A private blogger not blogging for money

Not for the money

As recently as Tuesday, I was asked once again if I was generating any income from my blog, to which I answered no. I could say that I have been asked this question consistently from around the third year of my blog being in existence.

There was a time I thought I could generate passive income by allowing advertisements on my blog, but more than just upsetting the general look-and-feel of the blog with adverts interspersed in places I would rather they did not, it was nigh on impossible to control and manage the content being shared from my blog space, I had no alternative but to remove the feature.

On another note, I do not consider myself that much of a self-promoter or influencer that depends on the oxygen of traffic, footfall, likes, and comments to survive. I write because I like writing about things, that I have an audience that is just one of good fortune and interest rather than some deliberate effort to please or attract custom.

Always worth my while

However, I have found myself in certain forums where I have talked about my blog and from that garnered interest from others to read and view my musings. A blog in its 20^th year is probably more than a novelty, to me, it is also a thing of pride that it started during a time when everyone seemed to have something to say until they got disinterested or distracted by some other trend. I continued regardless.

I can even remember there was a time that a website titled, ‘How Much Is My Blog Worth?’ existed, you keyed in your blog URL and it produced some arbitrary figure, at least for my amusement more than anything else. In some cases, I have been asked to write for others, a task that has proved quite onerous compared to what I would generally publish on my blog.

It is my space

It is the autonomy and control that I enjoy, no one can review, edit, or alter what I have written on my blog, and as I am not beholden to anyone in terms of monetary or market demands, the freedom to express myself in the frame of reference of how I see and understand things is untrammelled. That does not mean I am licentious and reckless, as I can appreciate how publishing over 20 years might just have some historical viewpoint that might offend someone.

I have also been advised that from all that I have already written, I probably have enough to publish books on different themes, subjects, life and so on. Though my seeming ability to knock out blogs does not seem to have transferred to the needed skill to write long-form stories you would find in a novel. My autobiography languishes in bits and pieces strung together on a premise I cannot begin to assess well enough for any coherence.

To take the words of Tina Turner and adapt them to my situation, I am just a Private Blogger not blogging for money but doing just what I want to do. Then again, I am open to ideas, including those towards commemorating 20 years of blogging in December 2023.

Volunteering my volition

By my volition

I attended a session yesterday which would form part of a 10-week programme in the hope that it would kickstart something that would help me recover much of the sense of wellness and well-being that I have been struggling to settle in.

Caught between funk and frustration, I sometimes wonder how much more is in the tank for the journey ahead. Even when I feel quite exhausted something spurs me on as doubts creep into my mind about what there is to learn about who one might become as these changes in circumstances remain unsavoury.

One is not without constant encouragement from my partner, my friend, and my mother, but the feeling of being carried in the winds of a storm is such that there is no indication of where one might land. Between the lifting and the landing, brutal encounters might ensue for which in the consciousness of the event one silently prays to survive and in landing, one hopes not to be too severely bruised.

Maybe even the storm is to shake things up a bit so that when peace comes to reign supreme in the calming and passing of the storm, a new wholeness redefines one's present continuous experience of nothing missing, nothing lacking, and nothing broken. I have to believe in something, fixing on what; seems to elude me.

Incubating blogs

This blog was written hours ago and unlike many other blogs that I publish as I finish writing, I did not feel I had finished the blog and at the same, I had no inclination to change any part of what had already been written. When I had another look, I added the last sentence in the penultimate paragraph preceding this one that explains my thinking.

Thought Picnic: On therapy and rehab for giving new purpose to life

Therapy for life and living

I learnt over a decade ago that everyone at one point or the other requires some form of therapy. In my case, after a near-death experience brought on by disease with the aftermath of extremely fortunate survival but ensuing catastrophic material loss, I needed to talk to somebody about how life was.

I was not depressed or suicidal at all, but looking at how things had turned out, it was only right that I did have the quietude to ruminate over loss and drown in the sorrow of misfortune and despair wondering about what turns could have been taken to arrive at a different destination in the story of life.

