Monday 9 December 2013

This ... and related to the unexpected...

I do this
You might wonder who makes a celebration of writing blogs.
Yet, as yesterday passed, it was a milestone, that was 10 years of blogging, something I tried to mark with some sort of celebration of writing, but failed to achieve for so many reasons that I cannot for the shame of what I have become dwelt on.
Initially, some two months ago, the idea was to get people to write for my blog through the month of December, and though I got congratulatory comments for that day, I never really got to organise it properly.
I cannot live for this
For all the readership and following I have on Twitter and Facebook, when the day finally came, it passed like any other day, on my blog, that is, not one comment.
On Twitter, there were a few retweets of my blog, some congratulatory messages and the day ended as a lesson in life etched itself into the archive of my memory; you cannot live for these things.
What a miserable existence, some might think, because blogs are cheap, what does a blog really mean and does it matter in this day where attention spans are too fleeting for engagement?
Planning for this
I will beg to differ because I have a wonderful life, and some friends. Therefore, when I left church, I walked into the love of my life for seven years in the 90s and then phoned a friend.
My friend had suggested the week before that we celebrate my decade of writing blogs but I did not know what exactly we would do.
Over a number of phone calls, between celebrating at her home and going to a restaurant after finding out that our first choice was not open on Sundays, I went up at her place having invited two friends I had hoped would be able to share the day with me.
Famished for hunger, after reviewing events of the last week, we made for town thinking one of the invitees would meet us along the way, she did.
Living for this
At Daunt Books, it was not a daunting task to find the two books she wanted me to read in preparation for a project that would chart a course from my nativity and I hope to finish long before my demise. She presented Tuesdays with Morrie and The Artist’s Way to me as gifts. Thank you.
I have not sought permission to mention their names in this blog. I start with a young man who invited me into his life and his circle of friends that included this amazing woman. Another remarkable young lady who gave me shelter when I had no other place to go to, a friend who sent that blooming and colourful bouquet of flowers on my first day of chemotherapy and one other friend like I brother, I have known for almost thirty years, I embark on a new journey.
The thing I have feared to do but appears to be written into my bucket list, for the destination is one we would all eventually reach, but with different paths for each individual.
This is my story
Beyond the greater openness you will encounter on my blog, I have resolved that I would not live like a dying man, the time was once too short for contemplation, now I know I have mercifully been granted time to do more than I ever thought I could do.
The masthead of my blog, which is a play on the different English meanings of the word akin reads as, “Essentially similar to what is known, compatible to what is expected and related to the unexpected…” I do not think I have to tell you where we are going next.
I am honoured above my achievements, encouraged beyond my abilities, blessed with friends who believe in me more than I have ever dared to think I am capable of.
An evening in a restaurant, delicious food, fine dining and the company of beautiful, wonderful, generous and amazing friends, just the three of us, they give me the hope to finish that story better than I have ended this blog.

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