Devotion, not Domination

Rights and Responsibilities

Everyone, in my view, has the right to practise their religion without fear of persecution. However, this right also comes with the responsibility to be considerate of others.

On public transport, we already suffer the nuisance of people playing music through the loudspeakers of their mobile phones. 

This is usually not because they have forgotten the headphones that would afford them the private enjoyment of the music of their choice; rather than inflicting their tastes on others without permission, they are simply being antisocial. The same goes for loud phone calls, and I have found myself speaking up on occasion, dismayed at the breach of the peace.

A Step Too Far

It is on another level entirely when a fellow passenger decides to play the call to prayer. Even if that person were the imam, their presence in any setting, and especially on a vehicle, does not confer the authority to claim the whole space as a mosque.

This is how devotion slips easily into fanaticism, where common sense deserts faith and public concern follows. The devotee immediately attracts suspicion and dread, not so much for the act of worship itself, but because others begin to wonder about their intentions. When the practice of the religion of peace serves only to heighten unease, the wider perception of the freedom being exercised becomes a lightning rod for prohibition.

Where Freedom Ends

Anyone who dared to challenge that passenger would have found others ready to support them. It takes only one person to report the incident to the police, and before calmer heads could dismiss the matter as a question of civility, the spectre of radicalisation would justly have placed the individual under scrutiny and questioning.

Being a believer does not preclude you from behaving as a good citizen; the extent of a right reaches only to the point before it infringes on the freedoms of another. Whether it be music, a phone call, or a call to prayer, if you do not have your headphones, you should accept that you have deprived yourself of the opportunity to listen to your device when in a public place.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

A World Cup Letdown: From Golden Boys to the Ugly Game

A Listed Building's Walls

My office sits in a Grade II listed building with uniquely fascinating décor: wallpaper made from a collage of newspaper front pages marking world events.

The Kennedy assassination, the birth of the first test-tube baby, the moon landing, the Beatles arriving in America, the birth of Prince George, the murder of John Lennon, the death of Elvis Presley, Usain Bolt breaking the 100m world record at the 2012 Olympics, and now, crucially, England winning the World Cup.

The Sunday Mirror, 31st July 1966. The morning after the only World Cup that ever truly mattered to me, and I was barely old enough to know it.

It is the little things, the unfairness and the distrust, that have exacerbated my disinterest in global events. The minor infraction of the Formula 1 rules by a race steward, the one that robbed Lewis Hamilton of an eighth world championship, means I have never watched another race since.

Three Flags, One Cup

I was just a few months old when England lifted the trophy against West Germany in 1966, the Sunday Mirror crowing "Golden Boys!" the morning after. To have seen them win it in my lifetime, even if I cannot remember a moment of it, is perhaps why I am no longer troubled by whether they excel or falter in this edition.

My allegiances have wandered as my life has. I have supported England, where I was born; Nigeria, my country of heritage; and the Netherlands, where I lived for twelve years. Each has handed me its own disappointment.

I watched Nigeria play Bulgaria at the Parc des Princes during the 1998 World Cup, and I donned the orange of the Netherlands for the 2010 final, hosted in South Africa, though I watched it on holiday in Spain. Walking back to my hotel in Dutch colours after Spain's victory remains one of the worst sporting indignities I have endured.

Festivals Losing Their Shine

We used to gather in May for Eurovision, but the controversy around Israel's participation, which led to a boycott by five countries, meant I felt it was no longer a contest. Though it produced a new winning country, I refused to watch anything, including the highlights. In 2026, we had Euroblindness, and I do not know what might make it exciting again.

Yesterday, the FIFA World Cup began in Mexico, hosted this time by three countries, including Canada and the United States. The United States is at a war of its own choosing with Iran, a participating nation. Iran has moved its base to Mexico. A FIFA referee from Somalia was denied entry to the US, and FIFA simply shrugged.

Politics Invades the Pitch

The US Immigration and Customs Enforcement is threatening to raid World Cup venues to apprehend and arrest supposed illegal immigrants. President Donald Trump is quite cosy with Gianni Infantino, the FIFA President, who conferred a FIFA World Peace Prize on Donald Trump in a farcical imitation of the Nobel Peace Prize.

With players and officials alike suffering indignities at the behest of the policies prevailing in the US, it is no wonder that interest in this World Cup is not showing up in record hotel bookings. The somewhat exorbitant match tickets will now have to depend on local fans to fill the stadiums, as the prices fall to more reasonable levels.

No Enthusiasm Here

No, I have garnered no enthusiasm for this fiesta at all, apart from snippets that fall into sight from partly obscured social media statuses, informing us why South Africa lost their match against Mexico. This was a reference to the largest number of red cards ever issued in a World Cup match, which left South Africa down to nine men by the end.

Yes, there was one video of Burna Boy being lauded by his mother after his performance at the opening of the tournament, yet I have not turned on my television to watch any clips or updates. I am neither playing nor engaged, and I hope the month slithers away into insignificance whilst we find other joys of living beyond this enterprise of chicanery that pretends to unite the world in the pursuit of a leather ball.

What Is the Point?

Heck, there are 48 teams playing, and yet Nigeria, Italy, India, and China cannot find a minimum of 23 men to fly the flag. What is the point? The way things are going, all countries might as well be invited to a three-month World Cup to cure the world of boredom, and we might enjoy one long holiday from its troubles.

