One of my sisters sent a BB message early this morning to tell me that she was doing just that: revelling in her new found freedom. Freedom from what I hear you say? Freedom from stress, freedom from busyness and a release into a state of being at liberty.
She has submitted her final piece of course work for her second Masters programme and had thus decided to take the whole of June off. Off work, off stress, off busyness. I had noticed that her BB profile pics were changing rather oddly throughout the whole of this month thus far. I thought something was amiss – for someone who was reticent (as I am, I suppose) to upload a picture of herself on her BB profile, she was uploading a new picture every day. Beautiful pictures, I might add. Whatever is going on in Abidemi’s life, I wondered? Whatever it was, I liked her refreshed and daily refreshing BB profile pics.
So this morning she spilled the beans
She’s taken June off. Off so that she could be. Off should that she could live. Off so that she could rest. Off so that she could celebrate herself. And off so that she could exhale – really exhale from a deep joy. Even I exhaled as I read her BB IM. My response? ‘Dearest sis, celebrating yourself is one of your life’s commission’.
As I wrote that it almost felt narcissistic, and even blasphemous. But I typed that nevertheless. As I grow in age I am beginning to cherish so many things and people that are dear to so much more. The need to reconnect with old friends and stay connected to them. The need to take that trip to Zurich whilst in London if only for a even a day to connect with an old friend whose friendship I value but who I have not been able to meet up with less on Skype and email for too many years. The need t take that extra day whilst on a business trip to Kenya and celebrate with old friends – and take that trip to the Masai Mara. The need to rise up early and watch the sunrise during that weekend away on the secluded and serene and warming beach bay of Lou Moon Lodge. The need to fill my home with those pleasantries that calm and relax me. The need to start cooking hosting weekend lunches and dinners again. The need to take time out whilst on a business trip thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away to call my lovely, lovely niece and wish her a happy 8th birthday. The need to take that 5 hour drive to that quaint upcountry resort with my sister for the weekend. The need to celebrate life.
Series Life Indulgence in the Little Things
Such needs consume me now. Like Abidemi I had also just recently completed a Masters programme. And I found time on my hands again to use as I desired – and I knew I had to use the time most preciously. I wanted to recommence series Life Indulgence in the Little Things. Me-time on Saturday mornings. Spending time with protégés and mentors. Choosing and wanting to wake up early to pray and praise.
It’s a new life all over again. Won’t you join us?
Friday 10 June 2011
Tuesday 3 May 2011
Flawed - by design
Celebrating the Royal Wedding
The Royal Wedding was celebrated in style ... far beyond the shores of the United Kingdom. We here had a celebration for the Royal Bride and Groom in Accra! A friend hosted a sumptuous English breakfast adorned with all the elaboration of stylishly and vibrantly dressed Accra ladies sporting pearls, Swarovski crystals and fascinators – all as the ladies watched The Big Event live over a huge screen.
I regretably had to turn down my invitation. Knocked out by malaria most of throughout last week, I had to do with watching the wedding online. Yes, online!
We had ‘enjoyed’ torrential rains overnight (what sweet relief from all that sweltering heat we had suffered throughout Thursday) and, as often happens here, the electricity power went off as a result of the thunder storms and lightening. And yes, you guessed it, it did NOT come back in time for me to watch the wedding live courtesy of the British Broadcasting Corporation. I had to resort to my internet connection, and when the battery ran out on my laptop, well, I had to start using my imagination for the rest of the service...!
Time and chance
But what really struck me was the element of destiny throughout the whole celebration of love that commenced when the Royal Engagement was announced. The level and intensity of goodwill for the now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge has been immense as it has been heart warming. And I do very much feel that much of that goodwill perhaps has transcended from the deep love that the British public and many others globally endeared for Diana, Princess of Wales, the Duke of Cambridge’s mother.
Not that Diana herself was the happiest woman alive when she was with us. We all know too well of her apparent misery in marriage. We do also of course know of her clear and unquestionable compassion. Her compassion for the less fortunate, and her desire for her children to be deliberately exposed to some of the realities of the society around them.
Undoubtedly this did not win her any brownie points amongst the Royal household at the time, but carry-on she did. I am persuaded that it was this her convictions that has so shaped the character and person of her two sons. Two Royals and young men who are equally compassionate and peculiarly hardworking (the BBC reported that the Duke of Cambridge will return to work this week). Royals wanting to connect to ordinary people – and look how popular it has made them! The Duke of Cambridge has certainly warmed opinions towards the Monarchy.
Genealogies and destiny
Much of course has been made of the ‘common’ genealogy of Kate Middleton. She is of course now the Duchess of Cambridge.
And I smile as I write for destiny awaits all of us. Diana, Princess of Wales’s was perhaps to awaken the British Monarchy of the need to be more at home with the British people – even in her death! I remember that last day in August in 1997 when she died. If my memory serves me right The Queen was in Balmoral when the news came and she remained there until the loud and resounding voice of the British public persuaded her to return to Buckingham Palace. As tributes and flowers flooded Buckingham Palace and Kensington Palace, the public again loudly expressed their desire and need for her and the rest of the immediate Royal Family to come out of the Palace to acknowledge them and their tributes. And this she did.
Destiny awaits all of us. Destiny awaits us in our convictions and character which blesses some and infuriates others; in our struggles which spur us; as well as our struggles which steer us into uncommon destinations.
The Royal Wedding was celebrated in style ... far beyond the shores of the United Kingdom. We here had a celebration for the Royal Bride and Groom in Accra! A friend hosted a sumptuous English breakfast adorned with all the elaboration of stylishly and vibrantly dressed Accra ladies sporting pearls, Swarovski crystals and fascinators – all as the ladies watched The Big Event live over a huge screen.
I regretably had to turn down my invitation. Knocked out by malaria most of throughout last week, I had to do with watching the wedding online. Yes, online!
We had ‘enjoyed’ torrential rains overnight (what sweet relief from all that sweltering heat we had suffered throughout Thursday) and, as often happens here, the electricity power went off as a result of the thunder storms and lightening. And yes, you guessed it, it did NOT come back in time for me to watch the wedding live courtesy of the British Broadcasting Corporation. I had to resort to my internet connection, and when the battery ran out on my laptop, well, I had to start using my imagination for the rest of the service...!
Time and chance
But what really struck me was the element of destiny throughout the whole celebration of love that commenced when the Royal Engagement was announced. The level and intensity of goodwill for the now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge has been immense as it has been heart warming. And I do very much feel that much of that goodwill perhaps has transcended from the deep love that the British public and many others globally endeared for Diana, Princess of Wales, the Duke of Cambridge’s mother.
Not that Diana herself was the happiest woman alive when she was with us. We all know too well of her apparent misery in marriage. We do also of course know of her clear and unquestionable compassion. Her compassion for the less fortunate, and her desire for her children to be deliberately exposed to some of the realities of the society around them.
Undoubtedly this did not win her any brownie points amongst the Royal household at the time, but carry-on she did. I am persuaded that it was this her convictions that has so shaped the character and person of her two sons. Two Royals and young men who are equally compassionate and peculiarly hardworking (the BBC reported that the Duke of Cambridge will return to work this week). Royals wanting to connect to ordinary people – and look how popular it has made them! The Duke of Cambridge has certainly warmed opinions towards the Monarchy.
Genealogies and destiny
Much of course has been made of the ‘common’ genealogy of Kate Middleton. She is of course now the Duchess of Cambridge.
And I smile as I write for destiny awaits all of us. Diana, Princess of Wales’s was perhaps to awaken the British Monarchy of the need to be more at home with the British people – even in her death! I remember that last day in August in 1997 when she died. If my memory serves me right The Queen was in Balmoral when the news came and she remained there until the loud and resounding voice of the British public persuaded her to return to Buckingham Palace. As tributes and flowers flooded Buckingham Palace and Kensington Palace, the public again loudly expressed their desire and need for her and the rest of the immediate Royal Family to come out of the Palace to acknowledge them and their tributes. And this she did.
Destiny awaits all of us. Destiny awaits us in our convictions and character which blesses some and infuriates others; in our struggles which spur us; as well as our struggles which steer us into uncommon destinations.
Friday 18 March 2011
Cum Laude
It was one of those days when one felt fulfilled. A good day at work and all the meetings had been exceptional; and your heart glows with immense delight. But as I finished dinner at the hotel restaurant and returned to my room to do a bit a reading, and perhaps watch a little TV, out from nowhere I thought it was finally time to start an MBA programme. Now with some solid years of work experience, a better understanding and grasp of the issues, constraints and possibilities in my work discipline , and with my own ideas and thoughts on the ‘how to’ and the ‘how might’ of instilling change, I felt that this was the time.
The new learning beginning
So the MBA journey began with gusto. Logged on at least every other day to learn and share experiences with fellow distance learning students from the world over. Debated, informed and was informed myself. Totally exhilarating. But as the deadlines rolled in for essay submissions, and I faced a thousand and one firm and client imposed deadlines at work, I quickly realised that this journey was going to be challenging even if exhilarating. In fact, what isn’t in life?
Module after module I had to ask for an extension for the submission of my essays. Module after module I waned in participating in the discussions as business travel took me to obscure nations with sporadic internet connectivity in less than average hotels. Module after module I spent deadline weekends battling to read up on eight weeks of course work in one weekend, chose and essay topic and then write the essay. I got into the flow of studying and thankfully, remarkably really, consistently scored merits and distinctions module after module. To all those friends that thought I was a geek, I say I probably was....
