From stage to stage

On a stage of pain

When I ended up in hospital on Tuesday, the 22^nd of September 2009, I was in so much pain, I found no facility to cry, and I was already on some of the strongest painkillers that could be given you without constant medical supervision.

Blog - In hospital to kill the pain (September 2009)

Indeed, the pain of cancer is so totally otherworldly, the fact that anyone can even sleep through the pain is a wonder of human nature probably not fully understood to be appreciated. Pain then comes in many ways, the physical can be visible, but the emotional is less so, you can put on a face and veil how you feel, even that façade can soon shatter.

I find myself accessing the Kübler-Ross model on the Five Stages of Grief which I came upon as I was writhing in unbearable pain when I could not tolerate the morphine as it was one or the other, throwing up food I needed for sustenance or managing the pain enough to have my faculties delivered from a madness that was bordering on delirium.

The five stages of the Kübler-Ross Grief Cycle (ResearchGate)

Blog - Seeing hospital meals again (September 2009)

From stage to stage

For a long time, I was in denial, I was dying even as I was taking each day as it came, I was already aware that the presumably Athlete’s Foot was at least a type of cancer, but I was also bargaining for a miracle cure, my reality was seeking a supernal intervention that I had not convinced myself of. My denial was a reality I was not ready to accept as real.

In almost an instant, I woke up after my fifth night in the hospital with a sense of acceptance, I was speaking to myself in the first person, “Akin, you have cancer, what next?” That was when I began to see beyond the cancer and this was days before my consultant in his prognosis said, if I could not tolerate the treatment that included gruelling chemotherapy, I only had 5 weeks to live.

Blog - Getting off the pain train (September 2009)

In my spirit and in my mind, I was ahead of that kind of medical prognostication, I knew I was coming through, I just did not know what kind of life that future held. It took almost another 6 months for my body to catch up with my acceptance. The battle is always in the mind. I have used the model sometimes consciously but more unconsciously to understand many other aspects of adversity and infirmity that I have encountered and what stage I might be in.

Other words to stage

There might be synonymous feelings  and emotional responses that are not fully expressed in the starkness of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I might not have been in shock, but I would have been winded or blind-sided, this is a perspective of the feeling of anger. Where I would not suggest that I am depressed, I might well be sad, lacking in motivation, or even indifferent, it is important not to boil down the emotion to fit a construct.

When I was told my baby sister had chronic kidney disease, that situation was immediately overwhelming for me, I was in grief and mourning, my acceptance of the situation was one of resignation. Sadly, I had no faith or hope for a future, I was preparing myself for the end, it came almost 3 and half years later. She had a life-long illness than medicine only seemed to ameliorate on occasion, other factors playing in adherence and discipline exacerbated matters. Her death was a release, difficult as it was.

Yet, I am not always at the point where I am seeing beyond the situation, acceptance is a process some never get to, just as denial is sometimes a defence mechanism. Why dwell in your reality when there is safety in avoidance? Some truths are difficult to assess; you would rather not be acquainted with it.

Stuck in a stage

I suppose unpredictability is one characteristic feature of our humanity, you cannot predetermine how you would react to an event. Much of your experience might equip you for what is ahead, and help you process the news you hear, but the effect is impossible to chart, it is on review that you might see how you have been affected.

As I filled my weekly pillbox yesterday, it seemed more like a chore than the routine it was, an indifference creeping in that I needed to counter because my stream of consciousness and expectation had been interrupted. I guess on the processing of this new grief, I am still in denial.

Thought Picnic: The scary past Facebook evokes

A past too fast

There is something I learnt a few days ago that some reflex in me immediately controlled, a brush with the past that brought back a flood of memories, but I narrowly avoided re-situating myself in that context. Obviously, I am responsible for the things that I have done especially in my childhood, even if bad, naïve, nasty, or worse, it is important I do not use that to excuse old behaviours.

As I have written before, Facebook is a psychosocial complex that unites us unwittingly with the past in so many unintended ways that could as well be destructive if we are not careful. Social media sates curiosity in ways that we would not even invite and pay a private eye to investigate on our behalf.

Schooled from the beyond

When I joined Facebook at the end of December 2009, and I had avoided doing it for years, I immediately sought out groups from my primary schools and secondary school. One invitation from Chris, my partner in the years around that time, I did not respond to until well into 2010, he passed on in November 2009.

Soon, I realised I needed to compartmentalise things, I was not going to befriend every old friend that I had not seen for over 30 years, the intervening time a complete blank to me and the person I reconnect with different in character, personality, or outlook from me. The temptation to resume friendships as if they had never broken off fait accompli is a weakness in our psyche and dangerous if one is suddenly too trusting.