No one could ever have thought that the US, being the main host of a FIFA World Cup, would portend less eagerness than the ones in Qatar or Russia before. But if this ends up being the least entertaining ever, the record alone would leave a big smile on our faces. I can assure you, it would be just deserts.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Memento Mori in the Modern Workplace

The Two-Headed Fear

I usually say that I am only scared of a person with two heads, and thankfully, I have never met one. Yet in my working life, I have had many encounters with colleagues, juniors, seniors, and C-suite personnel.

In the main, they have been nice, respectful, considerate, and courteous. It is the workplace that brought us together; our backgrounds can be radically different, just as our outlooks on the world might never be the same. If we are human, humane, and accommodating of each other, it makes for a pleasant working environment.

Frustration Is No Excuse

There have been exceptions, people who think their positions give them room to misbehave and be discourteous. Usually, they get away with it, and the behaviour becomes compounded and accepted by many. Once, I was offering support to a caller at work when he began hurling expletives out of frustration.

We all get frustrated, but frustration is no excuse for abuse. I calmly told him that I did not get paid enough to take abuse at work, and informed him that I was going to put the phone down.

When he was ready to discuss the matter calmly, he could call me again. We ended that conversation, and a few minutes later, he called back, apologised, and I resolved the matter.

The Gracious Senior VP

On another occasion, a deployment for which I had provided statistics showing a high success rate just happened to brick the Senior VP’s device. His secretary was implacable, and other senior staff were running around like headless chickens. I was instructed to call the SVP to explain my actions.

I had never met him before, but he immediately acknowledged me, then said he had seen the statistics and understood that, on occasion, something might fail; it just happened to be his device. He closed with, “Take your time, I appreciate what you do.”

There have probably been other technical personnel elsewhere, in the very same position, marched out of the office simply because the screen on a manager’s computer flickered.

Things can be that brutal. I learnt early in my career that keeping users honestly informed reaped more dividends than leaving them ignorant of what might affect what they do or how they work. To inform is to liberate.

The Master of the Universe

Bring in the esteemed fellow, the one to whom no one says no. He has the ear of the CEO, and anything he says is gospel and unquestioned. To have attained that status is commendable; but unlike the generals of ancient times, who at their victory parades had a man whisper memento mori into the ear of the celebrant, this master of the universe, for all that they have achieved, yet so lacking in character, thinks they own the world and that everyone answers to them.

They seek exemption and exception in the demands they make. Aggression and coarseness are their raison d'être; nothing is ever a request. They hold Aladdin’s lamp, incessantly summoning the genie to grant any wish, and should the wish be denied, truculence becomes them.

Any resistance, even a reasonable challenge to their requirements, is met with forceful tales of woe about how they cannot get anything done because the system, the design, or the personnel are lazy, wasting time, and derelict in their duties.

The thrust of the conversation leans towards disparaging you, your work, your team, and anything else you have done professionally and diligently.

Winning the War for Peace

It is tempting to assume nothing can be done when management indulges its favoured figure. Yet such attitudes can be named and challenged, and I have done so many times, with success. The behaviour is not untouchable; it simply relies on everyone presuming that it is.

Each encounter is weighed on its own merits; sometimes you yield, and sometimes you hold firm. Where there is no point in holding the fort, and they are used to having their way, you make that allowance too, for the peace of mankind.

Yet even in those bruising encounters, you can own facts that clearly prove their position wrong, leaving them with no option but to concede the point, even if they remain unrelenting in pursuit of their self-aggrandising goals.

We do not have to win every battle when the war is for peace, for respect, for dignity, and for the recognition that in every endeavour, no matter the position, the esteem, or the remuneration, no one of us is better than another.

We are equal as human beings, deserving of the same courtesy, respect, and dignity. It is in our efforts together that we all make the organisations we work for successful.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Tubing Down the Gullet

The Weight of Anticipation

Anxiety is a weight. It sits on your chest and bears down regardless of whether you are lying down, sitting, or standing. Anxiety also signals that the issues of life, though measurable in the brain, are situated in the chest cavity where your heart and lungs reside.

For instance, when you feel confident, you are likely to beat your chest rather than slap your head. Slapping your head, it turns out, is an act of self-deprecation in recognition of one's silliness or foolishness. Anticipation can create anxiety, and nothing quite causes that feeling of foreboding like the hours just before a long-scheduled medical procedure.

Lessons from a Previous Encounter

With hindsight, two years ago, after a multiparametric MRI scan, the consultant sprang a biopsy of my prostate gland on me without first reviewing the results or explaining the reasons. Even so, I was quite well prepared for the encounter.

I asked questions, demanded answers, and only acquiesced to the procedure once I was convinced of the need. The importance of reading up on your medical situation is paramount.

A Portmanteau of Procedures

Tomorrow, I am going for an Oesophagogastroduodenoscopy. I could have sworn that is not a word, but welcome to the world of medical terms that suggest a portmanteau of activities. The word reminds me of German, where portmanteau words are joined up with the letter "S". I would suppose, with medical terms, it is the letter "O", much like when I had that inguinoscrotal abscess last month.

In summary: I am having an endoscopy that will reach down through my oesophagus, past the gastrointestinal junction, to the first and shortest section of my small intestine. I have not deigned to measure that in miles, but it feels like a long way down to places never before visited, rather like the first landing on the moon.

Why This Procedure Is Necessary

This is pursuant to an investigation that presaged my visit to A&E after a choking incident which impacted my ability to swallow anything, including fluids, for hours. I was eventually discharged about five hours into my hospital attendance, after managing a sandwich and a drink. Taken alongside a history of choking events going back decades, and three such incidents since that discharge, this procedure is necessary.

Herewith, the cause of my anxiety: without a chaperone, I can only elect for the most basic palliative, which would be a numbing spray to the back of the throat, rather than a sedative.