Therapy that causes change

Then again, over two decades ago, I did on the advice of a friend engage the counsel of an occupational psychotherapist. We met in the lobby of a hotel in the West End at a point when my professional life seemed to be at an impasse. I seemed to be totally clueless about what to do and was existing from day to day, just existing without any apparent sense of purpose.

In our discussion, he first put things in perspective, opining that what I was experiencing was not unfamiliar and me getting interviews but not closing on the jobs was considerably better than the many that were never contacted at all. He went on to say something quite profound, that I was suffering a mid-life crisis probably 10 years early.

His advice was that I do something radical like change my career or change my location or country for a different and new place. That is what began my quest for engagement in Europe where I interviewed for a job at Compaq, near Munich in Germany and flew out on a day off to be interviewed for a job in the Netherlands at Hoofddorp near Amsterdam Schiphol Airport. I got the job in the Netherlands and there began an over 12-year sojourn in the Netherlands.

Therapy for all seasons

One underlying issue during that time that had the effect that I did not as much admit to and going on with impact for more than a year was, I had just come out of an almost 7-year relationship which for me was quite devastating, the pain of it endured for longer than I wanted to assume vulnerability for. I probably should have considered therapy for it beyond taking a week off work and wandering around Europe in search of some distraction of consequence for almost a month.

The consequent therapy sessions I had relatively helped me understand to a degree, what I might be going through even as the professionals suggested to me that they learnt more from our interactions in terms of the human experience than they let on during the sessions. I was unusual as I did not present the classic signs of their usual quarry and I was lucidly articulate, understanding nuance, discerning meanings from usages and constructs that helped in appreciating the depth of my concerns.

Recently, I was again advised to seek some professional help, and I do clearly appreciate the need for such because many of the historical experiences I have had before are presenting in somewhat different circumstances, but equally as impactful as to be issues of concern for my wellbeing mentally and in life generally.

Therapy in the guise of rehab

Beyond that, in my last blog, I alluded to the desire to be received into everlasting habitations, a place beyond the failings and the fallings in life where the impact of loss and incapacity is reduced or confined to the improbable because the attendant issues are addressed by providence or benefaction.

Blog - O to be received into everlasting habitations

In that sense, it would seem just as everyone needs therapy at some point to review the vicissitudes of life, people might also need rehab, yes, rehabilitation. This rehab does not necessarily have to do with the typical addictions such as drugs, sex, gambling, alcohol, or some other dependency. However, the result is the same, a place for intervention, review, contemplation, and redirection to get life back on track again.

It makes you wonder if there is a real-life Fantasy Island like the drama series that featured  Hervé Villechaize as Tattoo, running to the airfield shouting, “The plane, the plane”, and  Ricardo Montalbán as the mysterious Mr Roarke who granted fantasies for a price. Whether or not such a place exists and that is besides the cost, people do need a kind of reprieve, an absenting of self of situation or circumstance to reassess and think about what new experience one needs to bring to one’s existence to have a more fulfilling and rewarding life. Something that could seem difficult to do when caught in the midst of a quagmire of fates and things.

These thoughts roam in the recesses of the subconscious as one seeks to make days count for better than they seem. Then, Mr Warren Buffett who if he were British might have been regaled with every aristocratic title you could find in the gift of the monarch, goes on to say, in the pithy and interesting summary of how to live. On living your best life: “You should write your obituary and then try to figure out how to live up to it,” Buffett said. “It’s not that complicated.”

Well…

O to be received into everlasting habitations

What I seemed to lack

When I launched a fundraising drive some 5 weeks ago, I had some reason to believe that my target would not only be reached but also exceeded. Then again, the situation in which I founded the premise could not be termed as dire or desperate, an unfortunate set of circumstances created a situation that I had both hoped and felt the fund drive would help alleviate.

Yet, it is unmistakable that the unmatched generosity of some contributors brought in 36% of my target which was very helpful, but insufficient to attend to the need and purpose of the drive. I appreciate that I did not get much of the support I would have normally relied on from people I trusted and hoped to see what I was trying to achieve.