Bloody hard work, I tell you.
And I was juggling
Then came the period when I lost a colleague and also journeyed through a particularly difficult time in my personal life. And I knew I couldn’t even think about the MBA in amidst work pressures and these personal quest challenges. So I deferred on a couple of modules. Totally gutted to have had to do it but, to be honest, I had no other choice. Tell me, how do you juggle bereavement, bereavement counselling, therapy and a demanding work schedule with an MBA programme? Well, I chose to defer the latter pressure for some time.
But then I got back into the swing of things. Flowed again. Returned to the flow of studying. But the merits and distinctions were less consistent and it was even harder work to score a pass let alone a merit! But struggle on we must.
The end came on the modules and, I tell you, I was glad for it. An average of a merit. I was glad for that. Phew. I could have my life back again. Yes, the dissertation was next but les time pressures – at least I had much longer to crack this one.
Some three months into the dissertation period I decided on a topic and submitted my dissertation proposal – written from a hotel room in Abuja whilst on yet another assignment. There was an urgency to at least start thinking about this research, be assigned a supervisor and to develop a chapter by chapter submission plan. So I submitted the proposal. Three weeks passed and no response. Another week and no response. A week later I learnt that the proposal had been rejected. No supervisor nominated to supervise it. The proposal needed much more thought.
I was gutted, but not surprised. I took me another six months to revise the proposal. When I finally did, one of the tutors magnanimously agreed to supervise my work and tendered some tremendous advice on how to make the research more academically sound. I remember thinking at the time: this is a case of self-inflicted pain.
Motivation and resolve
It took another couple of months to send the first chapter, and in the middle of that, in an effort to motivate myself, I thought about the dedication section of the dissertation. It was uncomplicated to decide who this was going to be dedicated to. As I thought about what to write in my dedication to my late father, somehow I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would finish the dissertation. Remembering his life, his toil and dedicated resolve to better the life of his children in no uncertain terms, I was spurred. Chief, this one’s for you.
Good success
It was two days ago that I got the news. Out here on a short break at the serene and charming beach resort of Loumoon Lodge, I was informed of the news on my MBA. Yes, I had passed. But I had not only passed, I had passed with a merit.
With immense gratitude and immeasurable love, I thanked my Father and my father.
The new learning beginning
So the MBA journey began with gusto. Logged on at least every other day to learn and share experiences with fellow distance learning students from the world over. Debated, informed and was informed myself. Totally exhilarating. But as the deadlines rolled in for essay submissions, and I faced a thousand and one firm and client imposed deadlines at work, I quickly realised that this journey was going to be challenging even if exhilarating. In fact, what isn’t in life?
Module after module I had to ask for an extension for the submission of my essays. Module after module I waned in participating in the discussions as business travel took me to obscure nations with sporadic internet connectivity in less than average hotels. Module after module I spent deadline weekends battling to read up on eight weeks of course work in one weekend, chose and essay topic and then write the essay. I got into the flow of studying and thankfully, remarkably really, consistently scored merits and distinctions module after module. To all those friends that thought I was a geek, I say I probably was....
Bloody hard work, I tell you.
And I was juggling
Then came the period when I lost a colleague and also journeyed through a particularly difficult time in my personal life. And I knew I couldn’t even think about the MBA in amidst work pressures and these personal quest challenges. So I deferred on a couple of modules. Totally gutted to have had to do it but, to be honest, I had no other choice. Tell me, how do you juggle bereavement, bereavement counselling, therapy and a demanding work schedule with an MBA programme? Well, I chose to defer the latter pressure for some time.
But then I got back into the swing of things. Flowed again. Returned to the flow of studying. But the merits and distinctions were less consistent and it was even harder work to score a pass let alone a merit! But struggle on we must.
The end came on the modules and, I tell you, I was glad for it. An average of a merit. I was glad for that. Phew. I could have my life back again. Yes, the dissertation was next but les time pressures – at least I had much longer to crack this one.
Some three months into the dissertation period I decided on a topic and submitted my dissertation proposal – written from a hotel room in Abuja whilst on yet another assignment. There was an urgency to at least start thinking about this research, be assigned a supervisor and to develop a chapter by chapter submission plan. So I submitted the proposal. Three weeks passed and no response. Another week and no response. A week later I learnt that the proposal had been rejected. No supervisor nominated to supervise it. The proposal needed much more thought.
I was gutted, but not surprised. I took me another six months to revise the proposal. When I finally did, one of the tutors magnanimously agreed to supervise my work and tendered some tremendous advice on how to make the research more academically sound. I remember thinking at the time: this is a case of self-inflicted pain.
Motivation and resolve
It took another couple of months to send the first chapter, and in the middle of that, in an effort to motivate myself, I thought about the dedication section of the dissertation. It was uncomplicated to decide who this was going to be dedicated to. As I thought about what to write in my dedication to my late father, somehow I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would finish the dissertation. Remembering his life, his toil and dedicated resolve to better the life of his children in no uncertain terms, I was spurred. Chief, this one’s for you.
Good success
It was two days ago that I got the news. Out here on a short break at the serene and charming beach resort of Loumoon Lodge, I was informed of the news on my MBA. Yes, I had passed. But I had not only passed, I had passed with a merit.
With immense gratitude and immeasurable love, I thanked my Father and my father.
Thursday 10 March 2011
Food Coaching
Life coaching. Seems like everyone I know is a life coach at the moment. And doing a blooming good job at it! With every conversation every small piece of information is taken to a deeper and higher level of insight and inspection. Goodness, gracious.
At the Gym Changing Room
So I am talking to a fellow gym-er at the changing rooms at the gym and, as female gym-ers do, we started a conversation about exercise and weight loss. My fellow gymer informs that she’s got a life coach (here we go again) who sorts her out on exercising for her desired shape, dieting and cooking advice, and (wait for it, wait for it) life coaching. I almost tripped off balance. Best thing she’s done over decades, she told me. The life coach really makes you think about your relationship with food in the context of your outlook on life. Why does that matter? Why would I care to think about my food likes and dislikes within the context of my life? After all my life and my lifestyle is made up of so many thematic areas – from faith, to relationships, to career, to money, to family, to so many things. I was informed that there is a direct correlation. Okaaay. And I was invited to the next meeting of the Diet, Exercise and Life Coaching Club.
I must admit I was a bit dubious at the first meeting. The life coach met each one of us individually, talked to us about our diet and lifestyles, our goals and objectives for weight loss. It was a case of really deliberating on your eating lifestyle, the positive and negative externalities of that lifestyle, and the motivation for wanting to change the negative externalities.
Dieters Anonymous
But I began to give it some thought. And couldn’t really get my head round the whole thing. So I stopped thinking. I was given my food plan for the week, weighed and advised to give the life coach a call if and when I was facing any challenge with the plan.
The only thing is, on this plan you eat five times a day. Yep, you read right. Five times a day. Three meals, two snacks. You must eat five times a day.
I was challenged. Not that I don’t like food nor like to eat. On the contrary. Look at the size of me for a start...! But I really resented this pre-occupation with food. How could one be deliberating on food through the day? I am used to eating what I want, when I want. Not that I eat unhealthily mind. In fact I like to think I eat quite healthily on average. But I am on the go a lot and as such often miss breakfast, will eat lunch, and dinner will be if and when – usually something small - some nachos or plantain chips with wine when I get home. Yeah, I know. Don’t laugh. And, yes, I forgot, I may snack on something during the day – like a bar of chocolate, or some digestive biscuits, or a glass of wine with my lunch..... Hmmm, maybe not so healthy after all.
I did try to keep to the diet and exercise plan. I tried. I was good with the diet plan for three days, but failed miserably on the exercise plan. Which was surprising because I am an avid gym-er. I love to exercise. If they don’t see me at gym for a week, they call me! That was me – until I was told that I should exercise. Hmmm, get the picture of personality and lifestyle?
Food mapping, life mapping
So I started to think about me, myself and my relationship with food and my lifestyle to determine if there were any correlations. Life coach moment.
I began to draw out my mind map. I particularly love to eat good food. I much more particularly love to eat good food that is not cooked by me. I much much much more love to eat good food over a glass of wine preferably in the company of friends and family that I truly love. Anything else is just a bother.
Then I had a bingo moment.
Maybe all those years at boarding school, sitting down to eat three (and they were good, wholesome, healthy) meals at day, in the company of friends had had its impact. Moreso, we had proper break and tea time – two a day. It was tea and biscuits, or tea and sandwiches – all made by someone else, of course.
Deliberated Moments. The Experience of Food
But I guess what I appreciated about those moments was that they were deliberated moments. Particularly at weekends, we had to dress for dinner. Have a shower and change for dinner. It was almost like a regime. Adult now, and on the go most of the time, I don’t really make a fuss for meal times. Meal times are not chronicled to speak. I do it as and when – on the go in content and time. Less those moments when I lunch or dine out or in with friends, family or clients. Now, those are the food moments that I really enjoy. The laid table. The company. The wine. The service. The quality food. The courses. The atmosphere. The experience. Things being done properly. That was it. I enjoy the experience of food with some or all of those elements.
So you like to make a meal of food? Yes, I responded.