Finding Peace

I believe I shall be fine. I suppose it is just part of human nature to be slightly concerned at that kind of invasive activity, and it is not helped by a mind full of others recounting their own endoscopic odyssey.

Shalom! Peace to my mind, peace to my soul, peace to my thoughts, peace through it all.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: Emotional abuse masquerading as peace making

Setting the Thought

One thing I have striven for, and perhaps never fully mastered but have always applied myself to learn, is to have good judgment coupled with the instinct to do what is right. I need to be assured that I am directing my energies towards benefit, not only for myself but also for others.

Then again, regarding the pursuit of happiness I have written about many times before, having material means and provisions is not inherently the main source of happiness; it can also be the cause of great misery.

However, if you find yourself with the opportunity and privilege to make others happy, it is quite likely that you will end up happy as well.

The Responsibility of Cultivating Relationships

You might wonder how the thoughts of the previous paragraphs are connected; I see them in the context of cultivating relationships—some enduring, others fleeting—yet all meaningful for everyone involved.

Imagine the responsibility of a pilot of an aircraft: even if one might say unwittingly, you are in charge of a vehicle worth over 100 million pounds or dollars, but more importantly, you carry a cargo of human lives that you cannot take lightly, numbering around 200.

Appreciating the weight of that responsibility instils discipline, self-control, and the importance of working with your team to ensure your duties are carried out with excellence.

In our endeavours, we may not be pilots, but we are pilots of sorts. Whether as parents, teachers, or professionals in fields like medicine, engineering, law, finance, or the humanities, there is impact, consequence, risk, and reward.

Human lives are affected, and relationships that matter can dissolve through poor judgment, bad faith, a bad attitude, bad behaviour, or simple neglect—failures to recognise and address issues in our development that become disadvantages.

A Consideration of Others

All of this hinges on the issue of consideration—not of ourselves alone, but of others—because how we involve ourselves can affect others more than we realise, often because we are solely focused on ourselves.

This year, during two nuptial preparations, I have observed a profound lack of good judgment and an absolute inability to include important people in planning, organisation, and execution.

This has left relationships strained, with attitudes ranging from nonchalance to indifference from those whose various contributions could have made the events more successful.

We should not delude ourselves with the hubris of thinking we matter more than we do to the couple beginning their lives together. However, there must be a way to address issues before resentment develops from being ignored.

It is merely emotional abuse.

Yet, for those with the greatest influence, tolerating the worst offenders while appealing to the good nature of the offended is not peace-making; it is emotional abuse, emotional blackmail, and worse.

The points I initially intended to address will have to wait for another time because the crucial issue here—emotional abuse—has now become the focal point.

Good judgment fosters the development of relationships, especially when considering how the responsibilities we have, acquire, or are imposed on us can make a significant difference in the overall happiness of all involved.

Home as you left it

Strewn yet hewn

When I returned home late in the night a week ago, it never occurred to me how if anyone had seen a dog in the window of my apartment over the weekend, they could come back on my return, point to the dog and ask how much it was.

In fact, I could have left my bathroom scales in my wine rack (I did not do that, someone else did) and expected to still find it there or carelessly left the fridge door open and met it undefeated by gravity or the rotational forces of the earth in the same position I had in my forgetfulness abandoned things.

That lack of trepidation as to the condition of my home that always seemed to leave me a total stranger in my own home after any sojourn away, was bliss. None of the disorderliness which to the mind of another was their order, or apparent disarray was due to poltergeist activity, I simply had a trusted house sitter.

Behold an earthquake

Trusted is being generous to a fault, because except for the entirely immovable things, everything moved, changed places, or just disappeared. The lack of care for the very basic things even though to his thinking he was keeping the place tidy, robbed me too many times of the enjoyment of home, yet overwhelmed to a masochist trait, I submitted myself to more abuse.

However, after a 16-hour journey back from Cape Town, still barely at 60% of my strength, I stepped into my home and though he was present, I found myself running the vacuum cleaner through my apartment before I even took my jacket off. When I opened the fridge, a hurricane had swept through it with pieces anywhere but where they should be.

That I was still finding things out of place five months later is testament to his genius that has a madness to its method, but the day after I returned, I asked him to give me back the keys to my apartment and I bought myself the unimaginable treasure of space, independence, and wallowing in the mess of my own making. I could live with that.

Peace with my pieces

The next time we saw each other, it was at a waving distance attending a funeral, I bear no animosity toward him, I consider him a friend, even if he thinks otherwise. It was a necessary intervention, rescuing myself from the throes of the unmentionable trying to articulate the indescribable.

Just to have your home unspoiled and be able to suggest the best price for the dog in the window the stranger saw the other day and get a good exchange without rummaging through the depths of Hades for the upper set of your false teeth and the missing tail of the dog. You do not want to know what I still cannot find in my own home.

To consider what God wants for me is the best news

Consider your situation with contemplation

In the sermon I heard in church yesterday, the preacher asked what each of us would consider the best news ever to receive. Thoughts raced through my mind like someone who had met with a genie that could grant three wishes. How we can so rashly lose advantage in the face of a great bounty.

The child in me was ready to blurt out an ephemeral desire, but my better angels constrained me to think deeply about what it is that is indeed the news that would best be fulfilling of a desire, a wish, a hope, the news that would keep me beaming stronger than the midday sun in the tropics.

