Thought Picnic: Battling a dimension of legitimacy

Where it seems to be

There are things and situations that seek to rob you of your peace and invade the witching hours to inflict insomnia on the necessity for sleep. The back and forth of rumination that presents as worry that brings no solution but much bother to the fore.

You wrestle with much about life and desire, the dreams that seem too distant to the reality you seek, yet you cannot stop believing that the possible is not as far away as it seems.

Some think it is a mid-life crisis, sometimes it is much further on than mid-life, just before your golden jubilee, there are considerations that come to the fore, the insurgence of self-doubt as much as the ebbing away of self-confidence. Motivation becomes alien in the scheme of things.

What they expect of you

There is a battle raging in your being in the usually observed futile attempts to get your life back on track. It is a daily war against so many elements, it is by abundant grace that many are not overwhelmed even as exhaustion taxes on both strength and will.

As if that is not hard enough on the individual, there are external pressures in addition to the ones prevalent, familial, familiar, and further afield. Those who are secondarily affected by a somewhat whispering campaign about your situation, more perceived than real, the constant need to keep up with the Joneses than brings you in regular comparison with others whose trajectory has never been of concern until you met some roadblocks.

Who is doing the talking?

How is it that when adversity comes, the support you get is sparse but the questioning about your legitimacy borne of activity and achievement apart from progeny becomes topical? When this is broached directly or in code by those you expect an understanding from, you can be left not only discomfited but also discouraged, despondent, despairing, and disappointed.

It is in terms of that situation that I was advised not to submit myself to such discussions as there is just about enough pressure on yourself trying to find a solution to your situation before carrying on your shoulders the concerns of others simply trying to keep up appearances totally at your expense with little appreciation of your plight.

How I see the future

If not for the unstinting support of my partner and my best friend, there is no telling for how one could cope. Then it is not about coping, I don’t just want to get by even if each day seems a drudge of the unchanging same, I am strong on the will to not only survive but thrive too.

For at present, I have walked and wandered through the valley of the shadow of death, encountering evil in various forms, but in all of that, the Lord is with me and will bring me through it all to the refreshing still waters and luxuriant green pastures. A table is set before me in the presence of my enemies, my cup of blessing and joy overflows and I will yet testify of the goodness and mercy that follows me, all my days. [A paraphrase and adaptation of the Psalm 23]

The supermarket trolley on the move

In the folly of a trolley

The times that I have chosen to do my walking exercises to avoid encounters with unruly owners with their devil dogs in public parks present a new kind of solitude and quietness for contemplation and reflection. Then again are the observations one makes of the somewhat ordinary and yet attractive.

The uncharted and relatively insignificant life of the supermarket trolley is one that seems to fill me with intrigue and genuine interest. I will use trolley for the rest of the blog.

Typically, a trolley will be arrayed with similar trolleys at the entrance of a supermarket, a refundable charge for use allows the trolley to be detached from its mooring to other trolleys and after usage, it is returned for the click mooring to release the coin inserted to gain use of the trolley.

The trolley quite adrift

In some instances, the customer fails to return the trolley to the mooring post and the coin is trapped in the trolley release mechanism, but that is not the issue here. Obviously, the command and control of a trolley around the supermarket and when wheeled towards a vehicle in the car park can present an irreverent waywardness no matter how much the customer attempts to steer it. It is a wonder that licenses are not required to steer those beasts.

However, my chronicling of the odyssey of the trolley comes from seeing the trolleys a long way away from the home supermarket, on a pathway, in the river, idling in the fields, or full of rubbish rather than consumer goods and groceries.

Meeting the tunnel trolley

For instance, walking through a pedestrian tunnel three days ago, there was a trolley halfway into the tunnel party blocking the pathway and a bit askew. I did wonder where it had come from. Perish the thought that it had automation, or it arrived there by some poltergeist phenomenon. A certain human being must have got it that far and decided to abandon it there.

The next day, the trolley was on its back, the handlebar and the hind wheels on the ground looking up like the wire sculpture of a yawning hippopotamus. The thought crossed my mind, but I did not dwell on it, as for the questions, there were many to think of too.

The story-making trolley

Then, at another brisk walk through the tunnel, the trolley had righted itself, now on its four wheels and did I notice there was a wheel brake to stop it from being wheeled away from the perimeter of the home supermarket. Yet, it had escaped by velocity, anti-social behaviour, or a quest for liberation. Let’s not wonder too much. It was now well placed at the entrance of the tunnel as if standing sentry.

You can expect, I did expect to see the trolley again as I traipsed through the pedestrian tunnel again, but it had gone. I half-expected to see it along the route between the interconnecting tunnels, footpaths, and bridges, but no, it was nowhere to be seen. Not that I have trolleys for company, but there might have been an unspoken conversation between us that was missed on my last traversal.

The trolley back at home

Another 750 yards on, it clicked, there is a large supermarket and the trolley from its colour scheme must have belonged there. If I had tagged it, as one cannot take the name of the trolley, I do wonder of out of the formation of trolleys in resolute order bettering a military parade, I could have asked the trolley for fallout for a dressing down or a commendation.

Herein is the quandary:
for the trolleys that roam,
a long way from home,
is there any hope,
for how they should cope?

Reflections on a childhood reunion

The mantle that fell on us

The weekend past provided a moment of deep reflection on the quality of relationships and how they endure. In other ways, I thought about how a generational mantle of favour covers us in certain places out of reverence for what our forebears have done long before we became part of the scene. The ability to understand that grace which is not of our ability or achievement is something to reckon with.

