Wait a minute...

They said it would come at half four, I’ve been sitting here for hours on end and still no delivery. Still I know I made that order, I’m sure I got confirmation, my card details went in and I phoned to check so I’m sure it is due any time soon.

    Time lingers along and it’s now five. How could this be? I’ll check my email, I’m sure it was four they said. Minutes later, switches, lights, email, there I knew it -1600hrs! This means four in the afternoon, there, let’s check the date… got that right too, yet no delivery! I’ll call and see what happened.

    Time lingers along. Excuses, excuses, my goodness! Well I can live with this for a couple more days and I’ll be away tomorrow anyway so it isn’t so bad. I don’t have to sit here in despair waiting for it.

    Time lingers along. Things happen and I forget, the world changes, news, people, events and then another week. I call them. It is confirmed they will make delivery without fail on the Wednesday, this time it is AM delivery. Oh I like those for they rarely fail.

    Time lingers along. Dear me, I was just in the bathroom for a minute, I mean what is this world coming to. They came and left a note! Can you imagine, a note! Why didn’t they just wait a little bit for me, I had been sitting right there all morning and now this. Never mind at least I know that it would come. I just have to book it for next time.

    Time lingers along. Oh well it doesn’t matter now, next week I’m busy and the week after that I’m away they just have to bring it whenever they can. It serves them right. Blasted thing, who needs it anyway. Bell rings! Who is it? Ah it’s them. Grinning sheepishly as I receive the parcel. Finally, at last, my goodness, I’d almost given up hope. Oh well I guess in this life one has to be patient.

    Faith is the credit card that paid the bill. Hope is confirmation and receipt of payment. Patience is the virtue that in spite of all the mishaps that one may face what we desire is en route to us. To those who desire, make your order and do not give up on the service, all your wishes would come in good time. ‘Commit thy way unto the Lord;trust in him and he will bring it to pass…’

Finding me...

When I got to the gates the first time and said who I was, it wasn’t whom I was but who I thought they wanted to hear it was. No doubt I got through, as this did not depend on me still though I remained lost. I could barely find the switch in this dark room. When I got to the gates the second time I said whom I was yet I wasn’t convinced of whether that would get me through. I made it though as it was fate that I was destined to. Still I wondered about that darn pest called doubt. Why on earth did I doubt myself, did I do something wrong?
When I got to the gates the third time around I said who I was and believed it from within. I got through as the two times before because it was fate. The difference is that this time from without and within I knew it was me bright lights and no doubt.
The truth is fate gets us through not by our power or our thoughts. However how we live is down to whom we believe we are from within and without. This is always a good place to start…

Friend or Foe..

I will make you a better writer the Lord said to me. First I would take everything that matters away from you. This is not a test although it would seem like one. This would feed you emotion and compassion in your words and thoughts. When you feel helpless you will need love and kindness from others. When this passes your words would ring beauty and there would be peace.
Next I would take away the good health you so closely standby. This you relied upon, to do those things that come naturally. You will walk miles and feel like you are crawling. You will run lengths and feel like you’re drowning. As the weight of this shadow crosses thy path you will feel wisdom and add this to your words. Without this wisdom you cannot return to what you have written. You cannot read without feeling a sense of elation. This is my second treat to bring you to life. You have been punctured yet stand to be counted.
Now I would take something else that matters to you. This is the curse and disease you live by. I would take victory, your words and your vision. This will be your blindness and cross to bear. It is a crown of thorns that separates you from the others. It is at this point that you will turn to me and cry:
‘Father I hate my life and this wretched feeling. My ores are wrecked in this boat of despair. Give me a break and don’t make me forsake you. I am but human and need spirit to live.’
You will think you are at the end when these words escape you. Then I would answer your prayer as I always do:
‘Fear not my child I have reserved something for you. Your term is completed sooner than you think. I am not the enemy but a friend indeed.’

Take me back...

Or should it be take me back if you can. Silence, I’m all that has been said and there’s nothing else you can do now but take me back and hope she believes you. Over and over, in your mind I lurk, I am one dish that is often served with purpose and intent. Fair enough you were provoked but was I necessary? Hear the headlines of my fanzine, watch your mouth before you hurt someone, think before you speak, keep silent if you have nothing worthwhile to say.
I sail over rooftops as people hear me from their bedroom when grown men scream at each other. I am the words from your lips that have made her frowsy and a slattern. Don’t you know that even the sybarite treads cautiously in my presence? Pounding your fists on your head won’t resolve this situation, I warned you about me, a rogue of sorts imprisoned until released to lash out at those I’m directed to. Even those who grasp pieces of me, stray fragments through thin walls shake their heads in disgust. Tone it down they say, that temper of his would kill him. When you were young you had all the excuse in the world now keeping me out there is letting the fox run riot in the pen.
Take me back and seek forgiveness, take me back and avoid retribution. Fury may have caused me and perhaps on this occasion I came out the wrong way but after me follows sorrow. I work better under different circumstances and I know for certain these aren’t them. Okay it was spontaneous, a rush of blood to the head, you were bitter and I was spewed. However when one suffers so does the other and when this happens I prefer being a thought than the real thing. So take me back if you can for I am the words you should never have said.