On The Order of Things
Then it struck me. Things being done properly. The order of things. Thought. Atmosphere. Experience. Enjoyment. Delight. Satisfaction. Hmm. Yes, these strike a chord. For I appreciate order. Doing the right thing. At work, at play, in life. No half measures. If it’s got to be done, do it right, do it well. Even when I go running at the weekends its on a scenic route. I find the whole experience not only refreshing but inspirational. I think, I pray and I relax. For that hour, nothing else matters but the air that I breathe, the greenery I see and the beauty of creation around me. It is at those moments of calm and peace that I remember, bring to the forefront of my memory that I am truly blessed. Who was it that said that the secret to a happy life was continuous small treats? That happiness depends on ourselves? Our choices?
So maybe this life coaching thing is not mumbo jumbo after all.
And on the negative, wild side?
Well, I don’t like to waste time, expend time if it’s not needed. If all I am doing is eating to satisfy my stomach, I am running a busy schedule on a particularday and can’t spare the time of a meal experience, why can’t I just ‘junk’ it? It’s like shopping at the market as opposed to a supermarket only to save $20. What a palaver. What about the trade-off of my time, the wear and tear of my car, not to talk about the wear and tear of my body having sweated through that whole process of shopping in an African market when I don’t really have to? I mean, last time I shopped at a market for my vegetables, they rotted faster and I had to double wash them in a Milton solution twice over. Convince me that is not a waste of time.
We are all causes of our own effects
When I relayed all this to life coach, she wasn’t all too pleased.
When you say you can’t be bothered, well, who are you doing it for? It’s all for you. It’s all about you. You need to make time for you. Make time for the food that fuels you. Make time for your brand. Make time to be the person you want to be.
Selah. I got it.
Week two was going to be a better week. And I had learned a whole lot about myself and my lifestyle preferences.
At the Gym Changing Room
So I am talking to a fellow gym-er at the changing rooms at the gym and, as female gym-ers do, we started a conversation about exercise and weight loss. My fellow gymer informs that she’s got a life coach (here we go again) who sorts her out on exercising for her desired shape, dieting and cooking advice, and (wait for it, wait for it) life coaching. I almost tripped off balance. Best thing she’s done over decades, she told me. The life coach really makes you think about your relationship with food in the context of your outlook on life. Why does that matter? Why would I care to think about my food likes and dislikes within the context of my life? After all my life and my lifestyle is made up of so many thematic areas – from faith, to relationships, to career, to money, to family, to so many things. I was informed that there is a direct correlation. Okaaay. And I was invited to the next meeting of the Diet, Exercise and Life Coaching Club.
I must admit I was a bit dubious at the first meeting. The life coach met each one of us individually, talked to us about our diet and lifestyles, our goals and objectives for weight loss. It was a case of really deliberating on your eating lifestyle, the positive and negative externalities of that lifestyle, and the motivation for wanting to change the negative externalities.
Dieters Anonymous
But I began to give it some thought. And couldn’t really get my head round the whole thing. So I stopped thinking. I was given my food plan for the week, weighed and advised to give the life coach a call if and when I was facing any challenge with the plan.
The only thing is, on this plan you eat five times a day. Yep, you read right. Five times a day. Three meals, two snacks. You must eat five times a day.
I was challenged. Not that I don’t like food nor like to eat. On the contrary. Look at the size of me for a start...! But I really resented this pre-occupation with food. How could one be deliberating on food through the day? I am used to eating what I want, when I want. Not that I eat unhealthily mind. In fact I like to think I eat quite healthily on average. But I am on the go a lot and as such often miss breakfast, will eat lunch, and dinner will be if and when – usually something small - some nachos or plantain chips with wine when I get home. Yeah, I know. Don’t laugh. And, yes, I forgot, I may snack on something during the day – like a bar of chocolate, or some digestive biscuits, or a glass of wine with my lunch..... Hmmm, maybe not so healthy after all.
I did try to keep to the diet and exercise plan. I tried. I was good with the diet plan for three days, but failed miserably on the exercise plan. Which was surprising because I am an avid gym-er. I love to exercise. If they don’t see me at gym for a week, they call me! That was me – until I was told that I should exercise. Hmmm, get the picture of personality and lifestyle?
Food mapping, life mapping
So I started to think about me, myself and my relationship with food and my lifestyle to determine if there were any correlations. Life coach moment.
I began to draw out my mind map. I particularly love to eat good food. I much more particularly love to eat good food that is not cooked by me. I much much much more love to eat good food over a glass of wine preferably in the company of friends and family that I truly love. Anything else is just a bother.
Then I had a bingo moment.
Maybe all those years at boarding school, sitting down to eat three (and they were good, wholesome, healthy) meals at day, in the company of friends had had its impact. Moreso, we had proper break and tea time – two a day. It was tea and biscuits, or tea and sandwiches – all made by someone else, of course.
Deliberated Moments. The Experience of Food
But I guess what I appreciated about those moments was that they were deliberated moments. Particularly at weekends, we had to dress for dinner. Have a shower and change for dinner. It was almost like a regime. Adult now, and on the go most of the time, I don’t really make a fuss for meal times. Meal times are not chronicled to speak. I do it as and when – on the go in content and time. Less those moments when I lunch or dine out or in with friends, family or clients. Now, those are the food moments that I really enjoy. The laid table. The company. The wine. The service. The quality food. The courses. The atmosphere. The experience. Things being done properly. That was it. I enjoy the experience of food with some or all of those elements.
So you like to make a meal of food? Yes, I responded.
On The Order of Things
Then it struck me. Things being done properly. The order of things. Thought. Atmosphere. Experience. Enjoyment. Delight. Satisfaction. Hmm. Yes, these strike a chord. For I appreciate order. Doing the right thing. At work, at play, in life. No half measures. If it’s got to be done, do it right, do it well. Even when I go running at the weekends its on a scenic route. I find the whole experience not only refreshing but inspirational. I think, I pray and I relax. For that hour, nothing else matters but the air that I breathe, the greenery I see and the beauty of creation around me. It is at those moments of calm and peace that I remember, bring to the forefront of my memory that I am truly blessed. Who was it that said that the secret to a happy life was continuous small treats? That happiness depends on ourselves? Our choices?
So maybe this life coaching thing is not mumbo jumbo after all.
And on the negative, wild side?
Well, I don’t like to waste time, expend time if it’s not needed. If all I am doing is eating to satisfy my stomach, I am running a busy schedule on a particularday and can’t spare the time of a meal experience, why can’t I just ‘junk’ it? It’s like shopping at the market as opposed to a supermarket only to save $20. What a palaver. What about the trade-off of my time, the wear and tear of my car, not to talk about the wear and tear of my body having sweated through that whole process of shopping in an African market when I don’t really have to? I mean, last time I shopped at a market for my vegetables, they rotted faster and I had to double wash them in a Milton solution twice over. Convince me that is not a waste of time.
We are all causes of our own effects
When I relayed all this to life coach, she wasn’t all too pleased.
When you say you can’t be bothered, well, who are you doing it for? It’s all for you. It’s all about you. You need to make time for you. Make time for the food that fuels you. Make time for your brand. Make time to be the person you want to be.
Selah. I got it.
Week two was going to be a better week. And I had learned a whole lot about myself and my lifestyle preferences.
Hello, what happened to my memory?
It’s one of those things that you fear to tell others about less you discover that you are the only one that suffers the condition. And that it might be an indication that some bigger, negative cerebral disposition. Yeh, I know. Far-fetched. But mid-life memory loss is real.
So real that I was glad when I read about it in the O magazine this morning.
All so familiar and I could laugh at myself at last! So I am not the only one that sometimes momentarily puts the butter on the pantry shelf and the tinned, what’s it called - those yellow vegetables (you see, here we go again!) sweet corn in the fridge. It’s those pieces of tiny information that fails you. Like the time you are packing your gym bag early in the morning and you remember that you haven’t put the deodorant in the gym bag. You go towards the bathroom - literally 10 seconds away – and when you get there you have completely forgotten what you came there to fetch. Good God!
I did once ask an older friend whether he found that he forgot things a lot more than he’d like to admit. His response? ‘’Goodness, yes!” Wonderful, I thought. Never felt such comfort and ease as someone else’s misfortune. Oh, yes. He explained that it was probably because as you get older you are working with and processing a lot of information all at the same time; thinking about so many things, bigger things and invariably those more minor and nonetheless apparent pieces of information fail you under pressure. Hmmm. I liked the sound of that. Yes, my life is so busy and meaningful that I am allowed to pick up the newspaper on my desk as I rush off for a meeting thinking it’s my laptop.....! Yes, that explains it.
Notwithstanding though, I remember every little bit about those most memorable experiences and those fine, comforting things about life – the weekends away and the delicious food devoured over breakfast, lunch and dinner; the very name of that perfume I must get my sister to purchase for me on her next trip out here; the name of that Molton Brown hand cream that I just love but can’t buy here and I have the name at the tip of my tongue ready to disclose to anyone travelling to the UK at any given moment.
Talking of weekends away, those pictures are from the last one. Lunch was sumptuous last Sunday!
Tuesday 8 March 2011
Dance with my Father
It was during one of those ordinary Sunday afternoons. Home, unwinding after church, preparing lunch and thinking ahead to plan what I might as well also prepare and cook for the week ahead. Having decided on what lunch would be, I settled on just baking some fish for the week ahead – anything else just seemed too complicated at that moment in time. Yes, that was it. Fish would be the main source of protein. So there it was. Keeping it simple.
Crushed Garlic
Out came the slabs of fish, olive oil, herbs, lemon, salt and garlic. I was taught that the best baked fish is minimally seasoned, so keeping it simple was the key. So we began the process of preparing the marinade that would be soaked in by the fish, infuse with the flavour of the fish itself, and voila.
