity and cuddle life once more.

I want to believe in the limitless possibilities of faith, to face life with the courage of a child who sees a lion but still wants to go pat its back. I want that innocence of that child who sees evil but knows tomorrow will be better.

I want to be a child again. I want to live life through the eyes of a child.

Art by Edwin Lester

A Note To Him

2009-11-17T02:22:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I found myself back to that place where you took me for my birthday; that quaint candy shop and part eatery; eclectic in the right measures. But there was no sign of humanity except for the employees closing up. I stood by the window with my groceries for what seemed like hours, but in actuality it was five passing minutes, reminiscing on that day and how you had given into my childhood addiction of cotton candy and sat through hours watching the inner child in me come to life.

There is something special about you; it is so many things put together; like how you hold my hand in traffic because you know my fear of fast moving cars. It is the way you are not afraid to show affection despite the unwavering stares from strangers. How you pose for my spontaneous photos and listen to my crazy stories even when you don't understand a thing I'm saying. It is the way you act my doctor when I’m unwell and how you believe in my dreams and breathe life into them even before I do.

It is the random calls or texts just to ask if my day is okay and the way I know I can count on you to be on the other end of the telephone after a grueling day or when life sucks. It is the way you know me so well; how you know I love my brawn sandwiches with mustard and my ice cream in chocolate flavor. It is the very way you know every inflection of my voice, every look and read every silent signal.

Other times it is how you make weird things enjoyable; like how you teach me old skool songs and the way you repeatedly name Arsenal players for me when we are watching football.

I like that now I can go for a car show and enjoy every minute of it; you made it so much fun the first time you took me. I can’t forget those times in college we kept each other awake studying for finals and writing those obnoxiously long-winded term papers; we made it!

There are times I’ve secretly enjoyed arguing with you about which radio station to tune to ; Neo-soul or Classic.

It is the prayers we've shared and the quiet breakfast mornings at Maggie’s, the late night conversations in spite of the sleep and the surprise lunches amidst our busy schedules, the midnight calls and morning texts, the little presents for no apparent reason, the ice cream dates and motorcycle rides, the long walks and comforting hugs.

But its more than the good times; the graduations and anniversaries, the birthdays and parties. Even after the irritations and problems, disappointments and past mistakes, silly arguments and angry silences; I have found in you greater virtues of love such as tolerance and patience, forgiveness and loyalty. You have accepted me just the way I am. With you i can be me, weaknesses and all.

India Arie knows exactly what i feel every time i hear her sing 'He heals me' on repeat. You are that man to me. Looking back at all the moments, the memories, the years gone by, I realize I have found in you a wonderful man and a best friend.

Yours Truly.

Artwork by David Garibaldi

Through The Wilderness

2009-11-13T00:38:00.000-08:00

There comes a time; a moment in everyone’s life when for a time, we go off course; those very moments when we fail, make mistakes, we are knocked down or loose direction and therefore get lost in the wilderness. It’s at these times; in the wilderness that we respond by retaliating against the world, against those who’ve hurt us, against ourselves and runaway from our problems, weaknesses and mistakes, our failures,hurts and disappointments.

It's at these times that we must choose to fight to get back our lives, to mend the wrongs, to face the choices we have made and return to the right paths.
And its true, we might get back on track and have to start over. Others will have gone further journey, walked a mile ahead, conquered and achieved more, but you are on a different journey; your own personal journey that can never match any one else. Therefore you do not to worry; you are not just a conqueror, but more than a conqueror.

Because you have come from a war alive; with scars and wounds but alive. You got lost in a world unknown to you but you found your way home. You have been tested but you persevered, you have fought the battle and it has made you stronger.

It doesn’t matter what your wilderness is; it might be getting out of a bad relationship, going through pain of loosing someone,recovering from hurt, suffering a breakdown, having made wrong choices or bad mistakes. Whatever it is, it’s there to strengthen you, to help you learn and grow.

For Shanice; because it doesn't matter what you are going through, I will help you breathe. For you have been there for me countless times and because your wilderness is mine.

Photo by : Kevin "WAK" Williams

Have a lovely weekend everyone!