Temporal Enemy

My patience is your fury, my absence your state of ignorance as we have not become enemies by war but merely a season of time. Solitude seeks this path and for the victim the matter is personal. I bear more from this burden than you can ever imagine so do not let your bones wither in despair or the curtain drop in your wrath. We both want what’s good for each other as your journey is as important as mine.
Between places is uncertain and sometimes difficult to explain. Fend off the delirium temporal enemy when tough love becomes necessary. Take comfort that in our green veins runs the blood of he that knows best. He separates two to create one, as we become the pieces of a greater mystery. Our mirrors of perspective shadow our blindside, they are the flat foot that imprints the pavement; a raiment of distaste to the vulture that craves ignorance, a cherry on the pyramid to the flirtatious dove of wisdom. Your judgment of sorrows is but a sigh in consideration for if I fail the alpha I shall have no breath forever. Hate me my temporal enemy but love my spirit of faith and courage. This I call a fair trade of peace for we aren’t solely bound by the thoughts we inhabit as the deed is fulfillment.

Am I my brother's keeper?

It is early evening and in this quiet neighborhood with a light drizzling rain a bustle of wind manages to uproot the empty dustbin container on the sidewalk and send it sprawling into the road. The first pair of eyes comes along and stares blindly past the dustbin container lying innocently in the road and dismisses its existence. It is focused on its mission in purchasing milk from the corner shop several blocks away. The next pair walks past guided by the mind that is subject to events that happened earlier on in the day. A third pair of eyes skips a step or two infatuated in the world that awaits it at home.
A fourteen years old girl, waves goodbye to her friend and nods to her aunt as she rides home two streets away. It was a tough assignment but between the girls they have managed to crack the question and put something together respectable enough to earn full marks. As the leaves twirl in the wind, the girl starts whistling silently to herself because she knows something special is being prepared for dinner. It has been several months but finally she would see her elder brother who has been away. She is confident that her Mum will be home on time to put out the decorations and get the surprise party underway. She rides past her best friend’s dad and wishes him a pleasant evening.
A man is lying quietly in bed and realizing he can’t move a muscle. It is not what he needed on a day like this especially after so many months away from home. He would have wished to be there but the next best thing was sending his best friend instead. They grew up together and hopefully he would make do for the disappointment his mum may feel at his absence.
The first pair of eyes is returning from the shop and sees an ambulance scream past and wonders what lies ahead. He witnesses the little girl being pulled out from underneath a car and stretched away. The second pair of eyes walks into his home and hugs his wife and daughter trying to forget what happened during the day in his hateful career.
‘I saw your friend,’ he says to his daughter and she tells him of the assignment they just completed.
The third pair of eyes is already hard at work in her home and full of excitement because her son is coming home. She has no idea that her son’s best friend almost killed her daughter while avoiding the dustbin in the road.
It is late at night and the first pair of eyes goes to his knees to say his prayers before bed. He prays for the poor, the sick and the lame and for all those in trouble. He prays for the little girl and everyone else traumatized by the incident he witnessed that evening. Before switching off the bed lamp he opens scripture and reads the story of Cain and Abel. After this he shuts his eyes thinking Cain was a jealous and wicked brother and shouldn’t have killed Abel.
It is early morning and the wind of the night before is gone to reveal sunlight, the first pair of eyes pours milk into a bowl of cereal and asks God the question, what did Cain mean by ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ The Lord’s response to him is,
‘Son you have eyes that cannot see.’

Lost and found...