Of times than person

Even before Facebook, there were friends made in different schools that I actively avoided because they represented a time in my own life and story I did not want to relive. They were an emotional burden that depicted vulnerability and failings not of themselves, even if they were not successful, but critically of myself, because I knew things about me that I could not face, I want to think that the past has been buried, out of sight and out of the mind, far from recall.

Then an old school teacher’s picture appeared on one of those pages; when we parted ways in 1975, I must have thought, that was it. There she was at 93 and I back in Primary 5. The times when I did not submit any homework which I hated and she put me in front of the class to be shamed; a version of being put in stocks and pelted with rotten eggs and vegetables in a public place. They did not ask questions about why a child's attitude took a turn then.

False claims so lame

I hated writing then, and I was to write letters to a number of teachers then, which I eventually never did. Meanings of words if did not know that I used painting pictures of family life at home that was hardly reflective of the truth. I was like the class Matilda, smart, different, inquisitive, resourceful, awkward, and sadly suffocating too. I found a book in one of the school cupboards and started teaching myself, French.

There was one incident at home that I probably would never have told my parents if my mother nursing my baby brother in the next room had not heard me. I was recovering from illness and asleep in my bed when a lady came into my room and sat on me. I recognised her because I said, ‘I will tell your husband.’ My mother called out from her room, asking who it was, but my memory went blank, there began a life of African-Initiated Church rituals that lasted through adolescence until I left home.

Child psychology misadventure

My childhood troubles did not begin then, years before, I had lost my sexual innocence to the trusted, my father’s strict disciplinarian ways with his youngest female sibling and female cousin made him distant and unapproachable, the psychological effect was to find expression elsewhere in the reckless and the imaginative. The apparent idyllic home life was anything but, the past harbours things that still make me shiver and I have not found the form of words to express.

Indeed, in a picture is a connection to a past that might not make you smile, that is a well of negative nostalgia, no longing and much loathing. Not so much of the person seen, but of the time it captured for which memories long forgotten take to life again like old dead seeds put in soil and watered. And yes, I do now remember who the lady was, crazy as the mind works.

Thought Picnic: Of the heart and on the head

Of head in heart

Simple is not the matter of the affairs of the heart, for we carry in ourselves the wealth, the burdens and, the baggage of a lifetime, through which we stick to learned ways much as we attempt to unlearn some things and relearn the vicissitudes of altering our lives to accommodate others.

There is no manual to finding how to relate to others to whom a commitment of the heart has been made. I have before recognised a kind of emotional schizophrenia that bound me extensively to someone of whom the love was unrequited that I reminisced in a quiet moment how my heart was stolen when my head battled against the unreasonable impulses driven by that pump in my chest cavity.

Getting by letting

Relationships are a complex art of give and take, the process of negotiation is never as defined as in a contract even if a contract of marriage eventually seals the context of the relationship in the eyes of the law, extending the familial covenant to the partner with whom intimacy begins to metastasise from sight, through lust, to love, and the promise of a life together.

Each brings a lot into the relationship some companionship, some stability, some security, the emotional symbiosis on which each depends as the bond between them strengthens into a union of minds, purpose, and futures. Sometimes, we do ourselves the disservice of not appreciating the invisible yet tangible forces that bring us together.

Individuality, uniqueness and personality traded for a more significant expression of love that words will never fully express even as it is observed by others. I guess it remains a mystery usually never properly unravelled, but it is both fragile and solid, it is why hearts break if the matter is handled with levity. Those whose hearts are in the bosom of others better beware.

Thought Picnic: Finding boxes for runaway foxes

Balance on rough paths

Finding a sense for the kind of emotion one feels is hard because it is not as defined as one will expect. One is neither angry nor annoyed, maybe displeased or miffed, it could just be a case of being nonplussed.

You find yourself in the centre of many events and issues you have to deal with, finding an equilibrium of heart and head, spirit and soul, mind and body to attend purposefully to each in ways that you are not overwhelmed.

On productive energies

Then you look through your toolkit and begin to compartmentalise; lay out in order, the things you need to commit resources whilst managing the mental energy sappers away from the core of your being to avoid exhaustion.

I find that I want to be where I am not under the pressure to perform, to present, to pretend, to be policed, or to be expected to practice. I want to participate in something special and amazing knowing that confidence and security are already a feature of something we have built over time. I am still finding my bearings just as we all are, learning how better to make the best of what we have. 

Thought Picnic: Nothing consumes agency like jealousy

Standing up for me

In was in Sunday School that a characteristic of my personality changed, on New Year’s Day 1980, whilst attending a church service I witnessed too many events of the superintendents and teachers physically abusing attendees. We were in church, the children separated from the adults and under the charge of people who abused the honour and responsibility of helping bring up the child in the ways of the Lord, it grieved me. I resolved; I will not condone such abuse on my person.