Woman To Woman

2009-11-11T01:24:00.000-08:00

I think its time we sat down,
Woman to woman
To compare our notes
And settle the scores.
Let’s skip the introductions
But please take notes
Because this is vital information
I know you are his girlfriend,
But I’m his wife; the mother of his children.
Why do you look shocked?
You thought this was some courtesy call?
I already knew about you
It’s called female intuition, hotel receipts and cheap perfume.

Woman to woman,
This time he truly out did himself.
You look better than I expected,
A lot like me when I was younger
But two sizes smaller.
Don’t be scared.
I won’t hit you.
Not because I can’t
But because I don’t want to resort to violence.
Let me guess,
You must be 26, with a basic university degree,
And here you are creeping with my husband Charles
Just because he gets your rent paid,
Your hair did and he drives a Cadillac.

Pssshhhhht…
Woman please…
Woman to woman
This is an old story
I’ve seen this before.
But I know you’d rather be the one
He cheats with
Than the one he cheats on.
You are no different.
He’ll get you addicted
Then before you know it,
You’ll be just like Beth, Mary and Allison

I know all about the silent arrangements.
You have him on Saturdays
I get him on Sundays,
You get the weekend getaways,
I get the leftover days.
I know on Valentines he gave you expensive jewelry
And I only got the groceries...
But I’m not complaining.
Woman to woman
I just wish he would be precise
When he is getting his conjugal rights,
Coz I’m tired of him calling me Ashley
When I know my name hasn’t changed from Tracey.

So what does he call you?
Baby, Sweetie, Honey
He calls me all that too
Psssthttt…
I know this man like the
Back of my hands
I got ten years of marriage under my belt.
I’ve memorized his tired lines
Tired of looking after his tired arse.
Woman to woman,
I wonder how you put up with him at all
Oh... wait a minute, you still on the honeymoon period.
Then He’ll take up his fishing rod
And look for the next blonde.

Honey,
Take a hard look at me...
Woman to woman,
I have no job with three kids
A big house but no marriage bliss.
So when you’ve looked long enough
I suggest you run for the hills
Coz in a year, maybe two
This will be you,
A stay home wife
Knocked up with his third child.

It was nice having this conversation.
I wanted to make myself clear so
We avoid future confrontations.
And before I forget,
Don’t leave those flirty voice mails on my answering machine
Coz next time you do that,
I promise it will get ugly.
Just so you don’t forget.
You are his good time,
His one, two, maybe three night stand
But I’m his wife, and at the end of the day
He sleeps in my bed.

So woman to woman! I demand some respect!
All Rights Reserved
© 2009 Tricia.M.

I Was Here

2009-11-06T02:50:00.001-08:00

There are certain people who come into our lives; some for minutes, others for hours and some it’s a matter of days and before these people leave our lives they make an impact, bring a certain change, shine a definite light; some by their words or their their actions of love and others by the very fact that they cared enough to believe in our dreams no matter how unreachable they seemed.

For some of these people, it's a one day experience; we may never meet them again, others have always been in our lives and even though you don’t talk to them every other day, We know they have touched our lives; they were there and that’s something we carry with us everyday.

For me, it’s so many people wrapped up in one; it’s my elementary school teacher, the one who gave me all that extra work; the many books to read and mandatory reports to write. She helped me find and nurture my true passion. I didn’t understand it then but I do now. I will never forget her because she believed I was special; ‘she was there’.

There was also Shaye; my childhood friend. I will never forget that day we sat on the swings, our tiny legs dangling off the ground. I remember how depressed I felt because the kids in my class kept making fun of the fact that my skin was darker, my hair thicker and kinky and my legs a little longer than theirs. I remember her holding my hand as she told me; 'black was beauty'. And similar to how an asthma patient never forgets their inhaler; I carried those words with me all these years, and even though we haven’t talked in ten years, I can never forget how she helped me rid the misconception of beauty at an early age; 'She was there’ for me.

Life is really about people and the everyday difference we can make their lives. It doesn’t have to be heroic acts; it’s just that little something you can give to someone, the little differences that make up a whole difference to someone, like tiny threads that eventually make up a yarn. So that one day they will look back and say ‘she was here’ or ‘he was here' and be grateful for your having walked into their lives.