Perhaps all hope is lost when time expires, the sands run out and wishful thinking becomes regular bread and butter. Perhaps all hope is found when time is not of the essence and faith overcomes the senses.
I never took anything for granted as I left the house. I was certain of one thing, hunger. There was a strike within my innards as they screamed in agony at the chaos that surrounded them. I had gathered every coin I could find and knew for certain that I was short. My legs felt like logs strapped with sand bags and sunken in the deepest of oceans. My arms were swollen from the steel rods that now replaced my bones allowing gravity to take its toll. My mind spoke volumes, you can do better than this, you are just a phone call away from it! Make the call and your wish will be granted.
I failed to listen to this voice but navigated my path across the road and then avoided the dog faeces as I walked casually to the shop. When I entered the shop the cashier briefly glanced in my direction and then returned to the box. There was a bored look in her eyes as she sampled the morning television programs. There were one or two people in the shop picking up items and I waited. Now wasn’t the time. It was wise to wait at least until we were alone then try. Soon I got past the first hurdle for there was a short cue at the cashiers as the other shoppers paid off their items. I walked over to the milk section and picked up a bottle and walked to the cashier, it was my turn. I passed over the coins in my hands and waited.
‘Sir, you are short by a few pence?’ She said.
‘I know.’ I replied.
‘Then I can’t give you what you want.’ She answered.
‘You can. Give me this today and tomorrow I’ll bring in the rest.’ I said.
She looked at me for what felt like an eternity and then said,
‘Okay you can have it this time.’
I said thank you and left. As I walked back home I felt the rods in my arms grow feathers and my steps quicken as the thought of logs became beautiful trees lined up on the side of a forest road. Before long I was heating the milk and pouring cereal into it and then appeasing the chaos from within.
One might think my experience is a one off and couldn’t happen again if I tried. Perhaps they would be right but what is of importance is that it did happen. Hope is not based on time or on what we can see. Hope is based on faith and knowing that what we wish for is ours even before we get it.
I did not return to the shop the following day but I did so several days later and as hard as I tried, I knew the cashier had forgotten who I was even though she took the money.

Faces...

Grains of sand scattered through the wind, eyelids fluttering like the wings of doves, the truth lies in not knowing. Now here is a face for you, rage, what I see is anger and the depth of disappointment, staring into the abyss of discontent and frustration, wanting to strike out at someone but pounding the soil a thousand and one times and destroying the good within. Suddenly there is motion in the clouds above and oh dear it is fear. An initiation into a realm of uncertainties, palpitations, unconscious groaning and the eyes of the dog that scurries with its tail between its legs. The fearful mind seeks a selvedge that keeps it from unraveling the truth of its need for escape.
Next stop along this endless highway, boredom. Yes, I am looking at you. The face that’s shouting I’m here because you made me! I have no choice in the matter and now that I’m here you will pay for making me do this. Brother, it is thyself that suffers I'll move on.
Thoughtful, who me, you ask? Yes you, the mudlark of the universe, enquiring into thoughts and beyond becoming the proselyte, Professor Xavier is an infant before your deeds. Does your day end in satisfaction or are you pondering through endless wonders of what lies for the morrow. Oh dear, I turn the page and who’s next and stares with those eyes at me but none other than Wisdom. Oh virtuous one, in your face we embrace thy presence amongst us but do not be deceived because we make you real. You cannot exist without us minions if you must build that gopher, Noah would have been proud of you.
Smile, warmth and hurrah, be this face but don’t hide behind it, it is not what others see that matters it is what you feel that counts. Do not be the gimcrack, be the gem, the jewel that glitters before us and where thou goeth we shall follow in thy footsteps. In this espial the sun shines within and you reflect its beautiful radiance as a mirror.
We are many people with many faces in one world and one universe. We should have one God. There is one God. Amen.

My french connection...