What I saw happen too

Another issue that seemed obvious, fundraising for yourself is not that easy, for no matter how well you can tell your story, it seems that the more successful drives are achieved by others taking your story and telling it to others. It would seem you need to have some abstraction from that situation, with others finding the more compelling phraseology to provide the narrative.

Then, I am humbled by another thing I saw, I had work colleagues from almost 2 decades ago since we last worked together visiting with largesse, some old schoolmates from time immemorial calling first and then contributing, some concerned friends also pitched in and then strangers who left nothing to identify them contributing too.

What friends I didn’t make

In the recesses of thought, you think about the fact that there is a lot of money out there in the world, moved around for all sorts of reasons. Charitable causes adopt fundraising schemes to get people inclined to see what they are trying to do so that they are generous and supportive of the cause. A charitable cause in your own name, however, sometimes reads like something else.

I do not regret the fundraising activity, if anything, it made a case, probably not as compelling as it ought to be, that I needed some help. There are many ways to read into what Jesus meant when he said, “And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations.” [Luke 16:9 (KJV)]

What smarts I’m left needing

Looking back, it would seem I have cultivated many useful and enduring friendships, but I might not have extended the scope enough to ensure that when hard times come, I do not suffer penurious disadvantage from downturns as I have had. In context, what he said came after he talked about a scheme where a wily and crafty servant who had fallen out of favour with his boss, went out to his boss’ debtors and transformed heretofore unserviceable debts to favourable terms for the debtors to immediately address.

Yes, the boss had to commend his disfavoured servant for acting shrewdly, despite his precarious employment situation, for which Jesus then said certain people are better at controlling, making, and managing money than others, most especially those who by terms seem to be religiously inclined.

What everlasting habitations could be

In review, I have possibly made a lot from being a freelance consultant, but I have also not been particularly shrewd with it as I probably should have. If I had an everlasting habitation to draw on, it would have been something along the lines of a wealthy benefactor calling me to say, “Akin, come out to my ranch or hacienda, maybe even use my vacant apartment by the seaside and bring whoever you want along with you. I will see to all your requirements for accommodation and sustenance for the next few months whilst you get yourself sorted.”

Alas, the need for purposeful networking is one that sometimes you learn too late that you need. However, you ruminate over how things are and how things could be, an exit strategy has to exist somewhere, including enduring much to come out to a better story told of a life lived.

As I finished writing this blog, it is Macy Gray’s second single, I Try from her album On How Life Is, that seems to capture the essence of what I feel, strangely, it is about companionship, support, and understanding how best to do certain things of which my GoFundMe effort has not been as successful as I believed it could be.

Blog - I published a GoFundMe appeal

Blog - Let's not stigmatise personal fundraising like GoFundMe

Thought Picnic: We are not as connected as we think we are

The tears for fears

It was a strange feeling of regret and partly self-pity that one would not normally admit to when I went through a list of 15 job roles that I somehow felt I could not apply for. This, for all sorts of reasons as I felt the warmth of tears welling up around my eyes. It has been a long while since I have cried for myself and I do wonder if there is any relief in it.

The fact is and I would point it out in its own paragraph, people are a lot more vulnerable than they say or present, they are not as alright as they seem, they are not as happy and cheerful as they appear, and they need a lot more than just checking up on to ascertain how they are.

Out-of-date interventions

Yet, it is the assumptions that people make about others that I can be painfully aware of, that torches with flames of anguish or something like it. When I think of the other day and there are many to consider, the day some prayers were prayed that I thought could have been so useful, so many months before they seemed desperate and even out-of-date for the suffering that has been endured, it leaves a sense of abandonment and unease, that one should do the best not to attend to.

The other other (written for effect) day was another who called to determine how one was getting on and the core of his advice was I should not lose my confidence. Heck! I could have done with that kind of encouragement six or months ago, how do you light a fire in ashes already dampened in a storm? Still, from the ashes, the phoenix rises or something to that effect.

These totally out-of-date interventions may seem productive but that touch at the heart of another reality, that we are not as connected with our friends and family as we assume we are. There is an unquantifiable distance in what we think are thriving relationships for which familiarity has replaced discerning and discernment to elicit the full truth. Maybe I help myself better through what I write for my speech has the sophistication of concealment that is both trained and curtailed.

