Saturday, 7 December 2019

Resist Frenzied Action on Behalf of Homeless Cats


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What becomes of the broken pencil?
For the umpteenth time, I write again about my urgings about my blog, lamenting that the dearth of content is not the paucity of inspiration, topic or situation to express in my unique form of expression.
My stories living in my mind churning over like a perpetual spin cycle of washing machine that would never end, you suddenly feel you are on some merry-go-round off which you will dare not jump off lest you main yourself.
Such is my dilemma, episodes and observations that stir me to the point of consideration without consummation, my good intentions remaining just that; unfinished blogs like germinating seeds never getting out of the nursery to the garden, stunted in growth, yet never dying completely that they are discarded; premature blogs like me, arriving long before one would consider them ready, if ever; self-flagellation at the lack of discipline to write even as if it were my last act.
For someone who penned 400 blogs in 2007, I have only breached 100 in the last 5 years. I do wonder, what has become of my verbosity. And, as I have said before, it is not for the lack of what to write.
Now that we’ve found love
Maybe, just maybe, there is something else at play, it is yet to be determined. I am somewhat preoccupied though, work on one end, self-development in a rapidly changing world that it is not getting easier to keep up and most of all, as 2018 drew to a close, I met someone and fell in love.
That, in itself, should have been a source of inspiration, and indeed, I have found things from deep in the heart to write about this madness of emotion called love and I am loving every bit of that experience. I reflect on the reality of living in grief for almost a decade unable to find the measure of anyone who did not measure up to that which was lost, until out of the blue someone put to rest the ghosts of yesteryears and brought a new reality of what life could be.
If anything, I am grateful for that which I have found and intent to make the best of it. Long-distance relationships are not easy to cultivate and maintain, we devote the most of what we can cherish every moment and yearn earnestly for the next time we will be together again. That, we know now is soon.
Resisting the frenzy
The year at work has not been as engaging as one would have loved it to be, my retainership was unable to find productive engagement for about 70 working days. I probably should have moved on when the empty promises suggested plenty was coming my way. We bring that chapter to a close.
I was unable to write a fitting tribute to the passing of my uncle in the middle of the year because the final years were a harbinger of much hurt. Then if I were to write an enduring note of remembrance and affection it would be of one of the most humble and self-effacing Muslims, I have ever encountered bar my paternal grandfather. May his soul rest in peace.
The year itself started with some irritation towards the patriarch whose sudden extraneous demands left me both flustered and annoyed. This is all in preparation for his 80th birthday, which with the resourceful and energetic resolve of all my siblings, we pulled off successfully and brilliantly. It left the patriarch a prayerfully, grateful and happy man, may the Lord grant him strength, health, and happiness to enjoy many more years.
Our matriarch, God bless her, I even offered to help her swear an affidavit to celebrate her 80th birthday this year. She hasn’t lost her penchant to bring us close to exasperation, harmless and loving, she is a wonderful mother and we get one well.
In all, we do wish we never had a care in this world, the challenges abound as we triumph from within and with many, we find the supply to meet every situation. By that, we are employed to resist frenzied action on behalf of homeless cats. The cats we know have homes. So there, no need to worry about a thing.
Courtesy of the William Kentridge exhibition at Zeitz MOCAA, Cape Town.

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