Stockholm was at its busiest this time of the year. It was early spring and people poured out of the shops in numbers as they chased the seasonal fashion spree. Gerard and I could just manage to keep abreast with each other as we dodged our way through the crowds. We headed for the Indonesian restaurant that stood boxed in between a string of designer wear shops, our stomachs already grumbling in anticipation of what was to come. It hadn’t been a difficult decision to make as we had chosen the Saturday out from our usual weekly habitat in Gavle, a small remote city in the north of the country. We were already suffocating from the ciabatta bread that was served each day in the confines of our hotel and feeling more confident with the power of our Swedish Krona we decided that a day out in the country’s capital could do us some good.
Our morning had been spent combing parts of the city centre that headed towards the Baltic Sea. We had walked through narrow streets with very tall buildings that dwarfed even the likes of the tall Scandinavian population. Now we were a hungry pair drowning in our woes and looking for compensation of the nutritive kind.
We entered the Indonesian restaurant and immediately decided upon the top floor. The crowd was lighter and with the kind of day we had faced on the outside we needed the peace to hear ourselves talk. I could already feel the nerves in my feet screaming in agony at me and I knew standing in a queue as most of the other customers did to seek the best seats on the ground floor was out of the question. I needed to rest from our three hours trek and it didn’t matter to me whether or not the upstairs was an unpopular choice.
I listened to the familiar clatter of dishes and pans that vibrated through the swinging doors as the waiters rushed in and out of the kitchen and knew that my time in Sweden was coming to an end and I could sense that Gerard was aware of this. It was interesting to hear what Gerard would say considering that I had made up my mind to leave the project even before we got to Sweden. Gerard had become a good friend immediately after joining the company. He was a French graduate and needed a mentor to see him through the business world. I elected for this position seeing the potential in his ambition hoping to pass on what little experience I had gathered through the years. We had already worked together on other projects and it had now become apparent that I needed to start withdrawing my support. It was a tough thing to do because I was used to making the difference, seeing the spoils of my work burn holes in the eyes of customers. However this was Gerard’s time and even though I was pushing company policy I had a responsibility to his development.
‘You cannot do this to me, man,’ he said in his calm French accent. ‘We came here together so we should leave together, what would I do after work? This is crazy.’
‘I know, but you need the experience,’ I spoke persuasively hoping that he would gain favour in the positive side of my argument. I knew it was weak to throw this in at the time but the reality of the situation was that the time on his own in the realms of a deserted environment was what Gerard needed.
The spiritual world bears a relation to the many trends of events that manifests themselves in our lives. Our ways as man seek refuge behind mortal thoughts of wisdom, kindness and a justice that is served to the pleasure of man. There are several things that went on between my friend and I that I found apposite of wisdom in the spiritual world. The spiritual food we pass on to each other these days is irrelevant to the hunger we face. We carry on in our own conceit believing that we are helping one another yet what we require spiritually is rarely what is provided.
Today I don’t work with my friend for I left that job a while back but my friend told me something a year later that made me realize I had made a difference in his life. He claimed that in the first instance he had thought I was arrogant to walk away from the project and assume that it was his duty to carry on. However he had built a name for himself and the strength to manage a project from that experience. Today, I believe that I passed on a spiritual strength through listening to the needs of my friend’s spirit rather than his heart. I cannot speak with confidence that I have done this successfully in all cases but it is an example of the kind of mortal weaknesses we all face.

In sickness and in health till death do us part...

She is scared of what he shall do when what belongs to him is taken away. She is scared of the lengths he would go to when recovering what he thinks he has lost. He says his world is a dark bridge in the distance blending street lamps, a deserted gas station and then border control. He says he feels people, languages, street names, wreckage, feverish, a stiff-arm, then food, why food? Sometimes he complains of feeling shapeless, frustrated, no pain, insane, nauseated, bloated. He says he treks to the nearest stall, counting the trees, the passersby, staring at the birds in the skies, searching through the clouds, crossing the road and yet there is no joy.
He is puzzled of her actions because they are never in line with what she said she would do. He has tried to put himself in her shoes but each time falls short of what she is thinking. She says her world is like revolving doors, the timing must be perfect, you must wait your turn, a window may close but a door would open, the color red or is it burgundy, high stools, paper clippings, topsy-turvy, chocolate, why chocolate? Every time he knocks at her door he is thinking of curtains, green curtains, on a white wall, what’s going on?
She says, he says, been going on now for several days, years, centuries and still no one could tell who was coming or going until they met the stone by the sea. He said what he had to say to the stone. Then she had her go.
Here’s what the stone had to say,
‘I have been by the sea for many years. At first I thought it was my punishment. It used to be so cold that when the water washed against me I shivered internally and thought the end was near. Then the heat came and I realized I couldn’t do without this water. Now I have cold days and hot days, I’m not complaining.’
They thought about it for a while and decided to talk to the sea. This time she said her story and then it was his turn.
Here’s what the sea had to say,
‘I have traveled over many lands across the earth, I feed many, I am the home to many and carry many from place to place. I visit this stone every day whether it is in winter or summer. This is my duty and even if this stone is not here I would still be here. I’m not complaining.’

Benchmark...