I’m intrigued by an anonymous sprayer I’ve never met but who I’ve seen his work. He sprays graffiti on walls around our estate and everywhere he goes, with a key message of keeping peace alive. I once bordered a bus on my way to work and on the seat it was written ‘XXX was here.’ Now every time I think of peace I think of him.

He really got me thinking; how will people know that I once walked through their lives, what will I leave behind after an hour or a day’s experience with them, how will someone remember me…how will they know that ‘I was here?’

How will they know that ‘you were here’?

'My life is my message'~ Mahatma Gandhi

Have a great weekend y'all!

The One About The Weekend and The Ones Who Left Too Soon

2009-11-02T03:43:00.000-08:00

It’s rained all weekend. I stayed indoors for the better part of it because of this. There is something amazing about being indoors, a certain coziness to it all, like what you feel when you hang out at a side walk café and you zone out amidst the cacophony of chatter, laughter and the soothing jazz songs. And this gives the perfect opportunity to let your thoughts disappear amid the distant murmur of voices of a crowded world.

This weekend was a concoction of a lot of random things; much more like a cocktail drink, but this one was a little sore, not what I really expected. I indulged in a lot of impulse buying, caught up on episodes of Gossip girl, Grey’s Anatomy and Army Wives, made that long weekend call to mum and was questioned about my diet, current body weight and cooking skills, woke up early to go to church, wrote emotional journal entries and during that unexpected black out with candles; painted my toenails a delicate color of silver.

Everything was fine; I was getting used to the cold rainy morning, up until the time I read that facebook message. In a few words; I found out that you had lost him in a tragic accident, the man you’d hoped someday to spend the rest of your life with. There’s an eerie quietness that I feel now, nothing close to the unimaginable pain you must be going through. To know that you are hurting hurts me too.

And all this reminds me of her and how her death was also sudden. I remember how she used to irritatingly throw strawberries at me on facebook and how her wall posts piled up because I was always too busy to reply. Now she’s gone; not on one of her long travels to a neighbouring country, like I tried to convince myself, but gone forever. Sometimes when life hands me too many lemons and I just need to release; I’m tempted to call her at 2AM and I do; maybe silently hoping that she will pick up my call like old days, only to realize the number is no longer in service.

I remember how she’d force me to pose for her many photography projects; I would do anything to bring back those memories, even pose for a hundred ridiculous photos. I can't forget the countless times we sat down at that café, sharing chocolate Swiss rolls. That very last time, you reminded me to live and laugh and stop stressing over the little things. It was like you knew you’d leave all too soon and I’d have to fair on.

Before you left and many others too; I lived a fairy tale life; in which friends don’t get killed by drunk drivers and die young, but live full lives. For a long time, my life felt stuck like that faulty elevator on the fifth floor of our building. I remember waking up the next day and life seemed to be moving on. I wondered how people around me could still go on with life and how my alarm clock could still wake me up at 6am for work like nothings happened. The swift moving on of the world around me hurt my feelings a little, no, a lot…but I realized, though hard, life must go on...We must live on!

Today morning I found myself in a somewhat angry conversation with God and nothing made sense. I wanted answers. Like how could life be so easily broken without the slightest warning? But He reminded me to live!

Right now I’m seated in the office. It’s raining outside. I have John Legend’s song, ‘Someday’ on repeat.I need to feel the music. All this is clearer now. This post is no longer about my release, its for anyone who’s lost someone or knows someone who’s lost someone.

We may not have the answers to the ‘why’s’ of this life but we have the answer to today; that is to live. We have the now, the people who are still here with us. Loosing someone is really not something we get used to, instead one day we wake up in the morning and its not the first thing that hits you. Lets not get caught up in the why’s and forget what we should really do is live.

Live life and love the people who make your life, love them hard and make everyday matter.

'So many times we take the people in our lives for granted. Beginning today,treat everyone you meet as if they were not going to be alive tomorrow. Extend to them all the care,kindness and understanding you can muster &do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.'~unknown

painting by Michael Wallace

Everyday People

2009-10-27T00:43:00.000-07:00

It’s interesting how complete strangers can weave silently into our everyday lives and how their presence is significant in a way that may be hard to explain. I think I feel that way about the elderly woman and the Asian baby who I constantly meet walking down the sidewalk early in the morning, and the point five Indian girl who I mostly find standing right outside the mall by 7:45 AM looking at her watch as if waiting for somebody important.

