Thought Picnic: Stuck on the absence of desire

On a funny compass

The surfeit of blogs might deceptively suggest a liberal ability to express one’s feelings or find the form of words to capture some thought process succinctly, yet many should be careful that expression might also be concealment. A means of distracting attention from other issues that the principal is struggling with, just as it is easy to forget the humanity and vulnerability of people who appear to have mastered the art of communication.

Lately, I have found myself unable to express myself in a way that I should freely be able to, given the time, the place and the opportunity. The opportunity has been dictated by situations completely outside my control. Demands and requests are being made of me that I cannot find the will or the urge to fulfil.

Trying to get unstuck

At a point, one feels literally clogged up with no outlet to ease tension or frustration, it is not for the want of desire or passion, it seems one has been exhausted by a form of separation anxiety that has been difficult to remediate. Anyone else might think there is a simple fix, it is not working for me, and I am somewhat worried by its effect on another.

God knows I have been trying to rekindle that thing, if there was some emotional jumpstart, I might even try it. What will not do it is the sudden, the deliberate, the demanding, or the invasion. I hope I get out of my funk soon enough time. Besides that, and what is going on in my head and affecting my body in ways I cannot describe to any satisfaction, the heart is still glowing with the happiness and joy that presence brings. Bear with me even if everything cannot be understood at this time.

Palm Sunday: Clean hands are of the conscience

Common service in the church

Probably something I have not taken due notice of before, on Sunday mornings, I will usually wake up to a live church service on BBC Radio 4, the ones from the Church of England, I am more attuned to. The time did Spring Forward to British Summer Time, though it was more like British Raining Time, this morning.

However, today, Palm Sunday, I recall that when the readings came up in church, it was like a déjà vu moment, I very remembered I had heard it before, recently too. At church, with the new normal of no congregational singing, a cantor doing most of the musical stuff in front of the congregation or in the choir, much of what we do is sitting down apart during the greeting and certain congregational recitations.

The gospel in song

The children without a Sunday School with preoccupied and distracted by toys, puzzles, or their colouring books. The gospel was first read to announce the triumphal entry of the Lord into Jerusalem on the ass of a colt the second gospel was of the Passion, the first 54 verses of 66, of the 27^th chapter in the Gospel according to St Matthew, sung by the cantor and a laudable feat at the best of times. [Bible Gateway: Matthew 27:1-54 (NRSVA)]

As I have been listening to books on Audible rather than reading them on Kindle, there was a sense of how the words we heard seems to take on life as you read the words being sung to our hearing. I could not help but see the level of human wickedness that greeted the desire for the chief priests of that day to get rid of Jesus Christ.

A window on religious wickedness

When Judas Iscariot realised what his betrayal of Jesus Christ would lead to, he went to return the 30 pieces of silver the chief priests and elders gave him for his dastardly deed and they indifferently said, “What is that to us?”, on picking up the money he threw down in the temple, they deliberated amongst themselves agreeing it was “the price of blood”, bought a piece of land with it, not for anything but the burial of strangers to whom they will have no duty, obligation, or responsibility and called it the field of blood.

They agitated the crowd to prefer a murderer and thief over Jesus Christ and even Pontius Pilate when he made to wash his hands off the matter, recognised that they were against Jesus out of envy. Just the thought that someone bringing succour, healing and peace to their people making them somewhat irrelevant as they could never rise to minister to those needs was their all-consuming passion to destroy Jesus, he had to be killed.

Culpable in every way

I could not entirely absolve Pontius Pilate, his wife warned him not to have anything to do with Jesus, he had the power and authority to set Jesus free, much as whatever the decision he took would determine the fate of Jesus Christ in that place.

Out of fear for his position and hoping to avoid an insurrection, all acts of self-preservation of status and person, he delivered Jesus to them and the ritual of crucifixion started with scourging and mockery, the act of capital punishment will also be carried out by those under his command, just as he decided to place a notice at the head of the cross declaring Jesus, the kind of the Jews.