I am stranded as they watch me, know I’m here, know it is my turn but can’t tell what I’ll do. It is an old classroom, maybe new to me but others have scathed these walls, their palms leaving indentations the size of potholes on these benches. My heart is racing, feeling my purpose like that of a greyhound chasing the debts of an anxious gambler. Why would anyone care if I leave a mark or not, what difference does it make?
Haven’t we all walked into a bug on that forgotten highway and seen the remnants of past voyagers? Names, messages and emblems of their sanity and insanity carved on the walls symbolizing that they had been there, existence. Was I meant to be a part of this or am I the traveler that only seeks his destination. Who sees what I see when I stare at the miniature object that strides between two points without a defining purpose in a vast universe? Real symbols come in trees, laden with roots that go back to ones desire to sow the seed. I scream charity, I scream love, I scream other things and sometimes fear, you name them and I’m howling like a banshee but where is truth? Isn’t the seed for the fruit, the branch for the stem and the stem for the leaves in that order or reverse? So why ridicule graffiti, dark shadows in forgotten undergrounds, subways when that of the heart sings volumes of discontent. We pilfer the truth from ourselves without the knowledge that every action is noted, every reaction a tick in the box. However none of these matter unless the heart is part of the equation, the spirit the solution. Without these our trees are tainted, covered in mildew and we are the ergot at breakfast.
Many years later groomed to new heights and back in that classroom, reminiscing and now ancient in thought. The orotund is deafening, it is not being invited to the party that hinders progress it is a dress sense that’s handicapped and lacking. Change this and perigee, touching soil and feeling real. If I hold true to the word I would not labor or run in vain. Now I know that it is my turn to leave a benchmark because like those gone before me I won’t know what purpose it serves until I do.

A walk to victory...

Sometimes I lie in bed listening to the morning sounds, the birds chirping away, the disgruntled lawnmower that smothers the grass and the distant radio station with subdued voices that I can barely make out. As I stare blandly at the riches that await me in the distance, I am reminded that what we do in life remains hidden to those to whom it wasn’t intended for. When victory comes it would be a glee without doubt and a peace beyond comprehension. It would be savoring the taste of success when I mount the last steps to claim my crown.
Before then I would have to listen to the echoes of footsteps in the deserted alley. This is the narrowest of pathways where I would lose sight of the radiant beauty of flowers spilling over garden shrubs. I would avoid strangers as I slave endless hours seeking to fulfill my desires. I would think up ideas, strategies and plans and oppose them with the forces of nature allowing myself to be eventually defeated unless I realize it is my imagination that defeats me and not my will. It is then that I would understand that my caviling to the obstacles I face is rarely fought on the battlefield but mainly from within. I would listen to the bellows over a vast landscape as cold sweat crawls down my back. In this maze of confusion I would tell myself to walk by faith and not by sight. I would go on my knees, bow my head and raise my hands to seek guidance. If I ask with doubt, lose my nerve and panic then I know it is doubt I would receive. I would suffocate in my frailty and crumple on the floor like broken china. In this garrison I would become a denizen without any knowledge of how I got there, who is holding me hostage and for how long.
Suddenly I would listen to the slow pounding of my heart as the agony engulfing me subsides and I escape this desultory illusion. I would follow the voice that calls in the distance telling me never to give up but ask again with conviction. I would look for a miracle, expect one and receive in turn. It is then that I would feel my engine replenished, my innards renewed and powered again by the light that shines within me. I would rise from my knees as tears of joy flow endlessly. It is then that I would smell the sweet scent of success and know I have done my walk to victory…

Black Book

I haven’t seen mine in years. I suppose what it should contain are names and numbers and if one wasn’t asking for too much then addresses. That would be what it was meant for. Mine did and then some. Mine contains my first attempt at putting a dream on paper. Bizarre happenings to be more precise!
This is going back some time now. My first real job, I am a graduate fresh out of university. The secretary of our department approaches me. I think we like each other, she is a year younger than me and the work environment is still new to both of us. We have this way of communicating, sort of like fencing, her role is that of the vulnerable helpless female, mine the valiant knight to the rescue. This works for us until this one day that common sense departs from my shores and the results were, well let’s just say, here’s why my black book isn’t normal.
This time she tells me about her cat. She tells me it got old and died. I should know better, be thoughtful and have empathy, offer my condolences. Nope, not this time. I don’t think my feelings are hidden from my face when my response comes through implying that it’s just a cat so why the fuss. She takes it in her stride, unassuming and we talk about other things. I think nothing of it after all I did listen and spoke my mind. No one said there was anything wrong with being honest.
Nighttime comes and I am in a deep sleep dreaming, I am back as a child in my parents home and I am alone in this huge house. I feel myself being pulled and dragged in all directions. My adversaries are far stronger than me so I decide to escape. I run away from them sneak into one of the rooms where I think I would be safe until yonder. As I shut the door behind me what I see before me is this cat staring straight at me with yellow eyes that now shine in the dark. I open the door and run like a lunatic. I know a safe place somewhere out side that has stairs, very high stairs that no one can reach me. I mount them two at a time running for my dear life and at the top of these stairs is that cat again. As I turn to go down the stairs there are a pool of cats at the bottom all looking up at me. Suddenly I wake up in a sweat, breathless and worn out. As I lie in bed wondering why I would be dreaming of cats it suddenly occurs to me what had taken place during the day. I jump out of bed and search for a pen and paper. The first thing I see right there is none other than a black book that had been abandoned for years. I start scribbling, I don’t want to forget this moment.
The next day I can’t wait for her to show. I rush to her with my story, demanding to know more about her cat. She shows me its picture, giggles and laughs at me after reading my dream. Then she is sympathetic but the words she utters are,
‘Serves you right!’
Well, I think I learned my lesson. Today I keep that black book hidden somewhere within to keep me in line when I forget myself...