I chose two fat chunks of garlic cloves, peeled off the skin and brought out the garlic crusher. Within seconds out came that familiar aroma. Reassuringly familiar. The other ingredients where added and stirred. Suddenly the whole kitchen was overpowered with the marinade, with the odour of garlic firmly, strongly and potently in the lead.
And I began to ponder on the potency of this bulb. In peeling it of its skin, I removed the seeming innocence of this powerful and potent flavour enhancer and natural health remedy; for truly the garlic cloves before being crushed had just laid there as innocent unassuming bystanders in the vegetable basket. And I considered how such a tiny item could embody such potency.
Somehow, somewhere, the parallel with our own lives came to mind. And I began to have this conversation with myself.
A Conversation with me, myself and I
As the garlic clove did, it may not be so bad then to withstand the pressures of existence so that the fullness of our potency and riches could be released. Those ever present pressures, experiences and maybe even disappointments that we seem to meet day in day out. Might we find therein our potency, our interests, our calling, our strengths, our weakness, our values?
It was a few days afterwards that I purchased a copy of Nelson Mandela’s book, Conversations with Myself. The ‘conversation’ that he himself starts with in the book is that which was in a letter he wrote to his wife Winnie in 1975:
All copyrights etc to Madiba, of course
In judging our progress as individuals we tend to concentrate on external factors such as one’s social position, influence and popularity, wealth and standard of education. These are of course important in measuring one’s success in material matters....but internal factors may be even more crucial in assessing one’s development as a human being. Honesty, sincerity, simplicity, humility, pure generosity, absence of vanity, readiness to serve others – qualities which are within easy reach of every soul are the foundation of one’s spiritual life. Development in matters of this nature is inconceivable without serious introspection, without knowing yourself, your weakness and mistakes. At least, if for nothing else, the cell gives you the opportunity to look daily into your entire conduct to overcome the bad and develop whatever is good in you.
Madiba’s garlic crusher, that which developed his potency, his unique character and that which shaped the formidable individual which he has come to be, was his prison cell. Locked up in a prison cell for decades, he purposefully introspected. Thought and deliberated deeply. We know too well the outcome.
In the same letter he concluded:
Regular meditation, say about 15 minutes a day before you turn in, can be very fruitful in this regard. You may find it difficult at first to pinpoint the negative features in your life, but the 10th attempt may yield rich rewards. Never forget that a saint is a sinner who keeps in trying.
Awaken joy
Each new dawn, even with its crush and squash, can be the morning of our lives. Each new day may well awaken joy.
Crushed Garlic
Out came the slabs of fish, olive oil, herbs, lemon, salt and garlic. I was taught that the best baked fish is minimally seasoned, so keeping it simple was the key. So we began the process of preparing the marinade that would be soaked in by the fish, infuse with the flavour of the fish itself, and voila.
I chose two fat chunks of garlic cloves, peeled off the skin and brought out the garlic crusher. Within seconds out came that familiar aroma. Reassuringly familiar. The other ingredients where added and stirred. Suddenly the whole kitchen was overpowered with the marinade, with the odour of garlic firmly, strongly and potently in the lead.
And I began to ponder on the potency of this bulb. In peeling it of its skin, I removed the seeming innocence of this powerful and potent flavour enhancer and natural health remedy; for truly the garlic cloves before being crushed had just laid there as innocent unassuming bystanders in the vegetable basket. And I considered how such a tiny item could embody such potency.
Somehow, somewhere, the parallel with our own lives came to mind. And I began to have this conversation with myself.
A Conversation with me, myself and I
As the garlic clove did, it may not be so bad then to withstand the pressures of existence so that the fullness of our potency and riches could be released. Those ever present pressures, experiences and maybe even disappointments that we seem to meet day in day out. Might we find therein our potency, our interests, our calling, our strengths, our weakness, our values?
It was a few days afterwards that I purchased a copy of Nelson Mandela’s book, Conversations with Myself. The ‘conversation’ that he himself starts with in the book is that which was in a letter he wrote to his wife Winnie in 1975:
All copyrights etc to Madiba, of course
In judging our progress as individuals we tend to concentrate on external factors such as one’s social position, influence and popularity, wealth and standard of education. These are of course important in measuring one’s success in material matters....but internal factors may be even more crucial in assessing one’s development as a human being. Honesty, sincerity, simplicity, humility, pure generosity, absence of vanity, readiness to serve others – qualities which are within easy reach of every soul are the foundation of one’s spiritual life. Development in matters of this nature is inconceivable without serious introspection, without knowing yourself, your weakness and mistakes. At least, if for nothing else, the cell gives you the opportunity to look daily into your entire conduct to overcome the bad and develop whatever is good in you.
Madiba’s garlic crusher, that which developed his potency, his unique character and that which shaped the formidable individual which he has come to be, was his prison cell. Locked up in a prison cell for decades, he purposefully introspected. Thought and deliberated deeply. We know too well the outcome.
In the same letter he concluded:
Regular meditation, say about 15 minutes a day before you turn in, can be very fruitful in this regard. You may find it difficult at first to pinpoint the negative features in your life, but the 10th attempt may yield rich rewards. Never forget that a saint is a sinner who keeps in trying.
Awaken joy
Each new dawn, even with its crush and squash, can be the morning of our lives. Each new day may well awaken joy.
Saturday 19 February 2011
Comfort food, soothing songs, calming joy
Whenever I need comforting, I resort to one of the following routines:
As I and my colleagues drove into Roberts International airport, I was glad for the imminent return home. Home. Comfort. Rest.
But even before I walked into the airport terminal the thoughts of my personal effects which I would now have to go home without engulfed my feelings, for we had just realised that the hotel porter had failed to bring my luggage down to the hotel lobby from the room as I had asked. In a rush to our meetings of the morning, confident that the porter had followed the instructions given to him, I had failed to check that my luggage was in the boot of the car together with those of my colleagues. It was too late now to go back to the hotel now and return to the airport – we had less than an hour or so before departure, and we were travelling on an American airline. The security checks would take at least that amount of time.
I pondered on the items of my personal effects that I would be going home without:
My Tiffany Amber black flowing chiffon comfort skirt. That one that you could dress up and dress down. Yes, the one that was ready-to-wear whatever time of the month it is and whatever the occasion – formal or informal
My newly purchased ReneeQ designed Swarovski crystal jewellery set. Less than a week old. Expressly chosen, lovingly worn only on one other occasion.
My gorgeous Seyi Jones Afro-chic, puffy sleeved shirt. Dress up, dress down – any day, any time. No more
And my Bible. My Message translation of the Holy Bible. Yes, The Message. For I did away with the King James’ and the NIVs years ago for a more refreshing, energising and down-to-earth translation of The Holy Bible.
My only pair of flat shoes – reserved for travelling and those European and American walk-till-you-drop shopping trips
All of my make-up. Yes, ALL. Foundation, powder, lip liner, mascara, blush. Even my Bobbi Brown liquid eyeliner duo.
Oh yes, I needed comforting.
After the two hour long flight I arrived home and longed for my cup of tea and baklava. I longed to hear Mr Gaye speak inspiration into me even as he would sing those instructive and melodious songs and hymns in the ‘What’s Going On?” album. I longed for Mummy’s hug and to hear her voice. I longed for a feast at her kitchen table. Comfort.
But Mummy was in Zimbabwe, the supermarket was closed when I arrived back home, and I couldn’t find my What’s Going On? CD.
Calming joy
But hey, guess what? Mummy’s back tonight and I found my CD this morning!
I revelled in the melody and message of the songs as I drove to the gym early this morning. The air was clean and fresh as I drove, and I knew, as I felt then, that all God’s children need comforting every now and again. In between thanking God and finding relaxation, I pondered on where and how I would replace my make-up items, Bible and favourite sloppy-lounging-at home dress. I exhaled.
But the lyrics of all the songs on that CD really lifted and comforted me. Marvin Gaye rhymed of the need to make peace a priority and not war: peace with yourself and peace in the world. He crooned of the need to respect our environment, not to destroy it for in so doing we save ourselves – inevitably respecting yourself, humanity and the lives of others; and he spoke of the need for freedom. Freedom from the lies of governments and freedom from the deceit of our political leaders. And last but not least Mr Gaye beamed about Love – the love for God and the love for humanity.
Oh yes, I was comforted.
(a) purchase of one too many baklavas (sweet layers of filo pastry filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup or honey), a rush home to make a pot of tea, followed by a plonk on the sofa with the TV channel on BBC World, preferably with one of those documentaries such as the World’s Untold Stories or the Qatar Debates
(b) Listen to Marvin Gaye’s absolutely marvellous epic rhymes as told in the classic ‘What’s Going On?’ album, preferably whilst driving on a scenic route
(c)Afternoon spent at Mummy’s kitchen table – eating home cooked food, enjoying some wine, and chit chatting the day away knowing that you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything else
As I and my colleagues drove into Roberts International airport, I was glad for the imminent return home. Home. Comfort. Rest.
But even before I walked into the airport terminal the thoughts of my personal effects which I would now have to go home without engulfed my feelings, for we had just realised that the hotel porter had failed to bring my luggage down to the hotel lobby from the room as I had asked. In a rush to our meetings of the morning, confident that the porter had followed the instructions given to him, I had failed to check that my luggage was in the boot of the car together with those of my colleagues. It was too late now to go back to the hotel now and return to the airport – we had less than an hour or so before departure, and we were travelling on an American airline. The security checks would take at least that amount of time.