However, from those Sunday School stories, we risk viewing what we learnt then as a single story. The Garden of Eden as the fall of man, the judgement on Cain for being a murderer, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah as the condemnation of homosexuality, the list goes on, a reductive assessment of deeper human experiences that can never have just one perspective and if we dare, there will always be new perspectives.

Other perspectives to the common

I am not a strict creationist, I believe there is much that is figurative, metaphoric or allegorical in the Bible before it is literal. Setting, context, import, intent, moral, tradition, culture, language are many variables that influence the understanding and the interpretation of these stories, they should be brought to bear and I can assure you, I am no expert in hermeneutics.

I could return to the Garden of Eden and view the situation not so much about Adam and Eve, but contest for attention between God and Lucifer. As Lucifer was kicked out of heaven when he wanted to claim the place of God as pride consumed him with a passion. The relationship that the new creations of Adam and Eve had with God was so sublime, the kind of personality Lucifer was would indeed interfere. They were warned but got suborned and the result in antiquity is the fall of man.

In the practice or in the mind

Moving on, when apparently God was happy with Abel’s sacrifices but displeased with Cain’s, there is a whole unknown backstory as to how anyone knew to sacrifice and or to do it right. Either way, Cain could have humbly asked Abel what he was doing right and learnt to make the adjustments to his own sacrifices either in the activity or the mindfulness at doing it.

But no, he took umbrage and though he was warned it might get the better of him, it eventually did and so, Cain smote and killed his brother Abel because Abel was a better man than him.

In the case of Lucifer and Cain, one thing comes to mind, it is a demonstration of jealousy and jealousy is not a single thing, but a multifaceted negative virtue of our humanity that lends itself to bringing out the worst in us.

Jealousy is a dangerous thing

Jealousy generally refers to the thoughts or feelings of insecurity, fear, and concern over a relative lack of possessions or safety. Jealousy can consist of one or more emotions such as anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness or disgust. [Wikipedia: Jealousy]

Wikipedia has extensive texts on the topic because it relates quite closely to human relationships, how they are forged and how they break down. How feelings and emotions in one might regulate, indicate, obfuscate or even excoriate views of another and entirely at no fault of the other. For instance, Abel did nothing wrong, but because Cain could not stand what he was doing right, he lost his life.

The Wikipedia article goes on to contrast jealousy with envy whilst agreeing that modern usage tends to conflate the two as synonyms.

The common experience of jealousy for many people may involve:

• Fear of loss
• Suspicion of or anger about a perceived betrayal
• Low self-esteem and sadness over perceived loss
• Uncertainty and loneliness
• Fear of losing an important person to another
• Distrust

The experience of envy involves:

• Feelings of inferiority
• Longing
• Resentment of circumstances
• Ill will towards envied person often accompanied by guilt about these feelings
• Motivation to improve
• Desire to possess the attractive rival's qualities
• Disapproval of feelings
• Sadness towards other's accomplishments

When we act on it

I guess what scares me most about jealousy is when people act on it and there is no telling what the confluence of events and triggers might be with drastic consequences. Irrational fear, unwarranted suspicion, projected distrust, the list of negative feelings is endless.

In 1967, Joe Orton was bludgeoned to death by his partner Keith Halliwell, Joe was a successful playwright, author and diarist, Keith was not particularly so. He could, on the one hand, have celebrated, appreciated and supported Joe, they had been in a turbulent relationship since 1951. However, when Joe was considering breaking up with Keith, what resulted was a murder-suicide.

Yesterday, and the seed inspiration for this blog, a brother shared memorable images of his sister who had been murdered in 2015 with a meat cleaver by her jealous husband. It was so gruesome that the lady was unrecognisable after the deed. Jealousy can give vent to unparalleled wickedness and dangerously so. [The World News: Brother shares heart-breaking image of his sister]

Arresting the feeling

This is not to suggest one is perfect, there are times these emotions come to the fore, but what matters more is how much leeway you give these emotions to fester. I would soon believe the best of people than distrust them and if I cannot trust them, I hope not to hold it against them but make allowances for the human condition both on my part and theirs.

There is a likelihood I could have been more successful, but it does not matter, I have been blessed in ways that make me thankful and grateful for what I have and what I have achieved. To those who have done much better than I from the same starting point or ahead of me, good for them and I will congratulate them and urge them on. It redounds to the prosperity of all.

I have learnt to appreciate, acknowledge, and praise, take into consideration, be respectful, be courteous, and treat people with dignity. Seeing the good in others far and above their faults closes the avenues to jealousy. I suppose having a good sense of worth, some self-esteem, self-respect, confidence, and the wiliness to improve oneself regardless of who or where you are learning from helps a lot.

I hope I can handle any situation that appeals to my basest instinct but reveals the higher moral purpose in me, that I exhibit from the heart exemplary virtues towards being a better person to everyone. We always can do better and by that get to tell better stories.