There are two sides to this story...

It was almost three am in the morning when I was awoken by the voices and the loud music coming in through the top shutters of the window. Their voices were raised as they chatted loudly in the back garden. I listened silently holding my peace as it all made sense because she was upset. What had happened to her two days earlier was enough to make anyone go crazy.
The detectives had knocked around 7am in the morning and I had let them in through the main entrance. They told me to return to my flat as they banged incessantly on her door. When she eventually opened the door they stormed in and within minutes I saw them leading her to their car and before long she was arrested and locked up for the night. She returned a day later fuming and angry. I heard screaming and shouting during the day and then at night I was hit by this thunderstorm of loud deafening music that now kept me wide awake and staring quietly at the shadows in my room.
Well that is one side of the story, now for the other. A few years back I took an oath that I would stay isolated and away from anything and anyone as I delved deep into a spiritual habitat to research and write my first novel. One day about eight in the evening I heard a knock on my door. It was my neighbor from below. She said she needed to use my phone and I obliged, inviting her into my apartment. I offered her my cell phone and she made a call, thanked me and was gone.
As these things go as part of my isolation I had worked into my program a schedule of running at least twice a week. Don’t ask me why, it was part of the discipline, keeping my mind clear and focused for the task at hand. Two days after my neighbor had knocked on my door I left the apartment around 10am, which was the routine and was gone for almost an hour. When I returned I noticed that my door had been broken into. There were splinters everywhere even though it had still been carefully shut to hide signs of a break in. I walked into the apartment puzzled. How was this possible? The house itself had only two floors, I lived in the apartment above hers and we shared the main entrance. I decided to knock on her door to see if she had heard anything. I knocked a few times and got no response. I checked the main entrance and the lock was as secure as ever. I got back into my apartment and after a quick glance believed I had imagined the whole thing, since everything seemed to be in place as I had left it. It didn’t take me long to change this line of thought when I noticed that my cell was gone and a few notes from my wallet. As I was about to ask the Lord what I had done to deserve this I noticed her debit card on the carpet in the living room. I knew it hadn’t been there when I woke up or left the house that morning so she had to have broken in.
She was a neighbor and so I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt thinking that she may have been out as there had been no response from her door. Suddenly I heard the main entrance door shut and I peered through the window to see her walking away from the building. She had been in all the time but had not answered when I knocked. I decided to wait. Perhaps she had needed the money and the phone in desperation. I would ask and give her a way out. I decided not to make any accusations but try to lead her to the truth.
When I saw her return I approached her and told her I had been burgled. I told her I had hidden a camera in my apartment that could see who had been there. I also said the person who had broken in won’t know this but I knew who they were. She shook her head giving nothing away. I asked her if she had lost anything and she said no. I had no choice this time and called the cops. To cut a long story short she was arrested and two days later she was returning the favor by blasting my eardrums into space.
In the silence of my room and darkness I knew that I wasn’t too bothered about the phone or the money I had lost. I knew those things would be replaced eventually and besides I had made my point by getting her arrested. What really got me going was the fact that nothing in life stays hidden before God. I had isolated myself to delve deeper into his world and produce a book dedicated to his teachings and someone had invaded this world. It looked like he was watching over me and letting me know that I wasn’t alone on this journey.

Tall, Dark and Ugly...