It all made for sombre reflection; the Holy Week has begun. In these pandemic times, as we sanitise our hands to prevent disease and contamination, Pontius Pilate would never have been able to wash his hands clean of the matter that underpins the force of Christianity, the cross and the consequent resurrection of Jesus Christ. Clean hands are first of the conscience and the decisions we make long before symbolically washing them in a bowl of water would mean anything.

I remember, it was in December

Love started intending

I do remember the many times that September brought us back onto the dancefloor as the disc jockey realised that the last few tracks did not inspire any excitement.

It is to the credit of the lively beat that Earth, Wind & Fire’s September still endures 42 years after it was recorded. You can be sure to get the party started with this, not to mention a night a passionate of love.

Besides, the lyrics also, signify a night in which love became the reality between two, the rest was the stuff of sonnets, hearts, hands, nights, skies, the whisperings of tenderness and much else that is implied, that we know goes a long way beyond unrequited teenage infatuation.

For me, it was the 27^th night of December, in which I met someone who made my heart glow, it was as if I knew, for in my first message I said, “You’re every dream of a man.” I have been living that dream since.

Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember? [Genius: September – Earth, Wind & Fire]

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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

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Thought Picnic: The business of not becoming arboreal fish

When fins are not limbs

“Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” This saying is usually attributed to Albert Einstein, but there is much controversy as to whether he ever said these words. Whilst it is important to responsibly source the provenance of a quote, we should not be distracted from the import of the uncredited aphorism.

There are times I have wasted my energy as a fish trying to climb a tree. I moderate and caution myself in how I represent myself, hoping not to use the negative to incapacitate my ability, just in case, I find the insight eventually to excel in an area where heretofore I could not begin to believe I had the means or wherewithal to have a voice.

Collapsing the plinths of adulation

Just over 6 months ago, I was contacted enthusiastically about a business proposition, that appeared to have scope and prospect even if the basic idea was in need of refinement. With me being looked upon as a leader, I immediately put aside my doubts, more personally about what I could do that I did not pose the essential questions to help refine the focus.

Strangely, I felt quite uncomfortable that demands would be made of me that would leave me exposed even as I did not want to disappoint my beloved interlocutor nor dampen their passion. As I was in the midst of planning some personal activities, I put the thoughts aside.

About a week ago, I saw that the sketchy ideas that were discussed had taken root and gained a vehicle of expression. This dream had become a reality and the next stage of marketing had begun, this is place where this person had all the expertise to carry a product to a market and begin to make a business that met a need.

Encourage creative expression

In trying to escape from the trite, I opined to another, “I'm glad you're getting to do what you love, nothing as fulfilling as doing things that are impactful; food leaves a memory and creates an enduring desire to relive the moment. It comes from the artistry and expertise that produces it in the first place.”

Someone who had taken the joy of cooking to the point of creating an online kitchen and fulfilling orders was having a time of their life, I could only be pleased for them. Yet, in me, there was that fish again attempting to climb a tree. I needed to provide encouragement without the use of clichés, recognise that what was being done was more than commendable and avoid allowing my sense of inadequacy get in the way of earned and deserved acknowledgement.

There are people who see us as sources of inspiration, living up to that kind reverence that we decline in self-deprecation and apparent lack of achievement in our own eyes presents a chasm between where we are placed and where we place ourselves. Our modesty becomes a refuge from the responsibility demanded of our counsel, guidance, and advice.

Not everyone can do business

Entrenching the accolades, I was offering, I averred, “It’s a journey you’ve started, and it will get better and more rewarding.” The process of setting up is hard, it takes a lot of perseverance to keep at it and make a success of it.

In the end, combining the separate events of two people taking their dreams to the market and working on growing their custom, I found I could still remain a fish, though not one trying to climb trees; just one that is naturally suited to its environment and thriving therein, a fish in freshwater, swimming in the abundance of life and resources.

“The spirit of business is an awesome thing, it's not something I have had much insight or acumen in, I am just a knowledge person. I think it takes amazing ability and talent to build a business around ideas meeting a need and I wish you the very best.”