Thought Picnic: I see the light in his eyes

All mixed up inside

How do you feel? It is a question to which I probably have no complete answer. I feel strange, sometimes tired, struggling to be happy, grasping at ideas, events and people to celebrate, looking for distractions that can take my mind off other things that bother me, the truth is, I feel lonely.

Quite lonely and far away from the feel and touch of one I love, time intervening with length that stresses and strains, if we had no spirit in us, we would have lost and abandoned hope. Now, that is something I cannot afford to do. I must look forward, look up, look in expectation and look with anticipation. This must and will change.

Breaking into great dreams

This is what I must do to change how I feel, because the thin wall of separation from the doldrums and depression are so easily breached, it is not a place I should allow to come into my path. It is the power of love that sustains me, the care and concern of many friends who call to check that this fragile being with sometimes stoic bearing, whose vulnerabilities are crenellated in the dismissal of fuss is as well human.

Maybe I am a control freak, I hate to be a victim of circumstances, especially those outside my control, limiting my scope for manoeuvre. I know I am in a passage, I am in motion, as time moves some certainty comes into view. Let us begin to live the stuff of dreams coming true better than we ever imagined.

It gets better always

It is the traversal of the valley of the shadow of death, there is nothing to fear and everything is like a dare, for ahead are the green pastures and still waters, I am safe in the knowledge that I am being led there in the care and protection of the shepherd. Any harm can only come to that which seeks to harm me.

In my writing, I find a great wealth of catharsis, and by the time I am done, I feel much better than when I started. Expression is strangely a form of elation. Let’s get back to Eden before things went south.

Thought Picnic: When to bin the traditional hand-me-down rags of parental control

I was quite distressed

A few days ago, a video clip of a boy negotiating with his mother went viral. To many, it was pure entertainment, I, however, was very distressed by it that I do not intend to share it to propagate the scenario.

We have no backstory to the episode, but from what I could glean, the boy had done something wrong, probably seriously wrong for which there was to be some severe retribution. The boy crying with terror showing on his face, and in his terror was pleading with his mother to calm down, take a rest, or have a break before she unleashed her anger on him.

Some commentary suggested the boy was smart and trying to run rings around his mother. That is possible, especially when you know the kind of parents you have, you adopt strategies to escape their ire. The conversation mostly controlled by the boy was instructive and reflective, his mother is no doubt prone to irrational anger venting her frustration with severe punishments, else she would not have been advised to calm down.

Awareness lost to expediency

Towards the end, he asked to be given the last chance, the last chance in the world. That scared me like the boy could consider doing himself harm than face the wrath of his mother. None of this got through to his mother, she was insistent on beating him because somehow the boy had probably handled and broken something he was not supposed to touch. At the same time, he asked if his mother was videoing him.

This boy is aware, very much aware of himself and his failings, I am not sure his mother who decided to make a global show of his distress is half as much. In my view, a boy so mentally alert even at the imminent threat of harsh retribution needs to be dealt with in another way. The times when corporal punishment was the only tool parents, guardians or teachers had to command and demand the unflinching ultimate respect and fear of their wards is fast becoming useless.

Find better discipline tools

Corporal punishment is for mules and whatever your religious leanings, I would suggest it be the last resort having exhausted everything else and there is much to do, much more to learn to do to adapt to looking for more useful means of instruction than inflicting pain and nursing bleeding welts on the buttocks. The deprivation of freedoms or privileges with the prerogative of mercy is novel and yet effective.

I have watched some parents brutalise their wards in the quest for discipline and correction, sadly, the children now approaching middle-age are estranged, they do not have a wholesome relationship with their parents and that is sad. No, children do not outlive the cruelty meted out to them by their presumed protectors. Those who appear to do so are simply being pragmatic and able to compartmentalise usually for their own peace of mind in spite of and despite what they have suffered.

The future is a harsh judge

If you want a useful voice in the lives of your children, not so much to command or instruct them, but to have the honour of being approached from guidance when they are at crucial junctures of their walk of life, you need to review the hand-me-down rags of bad parenting and break that vicious generational cycle of visiting trauma instead of counsel.

Watch the child grow and begin to use reason and conversation, offer autonomy with good guidance on how to use the responsibility they have been offered, make mercy and forgiveness with consideration visible in times of disappointment or conflict. Find the expression of love beyond the provision of shelter, protection, sustenance and education, by being a bit emotional, because it shows you’re human and approachable. You can even give a hug and said the occasional “I love you, child.”, from deep in your heart.

You cannot tell how much that would mean to a child and how that would redound to their development in adulthood. These are the kinds of circumstances that make for good parent-child friendship and takes away the need for the child to scheme with cunning when they know they can trust you with anything going on in their lives.