Believe me when I confess that we are two of a kind. Although in the blazing heat one fan cools us both, we are back to back facing opposite directions, which means every step we make ferriages us further apart. Sneer at me all you want, we may share the same hair gel but while your scalp hardens mine softens. What amazes me more than ever is that we’ve been together for decades yet you have never understood me. I have never been your enemy just the constant that keeps you honest. I express chagrin today because this time you went too far.
You have dipped that toe of yours in one too many a pond. Why do you continue to prey on the innocent while I pursue a numinous plight? Even our striped jacket in the wardrobe knows my scent is different from yours. When this body of ours rots away it would be everyman for himself. Until then I would remain kenspeckle while you lurk in the shadows.
Yes, laugh all you want, make silly jokes! What is it you called me, ‘softly softly never catch your monkey’. Beware twin brother I too can give as good as I get. Take this for starters, your sobriquet is tall, dark and ugly. Ah, is that fear I see in your eyes? Or is it doubt overshadowing Mr. Right? I will break you comrade and rip your guts from within. I will stampede the earth and make you the ridicule of the ballroom. You will stand in the shadows and even the night owl will keep silent. What is that whimpering sound I hear before this contest has even begun? Fret not, brother for thy secret is safe with me. My nature is not like yours to eat meat that’ll make you suffer.
There are many of us within one body and we all come in pairs, clear and equal opposites contesting for the higher ground. Fear cannot exist without courage, darkness without light, love without hate, life without death nor certainty without doubt. It just so happens that today humility decided to confront pride but who can tell who would go head to head tomorrow…

Law and behold...

I never think that I have it all figured out, that I know what I am going to do in any circumstance. I live in the fear of God not because of the rules he has asked me to live by, not because the sky could suddenly open and a giant object strikes me down. I live in the fear of God because he is a trusted friend and a wise father that we all need.
Two days ago I changed my boarding pass to take an aisle seat allowing me the freedom of movement when I boarded a flight to DC. It just so happened that it was pretty cold due to the air condition system in the plane and naturally from the altitude. As we soared through the blue skies and I searched endlessly for any new films on the movie channels I noticed the little girl that sat quietly beside me. She was traveling like many other school kids on this international flight and stared innocently across me to see through the window. Her guardian sat at the other side of her filling out landing cards for all the kids and teachers on the trip. I was in awe of them. They had come on board in London where I boarded but I noticed that their journey had originated in Uganda. I could just imagine the excitement of traveling that distance when one was so young and the kind of stories she’d tell back home on her return.
Time flew as I eventually got engrossed in the movie and the child fell asleep, as did most people on the flight. I happened to glance in her direction and noticed that she was shaking feverishly. I looked towards her teacher at the far end to bring his attention to this and realized that he was invisible under the blanket that covered him from head to toe. I watched this little girl for a while and wondered what I should do. It occurred to me that the rules of our world stipulated that we shouldn’t talk to strangers. The rules of our world stipulated that kids more than any one else needed to be protected. Here I was sitting comfortably under my blanket watching a movie while this child was freezing in her sleep and the thing I was worried about was what would the world do to me if I lifted a finger to help. If I answered to man I would look for a flight attendant to assist the child. If I answered to man I would let this child freeze to keep myself away from being branded as something else. Perhaps in my last days when I turned up before the Lord I would be justified for doing nothing because I had obeyed the laws that suited the rules of engagement in our society. The fact remained that those laws where now preventing me from helping a fellow human being in need.
I thought about this for a while and after finding it utterly ridiculous I looked for a blanket for her. Without finding any I gave her mine. Ten minutes later as these things go and the way children sleep she threw off the blanket and I had to reach again for it to cover her. Eventually the cabin lights went on as we entered the last hour to our destination and her guardian woke up and so did the child. I watched them quietly smiling in my heart. It dawned on me that the laws of God although appearing to be difficult for us to follow were much easier than those of men. Looking into my heart my God knew I had done what I did to help someone else. Looking at it from man’s perspective I could have done what I did for all sorts of motives. I believe my experience is not far from the many we have each day in our different lives. It is a good omen that we have laws that maintain order in our society. However it is an even better omen when we realize that these laws are for guidance and not to judge our hearts and souls…

Eden's Charm...

