When Are You Going to Sit Down?

An Unexpected Enquiry

Just over two years ago, a man whose history in journalism stretches back more than 45 years contacted me for a copy of my CV. He had held top editorial positions at four of the most prominent Nigerian newspapers and magazines, and he still writes syndicated copy today.

He had come across my blog and, from a link on the page, requested access to my CV. To satisfy his curiosity, he wanted to determine whether I had a journalism background that might explain how I had sustained a blog for 20 years. On reading my CV, he expressed both shock and surprise that I held no formal qualifications in the humanities; I am an engineer who has broadly pursued a career in IT.

Recognition and Striving

Acknowledgement and recognition come from many places, and I hope I am able to take a compliment with grace whenever it is offered.

However, even as one strives for excellence, there are others who observe what you do and for whom you are not yet performing at your best. There is always that feeling that you could do better, and that in itself overrides every other concern.

Why I Began

When I started my blog in 2003, I saw it as an outlet for my views, and I had no intention of turning it into a commercial venture. I did everything at my own pace and wrote as I was inspired, usually hoping to bring a fresh perspective to matters that others tended to cover with a common view.

I do not believe I ever came to any agreement with anyone that my blog would become a platform for other activities, such as publishing a book. The idea of writing my story only took hold after my first bout with cancer and the period following treatment in 2010. Things developed from there, and I also battled prostate cancer in 2024; today marks two years to the day since I received the diagnosis of adenocarcinoma of the prostate.

A Loaded Comment

Imagine my surprise, then, when a comment was left on one of my recent blogs to the following effect: “When are you going to sit down and assemble relevant topics of your writings into books for future generations, particularly in Africa, to benefit? Your use of the English language and construction is superb. Some of your writings could come under, for example, tourism, based on your experience in South Africa and Amsterdam, or business management.”

You could take a good deal from that comment; the commendation and the suggestion were both gratifying and informative. Yet you could just as easily miss the criticism buried within it, and I heard it in the voice of the writer, as I have many times before, whenever their expectations were not met by my application, rigour, or initiative.

Refusing to Please

One thing I learnt a long while ago was to jump off the bandwagon of trying to please people. I do my work to the best of my ability and constantly strive to do better. That is my conviction, and it is the energy I bring to every endeavour.

It is the phrase “When are you going to sit down…?” that does the heavy lifting here, implying that you are not directing your abilities and faculties towards the essential.

In this case, that means writing books for which I have so far received no commissions. I have no obligation to write either another blog or a book, but I do have the desire to, at a time of my own choosing, if and when I convince myself of that need.

Parents and Approval

I still have my parents, who are octogenarians. I receive the occasional expression of pride in me, but that can easily be a speck in a bowl of displeasure at one thing or another. The fact that I am totally estranged from one and barely in communication with the other is the sum of the difficult relationship we have had since my childhood.

I was a difficult child and adolescent; I had my own issues, just as they had theirs. However, I am so completely past seeking their approbation that the desire fizzled out at twenty, and, as far as possible, I resolved that their influence on me would be as minimal as it could be, just as my dear uncle, around that time, shielded me so that I could flourish in my own way.

Words That Matter

What could it have cost to word that comment another way? “Your use of the English language and construction is superb. I can see elements that might lend themselves to books on your travels to South Africa and Amsterdam. Other topics, such as business management, I have seen in your recent writings, show that you could benefit future generations, especially in Africa.”

Imagine how warmly I would have received that version, responding with gratitude and grace whilst taking the ideas into consideration. The manner and tone of a conversation, along with the order of the words, do matter. Instead, I am riled, annoyed, and spitting tacks. It might have been well-intentioned, but it failed to hit the mark.

I might just have lost the desire to write a book. The medal for royally pissing off your child must surely have been awarded in the King’s birthday honours list, released on Friday.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

The Author I Have Not Yet Become

From Bricks to Code

Just imagine you had a Lego set, and a spurt of inspiration allowed you to build interesting structures consistently. Taken together, someone might think you had the makings of an architect; providence, or perhaps persuasion, might spur you in that direction.

If you did eventually become an architect, and a successful one at that, you might think your earlier Lego experience was the genesis of your talent, and indicative of it.

My exposure to computer programming and code goes back almost forty years, if I can remember clearly anymore, because dates can become fuzzy. Yet what I got to do and what could be realised were completely different things.

The Elusive Slipstream

I can write code to do utilitarian things, such as administrative activity, converting complex repetitive tasks into structured automation with logging and reporting. However, I have not broken the mould by writing a productivity tool like Microsoft Office, a game, or an app.

The ability to do this is probably there somewhere, but I have not caught the slipstream that eases me into the knowledge that it can be done. I find myself hoping for a Eureka moment that makes the scales fall from my eyes and puts my mental capacity in gear, allowing me to do something that feels extraordinary to me, yet is quite perfunctory to others.

Doubt and the Page

Everyone harbours a modicum of self-doubt in areas where others have seen a scintilla of skill and assumed it is the crack in the doorway to the expression of amazing talent. Indeed, looking at my compendium of almost twenty-three years of blogging, you could conclude that I am a good writer; I am, however, nowhere near where I would consider myself an author.