In the scheme of things, some would desire winning the lottery, so much money coming into your possession, it neither defines wealth nor health, many have had more money than can be counted and have had no peace, no health, no happiness, or no contentment to enjoy what they have. They are miserable and miserly, depressed and full of despair, the momentary thought of things taken care of can also be the suddenness of the better things taken away.

Something life-threatening suddenly solved

No, it was not the lottery I wanted as the best bit of news for me, useful as it might be, I saw a story I never wanted written about me. He won so much money and had no life with which to live and enjoy it. Cecil John Rhodes was said to be probably the only commoner apart from the royal family that could bring London to a standstill when he visited. On his deathbed, despite being one of the world’s most influential men of substance of his time said, “So little done, so much to do.” [Quotes: Cecil John Rhodes]

His health failed him at the age of 48, he had won the stupendous lottery of money, but it could not save his health.

Which brought me to another thought, I am facing prostate cancer, a condition that somewhat exists in a place I can neither see nor access. It presents no pain or discomfort, but the doctors in their conversations among themselves without telling me, until I read it in their notes had assessed it as malignant. Heck! It is cancer in a seemingly little place that can so easily kill you too.

You can imagine, I then thought having dismissed the good news of winning the lottery that I wanted to be totally healed. In one moment, every trace of cancer and infirmity obliterated in an instant and wholeness, nothing missing nothing lacking nothing broken – this being the full meaning of Shalom that we usually translate glibly as a greeting of peace. If only we knew in truth what peace and the peace of God really meant.

Surely, there is more to desire

Yet, I felt something was still missing from this thought, it was desire fed from my situation and circumstances, no less valid but still wanting. I could have my full health but then have no means or capacity to do the amazing and pleasurable things of life. I find myself thinking many times that there is more to life than this.

Jesus hung on the cross for more than just us getting by and still we barely enter the fundamentals of the goodness of why God gave His only begotten Son for the world, but we should dare to personalise it. If the King of Heaven thought I had this much value for Him to willingly sacrifice Himself, how is it that I am desperately failing to understand and appreciate it?

It might seem I was so long in thought, but I soon realised where I should set my hope, my desire, my need, and my fulfilment. It is in the Word of God, saying what God thinks, says, and desires about me. It came to me in these words, “Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.” I was thinking in King James English, and it had much to say to me. [Bible Hub: III John 2]

It has unparalleled completeness

It addressed everything I could ever desire for the best news, a full life of blessing in spirit, soul, and body. Another translation, the New Living Translation, says, “Dear friend, I hope all is well with you and that you are as healthy in body as you are strong in spirit.” How can you not want wellness in your soul, health in your body, and strength in your spirit? The prosperity of the soul includes the fullness of your years too. There are more reinforcing translations of the same text to confirm purpose and intent.

I will take that every day and be thankful for every moment of the goodness and mercy of God following me all the days of my life. The Psalmist concludes the 23^rd Psalm with, “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” [Bible Hub: Psalm 23:6]

The import of that message is as grand as we so easily dismiss its meaning. Nothing can touch you in the house of the Lord even as you are well cared for and catered for by the very best that the universe has ever had to offer.

To think it alone is mind-blowing and yet there is every means to live it from this moment onwards.

We lose more than virtue without feedback

Encouragement and peace

When the woman with the issue of blood as was related in 3 gospels of the Bible determined to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment, she believed she would be made whole. Whole, as in healed and fully restored to good health, but Jesus also gave her more than she was looking for, he said, “Daughter, be of good cheer; your faith has made you well. Go in peace.” [Bible Gateway: Luke 8:43-48(NKJV)]

Those were very comforting words; first of great encouragement and then of full absolution that she did not have to worry that she had surreptitiously acquired her healing without asking or getting permission from the healer. There can be a lesson here about our interaction with God, but this is not what the blog is about.

The drawing of virtue

In another rendition of the same story, Jesus said, “Who touched me?”, He was in the press of a crowd, thronged and jostled, everyone and anyone could have been touching him, at least, that is why Peter was baffled, that he inquired, “Master, the multitudes throng and press You, and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’” To which Jesus answered, “Somebody touched Me, for I perceived power going out from Me.” Another translation used virtue rather than power.

Everyone was touching Jesus, but this woman had a different touch of determination that drew healing power from the touch of his garment to cure at an instant a woman who had suffered a debilitating condition for 12 years.

I have none of that virtue or power, but sometimes, someone would approach from something they might have observed about me for something they need, like help, advice, comfort, encouragement, for something to quell their uneasy sense of angst, concern, or fear.

Feedback helps all

Generally, I would volunteer what I have to share in the experiences I have learnt, the choice of words I have been given to speak or write, or any other means by which I could be helpful. I guess everyone including Jesus needs some feedback and a backstory that gives context to the demand so that a full narrative of the human experience is not like a chance of fate or some hit-and-run encounter.

It is draining and exhausting when you readily and openly give that good cheer and peace into the turmoil of existence and you get nothing back in regards to whether they have been helped or not at all. Then, one does not want to become parsimonious with the blessings we have enjoyed that could be employed for the good of others, however, feedback helps encourage all participants. We are encouraged to be more helpful as much as we hope that our encouragement is of great help.

My experience giving hope

In one situation, I was approached by a young man who in his 30s was experiencing his first encounters with sex and an idea of his sexuality, he was bothered he might have contracted HIV and he was ready to do himself in if the test he was going for came back positive. Providence brought him to me to encourage him on many fronts, the necessity for the test even as he was asking if the symptoms, he was experiencing meant he had contracted HIV.