It’s a surprise how these people have unknowingly been part of my life since I started working. On most mornings, like today, when I’m stuck in traffic for those ten, twenty even thirty minutes and the person seated next to me is either catching up on missed sleep or reading the morning newspaper, I on the other hand, find myself looking outside the window trying to spot either the elderly woman and the young Asian boy or the Indian girl; and when I do, I try to follow them with the slow motion of the moving bus.

But this is more about Mary; the woman who mops the floor in our building and how I’ve gotten used to instinctively timing myself with her daily cleaning routine. Mary has grown on me; if I find her moping on fourth floor, I know I’m early to work and we have time to chat a little about the day, the weather and why she doesn’t wear heels. And on busy Monday mornings when I find her finishing up on 1st floor, I know I’m very late and we can only exchange quick compliments and I’m off to the office.

Sometimes when I make random conversations with Mary, she opens up and tells me about her life and what she is going through. Though at first I didn’t want to get involved, I didn’t want to sit down and listen because that would mean feeling helpless, not knowing how to help. But then I realized, she didn’t need me to solve her problems or give her money,she just needed someone to listen to her story.

I’ve learned a lot from Mary; how through our stories, perfect strangers can be so familiar and how sometimes we can get so involved in ourselves and our lives that we underestimate simple things like the power of a greeting, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment,a helping hand, a random text or call to a long lost friend just to say hello, or the smallest act of care, even to a stranger. These alone can change somebody’s life or their situations; knowing someone cares.

There are billions of people in this world. People from all walks of life, right now some of them are just waking up or eating breakfast and others are now going to bed after a long days work…we may never get to meet all these people, but everyday as we walk the streets of life, we unthinkingly meet a daughter who just wants to be loved, a son trying to stop a habit, someone’s husband whose just trying to make ends meet, someone’s wife whose trying to come out of an abusive relationship....we may bump into these people and assume they are nameless faces in a crowd, yet deep within, they are souls searching and silently screaming to be heard, to be loved, for someone, anyone out there to take the time to show them that they care.

Everyone we meet, is either afraid of something, loves something or has lost something. Whenever you get the chance be kind to the people in our lives because you may not know the battles they are fighting. ~ Jackson Brown

The Journey

2009-10-23T02:16:00.000-07:00

Sometimes i look around me, at everyone else and how things unfold and i find myself comparing my life with that of others. I'm constantly reminding myself not to compare myself and my life with others.
I'm learning that everyone is on a personal journey, going through different experiences and living different lives that cannot and will never match anyone else's.
Right now you are where you need to be to get to where you are going. I hope i can remember this. :)

Have a great weekend people!

photocredits from here

Rain, Guilty Pleasures and Gratitude Journal

2009-10-19T04:50:00.000-07:00

The cold has just set in and its been raining a lot lately.This weekend I went shopping for closed shoes to replace the signature sandals I love wearing, something about not wanting to slip on mud as I’m going to work, hence being forced me to go back home to look for something else to change into therefore being a potential bad day.
The weekend was great. I absolutely indulged in some shopping, movies and a lot of serious junk food. I feel guilty because i had purposed to eat healthy , now I'm back to square one. Plus, why is it that when I’m broke, I tend to spend more money. Like this weekend. I knew I had close to nothing but that didn’t stop me from buying new shoes and trying out new ice cream and chocolate flavors. You’d think I’d save the last shillings for food or something important like electricity (which reminds me i haven't paid yet) but no, I had to just close my eyes and hang around the candy shop. :(
*sigh*
It’s also this weekend that I learned about being grateful. A lot of times I wake up in the morning and start complaining about this or that, this normally goes on till the end of the day. On Sunday while I was buying groceries, outside the supermarket, was this blind man. He normally stands at the exit with his tin and begs for money. I must admit I have a weak heart coz I never pass him without dropping something. Well it was really raining and there was another crippled man seated on the pavement with a tin too, being rained on and all. I felt sad.Really.

It’s at that point that I thanked God for my life and every good thing He has blessed me with. Sometimes we take it for granted; life, its beauty and the blessings given to us.