In considering a return to school, this is one area where I am ready to be taught how to put my thoughts on paper. Not for the blogs, which alone are hard enough, carrying a train of thought through three pages of verbiage with a sense of coherence, but for taking that to a book of 300 pages or more, which looks like comparing a swim to a voyage.

Both are journeys of a kind on water, but the preparation and mode of travel are so totally different that they are not the same. There is writing blogs and there is writing books; I probably have enough material in my blogs to write many books, but I feel overwhelmed at the prospect. I think there is a slipstream of authoring somewhere that I need to catch.

Stories Worth Telling

Over a decade ago, I began writing the elements of a biography, and I would be the first to suggest that we all have stories to tell. I could probably tell the most fascinating story, or the most soporific yarn, of my life, but in either case you would sense the gratitude of privilege, blessing, and hope as the substrate of everything told. None of the first four chapters look like what my blogging prowess would suggest I do so well.

Could I have this story ghostwritten? The idea alone of using another mouthpiece to give my own life story in a second-hand narrative weakens me to total impotence. Where I have not found the impetus to get ahead by myself, I suppose that means I need the education and tutelage to bring that ability and facility to the fore.

If this were to be achieved by pep talk, daring, acknowledgement, or the recognition of what others see as my talents and gifts, I promise you, it would already have been done.

There is the truth and there is reality: even men of great renown have their fears, their misgivings, and their doubts, all part of what makes each of us human and, hopefully, part of the appreciation by others that we are all still a work in progress.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: Quiet Pursuits of Excellence

Quiet Pursuits of Excellence

Sometimes, I reflect on the fact that I lead a number of public lives which revolve around simply doing what I love, without seeking acknowledgement or reward. Something in my upbringing, in the observation of my parents and mentors, drives me towards excellence.

Much as I seek perfection, I quite frequently fall short. I upbraid myself, accuse myself, and talk to myself in a voice that calls me by my own name, because there is a conversation to be had before someone else has it with me. I would rather be my own critic, so as to be prepared to receive a better critique, one of recognition, of merit, and of acknowledgement.

Stories That Once Scared Me

There are stories from my past that frighten me, where the infirmity registered in the ravine of failure offered no opportunity or facility for recovery. It was unsalvageable wreckage, beyond repair, and utterly hopeless.

Yet, I have a better story to tell. No narrative I share today wallows in helpless resignation, for I am blessed beyond measure with testimonies of goodness, success, victory, and triumph.

The Pleasure of Work

At work, I enjoy what I do, not for the remuneration, of which I have once earned stupendously, but for the satisfaction that the knowledge and expertise I bring to bear on the mundane and the complex still matters.

I get to learn as much as I help others learn. I do what I do, not to get noticed, but to make things work. In the process, acknowledgement, respect, and rewards may well come. My motivation, however, is the pleasure.

Appearance and Carriage

In appearance, I have my own kind of dressing, something I pay attention to, because appearance and carriage matter. There have been times when I have been stopped so that pictures could be taken of me.

Once, a young man, after complimenting me, said he would love to have the confidence to dress like me. I suppose hardly a day goes by without some sort of recognition from strangers, and yet I am not out to attract attention. My motivation is simply looking good.

The Wealth of Expression

On this blog, I write about anything that takes my fancy, not for want of engagement or readership. To think there was a time when I hated writing, even though I had a great deal to say in conversation.

I am easily shy, quite introverted, and socially awkward and nervous in organised meetings where people are networking. It is in the use of words that I truly flourish. My motivation is the wealth of expression.

The Story of a Man

What all this says to me is to keep doing what I know to do, in the best possible way, with every aim to impact, improve, and perhaps impress. I will never be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope those who drink this tea enjoy it tremendously.

Decades of work, portrayal, and expression all become the story of a man. Thank you for coming by.

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Taking Praise to the Bank

The Grace of Acceptance

In life, whatever you do, whether by nature, through practice, or by good fortune, compliments do not come easily. Perhaps they do for others; however, what matters most is having the grace to accept those encomiums when you have been appreciated.

Yet sometimes familiarity makes praise seem either mundane or biased. I am occasionally embarrassed by how Brian compliments me; the thought crosses my mind that he cannot possibly be talking about me. His words can be effusive and quite adoring. I suppose a sense of modesty suggests it is too much, whilst a feeling of inadequacy implies I have not yet reached the standard for which the applause has been loudest.

An Unexpected Exposure

Then this afternoon, a work conference segued into a conversation between two. Idle banter touched on many things, and then she said, “I found your blog.” She had been searching for information when the results led her to my blog. Shock and surprise on my part brought the realisation that I had been exposed.

However much we try to compartmentalise our lives through secrecy, segmentation, or even sequestration, we can only be so successful when we leave footprints online. I got my first email address in 1994, just as I began a subscription to CompuServe. My identity number is just about to slip from memory in the present — I remember it now.

