Sunday 3 February 2013

Thought Picnic: No ruins in hope

Out without rout
Three weeks ago I embarked on a journey to a little village, Ewloe  [fascinating Wikipedia story] with castle ruins of its own on North Wales, just west of Chester, a more significant city just on the border of between England and Wales.
It was not the easiest to prepare for, the contracts were finally signed just before the weekend though, I had just about set up banking facilities in the UK, having eventually acquired documents that included that essential proof of address that UK residents require to open a bank account.
Nothing is impossible
Then, there was the matter of getting there and the means to live there, tough, it was, as despair wrestled with hope that as I walked down a road to see some friends, I calmed myself saying things will turn out right completely oblivious of how things could really turn with the risk that I would not be able to take up the appointment.
The miracle of life and hope does have a way of bringing providence to those who refuse to worry as one also learns the subtle difference between the humiliation of begging and the humility of asking.
That one will not beg is not haughty and it is not the loss of pride when one asks I appreciated what I needed and I asked those closest to me if they could help.
All is possible
Out of their generosity, I found much, the ticket, accommodation, something to spare and enough to get by. It meant I could concentrate on what had taken me from the city to the country and hope for the best.
I only had enough for a week and a bit, within that, there were nights when a fast was as good as supper but I believed it will all turn out right because that is just that way journeys are, long, arduous, testing, trying, difficult, adventurous, fun and satisfying – there is a destination to get to not forgetting the prospect of a story to tell.
In the end, it was three weeks before I returned home, by which time I had paid all the bills and planned for the next four weeks.
It is called life
In my wake, I have shared of my somewhat ordinary and mundane story, the vagaries of what we all call life, it happens to all of us in different ways for all sorts of reasons, some known and many unexplained, but for those who decide they are in this life to live it, they begin to write for themselves a tale that has a unique voice of expression and fulfilment that hopefully encourages others to live their lives to the full.
As I returned to London this weekend without much time to meet up with the many I love and cherish, I spoke to most of them and met up with a few of them. They give me joy, the company is like an elixir of life, the sound of their voices bring calm to the clamour of nature and the thoughts of them makes one realise that life has great purpose that we must never fail to lose sight of.
In all, there is something I noticed hugs can do that words cannot be found to express; it heals the heart, nourishes the soul and maybe even warms the body.
I have friends like lovers, dear and good – for me, life is worth every single day and that is what matters.

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