I’ve realized it’s so easy to take those things for granted, the small things like having food or shelter. I mean, we wake up in the morning in good health, go to work or do your normal day to day activities ; take three meals during the day and sleep at night and think its normal. Have you ever imagined taking one meal in a day, not because you are on some diet, but because you do not have?

Even with what we have, good health, family and friends, jobs to go to and homes to come back to, we still have something to complain about.
If its not the clothes we have, its annoying bosses or workmates, if not that, it might be our neighbours or something else. And not that we should downplay our problems. Its just that once in awhile, correction..every chance we get, we should be thankful.

Sometimes its when I look outside of my world, when i stop focusing on myself and all things wrong, that I realize I have so much to be thankful for. Its not a must to be healthy and alive, it’s a blessing.Its not that I'm more special than the blind man who stands outside the supermarket begging or that child in the hospital fighting cancer..all these things are blessings.

Anyway, today i decided that I'll be keeping a gratitude journal, or just write a gratitude note listing things I'm grateful for everyday when i wake up. There is a certain humility when we have an attitude of gratitude and we make room for receiving more..
Have a great week everyone :)

To Mama

2009-10-14T04:25:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was young, I wanted your God, I prayed that one day I would find your God; that man that had you high on some rare joy. I watched every Sunday afternoon as you indulged in your addiction of baking pumpkin pies and chocolate cakes while you sang along to some old gospel songs. You had so much joy, something that I too wanted. And I remember the countless mornings when you'd wake up, earlier than the rest of us and in my sleep, I could hear you in your room praying. I always knew when you got on your knees, your God was somewhere listening, getting ready to do something big.

It seems like your God was always in the miracle making business, it was beyond healing the coughs and colds or the midnight headaches; He provided when we didn't have plenty, therefore we were never in need. Like that time we didn't know where we were going to get out next plate, you were not worried at all and we never slept hungry.

I miss those Saturday afternoons you used to take us to the park. We'd play on the slides and swings, we were just kids without a care in the world.I secretly watched you sitting silently at a far corner meditating. At the time I didn't know what you were talking to your God about, but now that I'm grown, I find myself doing the same; having silent conversations with God when I feel lost and alone needing answers for my problems.

Mama, I wanted your God, that God that gave you all that peace and joy even when the bills were late and that nasty electricity man was constantly knocking at the door..Still, this did not keep you from going to church every Sunday and dropping the little you had in the offering plate.

I recall the Sunday mornings when you'd sit me down with a hot comb to untangle my kinky hair into a nice straight perm. You'd tell me stories from the Bible; Joseph, David , Abraham and the great things your God did for them in the years past. You loved to help us memorize bible verses and even gave us a few cents to encourage us. Now I know it wasn't really about the money, but so that we'd have something to get us through life with.

Sometimes in church, I'd watch you from the back row as you raised your hand in worship and I'd see you tear up. I was scared that you had so many problems or that we gave you too much work, but then I realized when you cried, those were tears of joy in your eyes.

Mama I love that your God replaced your fear for faith..and He was able to shield us from harm on those fateful days when we were considered the 'wrong tribe' and we were on the move trying to find safety. It was your God that protected us.

I'm older now and I understand what the big fuss was all about. You told me about your God and my life has really changed.Half the times, I don't understand your God's mysterious ways but He remains your God and now He has become my God.

For mum, for giving me something greater than life ;introducing me to her God.

Sticky Notes, India Arie and What not not

2009-10-06T02:49:00.000-07:00

Okay maybe not in that order but that's how life has been. October really caught me by surprise.

These days I've become this robot who gets out of the house in the morning, arrives at work and first thing on my list is to create my music play list to get me through the day, and before i know it, its 5pm and all I want is that bus ride sleep on my way home.

I no longer get time to listen to dramatic morning radio shows or take random pictures of the sun set in the evening , instead there's been a lot of never ending meetings (thank God for tic-tac toe), difficult people who make it hard to get through a normal day without revising my anger management notes and sticky reminder notes on my computer screen, my bedroom wall and basically everywhere.

And when the sticky notes failed and they got lost (with important instructions from the boss) somewhere between my bag and desk, i resorted to saving reminders on my phone..now that Gossip Girl theme song * U Know You Love Me* that I use for the reminders , keeps me on my toes.

