Month: September 2014


So it is my birthday today —  30th September — Whoohoo!!! And I made a promise to myself that on this day, come what may, I would make up for the past 29 days of silence. And voila! Here I am, giving you a bouquet of roses and 40 nuggets of wisdom, specially written for you, scribbled with undiluted love from my dear heart to yours, bursting with all the devotion you have never known before this day. Here is my birthday wish to myself and I wish you all the same and more — to live life fully and with gratitude. To love God even more and live the days ahead with unswerving confidence, riding upon the wings of his never failing grace. Like the french will say, ‘A votre Sante’ — to your health — Cheers!

— A Votre Sante! —

To your health
To the days ahead
To your dreams
To your success
To your happiness
To your hearts desires
To your challenges
To your victories
To your dawn
To long life

Stay the course

If it so happens that you wake up clueless
That you suddenly are numb and cold
That the road ahead is plain, without frills
Like you’ve been racing downhill on a sledge
Only to arrive this lowland, ordinary, unadventurous
In spite of your disappointment
Be reminded that life is about the high and the lows
And that sometimes your drive wouldn’t awaken easily
That sometimes you will have to urge your own strength
And that no matter what you find,
You will have to look ahead to move ahead
No matter how slow, a step at a time is just fine

A day at a time

Life is here and now
This moment
A simple thought
A fleeting whiff
The cursory glance at life’s miniature features
Cumulating details of decisions we make by failing to make any at all
A mass of mental absenteeism snowballing downhill
A stockpile of unattended facets, wilting away, abandoned, forgotten
Punctured opportunities and the gradual sipping away of essence, chance, time
Then life passes by, leaving no traces, no footprint, no memories
We become as stone, cracklings, caked by the scorching sun
Hopeless and despondent that once again we have failed to live in the present moment
Life is here and now
This very moment
A beautiful morning, a kiss, a bear hug, a tear

What truly matters in the end?

Everything matters
Each word spoken and everything done matters
Everything left unsaid and everything left undone
Every transient thought
Every single day
All possible encounters fostered
Every single smile
The compliments paid
Every embrace felt
Every gratitude shared
Every gift given, even the tiniest handshake
Every promise made,
Every flimsy excuse
Every dream dreamed
Even the days that dragged on
And the nights that never seemed to end
The things you meant to do but never came around doing
And the one you did but never meant to
The things we should have done
The things we should have said
And the things we plan to do
The kindness we should have shown
The visit we should have made
Unwarranted procrastinations, and unredeemable opportunities, lost forever
The friend we could have been but failed to become
Family we could have had but were too proud to accept
Places we could have gone but too afraid to dream
The life we could have had but too short-sighted to believe
All of it matters in the end
Because everything is everything
The way we do one thing, is the way we do everything

Everything comes around

Life in a way is like a carousel, a merry-go-round
Everything comes around,
Although it isn’t always merry in the true sense of the word
Still our circumstances are a thread of unheeded events, and unfinished businesses
And the unwanted sprouts of an unattended garden
Like a neglected wound, the pain and the resulting infection will force you to care
Like the unresolved issue that comes knocking at your door years later
It is also the beautiful reward,
Like a booming winery following the undaunted effort of grooming a vineyard
Life gives us what we put in, there are no jackpots, no lottery tickets, no shortcuts
And those who win will always begin with a mind to finish whatever comes their way
Life rewards the fearless; not the fugitive, not the deserter, or the runaway

The Magic of Dreams

Dreams are like honey to the soul
A lamp in the dark
Whispers in the wind
A sparkle in the eyes
Speed to agile feet
A distant cry that calls out in the middle of nowhere
Traveling winds that drive the sails of the mind
A shot arrow seeking out its target
True love, deep and intense, that warms the heart and strengthens the body
A slow, steady and sure evolution of infinite thought to physical substance

A Pursuit of Purpose

Standing at the center of nowhere
With eyes on a target that only the mind can see
Sniffing out a lingering scent only the heart can smell
From a place the feet has never been yet the soul recognizes
A path never before traveled yet so familiar
I follow an intimate trail from my future
My senses, I find, are perfectly au courant with my trackway
Knowing where to turn and how not to swing
What bliss, even the dead-ends are a Godsend
Then the night comes, when physical sight fails me
Nevertheless, I am guarded along the path of purpose
Steadily and steadfastly, I listen for that still small voice

An Old Proverb

My mother once shared an old Benin proverb, “You don’t dust your head until you are way out of the bush”
I wondered at the meaning then and I wonder at it even now
Because I think what she was trying to say is, take things easy
Be patient, don’t get ahead of yourself
I also think that the proverb might be talking about long-suffering
Meaning, wait out your time in the bush, soon you will be out in the clear
So I’ve been thinking about this proverb and how easy it seemed to interpret itself
But I have one question;
When are we truly out of the bush?
I mean when can we dust our head?
Is it when we come to a small clearing inside of the bush, seeing that there are bush-like experiences stretched across our lives or
Do we wait it out till we can put all the bushes behind us?
If that is the case, are we ever going to get the chance to dust our heads?
Well I guess that makes it three questions…

The shameful thing about silence

Like we often say, “Silence is the best answer for a fool”
When in actual sense silence makes you look like the fool
And because this fact is rarely untrue
We have found ourselves in intelligent debates
That mostly hang our opponents out to dry
We shrug our shoulders, feeling accomplished
Sucking up our pride and smacking our lips
Completely subdued by the notion that silence isn’t always the best answer
That our tongue lashing opponent isn’t always the fool
So each time we would swap places, and give the opponent a new title – we make him the victim of our feigned muteness
Whilst becoming the fool ourselves