Consider new possibilities

I am a man in my fifties, I have looked at many things about my relationship with my parents and other guardians. One uncle stands out as the one who gave me both the time and nurturing, we have one of the tightest relationships that even my parents would envy.

I would not be ambitious as to suggest how anyone should raise their children, but if you are going to make a public spectacle of them, ensure you are not making a worse spectacle of yourself in the process. Whilst many might agree with what she was about to do, I have no praise, commendation or encouragement, my disappointment cannot be more palpable for those who cannot learn from history, especially their own personal history are destined to repeat the failings of the past more worse than the precedent.

We can agree to disagree, but do not completely dismiss this perspective, I think it matters along with everything else in the toolbox of child-rearing. Thank you.

Some reference blogs

Blog - Childhood: My aunts saw red

Blog - Child sexual abuse requires greater parental indignation

Blog - Thought Picnic: House helps in the family setting

Blog - Thought Picnic: Don't mistake a troubled child for a bad one

Once again, whatever it takes

If I had the words to heal your pain,
I will speak and see it flee from you,
The furrows on your face fingers to train,
The light of your smile returning anew.

Lord make my fervent prayer come true,
That the way you feel may fade away,
As the happy feeling you once knew,
Leads you into the sun to dance and play.

Every moment you bring me great joy,
I am never going to give you or this up,
Together we would go through it boy,
Let me see that smile again my buttercup.

Until we meet up we just keep talking,
Of every little thing that makes us ache,
Into the life ahead we are not sleepwalking,
We have got a world out there to shake.

When you asked my hand in marriage,
I felt like I was living my sweetest dreams,
Your wings of love became my carriage,
Let’s go and catch some amazing dreams.

Blog - Whatever it takes

[]

In the mystery of soon

Every moment I think of you,
The strains of a song filter through,
In my mind, I always see your face,
Unlike the lyrical lines of good emotion,,
You have never had a smile out of place,
Not once the appearance of contortion,
And for the tears, I could easily trace,
It was for the love we celebrate.

O boy, I tell you, I really miss you,
No one can tell what we’re going through,
For I do long to touch and kiss your face,
Let loose this rather pent up emotion,
When we return to our lovely place,
The sight of you erases all contortion,
As my heart to yours is more than a trace,
In the mystery of soon, we’ll celebrate.

[]

Whatever it takes

Words that can never suffice

The travails of a long-distance relationship leaves you with nothing than the tools of expression in words and gestures, some that never come close to the depth of emotion that gives enduring strength and life to the relationship.

Even when you think you have the inspiration to say something that attempts to deviate from the cliched phrases, you find that someone probably has put those words to song or poetry, that you could be tempted there is no scope for originality. I am a hapless romantic, not one to suggest the capability of the Songs of Solomon or the versatility of Shakespeare’s Sonnets.

Other words to the rescue

There is always something borrowed and something reused, in its new application and adaptation you can still convey a depth of feeling that grows and glows as each day comes and goes. In the past few days, there are thoughts I have had of Brian that have been expressed in a song I chanced upon.

Reading the lyrics as the music played, I could not choose which part was the more relatable, it all seemed to come together in one evolving and beautiful story. From whatever it takes through every moment spent near him is like a renewed miracle that soothes all my pain. Then, I tell him, I am here to make him happy, make him smile and make him feel good, as we put behind the hurt and pain of the past for a future of our wildest dreams.

I am sure, to anyone who has ever loved another so deeply, you can find the words in this song that gives a new meaning the life and love you share. It’s about telling, giving, assurance, concern, engagement, distance, returning, comfort, and love.

[]

Whatever It Takes (Compositions 1990)

I've always told you
I'd give you anything
My baby you've been my best, my only friend
There's nothing like the joy you bring

I wonder what would happen
If you would trust in me
I'd make you believe; I'd make you see
No need to run from me

I'd make you feel like never before
Here I stand, heart in hand, help me find the door
Anybody can see baby, you've been hurt before
Let me heal all your pain, won't ever hurt no more

Whatever it takes to make you happy, baby
Whatever it takes to make you smile
Whatever it takes to make you feel good, baby
I'll be around

One moment spent near you
Removes all my pain,
Your miracle soothes me
Your hurricane moves me

I cannot explain
Burdens get heavy
Become too much to bear
Honey, don't you say nothing

Hold on, I'm coming
I want you to know that I'll be there
I'll make you feel like never before
Willing and able, baby, open up the door

Anybody can see, baby, you've been hurt before
Let me heal all your pain
Never let you hurt anymore
Oh, ahh, ahh, hmmm

My, my, my, my, my
Hmmmm

Writer(s): Anita Baker, Gerald Levert, Marc Gordon

[Courtesy of AZLyrics]

Coexisting with generational shifts by adaptation

Inspired from Facebook

On the usual scans of my Facebook timeline, I came across a post by a good friend of mine about the issue of developing emotional attachments between generations. Much of what he had to say I could very well agree with, but I also had an additional viewpoint which I have extracted from my comment into this blog. [Facebook]

I started with this, “Much as I can agree with you, this part I have thought about for a long time.”