How I feel lost

There are days I am probably entirely myself, as many consciences are quickly salved with the rudimentary as one battles with an Esau complex, wherein has one served up birthright for a pot of soup? The judgement on him was tough even as he did prosper in a way. One is left wondering about the vicissitudes of life, maybe a time to reflect in Ecclesiastes. Even the comfort I seek therein seems to elude me.

I often get asked that question that probably a sense of pride promptly denies, it does loom about and I refuse to countenance it, I refuse to give it any rein, which does not mean it doesn’t yap at my heels, every now and again. I want to believe and at the same time one is losing grip, there is apparently so much love out there as I wrestle in my mind about things present, things existential, and things beyond, that sleep will not repair.

As one would expect, there is someone somewhere who would read this and genuflect to feigned apoplexy with the opinion, “It seems he is giving up and losing hope.” Thank you for your very genuine concern, after that, what has changed? 

The battle is always in our minds, in our heads, in our dreams, and sometimes interfered with by reality, but it is one we dare to fight to win, and, on this score, I will wipe away the tears and look up because it is not over until it is done.

The heart of desire always matters

Desire is not a luxury

There is a sense that there are luxuries one cannot afford in relation to certain circumstances that one might find oneself in. Yet, it is without debate that one is probably best equipped to face some issues in the company of the closest companion a person has, where intimacy and trust give the impetus and courage to attend and apprehend.

What cannot be discounted is the wanting, probably the wishing, yea the longing, indeed the craving, and definitely the yearning, all the synonyms of desire playing in strength and force to a state of compulsive demand in groaning and supplication for fulfilment.

It is so quickly dismissed as unimportant, like you should put desire aside for the pertinent, like desire is shirking attention to the essential, something you cannot afford to put out there in the light of prevailing issues.

Desire makes us human

Then I look back through the times and find that the stability of having someone with whom there is commitment without conflict has served as a first the grounding and then the springboard to leap into the unknown to experience adventure, wonder, and excitement.

For everyone who has a companion, the closeness to each other makes for the fundamental bolstering of emotion and temperament for purpose and challenge. People can help and do so much for you, but that person with whom love is shared for intimacy and desire excites a passion in the pursuit of happiness and the joy of living that words cannot so easily express.

Desire matters, even the divine understands that man has desires, deeply held yearnings of want and desire that in lovingkindness, tender mercies and amazing grace are granted beyond the wildest dreams of the supplicant. The heart’s desire is part of what confirms us as men, nothing would please me more than to face each day together with Brian, knowing that together, we are more than a formidable team.

I know there is strength and support in the company of those whom you love; to face issues. Every good desire is like fuel to light the flame of hope creating a reality for which in accomplishment every sound that escapes our lips can only be of thankfulness and gratitude for times that have become so kind.

The social beings we are

The needs of I

Recently, I have found myself seeking the succour of different support environments that attend to the many facets of my personality and being. It is a realisation that no one is an island, and I have understood quite well that these are not distractions, but engagements.

Spirituality, as a man of faith, I have been developing my personal fellowship in listening to messages and given to prayer; then besides my Anglican inclinations to which I have given much adherence, I have also sought an evangelical and Pentecostal community to involve myself. The morning for the establishmentarian and the evening for the free-flowing and sometimes unstructured, yet quite edifying fare.

And what matters more

Beyond that, for the mind and sense of well-being, I attend a support group that gathers black men living with HIV, once a month. In a way, I find myself transitioning from the hermit sequestered in my apartment for days, into a reticent and introverted social being. 

It is the strangest feeling that to some I appear to easily strike up a conversation with strangers, yet in these communities if I am not approached, I look like a shrinking Violet with a yearning that I can neither express nor commit to any form of networking.

Then again, I am thankful for these different community and support environments, as they address different needs in the quest towards being a more complete person. However, the situation I need the most is the company, companionship, and embrace of my partner and my lover, in whose daily verbal intercourse I revel and need much more. Everything else would always be secondary to the power of love, the place where two hearts are knit in one and nothing else matters.