I pondered on the items of my personal effects that I would be going home without:
My Tiffany Amber black flowing chiffon comfort skirt. That one that you could dress up and dress down. Yes, the one that was ready-to-wear whatever time of the month it is and whatever the occasion – formal or informal
My newly purchased ReneeQ designed Swarovski crystal jewellery set. Less than a week old. Expressly chosen, lovingly worn only on one other occasion.
My gorgeous Seyi Jones Afro-chic, puffy sleeved shirt. Dress up, dress down – any day, any time. No more
And my Bible. My Message translation of the Holy Bible. Yes, The Message. For I did away with the King James’ and the NIVs years ago for a more refreshing, energising and down-to-earth translation of The Holy Bible.
My only pair of flat shoes – reserved for travelling and those European and American walk-till-you-drop shopping trips
All of my make-up. Yes, ALL. Foundation, powder, lip liner, mascara, blush. Even my Bobbi Brown liquid eyeliner duo.
Oh yes, I needed comforting.
After the two hour long flight I arrived home and longed for my cup of tea and baklava. I longed to hear Mr Gaye speak inspiration into me even as he would sing those instructive and melodious songs and hymns in the ‘What’s Going On?” album. I longed for Mummy’s hug and to hear her voice. I longed for a feast at her kitchen table. Comfort.
But Mummy was in Zimbabwe, the supermarket was closed when I arrived back home, and I couldn’t find my What’s Going On? CD.
Calming joy
But hey, guess what? Mummy’s back tonight and I found my CD this morning!
I revelled in the melody and message of the songs as I drove to the gym early this morning. The air was clean and fresh as I drove, and I knew, as I felt then, that all God’s children need comforting every now and again. In between thanking God and finding relaxation, I pondered on where and how I would replace my make-up items, Bible and favourite sloppy-lounging-at home dress. I exhaled.
But the lyrics of all the songs on that CD really lifted and comforted me. Marvin Gaye rhymed of the need to make peace a priority and not war: peace with yourself and peace in the world. He crooned of the need to respect our environment, not to destroy it for in so doing we save ourselves – inevitably respecting yourself, humanity and the lives of others; and he spoke of the need for freedom. Freedom from the lies of governments and freedom from the deceit of our political leaders. And last but not least Mr Gaye beamed about Love – the love for God and the love for humanity.
Oh yes, I was comforted.
Friday 11 February 2011
Adjusting the sails
We cannot always direct the tenor and severity of the wind of life that blows at us, we but can certainly adjust the sails.
We can adjust the sails and even as we do so the day comes when you gather the strength of spirit so high that you not only adjust the sails, but you also threaten the sacred cow that seeks to intimidate you.
Confronting our difficulties is sometimes as necessary as praying them away.
Dousing self importance
This week has been a week filled with God’s abundant grace; and I have had to stoop and choose humility and compassion in a situation where I really might have chosen fury. I believe that in choosing meekness instead of fury, I threatened the sacred cow that sought to intimidate and imprison me in the stronghold of pride and self-importance. Note, self-importance – not self-assurance which I spoke/wrote about some days ago, for these are two totally opposing dispositions.
We can adjust the sails and choose faith, hope and love as the principles that will bind and govern our behaviours and responses. For in doing that you not only demonstrate self-mastery but you also exhibit faith, hope and love.
Faith, hope and love
But even as I think self-mastery is a crucial and critical tool for this C21st living, I am convinced that faith, hope and love are ancient tools of the art of living. I haven’t mastered these myself but I certainly must. For with faith, we exhibit an acceptance that we are creators of The Creator; with hope we demonstrate our reliance on The Creator; and with love we express the gladness of faith and hope’s profit and dividend.
The ancient Holy Scriptures speak to the importance and significance of love. And as we approach St Valentine’s day it is heart warning to speak of love!
But we really should speak of love not as the verb but as a noun. We should speak of the Love that is governed by faith, hope and love. For the verb to love today has become synonymous with falsities. The falsities of sending red roses to your sweetheart on St Valentine’s day when you know that you haven’t really respected nor loved him/her. The roses sit on her/his table rather as a trophy of falsities as opposed to a testimony of your endearment.
The falsities of ‘treating’ your partner to a weekend at that exquisite resort for St.Valentine only for you to sneak away at moments during the weekend to make that call, send that text or that BB IM to your ‘bit on the side’. These are the falsities that keep us worshiping the sacred cow of pride and self-importance, even as we nurture and feed the cycle of vulnerability.
The greatest of these is Love
But let us talk about the noun Love. Love, founded on faith and hope. Love, which really ought to govern all things. For if Love governed all things we might really all know a happier existence. Love has chosen though, in tenderness and affection, to allow us the liberty of mind and the freedom to choose Him, Love, or to choose love. I am convinced that Love’s premise in doing that is to permit us the independence of mind to realise that love fails but Love abides.
But when we persist in love, the doings and undoings of love, catastrophe strikes. The catastrophes of denial and despair. The catastrophe of love may strike once, it may strike twice or it may even strive five hundred times. I have surely experienced love’s catastrophe a number of times – as a giver of catastrophe and a recipient of catastrophe. Either way, love always deceived and injured both the do-er and do-ee.
Love, rather, is the way to go.
Wheels within wheels
Incredibly as I was writing this piece, I was led to read the book of Ezekiel. As I read Eugene Peterson’s introduction of the book of Ezekiel, I understood why I had been led to the piece. Mr Peterson. He writes:
Catastrophe strikes and a person’s world falls apart. People respond variously, but two of the more common responses are denial and despair. Denial refuses to acknowledge the catastrophe. It shuts its eyes tight, it takes refuge in distractions and lies and fantasies. Despair is paralysed by the catastrophe and accepts it as the end of the world. It is unwilling to do anything, concluding that life for all intents and purposes is over. Despair listlessly closes its eyes to a world in which all the colour has drained out, a world gone dead...... But Ezekiel saw. He saw what the people with whom he lived either couldn’t see or wouldn’t see...God was at work in a catastrophic era. The denial people refused to see that the catastrophe was in fact catastrophic. How could it be? God wouldn’t let anything that bad happened to them. Ezekiel showed them. He showed them that, yes, there was catastrophe, but God was at work in the catastrophe, sovereignly using the catastrophe. He showed them so that they would be able to embrae God in the worst of times
Might we this Love week, forget those things which are behind? Might we forget the love ways of the past? Might we chose to reach forth to those things which are before us? Might we press, towards the mark, of the higher calling, that’s laid up for us in Love?
Happy Love Week!
We can adjust the sails and even as we do so the day comes when you gather the strength of spirit so high that you not only adjust the sails, but you also threaten the sacred cow that seeks to intimidate you.
Confronting our difficulties is sometimes as necessary as praying them away.
Dousing self importance
This week has been a week filled with God’s abundant grace; and I have had to stoop and choose humility and compassion in a situation where I really might have chosen fury. I believe that in choosing meekness instead of fury, I threatened the sacred cow that sought to intimidate and imprison me in the stronghold of pride and self-importance. Note, self-importance – not self-assurance which I spoke/wrote about some days ago, for these are two totally opposing dispositions.
We can adjust the sails and choose faith, hope and love as the principles that will bind and govern our behaviours and responses. For in doing that you not only demonstrate self-mastery but you also exhibit faith, hope and love.
Faith, hope and love
But even as I think self-mastery is a crucial and critical tool for this C21st living, I am convinced that faith, hope and love are ancient tools of the art of living. I haven’t mastered these myself but I certainly must. For with faith, we exhibit an acceptance that we are creators of The Creator; with hope we demonstrate our reliance on The Creator; and with love we express the gladness of faith and hope’s profit and dividend.
The ancient Holy Scriptures speak to the importance and significance of love. And as we approach St Valentine’s day it is heart warning to speak of love!
But we really should speak of love not as the verb but as a noun. We should speak of the Love that is governed by faith, hope and love. For the verb to love today has become synonymous with falsities. The falsities of sending red roses to your sweetheart on St Valentine’s day when you know that you haven’t really respected nor loved him/her. The roses sit on her/his table rather as a trophy of falsities as opposed to a testimony of your endearment.
The falsities of ‘treating’ your partner to a weekend at that exquisite resort for St.Valentine only for you to sneak away at moments during the weekend to make that call, send that text or that BB IM to your ‘bit on the side’. These are the falsities that keep us worshiping the sacred cow of pride and self-importance, even as we nurture and feed the cycle of vulnerability.
The greatest of these is Love
But let us talk about the noun Love. Love, founded on faith and hope. Love, which really ought to govern all things. For if Love governed all things we might really all know a happier existence. Love has chosen though, in tenderness and affection, to allow us the liberty of mind and the freedom to choose Him, Love, or to choose love. I am convinced that Love’s premise in doing that is to permit us the independence of mind to realise that love fails but Love abides.
But when we persist in love, the doings and undoings of love, catastrophe strikes. The catastrophes of denial and despair. The catastrophe of love may strike once, it may strike twice or it may even strive five hundred times. I have surely experienced love’s catastrophe a number of times – as a giver of catastrophe and a recipient of catastrophe. Either way, love always deceived and injured both the do-er and do-ee.
Love, rather, is the way to go.