Time and environment

I needed to address this particular statement, “You young people need to be kinder to your parents. They are the products of their time and environment.”

It is a good getaway clause, but in my 50s I have learnt I can't use generational exculpation to excuse myself from the responsibilities of emotional engagement with relations across the full spectrum of existence.

I have my generation and the times in which I grew up along with the environments that have helped cultivate my outlook and worldview, yet, I have to coexist with those before me; from when I was a child had parents, grandparents and a great-grandmother along with extended family and other relations,  and those after me; two generations now, of nieces and nephews and their children, along with the extended family that has grown out of the relationships they have cultivated, not only to be relevant but to also have a sense of belonging.

Generational shifts we belong in

My parents have by fate or fortune had to deal with issues they would never have countenanced in their core generation, from the 1960s into the 1980s, but have had to find accommodations for in the three growing generations after them, of children, of grandchildren and possibly great-grandchildren. My father was 80 on Saturday.

We have had our differences, we still do, but slowly he began to recognise that he can't always have his way as the opinions of his middle-aged children begin to dominate and determine the direction of issues. It was hard-won, but education on all sides. I have to learn that difference does not have to exacerbate conflict. Where I am infuriated, I need to find the necessary communication of persuasion, amelioration and compromise, to an extent.

Have a voice that can be heard

Yes, we probably should do more to engender better communion with our parents who are still with us, but if we fail to use our voices at the critical and crucial times, where there are many occasions for it, we would never have a say when it really matters, or when we do, they would be too deaf to hear or heed. Then, it becomes impossible and differences would become irreconcilable. Sadly, the end of this is regret for could have, should have or would have been done give a new opportunity.

We all must coexist with generations, we met here and those we would eventually leave behind, that is the process of our growth it was the process of growth from time immemorial, no one gets excuses to be an island of immunity and impunity, parent, child or grandchild alike. That we must seize the moments and find ways to cherish them would matter for a lifetime.

Make love, not war

My friend ends with this useful, thoughtful and necessary advice, “Your parents wanting an emotional connection may be coming late, but it is what you always wanted, so embrace it now. Seize the moment. Make new memories. Make love, not war. And do not forget to take lots of selfies. Sooner or later, they will be gone.”

I guess we need to decide on what memories we want to have of our parents when there is a reckoning of the lives we have shared.

Thought Picnic: An endless journey of the heart finding love

[]

It’s not impossible

In a couple of months, I have come to appreciate a delicate matter of the heart and soul. Something I had somewhat willed myself into developing an immunity for invaded every sense of my feigned self-assurance, I was left vulnerable to its onslaught without defense.

The topic of love is not one I would normally write about except from an observational or clinical perspective. To have me as a participant of an affair was just far-fetched at best, if not impossible.

There are reasons why I never thought myself a candidate for this emotion that is hardly a second-hand emotion. Tina Turner who made a global comeback hit with ‘What’s love got to do with it’ some 35 years ago is at 79 enjoying some of the best years of love in her life in Switzerland with her husband.

It’s a living thing

In my reckoning, I think love has everything to do with it when you find that someone, and when you do, it is a first hand, ever present, all-consuming emotion of words, acts and passion. You are almost tongue-tied at the sight of your beloved and weak at the knees at a simple touch.

That one has to manage a long-distance relationship with its limitations does not dampen the growing intimacy that is beyond the physical. The meeting of minds, the knitting of hearts, the merging of thoughts and the confluence of souls creates something so unique between you that cannot be found with anyone else.

You cannot tire of professing the cliché and the originally poetic expressions of deep love and affection. You reinforce the bond between yourselves continually eliminating every iota of doubt about how you feel and where you hope fate, fortune and fortitude would lead you to.

It changes you

The heart pines and aches for the satisfaction only love can provide, yet, there is no easy understanding of the force and power of love. You just know and strive to live its fulfillment in every way you can. Love is a spirit, it is an experience, it is an expression, it is life.

With it, the countenance brightens, expectations are heightened, adventure is almost frightening, but there is nothing to fear as the embraces tighten. Having had many failed relationships, a social life littered with ex-partners who have become friends, they themselves in relationships that have lasted quite long, you dared think something was amiss with you.

That it took a sojourn over land and sea to meet one who is becoming and I hope would become a partner for life indicates to me that there is always someone for you even after you have lost someone you thought was everything. Love is for the living, fondness and sweet memories are for the dearly departed.