The Weight of Recognition

Not only had she learnt a great deal about me, in blogs spanning almost 23 years, but she also appreciated my writing: my use of language, and the ease of reading. She enjoyed everything she had read and pleaded with me not to stop blogging. Amid this deluge of compliments, I was close to blushing.

There is no day when I do not receive compliments, usually from strangers, and I respond with thanks. It is different when a colleague at work, who knows you in a particular setting and character, sees another side of your expression and acknowledges, commends, praises, and compliments that aspect of your art. You want to take it to the bank and cash it.

Cashing It In

In this case, I have taken it to the bank of this cache of over 4,250 blogs and cashed it in as an acknowledgement. Brian has always maintained that I can make a blog out of the simplest moments or interactions. This is one of those instances. Thank you—you know who you are.

The Evolution of my Blog from 2003.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Opinion: Global Bystanders Giving Succour To Fellow Leaders

The Paradox of Purpose

What I want to write about and what I eventually get to write are usually different things, but I end up writing, and that is what matters. Sometimes, the thought processes involved in what might have ended up in the original material are not developed enough to constitute a coherent argument, and hence a quandary.

On some other topics, I resist the inclination to offer an opinion, not because the broadest spectrum of viewpoints has been exhausted, but because I cannot be bothered to join the fray as part of the baying and noisy crowd.

Then, I am gratified by the fact that my blog is my private playground, my personal journal, and, though it is open for interaction, conversation, and commentary with others, I exclusively curate the content and advise others to pen rejoinders in their own spaces if they cannot countenance my perspective for any reason.

When Rules Become Weapons

One thought has been percolating in my mind for days: the idea that the head of a school had put out a rule stating that anything that happens on the school grounds is part of schoolwork. Then someone decides to throw stones to break the glass windows, and that appears to pass for schoolwork, when it is entirely wrong.

Next, someone takes away someone else's lunch. The wronged cannot complain because it happened on the school grounds, and it would be passed off as schoolwork, despite the obvious injustice. Unruliness runs riot in the school community, with the authorities appearing to sanction and approve the abuse without consequence.

The Rise of Impunity

A kind of lasciviousness gains hold: an untrammelled exploitation of the weak and a perversion of order. Herein lies the inexorable rise of the playground bully, barely held to account and never held accountable, believing they have a licence to act with impunity, having gained immunity by the original pronouncement of schoolwork.

He takes another small boy in a stranglehold, stripping the child of any autonomy to the point of suffocation. Everyone on the playground cannot boldly come out to say the playground bully is wrong, out of fear of being on the receiving end of the bully's antics. Where they should have ganged up to teach the bully a lesson, the bully gains ascendancy, urged on by lethargic, cowering solipsism and doublespeak.

A Metaphor Unfolding

Behold, amongst you a metaphor of the state of the world today, and it will get worse until someone, and many, decide enough is enough. This bully has no lowest level; each time we have thought it could get no worse, he has plumbed new depths. In the traversal of the bottomless, something must catch that fall, or it will never end.

Think about it, can anyone call him to order?

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: Getting inspiration from within

Look inside, not up

Writing is an art of spontaneity, one for which I have not planned much before I begin to type. As Laurence Sterne wrote in The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, “I begin with writing the first sentence, and trusting to Almighty God for the second.”

Somewhere between the ceiling and heaven, I might look for inspiration, then I realise God lives in me. As with prayers, a Christian need not look to the hills from whence cometh the help of the Psalmist in the Old Testament (Psalm 121:1) when Jesus said, “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me” (John 15:4).

We so easily forget the nearness of the divine already dwelling in us. Rather than using our inner ears and spirituality to listen and hear from the inexhaustible well of inspiration of the Holy Spirit, we look outward for a sign somewhere apart from us.

Just so connected

This is a blessing of connection that we miss because we do not tune in to the frequency of the spiritual radio that God has placed in us. Instead, we look to seemingly unintelligible and indecipherable data from extraterrestrial life forms of which we have barely any concept.

I can attest to the many times when the best ideas, insight, and inspiration have come from the quiet of meditation rather than from someone else. Sometimes, I step into the shower befuddled and step out enlightened.

Elsewhere in the Bible, we read, “For ‘who has known the mind of the LORD that he may instruct Him?’ But we have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). We have the mind of Christ, the Anointed One and His Anointing. That is just mind-blowing, a truth that has long escaped us, abandoned to the traditional hymn that suggests, “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.” [Hymnal.net E675]

Use God’s library

Indeed, God is omnipotent and omniscient, and every wonder the hymn avers is an attribute of the divine. However, God is not hiding Himself from us, no, not at all.

Rather, He has made the library of His knowledge and wisdom available to us, indwelling our beings and giving us the Holy Spirit to teach us the truth, provide us with understanding, and guide us in all the vicissitudes of life. We are the most equipped for success in life, and we are totally oblivious to that gift.

From the basic things, such as beginning to write the first sentence, to the life-changing decisions of extreme consequence, we have the best resource that the universe has to offer. We can develop the ability to tap this resource by knowing we have it and affirming it from the Word of God, The Bible; His how-to manual.