I categorically told him, that only a test could confirm his status and to go by his symptoms which could be indicative of something else would just create unnecessary anxiety. That medical result was a critical indicator of what should happen next. Then, regardless of what the test result is, it was not the end of life, rather it would mark a transition of knowledge into what to do beyond that realisation. There were examples of people who went on to do remarkable things after an HIV diagnosis.

There was extensive medical help and expertise to manage HIV so he could expect the best outcomes for both his health and his life prospects. Apart from the fact that he should not go down the avenue of blaming himself and falling into depression, but he should be prepared to face up to the interesting life ahead, that sex is there for enjoyment and not as a taboo that gives life a guilt-ridden existence.

What happened after?

I had the feeling that I had both encouraged him and given him a sense of peace, he was ready to take the HIV test and whatever the result he would make the best of it. On the day of his test, I sent him some words of encouragement, wishing him all the very best. Then I heard nothing, no communication or indication, a week passed, and it was going into the middle of the second week when I decided to send him a message.

Well, our young man was off to Malta for a holiday, and I was left none the wiser as to whether this was to celebrate or commiserate on his HIV test result or life was just going on as normal. Much as I was curious, I did not want to dampen the moment with apathy borne of my sense of losing virtue in giving encouragement but not being intimated of the consequence. I kept ruminating about it and the many other times when you give out of your deepest experiences to lift people out of despair and then just move on.

Go in peace

Now, I doubt if the woman with the issue of blood would have lost her healing if she had slunk back into the crowds and not revealed herself to Jesus and the thronging crowd. She might have had a pang of conscience, but she would have been fine. It was her prerogative to reveal or conceal herself. However, if she had concealed herself, her story would never have been told, even as Jesus knew that virtue had left him.

None of the gospel writers even bothered to ask about the woman, her name, where she was from if she had family or any other history. Her story is narrated in a few verses, she had a condition she had suffered for 12 years, she determined Jesus could help, she touched him, and she was healed. Indeed, if there is any healing we can offer humanity around us, we should continue to give liberally and generously, a lot more is contributed to that activity if we know the help offered has been helpful in any way.

As for our young friend, I do hope whatever the result, he has decided to live and live well, beyond which he can be a great blessing to others.

Opinion: Ukraine is a test of leadership in short supply

Putin is possessed

One is not known for commentary on international politics, nor am I informed enough to postulate on the historical relevance that leads to contemporary events being let loose on Ukraine. However, from what I have seen so far, something has rumbled the graves of Napoleon Bonaparte, Adolf Hitler, and Joseph Stalin, awakening their malevolent spirits to possess by legion Vladimir Putin.

The optics are there, the inordinately large tables, the command of his court by distance rather than a collegiate cabinet is the metaphor for a humongous throne with an absolute arch-emperor before whom a mirror would fail to reflect reality but profuse flattery that apparent trickery and genius would no doubt lead to a catastrophic fall through missteps that humans who have suspected themselves of inviolable omnipotence have come to the harsh truth of both mortality and transience of power.

It is just wrong

There is no doubt that we all have to hold our nerve on this matter that we cannot in the 21^st Century have a potentate marauding the northern hemisphere acquiring lands and nations in a quest for apparent security in buffer countries that immediately brings them to the borders of the threat they rail against. It might seem smart now, but our collective resolve needs to be demonstrated not in the sophistry of words but in the deftness of effective action.

Meanwhile, the traffic of 24-hour of rolling news has its toll on those of us who can only depend on our politicians to act for the sake of the preservation of humanity from untrammelled barbarity, wanton vandalism, atrocious impunity, and incurable madness. I switched my radio from BBC Radio 4 which is full of commentary, much of which is talk shop and vain jangling to BBC Radio 3 where I find the calming strains of classical music and absent myself for longer moments from the psychosis that is engulfing our world.

Indeed, there were other issues the world has been at fault for not addressing and we need to come back to look at them with a commitment for better peace and resolution in those troubled lands, but whataboutery is an expensive hobby. What is upon us is Ukraine, and it needs to be arrested with everything we have the power to do now.

Leadership is required now

My heart is with Ukraine, much as I have the luxury of being far away from the midst of conflict that touches me through energy prices and the cost of living that I am fortunate to have some means to weather. If we fail to contain and push back the menace of Putin, we would have unleashed what would have been the prospect of Hitler winning his war. It does not bear thinking of. It calls for leadership, statesmanship, political nous, and nerve. I hope the world leaders are up to the task.

If anything, like we have seen with the pandemic, we might choose comical and entertaining leaders in times of peace, but when they are tested in times of adversity and taxing circumstances, how many innocent lives would have been lost to the wrong choice of leaders we have made? If anything, competence is needed when it matters, and it matters more today.

Thought Picnic: The futility in trying to rearrange me

Keep it in perspective

Let me consider the anticipation and excitement greeting some situation that has been considered the whole year but been hamstrung by the heavy pall of the pandemic along with the nationalistic restrictions imposed taking little cognisance of the fact that we need a globally concerted and integrated effort to arrest the hold of the Coronavirus.

Along the way, nerves are getting frazzled even as the default posture is to avoid any agitation as much as possible, from near and afar, as you channel issues that should best be resolved in the propinquity of the participants and principals rather than then seeking external counsel and intervention to no better end than to blindside you into taking sides.

Minimalist to my strength

It is a constant refrain, if not a battle to not get involved if possible and to be as minimally light-touch as possible. To have an effect rather than directly affect calls on insight and wisdom, maybe it is just self-preservation, it is all part of keeping one’s sanity in the midst of much turmoil.