Wheels within wheels
Incredibly as I was writing this piece, I was led to read the book of Ezekiel. As I read Eugene Peterson’s introduction of the book of Ezekiel, I understood why I had been led to the piece. Mr Peterson. He writes:
Catastrophe strikes and a person’s world falls apart. People respond variously, but two of the more common responses are denial and despair. Denial refuses to acknowledge the catastrophe. It shuts its eyes tight, it takes refuge in distractions and lies and fantasies. Despair is paralysed by the catastrophe and accepts it as the end of the world. It is unwilling to do anything, concluding that life for all intents and purposes is over. Despair listlessly closes its eyes to a world in which all the colour has drained out, a world gone dead...... But Ezekiel saw. He saw what the people with whom he lived either couldn’t see or wouldn’t see...God was at work in a catastrophic era. The denial people refused to see that the catastrophe was in fact catastrophic. How could it be? God wouldn’t let anything that bad happened to them. Ezekiel showed them. He showed them that, yes, there was catastrophe, but God was at work in the catastrophe, sovereignly using the catastrophe. He showed them so that they would be able to embrae God in the worst of times
Might we this Love week, forget those things which are behind? Might we forget the love ways of the past? Might we chose to reach forth to those things which are before us? Might we press, towards the mark, of the higher calling, that’s laid up for us in Love?
Happy Love Week!
Saturday 5 February 2011
Communicating your dance
I recently read somewhere that great communication is preceded by connection. What a lesson in communication and connection I have just had.
I just returned from lunch in the home of a wonderful couple. My friends, my teachers, my dinner party buddies – for so very often we and a couple of other friends find ourselves regularly rotating around each other’s homes with the odd new joiner every now and again. What a wonderful way to spend a Friday afternoon!
The Art of Conversation
Mrs had laid the table on the terrace and though it was warm outside the food, company and the conversation complemented the warmth of spirit that I felt in my soul as we thanked God for the day, enjoyed home cooked lunch and the company of my friend’s wonderful aunty who was visiting from the States. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and authenticity. No pretence here. I ate with my fingers, enjoyed the additional glass of wine and gave a toast and big ups to God Almighty for bringing us thus far. As I rushed back to work I couldn’t help but thank my hosts for their warm and genuine hospitality.
It was then that I remembered the quote I had read earlier on in the week on communication and connection. We connected – even with the two new and additional friends I had met at my friends’ place. The atmosphere rang loveliness, warmth and thankfulness for life.
Connecting to dance fluidly in trust and respect
But like Oprah Winfrey once said, communication is like a dance. One person takes one step forward in communication, and the other takes a step back. A step back to listen. A step back to absorb what the other person has said. A step back to respect them in their thoughts and mindsets and a step back to respond to them. A step back to connect. A step back to trust, for if you don’t trust someone you cannot really connect with them and your dance of communication would necessarily be tilted. Connection is preceded by quality, genuine communication. No, not shallow, superficial, on-the-surface conversations.
And that can also be in the business and personal sphere.
The clients that I have really connected with over the years have been those that really wanted change in their organisation, who trusted in our ability to deliver that technical and organisational change, and deemed us to be credible business partners to facilitate the change they needed. Note partners, not just service providers.
And they were willing to listen, really hear, what (with the diversity of our firm’s global intellectual capacity) we had to say about how that change might occur. We in turn also listened to them, we heard out their experiences and journey thus far, and respected the constraints and successes of that journey to date. Our task as change agents was to facilitate the change that would bring about the next higher level of improved performance.
And the personal sphere? When I think of those really wonderful personal friendships that I am blessed to have, those ones in which I really connect with the individuals and or the couple, those relationships are built on the foundations of mutual respect and mutual trust. With those fundamentals, we can really flow.
Dancing to the rhythm of life
Connecting in communication comes from the premise of respect, trust, transparency and kindness. In sum, journeying with the other person. It is when there has been little connection with the other person that communication is distrustful and stilted. Likewise when there is insufficient communication, connection is stifled.
I savoured and celebrate the transparency and openness of my lunch guests today. I am grateful that in openness, honesty to and respect for one another we were able to awaken connection and dance to the rhythm of life.
I just returned from lunch in the home of a wonderful couple. My friends, my teachers, my dinner party buddies – for so very often we and a couple of other friends find ourselves regularly rotating around each other’s homes with the odd new joiner every now and again. What a wonderful way to spend a Friday afternoon!
The Art of Conversation
Mrs had laid the table on the terrace and though it was warm outside the food, company and the conversation complemented the warmth of spirit that I felt in my soul as we thanked God for the day, enjoyed home cooked lunch and the company of my friend’s wonderful aunty who was visiting from the States. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and authenticity. No pretence here. I ate with my fingers, enjoyed the additional glass of wine and gave a toast and big ups to God Almighty for bringing us thus far. As I rushed back to work I couldn’t help but thank my hosts for their warm and genuine hospitality.
It was then that I remembered the quote I had read earlier on in the week on communication and connection. We connected – even with the two new and additional friends I had met at my friends’ place. The atmosphere rang loveliness, warmth and thankfulness for life.
Connecting to dance fluidly in trust and respect
But like Oprah Winfrey once said, communication is like a dance. One person takes one step forward in communication, and the other takes a step back. A step back to listen. A step back to absorb what the other person has said. A step back to respect them in their thoughts and mindsets and a step back to respond to them. A step back to connect. A step back to trust, for if you don’t trust someone you cannot really connect with them and your dance of communication would necessarily be tilted. Connection is preceded by quality, genuine communication. No, not shallow, superficial, on-the-surface conversations.
And that can also be in the business and personal sphere.
The clients that I have really connected with over the years have been those that really wanted change in their organisation, who trusted in our ability to deliver that technical and organisational change, and deemed us to be credible business partners to facilitate the change they needed. Note partners, not just service providers.
And they were willing to listen, really hear, what (with the diversity of our firm’s global intellectual capacity) we had to say about how that change might occur. We in turn also listened to them, we heard out their experiences and journey thus far, and respected the constraints and successes of that journey to date. Our task as change agents was to facilitate the change that would bring about the next higher level of improved performance.
And the personal sphere? When I think of those really wonderful personal friendships that I am blessed to have, those ones in which I really connect with the individuals and or the couple, those relationships are built on the foundations of mutual respect and mutual trust. With those fundamentals, we can really flow.
Dancing to the rhythm of life
Connecting in communication comes from the premise of respect, trust, transparency and kindness. In sum, journeying with the other person. It is when there has been little connection with the other person that communication is distrustful and stilted. Likewise when there is insufficient communication, connection is stifled.
I savoured and celebrate the transparency and openness of my lunch guests today. I am grateful that in openness, honesty to and respect for one another we were able to awaken connection and dance to the rhythm of life.
Friday 4 February 2011
Overcoming the fear of flying
When you’ve overcome the fear of flying, you can enjoy cruising at the highest altitude.
Having attended at least 3 out of 4 Sunday church services in a month since 18 September 1994 (the day I really became ‘churched’), self acceptance has been my journey’s prize. Self acceptance. Sermon after sermon you are life coached to get in touch with your emotions, to let-go of your fears, and to pursue those issues of life that secure your development and success but also ensure your peace.
Your fears of failure, fears of success. To let go of those terrible events in your childhood that still manage to hunt you even unto adulthood. That sexual abuse as a child. The drug abuse as a teenager whose memory leaves you shaking your head in shame. The unhealthy marriage of your parents and the separation of your parents which brought sadness, anger, ambivalence and denial – and also left you needy of attention and love even unto adulthood. The betrayal and deceit of a loved one which left you unable to trust again as you closed in on your emotions; and the passing of a loved-one which so destabilised your life that all your emotional literacy and intelligence depleted. The years of separation from your parents which leaves you lost and ambivalent. Oh yes, I have been there.
Awakening Self Acceptance
Since that Sunday in September 1994, sermon after sermon my Father peeled off layer after layer of years of discontent, fear, shame, and every other negative adjective related to unhappiness. It was a process, a procedure – and a looong one at that.
The beauty of it is that many a times you don’t even realise that the layers are being removed, for during the journey and quest of life we all get knocked off our soap box every so often – and we collect the dirt and debris of hurt and pain as we do so. So it is a looong process. That is until the day you suddenly see yourself in a new light, you have the mind and spirit that you yourself can respect; and self-acceptance awakens.
And as self-acceptance awakens so does ease, so does relief, and so does simplicity. A simplicity of knowing. A simplicity of knowing so real that it could be perceived as complexity. Even arrogance and pretence. For when you begin to see humankind from a perspective contrary to those of many others it is you that is perceived to be the anomaly. Oh yes. Therein lies the paradox. And there might even be some truth in that.
Celebrating Births
I was a dinner with a friend last night to celebrate her birthday. As we dined, for a moment she paused and remarked that besides my functional relationships, she thought it really would be difficult for an admirer to approach me – for I have, she said, a confidence and poise so exact it borders on intimidation.
I smiled back and relayed a story. The story of my past. My despair, my shame, my fears. The story of my past vulnerabilities and loneliness. The story of my beautiful life as the world saw it. The story of my beautiful life of how I had struggled to do those things that the world expected me to - date more regularly, fake happiness, fake contentment. The story of how I went out every Wednesday {Legends, Old Burlington Street, London W1}, Friday {Upstairs at Harvey Nicks}, then a bit of Quaglinos, and then dance the night away at Tramps on Saturdays. The story of how I appeared happy but yet longed for something so much more out of my life.