I could spend time wondering why, but that is a waste of time, for moments shared are more significant and meaningful, they are to be cherished wholesomely, with gratitude and thankfulness. There is a hope and possibility of endless love, where two hearts have become as one.

In My Time

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Songs that touch the heart

There are many songs that I have heard that touch a part of me that nothing else can. Sometimes, it is just the music, the easy listening that brings a calmness and restfulness to my spirit, I feel I want to play it back continuously until I fall into slumber.

Then, beyond the sound of the music, you look at the lyrics and find such meaning that you can completely relate to as if the words taken out of your life and published to the strains of music that take your thoughts to another place.

All that I know now has to go

Recently, I found a life experience I never thought I would ever have again, I have a long history of relationships, some good, some bad and the others are forgettable. Some of my past loves are still friends and I cherish their friendships, but there would be no rekindling of what we once felt for each other, that has gone.

How again I realise experience limited my ability to move on and find new love, I built crenellations around my heart for it had been hurt and broken too many times, I did not want to hurt anymore. I was protecting myself from heartbreak and by that not opening my heart to those who might have been more caring and careful, considering and considerate, in love and loving, I was exhausted.

I let my heart be touched

Even with that, I thought I was on guard by default, then someone came and in a short embrace, my heart settled, a calmness enveloped me, I felt peaceful and drawn to this person in ways impossible to resist. There was no conflict between my head and my heart, both were telling me, there is much in this than you could ever imagine. Go with the flow, dare to ask and fear for nothing about what might happen.

I followed my deepest premonitions like I was walking through caves towards a welcoming light and comfort, I was being led into love unbeknownst, I was in love before it dawned on me that this was happening to me. I accepted there was no escape from this feeling. Crazy as it seemed, it was real, it was true, and it was growing in strength, in meaning and in prospect.

I let my heart be touched, I let my mind be caught, I let my life be changed, I let my love be shared and the past has become its own story because the present is a miracle of dreams that come true for the very few. In that, I have been blessed, for after all I have been through, in my time, I have found love – it is a wonderful thing.

This song touched me deeply

In My Time by Teddy Pendergrass (Love Language)

You know, I'm no beginner
My heart's been to the wall
I'm a tried and true romantic
Who's seen and done it all

And when you walked into my life
Suddenly I knew
All the love I had inside
Was leading me to you

In my time
I've lived and loved so much
Through each high and low
I let my heart be touched

In my time
There isn't much I've missed
I've seen love come and go, but heaven knows
I've never loved like this in my time

After all that I've been through
I'm in love with you

I've won some and I've lost some
But us dreamers don't complain
We keep reaching out for passion
No matter what the pain

When I looked into your eyes
It all fell into place
I found, what I was searching for
Shining in your face

In my time
I've lived and loved so much
Through each high and low
I let my heart be touched

In my time
There isn't much I've missed
I've seen love come and go, but heaven knows
I've never loved like this in my time

After all that I've been through
I'm in love with you

In my time
I've lived and loved so much
Through each high and low
I let my heart be touched

In my time
There isn't much I've missed
I've seen love come and go, but heaven knows
I've never loved like this in my time

After all that I've been through
I'm in love with you

Songwriters: Cynthia Weil / Michael Masser

In My Time lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

Cancer: You can’t keep winning this game at life.

Strumming the pain

It is heart-breaking and humbling to watch and he is strumming the ebbing signs of life in the departure lounge from a body wrecked even with a mind so lively and writing full of poetic movement.

I discovered on my Twitter timeline only a few days ago that a friend who had never met but was much an acquaintance was dying from terminal cancer. As I went through his timeline, he had cancelled a wish list, married his partner, signed over his house, began to receive visitors who had ignored him for years but were now seeking to see him for the last time.

The cancer commons

Cancer creates some sort of kindred spirit, in my case, I have been fortunate, I survived, but I never cease to feel as vulnerable when I learn of anyone being visited by this rotten scourge.

I immediately wrote a direct message to him expressing my deepest sympathies of learning of his situation. He had written in detail about all his feelings physical, mental and emotional, all of which I would well relate to. However, I have learnt that just because I have once had cancer does not mean I can say I know what you’re going through.

At best, I understand, maybe I can quite relate, but beyond that, each cancer experience is unique and different, from the diagnosis through the prognosis and the options you have to tackle the disease. In my case, I was given some hope, responding to treatment meant I would survive that episode else, I had just five weeks to live. In his case, it was an aggressive leukaemia or which all options had been exhausted.

He responded so graciously to my message wishing me a long healthy and happy life.

The slow goodbyes

I am the going through lots of emotions, a man so young watching his life ebb away because there is nothing he or medicine could do about it. Miracles we were taught to believe in seem to be in such short supply, they have become the substance of fable or fairy tales even if we are literally commanded to have faith.