Twenty-Two years of blogging

Blogging the story within you

You may have read somewhere on this blog that it was started in a Berlin hotel room on 8th December 2003. After a few years, I began writing an anniversary blog, especially now that the whole art of personal blogging has fallen out of fashion in favour of trendier and more engaging podcasts and skits.

I'll be the first to suggest this medium suits me best, and I think writing will always have an enduring quality over all other means of expression. Even in the case of music, before we had recordings, it was putting all that creativity into musical notation that has given us the joy of listening to classical music today.

There is no need to write a long treatise about blogging beyond relating to the view expressed in this quotation: “If a story is in you, it has got to come out” (William Faulkner). I think we all have stories, and too many of us never let those stories get out. That is a shame.

This is a quiet celebration of 22 years of blogging, and I'll keep doing it for as long as I can. I am thankful for the readers, even the large language models that have been trained on it, my loyal audience, and the people who take the time to comment on my blogs. Here's to more words coming together in stories you'll enjoy.

Writing Well: Craft and Wellspring

Well, it’s tough

“Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.” This quote is attributed to both John Sheffield, 1st Duke of Buckingham and Normanby (1647–1721) and André Breton (1896–1966); however, I do not intend to make any issue of the results of my internet search.

Writing well can be viewed as both a wellspring and a craft. At least, this became my reading of the quote, not as a sign of wisdom, but as a recognition that the willingness to express oneself and the choice of expression have won changes in areas that seem intractable.

Over the last few weeks, the teams in which I work have found themselves subject to management's pressing inclination to seek statistical successes with little consideration of the effort involved that does not show up in the figures. It has been nigh on impossible to communicate the difficulties in our battles to tackle the problems we have encountered.

Well, Bad Faith

At one point, in what was clearly a breach of trust and confidence, we were both threatened and bullied. It was a particularly low exercise of managerial control, oblivious of everything but meeting some arbitrary target. It rankled so much that I even found my voice fading in agitation, anger, and angst whilst challenging the various ungallant uses of office.

Much as I appreciate that people in authority might be caught up in the illusions of power and demands, they cannot defy the reality of the practical elements necessary for achieving what they want. It is against this backdrop that I entered the fray of another push for targets without a sense of effort.

My goal, expressed a few days before, was for management to reward those putting in the most to achieve the target, even if the seemingly impossible target could not be met and the goalposts shifted in the meagre rewards they were offering. A difficult exchange ensued that first challenged the premise, then conditioned the situation, before adjusting the focus.

Well, Write Well

Fetching from the writing well of wisdom, gauging the time to interject and pressing the case, I first exposed the numbers malady before setting the perspective. This was presented in an inadvertent comment from a manager; my response was a case of writing well for effect.

It put the purpose on the defensive and led to a reassessment of the goal, but I held back from responding further. The ordered use of words is a skill demanding the scalpel blade of teasing rather than the machete of chopping. What ensued included receiving a slight rebuke, but the bruises of battle are part of being in a fight, though it rarely feels like one when the other party needs to exert authority.

The initiative eventually came without my suggesting it directly. Whether the target is met or not, the best-performing member of the team will be adequately rewarded. This should have been done the week before, beyond empty platitudes. Is it any wonder morale is so low?

Well, Just Write

The writing well is a resource from which I have dug deep to fetch the fresh water of writing well in the art of persuasion. The wounds matter less given the many victories won through time. I don't even bother to celebrate the wins, except in appreciation of the gift of writing well.

I suppose this is why this blog exists. Of all the mediums of expression available to engage us, writing has the potential to exist long after interest has been lost in hearing and watching people perform.

Caught in the act of keyboard bashing again

The incurable itch

There are times when I delude myself into thinking I am a writer, but the reality might suggest that all these years of blogging are pretensions to an ability I barely possess. "An inveterate and incurable itch for writing besets many, and grows old in their sick hearts." The Roman poet Juvenal's Satires X.

However, the translation from Latin suffers from so many kinds of paraphrasing and interpretation that it has become the more popular variation: "Writing is an incurable itch that affects many." Whilst I might have that occasional itch, it has become quite benign. I cannot be bothered to scratch it, nor is it so serious that I need a salve for it.

It is like learning to live with an infirmity; the inadequacy rings loud in your head, urging you to stop and pursue something else that belies a modicum of talent. On the other side, perhaps persistence counts for something. You do it long enough, it becomes practised, and you grow better at it. You gain the confidence that the little you manage to express can pass muster.

When I woke up just 25 minutes ago to think of something to write before the day's end, I felt it might be a jumble of incoherent words landing in an order that might suggest lucidity, but is clearly a malady bordering on insanity. Who really cares? Just bash the keyboard with your thoughts and see how itchy you really can get.

An old blog hits 10 million page views

A blog adrift

When I reflect on this blog, it is maintained at my leisure, not to pursue any agenda or shift opinions. I work in the information technology industry, I am probably too old to be considered a geek, I could be curious, sometimes observant, and it is quite likely that I see things differently from others.

