When I was younger, I use to worry about being a saint. You see I grew up in a Christian home where at a tender age you’re to get involved with a society within the church and activities carried out was directed to how godly it was done? the intentions of doing them? did it enrich or offend others? So this did put an undeniably measure of spiritual sense in me, that I’d go as far as counting the number of sins I committed each day. Sometimes I’d become unnecessarily solemn because I didn’t want to be involved in rubbish talk, so I inadvertently avoided this small talks that would later on lead to gossip and confession afterwards. I didn’t want to miss being a saint.
Attending Catholic schools at lower levels, after morning mass I’d say my prayers to different saints with the sole intention of being like them. If I offended my neighbour (mates) I’d apologize to them saying the priest asked me to ask for forgiveness. Why doing this somewhat relieved me and kept my pride intact. I knew I wasn’t apologising because I wanted to but because someone asked me to. I didn’t want to miss being a saint.
So far I understand, I was only tip toeing and not exactly living in the real sense as I had only muffled ideas to actual christian living. I’ve lost the zealous consciousness to be a saint not because it’s hard to attain but because I wasn’t communicating, I was avoiding communication in my comfort zone. Now I simply want to live being happy and help others feel comfortable around me and with themselves. If I fall short of the christian’s doctrine, my faith I understand it’s human frailty.
I see true spirituality as beyond my comprehension as it’s wrapped in genuine love to my neighbour as anything beyond is questionable.
Credits: Goggle photos/ Woman in shadows
She was different, It showed in the way she walked, unskirted like she owned the ground she walked on. Seeking perfection at what she did.
She was different, as she manages to be everyones favourite, you could meet her and not hate her. Her reality was different from what she showed. She was the average woman, you know. Likeable personality indeed. Never pitiful.
To everyone, she was always happy, except to herself. She simply manages to live by.
She was different- life wasn’t a bed of roses. Yet she had made her view a sunflower with no thorns. Life was explicitly vague to her. She simply manages to live by.
She was different, as she is the shadowy character who existed in a happily ever after. She was likely not to be your next door neighbour.
She was different, still seen at her perfect imperfection. Even in her worst state, she simply manages to live by.
Some years ago I had seen the beginning part of the movie friends with benefit, I wanted to watch the movie but the timing was off. It had Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis as main characters, more reason I enlisted it as a must watch I could have as well downloaded the movie to satisfy my curiosity but somehow I didn’t and so yesterday I finally watched the movie.
Sometimes life is tiring. Bucket lists refusing somehow to be ticked off, well don’t loose hope it took me 4years to watch friends for benefit and I’m totally fine with it. It probably loooks too small a defeat to be noticed but guess what, it finally happened. This definitely gave me hope that some day my aspirations would breath life.
No matter how much discouraged you feel, do not stay too long in that emotion as there are still victories to be won and bucket lists to be outdated, which is only possible by you alone.
Challenge your self, get out there often and do not to wallow in self pity my friend, no matter how enticing it looks.
Photo credits: Forbes women summit 2017
Does this word ring a bell? The first time I heard this word was five years ago, I’d gone to collect my lower level school statement of result in which the principal had written ‘good, quiet and unassuming’
My first reaction was SHOCK because I had never heard that word and immediately assumed it was a bad word considering the combination UN and ASSUMING. To me it simply meant I didn’t put in effort to be active while at school, I was frustrated she had described me as sort.
Later on I went home and found at the true meaning of the word and I have never been more surer in my life, of a perfect way to describe me if not UNASSUMING. It describes my personality in a not too shabby way and somehow I have tried to live in accordance with its meaning; not arrogant or presuming, simply modest.
I want to break free from clutches of any sort of descriptive stereotype as they’re salient restrictions to me involving more with my surroundings.
Maybe my principal’s intent was for me to look beyond what she wrote and search for a deeper purpose for myself than living unperturbed and modestly fine with everything when I know the society is changing everyday.
We shouldn’t be fine when fellow women are increasingly tortured everyday under the code of domestic violence, sexual abuse and harassment, intense Christian martyrdom and an influx of refugees and hunger in almost every state.
Somehow her unintended purpose for me was actually to engage better with my surrounding. I can’t say but I can speak for myself and never stop searching even in the deepest valley until I find myself and when I do there’ll always be that inner peace that surpasses all empty clanging noise.
The rising talk of equal rights does not dwindle it is on its endless journey knowing fully well that women were once girls. We actually can’t outgrow that persona either because we are still one at heart or we know one.