*long sigh*

My only consolation is when I get to work earlier than the rest, I get to listen to India Arie and Anthony Hamilton. That takes me through the first thirty minutes of the morning in peace, before people start making demands and leave my office without closing the door.

*another long sigh*

Nobody told me juggling two day jobs (which I'm very thankful for) was going to be like this; I dislike routine and I do miss my random ways. Sleep has practically taken over such addictions like hanging around dusty book stands and antic shops and even indulging in some 'in the middle of the week' retail therapy. Even the guy at the video store has noticed I don't swap movies anymore.

So I've decided from now on, its going to be different. I've been working with a 'to-do list' this week and I kinda like it, some order. So I made one for this month;

1.Buy a new book for the month and read a chapter everyday before i sleep
2.Read and meditate on the bible everyday (even if its just a verse)
3.Avoid that take away joint and try to cook some real food.
4.Take a random photo everyday, even if its of my nails in that black nail polish or that of a car in motion.
5.Stop worrying about ever little thing..instead pray.
6.Go to church every Sunday even if I've woken up late and i have laundry waiting.
7.Involve myself in a little impulse buying
8.Get my breasts checked.( never done it before )
9.Go to some random park and enjoy the peace.
10. Write as often as i can and blog every week.

And that takes care of my October, so far so good.

Have a great month y'all.

"20 years from now you will be more disappointed
at the things that you didn't do
than by the ones you did do.
Explore, Dream. Discover. -Twain"

Happy New Year to Me!

2009-09-24T03:02:00.000-07:00

It’s Thursday morning. As I walked to work today, everything was unchanged; I saw the same man at the newspaper stand, I met the same people I meet everyday, hurriedly walking to work, I met the janitor who always greets me with a smile and work is still work but there is something different.

It’s not the normal -wake up in the morning look for clothes to wear-Thursday. It’s my birthday Thursday. If feels different, from the new Lauryn Hill music I downloaded to the lovely breeze, It’s different. It’s like how it felt when I sat around with my family and friends last year to toast the birth of a New Year. Everything felt different, the air, the sun, even the people that I met that day; there was something different in theirs faces, a certain hope in their smiles, in what lay ahead.
That’s how I feel right now.
A certain special feel to the day, even though deep down I know it’s just a change of numbers and everything else is still the same.
So now I say goodbye to twenty three. So much has happened. I met some great people and lost some friends. There were lots of tears and heartbreak, laughter and pain. New cravings and addictions. There was graduation, oh graduation; the joy I felt walking up that podium to get my first degree and the fear that I would slip and fall because it was the first time I actually wore six-inch heels.
All in all, I lived and enjoyed.
So I’m growing older but my heart is still young. There things that haven’t changed; like the way I make silly faces at my siblings and randomly stick out my tongue at annoying strangers, my silly journal musings and the music that I sing in the morning. I will forever dance in the rain even if I get sick and socking wet. On most days, I will still rush home from work so I can watch my favourite cartoons. :)
*long sigh*
However, I know a lot of things will change, like the decisions I make and the directions I choose to take. I will embrace these changes with open arms.
I’ve learnt to live this beautiful life and not take it too serious. So when the deadlines are too many and life feels too congested; I will not hesitate to get rid of the uptight conservative office look, let down my hair, put on my dancing shoes and enjoys some random karaoke and even rock music.
I’ve discovered it’s not so much the big things that get to me and make life worth living; it’s all the little tiny threads; the lazy Sunday afternoons and long walks, random conversations with my little niece and office mates, the laughter in the rain and the silences when there is nothing to say.

I'm really thankful for the texts, facebook messages and wall posts, the midnight birthday calls and the surprise presents. I'm still not sure what i want this year, maybe cotton candy or I'll probably get drunk on ice cream (coz on normal days I'm too busy thinking about my bills), or spend the weekend with close friends, but this year I will live, love and laugh some more because He has brought me this far and I’m truly blessed.

Here is to newness.

On Bathrooms, Release & God's faithfulness

2009-09-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

...........I know it might not make sense to you but in my world it does.

Relax, Relate, RELEASE!
I always try to remind myself that.Breathe in and out a couple of times and it will be fine.