And the story of how I found no peace in doing all of those things. And the story of how I came into my own being in the Lord and decided that I needed and wanted to live my life on my own terms. If nothing else for my own peace of mind. Garbage in, garbage out – a person who is not whole cannot give out wholeness to other people. Not in business (remember the movie Wall Street 2?), and definitely not in relationships. And when we fail to address the negative emotional issues of our lives, numb them out in fact and seek to develop and grow nevertheless it normally catches up on us – in failed business and personal relationships (Wall Street 2 again), ill-health, abandonment and regret.
Madiba's Self Acceptance
A woman of faith (and substance) herself, my friend spoke of how one’s faith and substance, and the lifestyle that comes with it, can make one appear superior and proud. She had been through a similar experience she echoed. But we concluded that like Marianne Williamson said in her wonderful book, Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles, there’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. I exist not to make anyone feel insecure, but to authentically and sincerely safeguard my own abundant life.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others
No wonder Madiba chose these words as part of his inauguration speech.
Self-acceptance. Neither seeking approval nor afraid of rejection. Simply interested in living an authentic life.
Peace in the world begins with peace in you.
Having attended at least 3 out of 4 Sunday church services in a month since 18 September 1994 (the day I really became ‘churched’), self acceptance has been my journey’s prize. Self acceptance. Sermon after sermon you are life coached to get in touch with your emotions, to let-go of your fears, and to pursue those issues of life that secure your development and success but also ensure your peace.
Your fears of failure, fears of success. To let go of those terrible events in your childhood that still manage to hunt you even unto adulthood. That sexual abuse as a child. The drug abuse as a teenager whose memory leaves you shaking your head in shame. The unhealthy marriage of your parents and the separation of your parents which brought sadness, anger, ambivalence and denial – and also left you needy of attention and love even unto adulthood. The betrayal and deceit of a loved one which left you unable to trust again as you closed in on your emotions; and the passing of a loved-one which so destabilised your life that all your emotional literacy and intelligence depleted. The years of separation from your parents which leaves you lost and ambivalent. Oh yes, I have been there.
Awakening Self Acceptance
Since that Sunday in September 1994, sermon after sermon my Father peeled off layer after layer of years of discontent, fear, shame, and every other negative adjective related to unhappiness. It was a process, a procedure – and a looong one at that.
The beauty of it is that many a times you don’t even realise that the layers are being removed, for during the journey and quest of life we all get knocked off our soap box every so often – and we collect the dirt and debris of hurt and pain as we do so. So it is a looong process. That is until the day you suddenly see yourself in a new light, you have the mind and spirit that you yourself can respect; and self-acceptance awakens.
And as self-acceptance awakens so does ease, so does relief, and so does simplicity. A simplicity of knowing. A simplicity of knowing so real that it could be perceived as complexity. Even arrogance and pretence. For when you begin to see humankind from a perspective contrary to those of many others it is you that is perceived to be the anomaly. Oh yes. Therein lies the paradox. And there might even be some truth in that.
Celebrating Births
I was a dinner with a friend last night to celebrate her birthday. As we dined, for a moment she paused and remarked that besides my functional relationships, she thought it really would be difficult for an admirer to approach me – for I have, she said, a confidence and poise so exact it borders on intimidation.
I smiled back and relayed a story. The story of my past. My despair, my shame, my fears. The story of my past vulnerabilities and loneliness. The story of my beautiful life as the world saw it. The story of my beautiful life of how I had struggled to do those things that the world expected me to - date more regularly, fake happiness, fake contentment. The story of how I went out every Wednesday {Legends, Old Burlington Street, London W1}, Friday {Upstairs at Harvey Nicks}, then a bit of Quaglinos, and then dance the night away at Tramps on Saturdays. The story of how I appeared happy but yet longed for something so much more out of my life.
And the story of how I found no peace in doing all of those things. And the story of how I came into my own being in the Lord and decided that I needed and wanted to live my life on my own terms. If nothing else for my own peace of mind. Garbage in, garbage out – a person who is not whole cannot give out wholeness to other people. Not in business (remember the movie Wall Street 2?), and definitely not in relationships. And when we fail to address the negative emotional issues of our lives, numb them out in fact and seek to develop and grow nevertheless it normally catches up on us – in failed business and personal relationships (Wall Street 2 again), ill-health, abandonment and regret.
Madiba's Self Acceptance
A woman of faith (and substance) herself, my friend spoke of how one’s faith and substance, and the lifestyle that comes with it, can make one appear superior and proud. She had been through a similar experience she echoed. But we concluded that like Marianne Williamson said in her wonderful book, Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles, there’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. I exist not to make anyone feel insecure, but to authentically and sincerely safeguard my own abundant life.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others
No wonder Madiba chose these words as part of his inauguration speech.
Self-acceptance. Neither seeking approval nor afraid of rejection. Simply interested in living an authentic life.
Peace in the world begins with peace in you.
Wednesday 2 February 2011
A Life Less Ordinary
Remembering TonyeMy brother rang me on Saturday morning - nothing out of the ordinary about that. A relentless traveller, he made a habit of sending text messages and calling from wherever in the world he found himself - just to check how I am doing, what is making me smile today, and even what I have read of late. Remarkable really when one considers that for at least three weeks in any one month he is travelling - and yet he never omits to send that sms message, make that call, and send that funny email.
But this past Saturday he rang with some bad news. He asked whether it was me that had introduced him to Tonye Claude-Wilcox some years back in London. I proudly remarked that it was. For who wouldn't be proud to know Tonye? Eager to hear more news of Tonye's wonderful feats, I enquired what Tonye had been up to lately. The news was bad, he said. Tonye had passed.
'No. No. No. No. No. No,' were the only words that I could utter. I promptly told my brother that I needed to get off the phone and that I would call him later.
Wonderful Tonye
I had met Tonye through the Love Fellowship in London. Yes, that same fellowship that I have written about again and again. Full of life, Tonye lived life with gusto. Even the memory of his gusto puts a smile on my face as I write. Tonye's speech, his walk, and his energy was as liberating as it was infectious. Full of ambition, for Tonye life was his to live and for him to live in gladness and pleasure - and he was ready to put in the hours and intensity of effort required to know that abundant life. He readily shared, readily loved, and was readily so so so humourous!
Years passed by without us seeing each other as we pursued each of our careers, but we caught up in Lagos a few years ago. How proud I was! Tonye was living his dream, his life less ordinary - glory be to God. Kind, generous, hard working, down to earth. Tonye was extra-ordinary.
Tonye, the very memory of you stirs up inspiration in me. I am grateful to God for having known you in this life, and I am comforted knowing that you knew The Lord; that you are now resting with God, Love Himself. And that you are in a place where the streets are paved of gold, and the gates of pearls.
With much love
Monday 31 January 2011
The Eco Reserve and the Beaded Angel
A couple of requests have come through for the name and contact details of the Eco Reserve I mentioned in the last posting. Here we go: www.phantomforest.com A haven for rustic luxury with all the trimmings of hospitality magnificence and gourmet dining. I recommend Phantom Forest unreservedly.
Breakfast with Vervet Monkeys
On my last morning at the forest (for it is literally a natural forest into which delightful, green accommodation is nestled), I had an experience that scared the life out of me but at the same time reminded me of the sense of humour of The God that we serve.
I had savoured the whole experience of Knysna and although I am not really a breakfast person, and had eaten the seven-course gourment dinner the previous evening, I thought to eat breakfast on that last morning at Phantom. Food is served at Phantom Forest at the thatched Boma Hut. But I wanted to eat in the open area outside of the Boma Hut so that I could really take pleasure in the forest that morning. I wanted to hear the symphony of birdsong and see the fish eagle.
The waitress obliged and set up my breakfast table on the terrace of the Hut.
I drank fresh fruit juice, ate fresh home-made muesli mixed with natural bio yoghurt, and was just about to take a bite of my wholemeal, freshly baked muffin with a sip of fresh ground coffee when, as I looked up to put the coffee cup to my mouth, I saw a cream coloured monkey sat on the table top close by next to me. Bewildered, I sat up, looked around me to plan an immediate and quick escape, and then saw two other monkeys nearby. I yelled an almighty ‘help!” All the animal and wildlife in that forest must have thought it was Judgement Day.
As I ran back towards the Boma hut, a kind, kind, kind hotel guest came running out of the Hut to meet me, as did the waitress and another waiter. The hotel guest ran to me, hugged me, led me into the Boma Hut and reassured me that the animals are harmless. They don’t attack humans she reassured me and said all the cheeky monkeys wanted was my breakfast. A countless visitor to the Phantom Forest, she loved to come back again and again to enjoy the reserve and its unforgettable hospitality.
Vervet monkeys, I am told. They love to steal food. They are also apparently frightened predominantly by men, as I a sat alone, a female in their forest eating a gourmet breakfast, I really would not stand a chance of not sharing my breakfast. Then I remembered the notices around the Tree Suites asking residents not to leave food in the balcony area so as not to tempt the monkeys to descend down. I get it...
As we looked outside from the Boma Hut we saw one of the monkeys with my white muesli and yoghurt bowl in his hand, scooping out its content with his other hand. We saw another one moneky with my muffins! They were telling me, 'Thank you!"
My Beaded Angel
As I sat down and recuperated inside the Boma Hut to continue my breakfast, I engaged the other hotel guest in the restaurant in conversation. Retired but still looking strong, healthy and fit, she said she is a constant in-country traveller and writer. She shared her travel experiences with me and as she departed the restaurent to check-out to her next travel destination, the Eastern Cape, she handed me a gift of a beaded angel: “Now, you had quite a scare this morning,’’ she said. “Here is a little gift for you to remind you of your experience this morning and to know that angels are with you wherever you go.” I have carried that beaded angel with me everywhere I have gone since that day.