Many topics I write about are the concern of activists, yet I am not one. I like to see fairness, justice, communication, and understanding among people. I am not thoroughly lettered, but I have learnt through life the importance of being able to express oneself quite clearly in any language used, to avoid misunderstanding.

I have had no formal training in journalism or the creative arts; it has never been my intention to turn this into a professional pursuit, but almost 22 years of this blog is no mean feat. I do not criticise myself for not being as prolific as I would like to be, I write as I am inspired, urged, or persuaded.

A blog immigrant

I had been blogging for about 7 years when the local hosting service I used decided they were bored with it. I guess the trend was shifting from the written word to podcasting. I do not blame them, but I was left in a quandary, with the prospect of migrating about 1,500 blogs along with all the engagement elsewhere, without migration tools.

I lost the comments, interaction, many graphics, and links in the process, along with the statistics that exceeded 10,000,000 page views a month. By 2011, I was simultaneously publishing blogs at the now-defunct location of akin.blog-city.com and on Google Blogger with the domain name of akinblog.nl; that old hosting location closed on the 1st of January 2012. [WayBack Machine: Akin (Old blog)]

A blogger's thanks

Here, I have ploughed my furrow in near obscurity without seeking fame or creating any sensation for the purpose of popularity or going viral; all that does not really matter, but I am glad for the readership and engagement that have followed my blog since December 2003.

Early yesterday, my blog reached the milestone of 10 million page views since it moved to Google Blogger. Someone somewhere considers my viewpoints interesting, and that is quite gratifying. I do not take the following or readership lightly; it is your interest and engagement that made this happen. Thank you very much.

Talent rarely shown

Telling Good Stories

Brian is a brilliant writer, but it took him a while to start blogging. There is much about Brian's experiences and background that enriches the fabric of our humanity. Still, we often hesitate to use our voices and express ourselves, especially when we truly have something to say.

Everyone has a story, and that story comes alive through its telling. The way life, experience, perspective, and how similarly observed situations can create totally different narratives—and beyond that, the influences of people, places, or events—make for every unique viewpoint. Isn’t that what diversity is all about?

Impactful Without Fuss

While he doesn’t write very often, I could miss something he has written for up to a week. I have a feed from his blog on mine; I should check it more regularly for those unexpected updates. There is also an attitude to his writing; he never promotes his blogs nor seeks feedback in the way I do. Within hours of posting a blog, I would seek his opinion.

He simply waits patiently; he knows I will eventually read the blog and probably comment too. I wish he wrote more often, but skill and quality aren’t necessarily shown by quantity. Whenever he writes, it’s a pleasure to read.

Brian's Point of View is where you’ll find him.

Thought Picnic: Sometimes forgetting cancer is tough living

Misreading activity in illness

Sometimes, it takes another to bring a clear perspective to situations and things that you are in the middle of, leaving you blindsided to realities around you or impairing your objectivity and sense of judgment.

It is something you really cannot put your finger on, that you lack the mode of expression to convey. Worse still, when you find yourself writing about these issues, people might conclude everything is going well, if you can still write.

This recalls the period in late September into early October 2009, I was gravely ill and admitted to hospital and yet from my hospital bed, I was blogging, my brother assumed, if I was still blogging, I was fine. Little did anyone know that at prognosis, the worst-case scenario was I only had 5 weeks to live.

Looking on the bright side

In my two encounters with cancer, that we have taken the more positive view of a life-threatening situation does not change the fact that life hangs in the balance. Maybe the biggest battle is in the head rather than with cancer, the question being what your outlook is about a cancer diagnosis and what you hope for.

Then, even when people lose their battles with cancer, that does not mean they have not had great positivity through their ordeal, the cancer simply overwhelmed their bodies. I still aver that those of us who survive cancer have been fortunate to still be around to tell our stories, it gives us all some hope amid shifting odds.

It was quite serious

I am still grappling with the notion that in late June last year, after the diagnosis of adenocarcinoma of the prostate, I found in the doctors’ notes to each other that it was malignant. That information was never shared with me, and it took days for me to share the information with Brian. It came with a blank stare into an abyss, I did not know what to expect. I took each day as it came.

There was foreboding that anything could be the last time it was being done, but I had to put that kind of thinking away. The battle raging in my mind needed tools to see the better of things and I worked on bolstering my Christian faith by listening to sermons on faith, healing, and living well. I had to see myself getting better while a killer lurked in my reproductive system.

Just a mechanical switch

Gosh! Thanks to Wikipedia, it all makes sense now, “The prostate is an accessory gland of the male reproductive system and a muscle-driven mechanical switch between urination and ejaculation. It is found in all male mammals.” [Wikipedia: Prostate] The simplicity of a mechanical switch and the trouble I have seen, I am thankful for every great and small mercy.

I chose radiotherapy over surgery because I felt the prognosis and time to regaining the mechanical switching function having possibly lost the ejaculatory part and having little or no control of the urinary part would be long, arduous, and debilitating. Radiation would target the cancer regions, retain the switching mechanism, with varying side effects affecting bowel, bladder, and sexual function managed with medication and some lifestyle changes.