Remember when i was ranting here about my lack of a job etc. Well on Monday i was having one of those days that required me to relax, relate and release..I woke up late, caught a bus that left us all stranded so i had to walk to work, got to my internship place late, found someone had messed up my work and that i had loads of work waiting for me and there and then,i closed my office door and i wanted to scream, shout, even cry because i felt like everything was falling apart and to make it worse, on a Monday morning! I just told God i needed His favor and left it at that.

I really don't think it was about that irritating bus that left me stranded during the morning rush hour or the fact that i had a deadline by 12pm and countless other things to do..i just needed to RELEASE! I think i wanted to scream because of all the issues i was dealing with and trying to suppress inside of me, not necessarily work.
And........
That's why i love bathrooms. I've loved them since i was a littler (my word). When i was young i loved staying in the bathroom, that's where i would go to cry, talk to Jesus, read magazines and novels and sometimes hide from chores. Its peaceful, i feel at home, i feel i can release, cry , wash my face and once I'm out of the place, I'm okay, nobody would even know something was wrong.
But i haven't had a chance to do that. In a long time. Life has become such a routine. You know, waking up, checking mail, facebook, hustle for a bus, work, work, work, lunch (at 4pm),power nap, dinner, sleep. I hardly get time to read any more leave alone time to just breathe.
Anyway.....
Back to my Monday, i wanted to rush out of work, i cleared everything on time but then just as am about to leave the office my boss calls me.To cut a very long story short, God is faithful. I'm not big on expressions (Jumping up and down and all that) but as i left the office a little later, after a series of events,phone calls,a great email and meeting strangers, i had three job offers. It took me a whole night to actually believe that I'd been offered three jobs and i didn't have to shorten my skirt, unbutton my blouse or pay a bribe.

So today my sister woke up at 6am reminding me I'm not jobless anymore and that i should get on up and start my day!

What can i say, Its God being faithful and putting me at the right place and the right time and divinely connecting me to people that will direct me to my destiny. and an answer to a little prayer.
God is great, that's all i can say! :)
p.s Cheryl, i don't think I'll be coming to China anymore, let me give this place a try.

pICTURE BY fRANK mORRISON.

I Set You Free

2009-09-07T03:17:00.000-07:00

Like a bird, i had you caged in my heart
afraid to let you fly incase you'd never come back.
But now i set you free,
taking the risk of you finding another heart to be with.
I set you free, like a caged bird
longing for the serenity that lies in the winds.
I close my eyes and set you free,
coz if i look, i may be tempted to sin.
Even in my thoughts i set you free,
knowing at this moment your wings do not belong to me.
I set you free even though i was the one
who taught you how to use your wings.
I set you free, knowing if we were meant to be,
someday you'll fly back and you'll be mine for eternity
but if you don't, then it means you were never mine to begin with.
Still i risk setting you free....

Still I Rise

2009-09-02T03:27:00.001-07:00

There are days i wake up with energy,happiness and zeal to conquer the day, days when i have a playlist already qued in my mind,the sounds of India Arie whispering into my ears, and there and then i know nothing can get me down,not even the power rationing or the fact that i have to buy water everyday.
Then there days when i hear my '24' theme song alarm ring at 6:30am and i want to hug my blanket tighter and imagine im in the Bahamas somewhere, except i remember my unpaid bills waiting for me and i wake up immediately; like today.
Whoever said life after graduation was bliss ( no more term papers and projects) forgot to mention the numerous job application rejections, the tarmaking and the empty pockets.
Its been three months after graduation and i still have hope that i'l get a job without paying a bribe, unbuttoning my blouse, shortening my skirt or having to bend a little lower for anyone, because getting a job in this country is not so straightforward anymore.
I've collected enough newspaper job cuttings and sent lots of resumés out...sometimes im tempted to give up, to loose hope but i cant, bills have to be paid etc. Its like being in a taxi and you are not really sure of your direction,the driver drives you around all the while the meter keeps running,as for me, life still has to go on.
So its another day. No particular song is playing in my head this morning, so i sit silently in the bus to town. I look around,most people are asleep, and in their rising early to go to wherever i see hope. I look outside the window, women and men walking to work in the cold, some because they have no bus fare,in that, i see hope that one day they will be in better situations maybe driving cars..i close my eyes listening to a morning breakfast show on my radio phone.