Reflections
As I reflected on what had happened that morning as we drove the six hour journey back to Cape Town, I marvelled at the divine lesson in it all. There I was, I had spent a memorable few days at this wonderful eco reserve and although I had heard the birdsong throughout, I hadn't however seen any of the animals. Not that I minded, mind you, for I am not really an animal lover. Sound strange? Well, the pull of the Phantom Forest to me as a search through the coffee-table book ‘South Africa Chic: hotel, lodges and spas’ a few months back was so strong that I did not care that I would be sharing my luxury environment with animals. I knew I would have a wonderful experience nonetheless.
To my mind this finale at Phantom was God reassuring me – reassuring me that in life you need to savour all of your experiences – the good, the bad and the ugly – for these are all learning milestones. I was also reassured that when experiencing the bad and the ugly, the same angels that engineered the good in your life with God would protect you from, or see you through, the ugly experiences.
Viva Phantom Forest!
Breakfast with Vervet Monkeys
On my last morning at the forest (for it is literally a natural forest into which delightful, green accommodation is nestled), I had an experience that scared the life out of me but at the same time reminded me of the sense of humour of The God that we serve.
I had savoured the whole experience of Knysna and although I am not really a breakfast person, and had eaten the seven-course gourment dinner the previous evening, I thought to eat breakfast on that last morning at Phantom. Food is served at Phantom Forest at the thatched Boma Hut. But I wanted to eat in the open area outside of the Boma Hut so that I could really take pleasure in the forest that morning. I wanted to hear the symphony of birdsong and see the fish eagle.
The waitress obliged and set up my breakfast table on the terrace of the Hut.
I drank fresh fruit juice, ate fresh home-made muesli mixed with natural bio yoghurt, and was just about to take a bite of my wholemeal, freshly baked muffin with a sip of fresh ground coffee when, as I looked up to put the coffee cup to my mouth, I saw a cream coloured monkey sat on the table top close by next to me. Bewildered, I sat up, looked around me to plan an immediate and quick escape, and then saw two other monkeys nearby. I yelled an almighty ‘help!” All the animal and wildlife in that forest must have thought it was Judgement Day.
As I ran back towards the Boma hut, a kind, kind, kind hotel guest came running out of the Hut to meet me, as did the waitress and another waiter. The hotel guest ran to me, hugged me, led me into the Boma Hut and reassured me that the animals are harmless. They don’t attack humans she reassured me and said all the cheeky monkeys wanted was my breakfast. A countless visitor to the Phantom Forest, she loved to come back again and again to enjoy the reserve and its unforgettable hospitality.
Vervet monkeys, I am told. They love to steal food. They are also apparently frightened predominantly by men, as I a sat alone, a female in their forest eating a gourmet breakfast, I really would not stand a chance of not sharing my breakfast. Then I remembered the notices around the Tree Suites asking residents not to leave food in the balcony area so as not to tempt the monkeys to descend down. I get it...
As we looked outside from the Boma Hut we saw one of the monkeys with my white muesli and yoghurt bowl in his hand, scooping out its content with his other hand. We saw another one moneky with my muffins! They were telling me, 'Thank you!"
My Beaded Angel
As I sat down and recuperated inside the Boma Hut to continue my breakfast, I engaged the other hotel guest in the restaurant in conversation. Retired but still looking strong, healthy and fit, she said she is a constant in-country traveller and writer. She shared her travel experiences with me and as she departed the restaurent to check-out to her next travel destination, the Eastern Cape, she handed me a gift of a beaded angel: “Now, you had quite a scare this morning,’’ she said. “Here is a little gift for you to remind you of your experience this morning and to know that angels are with you wherever you go.” I have carried that beaded angel with me everywhere I have gone since that day.
Reflections
As I reflected on what had happened that morning as we drove the six hour journey back to Cape Town, I marvelled at the divine lesson in it all. There I was, I had spent a memorable few days at this wonderful eco reserve and although I had heard the birdsong throughout, I hadn't however seen any of the animals. Not that I minded, mind you, for I am not really an animal lover. Sound strange? Well, the pull of the Phantom Forest to me as a search through the coffee-table book ‘South Africa Chic: hotel, lodges and spas’ a few months back was so strong that I did not care that I would be sharing my luxury environment with animals. I knew I would have a wonderful experience nonetheless.
To my mind this finale at Phantom was God reassuring me – reassuring me that in life you need to savour all of your experiences – the good, the bad and the ugly – for these are all learning milestones. I was also reassured that when experiencing the bad and the ugly, the same angels that engineered the good in your life with God would protect you from, or see you through, the ugly experiences.
Viva Phantom Forest!
Sunday 30 January 2011
Balance
Berated by friends world over for the general strike on my blog postings, it’s time to apologise for the absence of postings in 2010 and get back to work. It time to say welcome to 2011, and to say welcome to balance. Balance, the inspiration that stimulates me to write. For when I reflect on the year 2010 I remember relocation, and the concomitant busy-ness and exhilaration that comes together with it. Plenty of fun, plenty of activity but I am not certain that there was enough balance close at hand.
But I thank God that I am finding that balance that I so need to awaken my inspirations once again. Before I turned 40 last autumn, I could not even spell the word balance. We are often told that 40 represents a significant milestone, and as I approached my own significant milestone I began my stock take. Good God, what an exercise in self- abuse and maltreatment.
Like most people who ventured into such reflection, I couldn’t find enough evidence of significant accomplishment. Or rather I chose not to see the evidence of my many triumphs over the past four decades. So whilst I should have been thanking God, my parents, my siblings and dear friends world over for their tremendous love and kindness shared over the years, I rather selfishly looked inwards - and as I did that I found that there was much more that I had hoped to accomplish, could have accomplished and much more that I needed to crack on to accomplish in the coming years. But it was that focus on the imbalance that kept me off-balance, and threatened to keep me fearful.
It was during that season that I was invited to be a panellist at a women’s conference. I thanked the organisers for inviting and told them how I would have loved to be a part of the forum, but for my imbalance. I explained away my excuses by saying that only a whole person could give back and at the juncture that I found myself, I didn’t feel whole and therefore could not convey the inspiration that participants to the conference would surely be expecting from me. The conference organisers promptly found other more willing panellists.
A Sense of Urgency
But the God Who is able to keep us from falling ensured that I knew balance once again. 40 to me brought a sense of urgency; an urgency to do those things that you’ve always wanted to do, to be that person you’ve always wanted to become, to appreciate those relationships with friends and family, and an urgency to be less rigid and less judgemental in my approach and take on issues of life.
The day itself was spent in the company of very dear friends in appreciation of their love and kindness over the years, and the celebration of a few days after that was an intimate dinner party by the poolside with a dozen carefully chosen friends in Ghana and Nigeria. It was love and gratitude in motion. A day after the celebration I flew out to Dubai en route to South Africa. No, no shopping trip for me. I wanted to spend time with an old friend who I had not seen for at too many years and whose husband and children I had not yet met. It was to be a moment of cherishing and appreciating a childhood friendship. And what a time it was.
Then came South Africa. I arrived in Joburg and although my host offered to pick me up at the airport I declined on the offer because I wanted to take the Guatrain. How I revelled at the Gautrain! Africa is coming of age. Within a few minutes I was in Sandton. My dearest friend and life coach Thandie met me at the train station and within an hour of my arrival her friends had arrived at her home with flowers and champagne to welcome me. A few hours after that we were at dinner. Six 30 and 40 somethings sharing experiences, thanking God for our journey thus far and inspiring one another for the next milestone. If ever I had forgotten that I was blessed, I remembered again there and then.
The Wonderful Western Cape
A few days after that we flew to Cape Town. I had travelled to South Africa countless times but I had never experienced South Africa until this trip. I wanted to see Table Mountain, to experience the wine farms of the Western Cape, enjoy the extravagance of a luxury eco-reserve hotel, see the Cape of Good Hope and enjoy the best of Western Cape’s seafood and wine. Church and fellowship South Africa style was also part of the equation.
If ever God spoke to me loud and clear during 2010 it was during those days (and that long drive from Cape Town to Knysna and back to Cape Town) spent in South Africa. What did He say? Many things. But the long and short of it was to reassure me of His love and care, and to remind me that all those hard and fast rules religious rules I had harboured and imposed on myself, were nothing to do with Him.
I like the way Eugene Peterson put it in his introduction to the book of Hebrews in The Message translation of the Holy Scriptures. Mr Peterson says this: ‘it seems odd to have to say so, but too much religion is a bad thing. We can’t get too much of God, can’t get too much faith and obedience can’t get too much love and worship. But religion – the well intentioned efforts we make to ‘get it all together’ for God – can very well get in the way of what God is doing for us..... we become fussily religious, or anxiously religious. We get in the way’. Back to my balance then.
Balance. Finding your equilibrium. Consistently nurturing your inspirations. Consistently improving your character. Responding to your equilibrium. Meditation. Prayer. Sharing. Avoiding the temptations of busy-ness to ‘get it all together’ whilst ignoring those experiences and relationships that really matter.
Balance. Finding your equilibrium. Consistently nurturing your inspirations. Consistently improving your character. Responding to your equilibrium. Meditation. Prayer. Sharing. Avoiding the temptations of busy-ness to ‘get it all together’ whilst ignoring those experiences and relationships that really matter.
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