Strength even in illness and recovery

Much as I seemed to power through this experience, very few people saw the real effects and consequences of tackling this cancer apart from my partner, my closest friends, my neighbours, my colleagues as my natural voice became strained - a fatigue-laden expression, and some limited social encounters.

What I have to appreciate for myself is recovery and recuperation will take time, willing myself to do much more to regain a new sense of normalcy, I shy away from the expression, “out of the woods”, I am not in a forest of doom and despair, rather, I find myself on a journey to a wonderland of beauty, strength, and success , all obstacles giving way to a superior vehicle, the power of human faith to thrive in the midst of adversity.

While cancer is a rotten disease and the process of treatment and recovery can be debilitating, energy-sapping, and incapacitating, whatever strength one has can give one the impetus to look ahead, not because one is not ill, but there is much more to look forward to. I will not be defined by cancer; it is just part of a bigger story.

It took one friend to highlight how the last two years have been rather tough when another friend was too absorbed in himself to notice. Another story.

Thought Picnic: Cultivating profitable relationships

Who are true family?

Then Jesus told them, “A prophet is honoured everywhere except in his own hometown and among his relatives and his own family.” [Bible Hub: Mark 6:4 (NLT)]

Sometimes, as I begin to write, a verse of scripture comes to mind around which I can build a context and a story. I am not a prophet, nor do I seek honour, however, just being noticed and acknowledged can help, but that is not the purpose for which I have a blog.

Yet, anyone who has visited my blog finds out there is much to learn about me, my life, my story, my trials, tribulations and afflictions, my triumphs, successes, and blessings, most evidently my thinking and opinions. I remember some friends who had not spoken to me for a while saying, they always checked the currency of my blog to ascertain if I was fine. I am grateful for their consideration, nothing is hidden, I write better than I speak, talk, or tell.

Nothing is hidden

In the past six months, just by engagement of my social media postings, a majority of which refer to my blogs, it would be impossible not to notice that I have had an experience that will pass of prostate cancer.

Yet, I find it bizarre that those who saw my GoFundMe post last year and were quick to preach their bad tidings to Jerusalem, to Judea, and to the ends of the earth by reporting to my parents and relatives along with anyone who listens to their gossip have not found the scandal to interest and occupy them.

They do not mean well, they never meant well, they found joy in the report but never extended a hand to help, a Machiavellian bunch of invisible never-do-wells, will not have the stories or the blessings I get to tell and that is not a curse, you reap what you sow.

The people who matter

What I have better cultivated in life is the genuineness of friendships than the comfort of family. When I was alone battling cancer in the Netherlands, I was blessed with the generosity of strangers who cared for me, cooked my meals, did my shopping, gave me money, and stuck closer than those related by blood. How can I not be grateful for angelic presences I have not deserved?

At that time, there was a clear reading that I was in the hospital, however, someone thought, if he could write, he must be well. Some view life in terms of incapacity, I see things in terms of ability, capability, capacity, and opportunity.

My blog is a journal, I can now refer to things I have written over 20 years of blogging and find the context of the journeys and adventures I have experienced.

Cultivating profitable relationships

What has really helped me in recent times is to have better husbandry of the lands of my life, the orchard trees that need pruning, the crops that need weeding, the livestock that need care, understanding what is sapping energy from what is productive and profitable.

The pruning I took on with gusto, those who during adversity complained rather than gave support were fair-weather friends, it did not matter who they were or how close the affinity, things that bear no fruit get chopped.

Lest I be caught lacking any self-awareness, I am probably just as unfruitful in another’s orchard, and they have rightfully chopped me out of their lives and set me up in the rubbish that needs to go up in a bonfire of vanities. It is well and thank you to those many, even in China who have read my blog daily; some come for a regular dose of another man’s many stories.

To them, I can dare to be honoured because they see something like a prophet in me. At the end of this blog, this is not what I set out to write, not that most of my blogs have ended the way I intended, even to me, it is a wonder to behold. We move, we thrive, we give testimony and write better stories. Amen!

Clippings of the thought and drippings of the thoughtless

The matchup of views

There are two versions of my blog, one which I wrote expressing some feelings that I would not be able to describe after some attempts at doing so, and then I decided to pass the text through an LLM grammar checker with a preference for English and when unqualified, I mean what we speak in Great Britain as opposed to that spoken across the pond.

The tone I went for was emotional rather than casual, formal, laconic, or something else I cannot remember. At Brian’s inadvertent prompting, I won’t even tell which version was the original and the edited and none of the customary delineation of paragraphs and sections, the title of the blog however is original. We can’t give everything to AI when we can allow some human intervention.

To make it even more atrocious but not as bad I had some machinations that crossed my mind as I typed this, I won’t set out where one begins and the other ends, the evil thought was to intersperse the paragraphs. As Brian is wont to say. “I’m not that bad.” My response? That’s between us.