Blog - Thought Picnic: I am best at my own speed

To some, I can be so easily upset when it is not so much the singular events but the compounding of different things, dissatisfaction, angst, anxiety, cravings, temptations, desires, the unfulfilled, the unexpected, little mistakes, annoyances, obstinacy and stubbornness against predicted outcomes, the irksome things are myriad and caught in the web of one’s existence that it might if allowed snuff out any pleasure.

Just as I am, is fine

It takes a different kind of awareness to not be drawn into the little and inconsequential that might result in inadvertent consequences begetting ruefulness and regret. What I choose to ignore sometimes is just for my safety and not out of slight, I cherish my peace of mind, my own company, and quite importantly, my own space. That I have to explain this can be frustrating and infuriating.

Anyway, I do what I have to do and along with hoping that the prayer of serenity is fulfilled in every circumstance, I am faced with, to know what I can change, what I cannot change and the wisdom to know the difference.

Then, for as long as I can remember, too many have wanted to change me into what they think I should be rather than accepting that my uniqueness and individuality has their own expression that could be allowed to flourish for them to see me as the best I could ever be, along with my humanity, my flaws, my weaknesses and my somewhat incomprehensible tics.

Do not lose your head, ever

I will deal when I can

Hounded, I was by officialdom with threats that gained much punitive traction that it became somewhat distressing. On these matters, you are advised not to ignore the issue but deal with it immediately. I have learnt that there are matters you cannot begin to negotiate if you have nothing to lay on the table as an incentive or to persuade them to see things from your end.

However, it is important to find someone to confide in on the issue because they might well have the insight and know-how where you are completely blindsided by the turmoil of your situation, unable to see straight or the way out for your good. The opportunity came to share my side of the story and it was listened to without judgement. Much as there was an urgency to address it, my confidante took on the weight and left me with a firm and calm assurance that it will all be dealt with.

The calm after the storm

This morning, we had a result. What a considerable relief, the threats were like an unconscionable land grab in the quest to weaken the resolve. That I stood firm until a good opportunity came is not one of scheming but a decision to be unmoved. It reminds me of when I was undergoing cancer treatment and some creditors were turning the screws. My retort was simple, I am trying to save my life and until that is done, you can sling it except if what you really want to do is kill me.

In the main, most got the message gave me the leeway and the grace to get well and begin to recover. Eventually, we got things sorted out and it was a lot better than jumping out of my 7th-floor apartment window out of despair. It is all settled, the world is a strange and sometimes difficult place, that is enough to know before allowing my life to be any more complicated than it is.

Be still I say to my heart and my mind, it will come right, Akin. Too many times, that has been the truth in my life. Worry will solve nothing, nothing at all.

Reaching beyond to the unlimited

Not beaten at last

Visualising a scene where a heap of rubble has been poured from a height like an avalanche on the person of the Incredible Hulk we watch as the silence descends on the moment as if it were the end of his story, destroyed by an event over which he had no control or foreknowledge might come to be his lot.

Then, a stirring begins from beneath it all, he clambers out with a defiant roar and whoever thought that was the end of the Incredible Hulk by their hand will find retribution beyond what they have started.

Out of the overwhelming

It is the feeling that has crowded my last week, almost a sense of helplessness against so many things. The pandemic compounds the feeling of loneliness and separateness from the ones with whom you have communion in heart and mind. An activity from far away, if it were better handled rather than unilaterally done, would have been less of a strain of one’s mental health.

Exhaustion and weakness creep upon you to deplete your resolve, you begin to doubt yourself, your strength, your fortitude, and your faith, then your health wants to follow into a decline of despair and distress. This is not what you can allow.

As dawn broke, I do not know what the day would bring, many uncertainties needing some direction so that plans can come into view. Where do you go when there does not seem to be anywhere to go?

His giving has only begun

Then I remembered a song by Danniebelle Hall, she has been gone almost 20 years and this song goes back to 1974, it was a hymn, though it is difficult to find the author, as the attributions look suspect. He giveth more grace is the titled to what I played back in my mind on my walk and then back at home. [AZLyrics: He Giveth More Grace – Don Moen]

Let us revisit the last paragraph, He Giveth More Grace started as a poem written by Annie Johnson Flint (1866-1932) who was orphaned and had a life of crippling arthritis, yet had unwavering faith in the grace of God. [Amazon: He Giveth More Grace: One hundred poems.] [He Giveth More Grace]

The words soothe me and assure me that when I have exhausted my hoarded resources, my God out of His infinite riches, riches in Christ Jesus, continues to give strength, hope, grace, power, ability and supply, there is no rubble of life that can stop me in the way, in my tracks or in the superhuman leaps and bounds to places of amazing wonder, the green pasture and still waters where my soul is completely and fully restored.

[]

Quickening my steps from silly fears

How did I get here?

There are places my legs have carried that my feelings have taken on exciting alertness in the anticipation of danger whilst I rationalise in my mind and thoughts that there is nothing to fear, for where I am passing through would soon be behind me.

Then, I do not think that works that well for me when I find myself near old churchyards or graveyards. Something from my youthful past when my imagination was triggered by conversations, I overheard that presented apparitions of deep conviction no one else could perceive.

I quicken my steps whilst trying to keep my mind clear of inspiration or vision of the paranormal. You wonder how these things seem to have an enduring effect even though one is spared the experience that makes horror films tame.

Maybe I should just stop being irrationally timid, so I am not limited by foreboding, premonition, superstition, or intangible fright. It is a work in progress still and that is part of living and experience, the stuff stories are made of. I know I can find perfect peace for my mind and my wildest thoughts.

Music is the portal to my happy garden

How could it not be there?