Its going to be a good day, today im going to feed my hope.

Side Note: check my photoblog at Through My Eyes

A Note to August

2009-08-13T00:51:00.000-07:00

Welcome home,

My dear August, as July tortured me with unpredictable weather, I longed for you and here you are with me. I love the sunny Sunday mornings and the silent nights you brought with you, but I’m still trying to get used to the Monday cold, the power rationing and having kids on vacation making noise in the neighborhood.

It’s been a year since I last saw you and the journey has been interesting. I’ve laughed a lot and cried some but mostly learned that life will have its shares of highs and lows, its trials and joys but the difference is perception, how we look at our situations. For adversity has given me strength, wisdom and more faith and the highs have refined my character and left me humbled.

I’ve learned a great deal about letting go of unnecessary baggage and starting afresh. And even though old friends are like old habits; comfortable and familiar, I’ve also accepted that letting go of people is indeed a natural process of life and growth. So I’m thankful for the new friends I’ve met along the way, old friendships that I’ve rekindled and the pure blessing of having great people in my life.

While you were away, September came and I was forced to grow up. I made some wise decisions and great mistakes; I fell down and got up again. But I learned that with every new day comes a new opportunity, a new possibility to make it better, to right my wrongs and to move on. Now I know myself better, I look in the mirror and I see growth. I now embrace life and its many lessons.

Along the way, we lost great people, people who left too soon. Fathers, mothers, sisters, friends, those we loved. But even in the sudden deaths of great souls when life felt like it was in a halt, similar to an elevator stuck on fifth floor, I learned that God is still in control and the pieces of these lovely people still live on in us.

Only a week has passed and I’m already enjoying weekends filled with crazy bridal showers, breathtaking garden weddings and entertaining barbecues, August birthdays and reflective get-together dinners, graduation parties and baby showers. They are all unforgettable moments that I’ll forever cherish.

As I sit here, enjoying the teasing rays of the sun, I thank God for the blessings of seeing you again. I look forward to what He has in store for me.

With love,
Me

Currently listening to: India Arie. Testimony Vol 2 ‘Love & Politics’

The Little Things In Life

2009-07-28T02:16:00.000-07:00

Albert Camus once said, ‘You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of, you will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.'

Sometimes we spend so much time looking for the meaning of life that we forget to live. It’s actually the simple things in life that bring meaning to it. Like waking up to the sounds of Barlow girl singing ‘Never Alone’, the smell of hot coffee and chocolate doughnuts, quick naps in the bus during traffic, the nice smell of soil when it rains, manicured nails and bad hair days, six –inch heels and Sunday brunch.
It’s listening to Anthony Hamilton on a rainy night or cuddling next to him. It’s the random phone calls from relatives you’ve never heard from and handwritten letters from the post. Its wasting away lazy Sunday afternoons at book stands and video libraries, reading journal entries after a broken heart or a long day at work, it’s complete with eating roasted maize in the evening and buying take out for dinner, its window shopping, reading at the park or trying to get something of value at a flee market. Sometimes its hanging around the hand drier machine on cold days and face booking during lunch break….

All these moments make life beautiful and worth living. Sometimes you have to look and appreciate the little things in life. Now look at the picture, what do you see?

~Trish 2009~

I Miss Being Six

2009-07-28T01:43:00.000-07:00

I miss my zig-zag cornrows
and mama straightening my hair with a hot comb
I miss full petticoats, knitted sweaters and pure white socks.

I miss my red pumps
I miss Sunday school and memorizing verses
I miss lazy Sunday afternoon’s watching wrestling matches.

I miss being a flower girl at weddings
I miss lacy dresses and pink leggings.
Red nail polish and plastic earrings.

I miss hearing mama retelling stories about life in the 70’s
I miss taking walks down the street,
In pink tops and blue jean dungarees.

I miss playing in the rain
Skipping ropes and throwing stones
And playing ‘cha mama’ with my best friend.

I miss cassette tapes and rewinding them with a biro pen,
I miss eating hot roasted maize
And having dinner before Seven.

But most of all, I miss the innocence and beauty of being Six.

Trish © 2009