With many thoughts coursing through my mind, I found myself reflecting on a difficult telephone conversation that had left me feeling unsettled. Though I endeavoured to remain calm as I respectfully explained my perspective on the importance of patient-centred care, I sensed tensions rising.

In my attempt to process the interaction, I began writing but soon realized my thoughts lacked focus. While I had intended to respectfully express concerns around communication and coordination of my treatment, my emotions had made it difficult to do so constructively.

Over subsequent days, further challenges with the navigation of my care only added to my feelings of frustration. Multiple attempts at documenting my experience proved futile as overwhelm took hold.

However, with time and distance, clarity emerged. In reframing my goal as open dialogue rather than accusation, I was able to convey my perspective and needs in a balanced manner. Though the road to resolution remains long, small steps toward understanding are progress indeed.

With many thoughts coursing through my mind, I had begun to type away, the discombobulated scratches of the upset that resulted from a telephone conversation that soon lost cordiality for tempers rising.

Surprisingly, I held it together as I lectured my interlocutor on the primacy of the patient in the decision tree of treatment options. I was pulling no punches because taken together, one had become a bystander where full disclosure and engagement should have been the rule.

Six good paragraphs in, I was exhausted, that I put it away thinking I might find the wherewithal to complete it, but it was flailing without direction, and I doubted my ability to rescue it.

Half a day later, another phone call was ping-pong between oncology and urology, with little consideration given to the fact that regardless of department responsibility, I was at the receiving end of their inability to coordinate and the poor management of my case.

I started another write-up and before I could complete the first sentence, I had lost interest and inspiration, it was compounded exasperation seeking the travails of frustration that I have tried hard to avoid with sanguinity.

A day, another, and another before I settled at the keyboard for a third attempt taking a totally different slant from the first two attempts.

It turned out a lot better and much shorter than I expected. I guess some events can snatch away the will to see some things to the desired conclusion.

May I suggest blogging is easy?

Words always flow

A thought springs to mind, you reach for your laptop and flip open the lid with the confidence and purpose to write something. In the process you get distracted, a YouTube notification on your mobile phone and you are watching a performance that brings tears to your eyes.

You were thinking of writing a blog that you never even had any concept of how it would turn out and now, the trick you used to play of just typing and hoping the words come as you type is not working.

Bludgeon the block

Something suggests you have Writer’s Block, but chance would be a fine thing, because a block is more topical than incidental. I aver that it is when you have an intention that you suddenly cannot act on, that is a block.

In other cases, practise with thought processes allows you to write something, the quality of which might be questionable, and yet its beauty of expression is interesting as craftsmanship speaks for itself to the admirer and the critic alike.

Then if one were to close a blog as one were having a conversation following the basics of what a personal blog entails of how you feel, what you see, and how you are affected, you already have enough paragraphs for another blog. Then conclude with a full stop.

Gosh! I'm giving writing advice

Maybe I can write

I inadvertently found myself giving some advice on writing the other day on my way to the hospital. I get commended more for my ability to write even if I rarely appreciate the talent I am supposed to have in expressing myself in words.

Then, after over 20 years of blogging, I might have earned a basic status from the act of practice, called experience that may help others along the way. I know there is no formula to it, but we tend to stress ourselves so much that we are left incapable of doing what we hope to do.

How I tend to write

Putting my views into basic tips, it can all boil down to the following:

• Writer's block happens to everyone, you're overthinking the piece like counting your chicks before they are hatched, and that’s why it seems quite hard to start.
• Discipline yourself to just start writing and the rest would flow. You can review it later to make the adjustments, clarifications, and editing later. And much later after it has been published.
• I have rarely written a blog the way I originally imagined it would turn out. In most cases, I have just a word or a phrase, I develop it like a seed and water it with words that follow.
• Trust the process, trust your skill, start the journey and follow the route wherever it takes you to any amazing destination you get to.
• You can abandon something for a while until the framework or ideas reform into something you can use. Do not beat yourself up for that.
• Only what you publish gets read, what is left in draft form is like opening a restaurant but serving no customers.

This may only work for some; you eventually emerge with your own way and style of writing that you begin to type, and your new tapestry of ideas begins to unfold. However, what you must never do is stymie or kill the urge to write. Your story matters, you never know who will benefit from your experience.

Thought Picnic: Between writing and speaking

Effective and polite conversation

The art of communication and more so the one of being effective at it matters a lot. Even for those of us schooled in the old-fashioned use of language in courtesy, respect, grammar, and correct address, we must not be tempted to dispose of it for the sheer ease and modernity that attends to current trends.

Whether it be letters, emails, or text messages, I follow some basic and critical rules. The form of address along with a greeting is essential. The statement and context are written with a style that respects both the correct use of grammar and punctuation, whichever language I choose to write in. The closing is properly made too.

Chains of email angst

In a recent series of back-and-forth emails where nothing seemed to be moving, we had generated an enviable email chain that would tire out a casual observer just as some frustration began to set in. I suggested we seek a resolution by telephone conversation to understand where the apparent miscommunication or misunderstanding was because we were getting no further along.