Being an entrepreneur demands the skill, the drive and the expertise I have not realised currently I possess, my kind of fish is not striving to climb trees, yet, for everyone who had been able to take an idea to the place of selling a product growing in demand, you have found waters in which you can be the best fish you can ever be. Swim, live long and prosper.

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.

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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]

An embrace that has no words

A new embrace

There was a closing scene on CSI: Miami last night where a family had thought they had lost a husband and a father, met up on tarmac about to board a plane to Brazil. The boy on recognising his father cried out Dad! and ran up to meet him, that encounter was short.

The wife was first confused, then came to, realised the man on the gangway was husband first expressed her gratitude with hugging Horatio Caine, before walking towards her heretofore presumed dead husband.

They both came together, no kiss, no words, just an embrace and that triggered both memory and the yearning in me.

The look of love

There is only one person I could give that kind of embrace, in whose grip the intensity would be so passionate, hands over each other almost in a ravenous rage, and when our lips meet, the feeling would be utter bliss. At that moment, my head would sink in the crook of his neck, as I sigh, laugh, and cry, all at the same time. The sounds we make, no one will understand.

What I saw was the look of love, the deepest expression of it, it can only happen between lovers and no words can begin to articulate how we have missed each other and what a miracle we are living to once again be in each other’s arms.

This thing that I appreciate many may never come to understand for all sorts of reasons is a language of hearts meeting hearts, for which everyone has the capacity regardless of the pairing involved. In my case, I found him, and I cannot begin to tell you how much I love him, much as I realise, I have never loved this way before. Maybe, close, but not as deep and committed as I feel and see this love.

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Thought Picnic: I will remain curious and work on it

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Who is me again?

Recently, I think I have been searching for a better understanding of myself, a kind of review of my past, my present, my prospects, the circumstances in which I find myself, what might need tinkering with and what other things must radically shift.

I guess I am constantly challenging myself to appreciate if I am achieving and contributing, whether my ideas are sound and what I need to do or where I need to go to get inspiration and insight for whatever I am faced with. There are days I do not think I have done much and there are many caught between the shame of being slothful, the guilt of not achieving my goals, the embarrassment of being caught out and the humiliation of being shown up.

Finding my place of vulnerability and being able to deal with it is still a process, the way I find it difficult to ask for or seek help when I need it most. I am working on finding the voice to fix the things I am uncomfortable with.

Guarding the influences

This Coronavirus pandemic lockdown where you are left alone and with your own thoughts, many influences begin to insert themselves in your life, usually from social media and television. I do manage my television influences better than I do social media, especially Twitter. So much jumps out at you to enrage you that you need to condition yourself in terms of initiation, engagement, response, contribution, restraint, disengagement, or indifference.

Then, I am getting better at extricating myself, I do not need to be drawn into issues that drain mental energy, denigrate, or are unedifying. The unpersuadable are just unpersuadable and it is important to see the trait early before the fruitless frustrates. Most importantly, know the unnecessary for it is unnecessary, something to be ignored and where the temptation to tweet must be resisted for your good.

I will remain curious

As I go through this developmental process, I have been trying to find fulfilment in the things I enjoy without having the things that drive others define my sense of achievement. Listening to a number of discussions from many interesting people, the pep talk is quite off-putting to the point of detestation.

The life coaches and motivation speakers who go on about using this period of sequestration or rather retreat to say you should focus on something, have a purpose in life or pursue your passion, without which you have underachieved leaving you an anxiety wreck as you realise you have let another day slip useless away, again.

Blog - Thought Picnic: In the days of useful ideas

Elizabeth Gilbert in a recent TED discussion brought in a new thought process, suggesting we exercise curiosity; a kind of interest probably in the mundane, which I do so well, observing beyond just seeing, the stakes she said are lower, there is no anxiety, for looking closer brings to light things easily missed.

I know I am curious, it feeds my learning, the learning to love myself more, it brings insight, it is questioning, precocious, inquisitive, challenging of the norm and I might just end up being proud of myself, grateful of the wonderful people and things that enrich my life. I think I am comfortable with that.