Online, I am almost encamped in a vigil on his timeline at the sadness of this because this was one who brought love, joy, happiness and laughter to others in his prime and his strength.

His condition is at a point where what can be done is palliative, h has moved into hospice care and though he went in with his dog, he has sent his dog home with his husband because the dog can sense that things are not so good with his master and is taking on that strain too.

Reading through his blogs, I have not seen resignation or regret, but an acceptance of the inevitable and a desire to breathe his last in the arms of his beloved husband. Cancer, you can’t keep winning this game at life.

Thought Picnic: Filing bankruptcy on this emotional investment

The investment

The promises broken time and again as fondness turns to agitated demands for attention when the object of affection expresses interest whilst not making plans to engage.

There is a creeping sense of indifference in return for an enduring sense of infatuation that it has come to a head.

It is time to cut one’s losses before the engagement leads to a point where an investment bias continues to persuade one to put more in for diminishing returns.

Another lesson learnt

Indeed, a hope once existed for profit, but they are beyond the impasse, one party’s concern, care and consideration is being taken for granted.

The hopeless romantic that he is, hoodwinked by his own devices and deceptions has been taken for a ride much further than his intended destination, that he is left in the middle of nowhere long after the last bus has gone.

Hitch-hiking on the vestiges of emotional distress, that constant quest for love is dashed against the rocks of perfidy, pleasures misaligned and company stolen for the moment.

Yet the quest must continue because someone, somewhere out there is probably just that someone that will matter the most after all. We are done with the last unprofitable venture. Goodbye!

Thought Picnic: Where everybody knows your life

All the same

The uplifting song theme of Cheers has always had some words that speak louder than the simple pleasure of the tune. The refrain contains these sometimes reassuring words.

Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.

[ Written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo – Cheers! ]

We have our own troubles

This became an interesting illustration when chatting to a mentor relation well over a decade ago. He lamented over the fact that his sons rarely called home. I told him, they do not call home because anytime they call, someone offloads the issues at home at them.

Whilst whoever is doing the offloading finds an understandable outlet, the boys over here as apparently single men then did not have the environment within which to properly shoulder or empathise with that situation.

This is reality

Let me explain – once I called home and I had hardly said my greeting before my mother descended on me like a ton of bricks about care, responsibility, concern, consideration and every single issue of emotional blackmail you could have lobbed at you. I patiently listened and did not as much as answer back.

She handed the phone to my immediate sister and she began to ply into me; that upset me no end, I broke down. Then I put in a plea that went along these lines – You know what? When things happen, you have the opportunity and the proximity to gather round and discuss, appreciate, consider and do things together.

Like family or not

Yes, family, whether you like the setting or not, has a root of life function that we might feel attached to or estranged from. In either case, there are occasions that demand you come together to celebrate, to contemplate or to grieve, these are elemental realities of life.

The member of the family apart in distance or some other type of separation my not have the communal environment to engage. Without it, the presentation of loneliness and isolation is exaggerated and then that person begins to play that whole family in their minds. It is a very unhealthy situation to be in.

If this person has their own family, there is probably something that can shared in the emotional burden and with that comes some sympathy, or empathy, but better still come comfort. Where this is absent, you probably seek out relations or friends, strangers come last – you need someone to talk to and probably, that person should be a professional – that is therapy.

Other places for comfort

In other cases, in the absence of these needs that are essential to our expression as social animals, the person might go to a religious place or even bar and drown their concerns with alcohol.

I am a teetotaller, in the main, I do not particularly like bars. There are times I have called friends, at other times, I write about what is bothering me as a crude form of self-therapy, however, one of the things I do is just go to sleep. I will find something to playback in the background either classical music or the gospels and lie down.

My sleep is a leap over

No matter what has bothered me before I went to bed, I have been blessed with the grace of getting up and feeling better. My mind is fresher and I probably also have some inspiration for something. Inspiration is a wonderful thing too, and I have had some wonderful inspirational moments in the shower – high-powered showers, I mean.

However, back to the theme song at the beginning of this blog, sometimes, you want to be not just where everybody knows your name, but where they know your life and when you share your troubles, you all feel the same.

It is well.

Cheers ("Where Everybody Knows Your Name")

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got;
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?

All those night when you've got no lights,
The check is in the mail;
And your little angel
Hung the cat up by it's tail;
And your third fiance didn't show;

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to be where you can see,
Our troubles are all the same;
You want to be where everybody knows your name.

Roll out of bed, Mr. Coffee's dead;
The morning's looking bright;
And your shrink ran off to Europe,
And didn't even write;
And your husband wants to be a girl;

Be glad there's one place in the world
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to go where people know,
People are all the same;
You want to go where everybody knows your name.

Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came...

Source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/cheerslyrics.html

[ Written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo ]

[Where Everybody Knows Your Name - Wikipedia]