My feeling is that this suggestion prompted my interlocutor to review their workflows and processes after which certain ameliorations were made without conceding the fact that the issue was always on their side.

Suddenly, the shunted wagon of bureaucracy lethargic woke up in a fit of uncharacteristic vigour, trundling forward towards the realisation of intended or expected outcomes.

Words to any effect

One would not want to apportion blame as much as the admission of fault should not suggest a loss of face. Though the facility to admit wrong with the finery of language is hardly taught and acquired without extensive reading, especially of the classics.

I get commended for having a way with words and that my writing conveys my views better than my speech. At my most cantankerous I am neither eloquent nor articulate, and enunciation is good enough, I hope. Yet, where you have no opportunity to write, what you say and how you say it is the only device by which any listener might give due recognition.

Anno Domini nostri Jesu Christi 2023-24

A course not corrected

I find it interesting that my blogging process has still not changed 20 years and a month since I started a blog. The last blog I wrote started on a different premise, I was thinking of writing about how the last year ended and the new began.

Then I guess rather than adopt a course correction based on original intent, I usually allow the organic flow to whatever reach and extent that blog veers to as I write. If this were a professional rather than a personal blog, I might need a bit more discipline by keeping my writing within the confines of the topic of my intent, yet the freeform has its uses.

It is like where would the mind take you to where imagination and imagery is given free rein, untrammelled by style, use, or expression? That is where Brian would suggest that some blogs I have written have sprung from just one word said in passing, the seed from which paragraphs and blogs become a harvest to publish.

Christmas and anniversaries

The highlight of Christmas Day was in the Sung Eucharist at Manchester Cathedral, which was televised and broadcast live, my seat inadvertently secured by the chief steward eventually gave me a bit of prominence at the gospel reading and at other times. To that, I can only say that since I have begun volunteering as a church steward, I have been more blessed in serving than I could have imagined. [BBC iPlayer: Christmas Morning Service from Manchester Cathedral]

It was quiet and reflective though made memorable by the insistence of my neighbours who persuaded me to join them for a late evening of festivities. Brian and I marked the 5^th anniversary of my relationship in the same week as I began to think of what I needed to do to usher in the New Year.

However, there was another Sunday to face where I was scheduled to give the first reading at church, the Sunday falling on New Year’s Eve. I was given a reading from the Book of Isaiah to review only to find out as I checked the lectern before the service that the reading had been changed to a New Testament reading from Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. The passage was familiar enough, I only had to deal with the dread of hearing my voice amplified. Apparently, the cadence and my voice were good.

An elderly fellowship into 2024

Having received a text message from a charismatic church I attended in the summer; usually an evening service rather than the main one, they were having a New Year’s Eve service to see in the New Year and without priced tickets too.

I must have been the only guest in the congregation as everyone else seemed to know each other. I was welcomed by many and held in conversation with some who took more than a cursory interest. I was also acknowledged as an elder, I guess I have not helped my youthful cause by the use of a walking cane, though my facial features might belie some passage of time.

We had a diverse buffet before the praise, worship, and prayer session ushering in the year 2024. It was a blessing to find such a company of saints to fellowship with. 2024 has begun in earnest and before us is the opportunity to write new stories.

20 Years - A Blog

A wry Berlin

When I sat in a hotel room in Berlin watching television and decided to start a blog, I was not looking 20 years down the line after over 4,000 blogs thinking how I would write a celebratory blog.

December 2003 was a different world and at the same time an interesting one too. Blogging was trending, like everyone had a story to tell and if they were not doing that, there were interests, opinions, gossip, or reviews to share. I had no particular plans for my blog, I was not going to be a written version of a shock jock, but there were things I saw differently by influence and perspective that I thought I could lay out in my own space.

How things change

Social media as we know it now was not part of the canon, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, or Threads were probably not even in incubation with their inventors at that time, we had other outlets that people found to showcase their lives and experience, many now consigned to history.

I cannot explain why I kept blogging when most got tired of it and eventually left it altogether, it cannot be for a lack of stories to tell. Obviously with audiovisual stimulation and the sensational, you can easily grab the headlines and gain popularity, I think my blog became like a community corner shop full of the traditional and the nostalgic, existing almost like a store of knowledge, with shelves of the old and new.

I am grateful

Looking back, I also probably did not see 20 years ahead, it was distant and unplanned, with threats and opportunities, but the spirit that powered through despite everything, it was one of hope and of thankfulness. That I am still here to write my stories is one of good fortune and the great providence and grace of God.

I count my blessings and much as I would have liked to make a greater celebration of this milestone in blogging like I did when it reached a decade, I might just do this quietly and begin to write new chapters of great adventures of life, love, and loving.

This blog would not exist without its readership and support from so many through the years, some readers I know and have become friends with, many are acquaintances, but most are totally unknown, yet they leave footprints and for their custom, I am grateful. Life is a journey, and the experience is what makes our stories, the snippets sometimes become blogs, as in my case.

Here’s to the next great celebration, whatever and whenever. Shalom! Shalom!  

Decade Blogs - Roundup V - All the 35 Blogs and Thanks (January 2014)