I found myself running ragged not around the house but in my head, a song tailed off in my head, not one I have heard in a while, but it reminded me of a very happy place. I think of smells, conditions and music that take me to a happy sense of warmth and ease.

It was a song by Prince, so I thought I would play it back from my music cache in the cloud, I could not understand how I could not find the artist or any album. How could it not be in my collection? That is how my head got racing, quite perturbed, it had to be somewhere, on a disk or USB key, but I was not ready to start a search for that.

Alright, on another day

I do remember years ago, I used to play the music back on my mobile phone, but this was my third or fourth phone since then. Surely, I must have transferred the music files too. As luck would have it, it was on my current phone.

Next, get the files to the cloud. Not that easy, the file management on my phone does not offer raw access to the data. I plug it into my laptop, the music shows up in Windows Media Player, but the album information tag is lost. Not tonight.

We’ll just let it play off the mobile phone speaker even though it does not offer the best sound. Another day to fight that battle of merging all my music in one place. Meanwhile, I have merged the prolific output of the 3 albums of Emancipation in a playlist of the same name in shuffle mode and my dreamy self goes back to Christmas 1996.

The happy place, again

It was a Christmas present from my then partner’s parents. I could say I love every song on the albums, but some just stand out in musicianship and lyrical prowess. Nothing like the screeching falsetto of my classmate in secondary who should have been unheard singing, Ain’t got no money.

The best compendium of Prince music is PrinceVault and everything you need to know about Emancipation is there. [PrinceVault: Emancipation]. My favourite remains the mystical and spiritual The Holy River. I could meditate on the lyrics, the music, the story on constant replay. The thought of being drowned in a holy river to be delivered to a new life is a rebirth I love. Music is definitely the portal to my happy garden.

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Blog - Thought Picnic: Find your holy river in which to drown

Blog - Prince (1958 - 2016)

Blog - Chasing waterfalls of life

Having no fear of missing out

Powering down and resetting goals

I get distracted, something like losing a sense of direction or some focus, it is unsettling and upsetting, but I know it is momentary, it would pass. I have learnt not to try and force things because it only yields frustration, the kind that dogs you with the feeling that certain things you could have done did not get done, all in the wake of procrastination.

Yet, in these times where there is no social activity apart from that which you create in another form of distraction to give your mind that time to rest and recalibrate to matters better absorbing, you might also get some sleep. Like I have written before, this s no time to be driven or set inordinately ambitious goals because of the availability of time, it is a better time for a complete power down and reset.

The world is going nowhere

I think like this because the world is also at a standstill, even in Formula 1 racing, if you took a pitstop, somewhere behind the leader, you probably do not expect to come out ahead, only better equipped to catch up. There is no fear of missing out [FOMO], the world is not running away.

I am learning new things, both for my career and in self-development, all at an easy pace, using the leverage of my curiosity to get beyond the immediate and exploring further to obtain enlightenment.

It goes without saying that the greatest distraction that affects me the most is the desire to somewhere with someone, in the eagerness and expectations, we harbour, we know it would be soon. I can live with that because hope is a good thing, it keeps you looking forward and looking up, who I care for will soon be in my embrace, it is a comforting and peaceful thought.

As I luxuriate in abundance

Knowing abundance is life

Every moment is suffused in abundance, my nostrils drawing in fulness into my lungs and giving life, the abundance of life and the many things that make a story of the life we live.

I wake up in the morning and breathe a prayer like an abundance to my nostrils to bring a blessing on Brian and me, our families, our friends and many more things. That grace may abound towards us, that favour shall come from men and everywhere to shield us, that mercies might be found in every place and that we are bathed in goodness.

In these tough times that have made my voice quaver in conversation with those who seek what they have heretofore not had to ask for to get it, they are unrelenting to upset my peace, but I cannot allow my composure to desert me as I find the abundance to fill the lack and meet the need.

A shepherd guards my soul

In my life, I have the knowledge that this walk through another valley of the shadow of death is on the way to new abundant green pastures and still calm waters. My soul is continually restored with the protection from anxiety and the turbulence of worry. Things will come good, and time is a process in the direction of the things that will make this pass.

I take no thought for the abundance in which I exist to enjoy the beauty of life, for it is a blessing for which thanks and praise can never be sufficient. The completeness is where love and peace abide in the company of those who matter, with my Brian first, he prospering amazingly and with all that are connected to me or can be impacted by me. I am made tough, toughened, and tougher, yet with effortless ease live in abundance. [A vision of Psalm 23]

Thought Picnic: Winning the battle under my skin

Helpless to helped

I have no easy answers to my difficult problems, I look for opportunities where there seems to be no prospects. In my history that appears to have cycles of experience, I steel up myself with that inner voice, I will come through this and come through well.

Yet, beneath my skin, under the façade of cheeriness is a sense of foreboding, my human frailties almost determined to shake me into panic as I attempt to hold back the pressures that seek to overwhelm me.

Draw me closer to peace

There is a comforting voice I need to hear, it comes from somewhere in my past, a miracle today for which I cannot find reason nor explanation, just an overflowing of gratitude that good fortune and blessing has decided to come my way.

The battle between my ears is raging, the expectation of the wonderful against the terror of dreadful. The better to the best will win out because that is the story I have been frequently blessed to tell. That from the depths of my despair when nothing I had or knew could change things, a light showed up, a hand grabbed me, a voice soothed me, my peace came in as all worries and anxieties took the flight to a place of the forgotten. Everything that bothered was smothered and sorted out completely with much to spare and share.