To buttress my point I’d give you an instance.
Years back while in primary school, a female teacher had called me out because my uniform was short. Her exact words to me were ‘who do you want to seduce for putting on such uniform to school’ and if I ever came to school in those, I’d see what she had do to me. If she meant flog me, punish me or better still send me home. I can not tell as all I know was the next time I came to school was in a new pair of uniform.
This kind of statements are made everyday to a growing girl child some where.
Sometimes motives with shallow intent are muffled in misconceptions of how women are to guide themselves in a godly manner, therefore losing the real essence of purposeful living.
We’re somewhat made to understand we owe our selves to the male gender. We’re told to safeguard their feelings so we do not arouse premature feelings. We’re told to be morally updated so no one is stared in the wrong direction.
Unequal list are made for women both by themselves and by all sundry without in turn calling out men to order. We should stop partial shadiness. People will never be comfortable with our dressing, is still in line with people will never be fine with our decisions and actions. Even if we feel good and we think we look good, it’s as if there’s something raunchy with our dressing. We are somewhat made to understand that our success lies in between the success of men.
Someone once told me the external being is a reflection of the inner being but I do know also that to judge a book by it’s cover is too misled oneself and there’s need for line to be drawn somewhere.
It is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie who said;
We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller, you can have ambition but not to much, you should aim to be successful but not to successful otherwise you would threaten the man. Because I am female, I am expected to aspire to marriage, am expected to make my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important that marriage can be a success of joys, love and major support but why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage? And not teach boys the same? We raise girls to see each other as competitors not for jobs or accomplishments which I think can be a good thing but for the attention of men.
Because we look a certain way, should we be walked over? We all have masks from different places and we show different ones to different people.
We’re not sorry, our face sends messages and you’re picking up wrong vibes.
I’ve always believed true confidence is built over time from chasing your passion and discovering yourself to live purposely. As then onwards you’ll learn to be comfortable in your skin.
This was the notion I’d when I became a chorister. Even though singing doesn’t come easily to me, I still wanted to immerse myself in it as a blank slate. I knew onwards my flaws would be outlined in front of me at all times and I would have to work my way around not to focus on it. But what I didn’t sign up for was to be frequently talked down on not once but twice. I’ve heard rudely from this person reasons why I should’nt stand at the front while presenting as a group. Personally I’m fine with wherever I stand as women of esteem do not chase empty wind in living purposefully but to subconsciously pull me down because you think I’m not good enough is dampening.
You see Messages can be passed without bone of contention so I find it unnecessarily hostile to talk back, revenge, retaliate, plot or scheme against one but this has been lingering for long and somehow this person has turned the tables around that I feel guilty holding on to this rebuke. That each time, I was an obedient lamb who felt scorned later.
I’m angry at myself. Reason being why I’ll tell another fellow to approach this oppressor to open up or talk back as it would pass a message not to be taken for granted. I cannot do that for myself.
I simply walk away, tucked with bottled emotions seeking freedom and that my friend is my blocked wall.
I’d really love to hear what passion of yours you are chasing but keep encountering blocked walls.
I have been on a forever break from posting my thoughts, at first I was naively elated to say the real reason then back it up with a self-rewarding clause ‘writing is fine but sharing my thought is VULNERABLE’.
So I told people I write but I’m on hiatus from posting .
But days turned to weeks and weeks to months.
I wouldn’t accept I was on my own swirl wind of writer’s block, my reading level had turned to a struggle, I thought the scrambled words I strung together in my notebook was enough to keep me afloat, I thought the Journal diary app would be helpfuI. Even the gratitude notes I put in my Jar of good tidings, I thought were enough to keep the memory refreshed. Nothing still. Yet I consoled myself with the thought of my haven as WRITING still fastened, anyhow was the way not to sink.
What a lie! Words became harder to depict my thoughts, a lot of empty spaces I’d filled in my head but my hands wouldn’t do the needful. I didn’t feel courageous enough to hang myself open, clearing my space to OUR space to accommodate STRANGERS.
While EFFORT is rewarding. Effort is somewhat consoling as it may not take us where we want to be but it sure can lead us into that path for tomorrow’s achievement. However, struggling to retain a part of my writer’s sensibility can get better or worse off as I want to be pragmatic.
Maybe as the days go by and I’ve rebuilt stronger resistance to people’s opinion, I would reconnect with my writing and post as I would without a care. Inwardly, making a commitment to always long for my haven WRITING no matter the times I experience writer’s block.