I can say I have benefited immensely from much of what my parents have done and the enduring relationships that have grown from those communities. Social media and the wonders of modern communication abstracts from the reality of sight, sound, touch, and hearing in terms of physicality. The convenience tends towards the substitute.

Then back together again

How I felt about seeing relations and friends who I had not seen from about 7 years ago was heart-warming, the catching up and the memories that linger. You feel you have adapted and changed and still much remains the same. What is evident is the mutual love and affection we have for each other, whatever the trajectories of life, what brings us together is strong, enduring, and wholesome.

Further on, there are people I had not seen since the 1980s, and we were gathered to celebrate a landmark birthday with all the siblings of the celebrant coming from the far ends of the world for the festivities. The matriarch, the widow of my father’s closest, best, and childhood friend presided over ensuring I graced the occasion. My arrival indicated much of my features are too easy to recognise, even as I scan the deep recesses of my archives to link and appreciate.

The childhoods that sired this

The greetings and the smiles, I have not attended a Nigerian fare for longer than I can care to remember, we are counting decades and more. In any case, I was being introduced to the new generation to which the reference point was the close friendship of my father to their dearly departed grandfather.

The party managers having marshalled us to the organised settings, I looked up again to recognise another childhood friend, scion of the community of childhood friends of my father. Then he introduced his wife to me, my father had given the eulogy at his father's funeral. That was news to me, that his father had passed on, along with the additional detail.

It occurred to me as it has before that with the blessing of a long life comes the misery of bidding your peers fond farewells with the reminiscing in sadness and warm feelings. The traction of time is perpetual, and our marks in the notches of time’s unending length of totem pole is where we look to reflect on the things that suggest, we need people to gather again for old times sake.

Taking friendliness to heart

In patient endurance

In a telephone conversation that I could not wait to end that there was an urging in me to ask what the particular purpose of the call was, I held on still to allow it to come to its natural end.

It was not a conversation, I was on the listening end of everything and the work inside me was one where I rationalised to myself that it was a test of my resolve, I had to recalibrate my ability to engage my friend even when my eyes begin to glaze over and my neck stiffens in obduracy to avoid being swallowed in the mental chasm of his chaotic and yet charmed existence.

Then again, I was somewhat vindicated when he said that chatbots could not understand him, this is not just because of his accent which is quite distinct, much as I hate to use the word torrent, his speech is like a waterfall of words without attempted enunciation, you strain with much difficulty to understand him, you begin to tune out.

A burden of care

Beyond that, I had begun to associate this ‘speech impediment’ and it has to be that if we are speaking the same language and yet we cannot understand each other, with mental exhaustion. It is energy sapping with all the wringing of anything you can wring if caught in the web of this engagement.

Yet, my love for him is undiminished, as a friend and I will support him, where I can calm him down enough to have a conversation, and understand where he needs my support, he can count on me.

With all the tendency I could have to assess, I have come to another appreciation of what I need to do in terms of endurance and patience, there is much work to be done in being more longsuffering, for I have been forgiven much more than I have dared to forgive others.

Sleepless in prose

What questions at crazy times

Many a night is spent sleepless,
Even at times, one is quite listless,
As midnight gains hour on hour,
The brain seeks stuff to scan and scour,
What could I do at this strange hour?

Then inspired by what I just read,
For quite a while not woven a thread,
Of words and thoughts within the mind,
To test a skill of wit, prose, and kind,
What is it that we might find?

In a bed, I sleep without that warmth,
Of arms that wrap around like cloth,
Those hands that soothe a good back rub,
Or when we shower, I get a scrub,
What in the morn is in my hot teacup?

My daydreams are walked all by the sea,
With winds and sprays that bring me glee,
I know my dreams prepare a way,
A foretaste of true living into the day,
What they ask makes them happy and gay? 

Thought Picnic: Going back to the basics

Back to the basics

I find myself reviewing much of what I know, appraising what has worked in the tried-and-tested life experiences, and relearning the fundamentals whilst seeking to improve on things that are not working as they used to.

It is as much a spiritual journey as it is one of the development of skill and expertise to meet the challenges faced daily and over periods of time as seasons and expectations.

The power of example

I do not express much about my innate beliefs as I think example demonstrates person, personality, and personableness. Seeing how life is lived makes for a better indicator of everything else, whether in times of adversity or advantage.

What I am learning from the many who provide examples for living that I follow from their testimonies is that they return to the advice, admonition, and example of those before them that have mentored, shepherded, or led them. The building blocks still remain the foundation from which each and everyone can individually and uniquely create their own story.

Thought Picnic: Seeking my authentic voice

Seeking the right voice

There is a lot I give thought to, that churns constantly within from conflict through confusion and seeking confession. Not confession in the sense of admission, but in the cause of affirmation, a profession of belief in the understanding of who I am.

Then, I think back to the absence of voice in the many things I could have voiced as opposed to the few times I have spoken without accentuating the better views, painting myself in the most unfavourable light to find some sort of agreement in understanding the afflictions I have entertained.

What I see that I have talked myself down, talked myself out, talked myself done, and talked myself lost, when there is much talking to do to talk up, talk in, talk better, and talk positive. Where is my voice of prayer? I ask.

Imagining the impossible

I have given myself to hearing, hearing for encouragement and support for the faith that comes from hearing. I hear more than I read, I listen more to understand, I understand even to act, and act to succeed.

There is a vision that replays in me with the conviction of the possible. I am on a journey that I am receiving the strength to conceive of what is totally beyond me and yet is the mystery of faith.

Let me understand even more how to be impactfully the best I can ever be in the walk on earth, that is my prayer and where my voice needs to be, day and night, in the full assurance that what I have imagined is possible.