I am raining on the inside with no shelter yet to keep me warm and dry. I have hope, this turmoil is on its way out, it will pass. I am living to laugh the loudest last. I have not abandoned the faith to soar.

Held like Bernadette would do

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Messy clues to play with

There was a line of a verse from lyrics of a song performed by Bette Midler, the words of which were a mondegreen from a body of song I could not match to anything. I typed in what I had in memory in the hope of finding what I needed without success.

Eventually, some clarity came, still missing some words but it was enough to find what I was looking for, and to my surprise, it wasn’t the song I was expecting. The lyrics however, were very relatable to an experience I had when I was 10 that still makes my hairs stand on end when I remember.

The Song of Bernadette was written by Jennifer Warnes, Leonard Cohen and Bill Elliott about Bernadette Soubirous the girl who saw visions of the Virgin Mary that led to the creation of the shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes.

Enshrined in minstrel calm

When it was revealed no one believed her, yet, there were people who through the experience got miracles from the wellspring the sprung from the revelations she received. I did visit a Marian shrine once when I was in Lisbon, Our Lady of Fatima, my experience there was profound and revelatory. I brought me back to the desire for solemnity, silence, reverence and meditation in worship, well away from the ululating cacophony of environments I sought refuge in.

Blog - Our Lady of Fátima

For what I saw and heard, no one believed me, but it changed me from the day that it happened. I did not see a vision like Bernadette’s for it had no comfort, but terror. I found solace in Psalms and prayers prayed long and hard for a peace that seemed to desert me when I needed it most. Sometimes, it is the minstrel ministry of classical music, gospel worship music or the music of ladies like Anita Baker, Aretha Franklin, Bette Midler, Billie Holliday, or Dionne Warwick that brings a calming influence.

A heart mended in an embrace

From the Song of Bernadette, the lines from the lyrics that were churning in my mind were; “So many hearts I find, broke like yours and mine, torn by what we've done and can't undo. I just wanna hold you. Come on, let me hold you, like Bernadette would do.” [STLyrics]

There is more in the song that talks about human frailties and the way we seek to make amends for things that may have gone wrong. In all that, we find some hope in life and maybe the embrace of someone who has a vision of the miraculous for us. One night in December not so long ago, I fell into the embrace of a miracle, not Bernadette, but Brian and even if my head had not figured it out then, I felt a coolness, calmness, serenity descend on me like my blood pressure came down a good few points.

With it came the end of grief, the mending of the broken heart that did not seem to mend for almost a decade. Though we are apart, our hearts are knit in a relationship I look to last a lifetime for I have been blessed by providence where I could never have expected to find it.

Thought Picnic: Stop listening to those pandemic conspiracies

A marketplace of pandemic chimaeras

Yesterday, I had forwarded to me a WhatsApp message recording of a jumble of conspiracy theories that linked the Coronavirus, to China, to 5G telecommunications, to a new world order and the need to retain Donald Trump as the US President.

In these unsettling pandemic times, an environment of exploitation opens up for all sorts of activity, conspiracy theories are rife, peddlers of snake oil remedies makes even more outlandish claims, eschatologists reveal hair-raising visions of a precipitous end to the world, confidence tricksters engage to persuade you in a direction you’ll rather not go, you adopt new practices that contribute more to uneasiness, stress, and strain.

Tales from the crypt

Yet, what one needs is a sense of calmness and peace, the ability to relax without being overwhelmed by the terrifying news cycle, the worry about immediate issues, or the fear of an uncertain future.

The WhatsApp message was full of jumbled thoughts, bad science, stark ignorance, and too many fallacies to count. I had to upbraid my friend for not using his rational and logical thinking to consign the nonsense to inconsequential trash. Yet, to the unsophisticated, this appeals to their itching ears, it all sounds believable, it becomes their facts and it beclouds their outlook, heightening suspicion and diminishing trust.

The cult of mesmerised

When so persuaded, they expect you to be carried along with their winds of fantasy, if you resist, you risk losing the presumed respect they had for you. Having been deluded, it is almost like they have joined a cult of mesmerism and are behind a veil too thick and impervious to you being able to reason with them. They seek like minds with whom to reinforce their new insight.

In enough numbers, they can easily constitute a mob, like the arsonists who set a telecommunications tower alight in Birmingham having been implicitly instructed to go out and destroy the gathering of a menace ready to take away their view, status, standard and comforts in life. The sinister powers about to change the world into ways you cannot begin to countenance or accept. [Government slams 'baseless' conspiracy theory that 5G is linked to coronavirus – The Mirror]

They believe then commit

The words of Voltaire easily come to mind when these conspiracy theories gain traction, “They would can make you believe absurdities, will make you commit atrocities.” In times like this, one must be vigilant and sophisticated, be ready to debunk the absurd, question the assertions to the nth degree and do not let up without good answers. Mind what you believe that you will be convinced to commit.

Find incontrovertible sources, check the credentials of the purveyors, don’t be easily persuaded, read up on this not that well understood and don’t be unsettled by crazy fables that seek to capture and disable your rational mind.

Maybe it is best to give the new cycle a break, give little heed to the social media rumour mill and if you’re to be persuaded of anything, seek out the views of reputable experts, scientists, or professional. When a former director of public prosecutions said the teller at a car park thought COVID-19 was a global conspiracy, you could only resist the urge to laugh derisively, you might just muster a sense of pity too.

The guy who collects money at a car park just told me that COVID-19 is a global conspiracy involving 5G, the CIA, Mossad, KGB & the Chinese Secret Service
He should know

— nazir afzal (@nazirafzal) April 3, 2020