We walked up the dirt track with the sun in our backs. My eyes darted across the hill that we had climbed looking at the city below and I sucked in the fresh air like a starving lion on its prey.
‘We are almost there,’ She said quietly and almost to herself.
I did not respond. If only she knew, were my thoughts. If only she could see what was happening, the change, the difference, her past that had slowly melted away leaving this new person that now walked beside me with a need to give to another.
When I first met June, she told me she was selfish. That was an understatement. I think what she meant to say was that she needed to take out her vengeance on someone and who best than one so willing as myself. Life had not been good to June in the past. She had faced all sorts of problems and now they haunted her in kind. Today on the other hand was different, she had planned this day out to show me the world, teach me about nature and I was intrigued.
We climbed steeply for another fifteen minutes passing other hopefuls and then we were alone walking through the bushes as she searched for this place, this special place where she planned on teaching me something new.
Soon we were there and staring straight down this huge hole that had been carved out in the hill.
‘Look, that’s it. There is some grass now but during the winter it’s empty,’ She said.
‘What does it remind you of?’ She continued, gazing at me searching past my eyes into my soul seeking a reaction.
‘You.’ I said and smiled.
‘Correct. That’s how I feel sometimes and I wanted you to see and then maybe you would understand.’
‘I do, but would you like to see something else?’ It was my turn. She’d had her fun now I was about to have mine.
‘What, tell me, what?’ Her eyes defiant, inflamed and ready to laugh me to scorn for what I could offer.
‘Do you hear anything?’ I asked quietly.
‘No, not really. Well maybe the birds, the trees in the wind and some noise from the city but nothing.’
‘Ah that’s your spirit, you hear these things because you are at peace. You did not bring me here to show me how empty you feel. You brought me here to show me when you are at peace, when your mind is away from the world and it’s chores. You brought me here because this place is sacred to you.’
‘Why do you do that?’ She asked grinning like a child with a new toy.
‘Do what?’
‘Take away my moment, my bad moment?’
‘You seek the old when the new beckons. You can’t go back because the future calls. You must listen to it like the wind in the air and follow it and then you will be free.’
We talked for a while staring down at the empty hole. Most times I listened because I wanted June to enjoy this new discovery. Today when I reflect on this moment I am reminded of the Garden of Eden. It is easy to remind ourselves of what went wrong that changed the course of events. It is easy to forget that other things went right and brought our Lord to us.

Hard work can only get one so far...

As I sat in the airport and stared through the large windows I saw the impressive coned nose of large Boeing 747 come to halt right before me. My eyes could barely make out the pilots in the cockpit but the airport staff on the ground, were clearly visible as they rushed from many directions to attend to it. As it’s doors opened and passengers filtered out I noticed the staff begin loading luggage on the conveyor belts and I wondered if they ever allowed their spirits time to soar as freely as mine felt in that moment. We were all drawn into an insular world submerged in our jobs and the tolls we withstood without noticing the freedom that is available to us in the spirit. These people worked hard and efficiently to ensure that the luggage was on time and it dawned on me that it was almost impossible for us passengers to notice them unless we were halted for a while in our journey. This was the way of the world, we had paid for the service so what did it matter. In any event we were also subjected to the same treatment in one form or the other in life.
Half an hour before this I had entered a small boutique that had already been invaded by other travelers with similar intentions as mine. Only this time I was noticing something different, a thought that had crossed my mind several times over when I traveled. It was amazing how differently dressed people always were in the airports. It was as though our origins and destinations depicted the clothing we chose. Some of the people wore shorts, t-shirts dressed for the summer, while others wore suits as they left the office blocks or prepared for meetings. Then there were those that were on connection flights to international destinations in different attire based on the weather forecast of those places. To add to all of these there were the cultures of different people to take into consideration. What was visible to the naked eye was that we appeared to be held together by the shackles that we had created, a means of transport that could get us from one city to the next on a schedule that managed to put us in order. The fact remained that we were so different by our personalities now depicted in our clothing.
Sitting in front of the window and looking out at the airport staff made me realize that they were also fettered to perform a duty for a reward that had been designed by a system created by man. Like any of us in any of our occupations if we performed to the highest of our ability then we could rise up in the ranks and earn whatever man had designed this to be. However the fact remained that we were still so different in our spirits such that we could achieve anything that we desired and get beyond this means available to us. I had learned a long time ago that what was within us was greater than what was without and this was the perfect setting to see this in play. It looked like in life hard work could only get one so far but the true success for dreams and desires came from faith…

Pillow Talk...

I spill my guts out unrestrained during these moments. The aim is not to make small talk for I save that for the taxi ride to the airport or from it. Pillow talk is about dreams, those rare moments of inspiration. It can be before you nod off to sleep or just when you wake up. The before nodding off to sleep is the hardest for me. My ideas are all jumbled. I rarely want to think of the day I had be it good or bad. I know that I look forward to the safety of my dreams and I don’t want to be dreaming of the past! Now the morning is a completely different event because anything can happen and usually does. A few years ago today this is my story from a pillow talk experience. I didn’t know where this would lead to but now I’m here and writing about it.
The night before we had driven in from Dresden. We crossed the border and cruised into Maastricht just before 7pm. I had been silent in the car dozing off now and then and allowing June steer the course of our journey. I was preoccupied. Something had happened in Dresden, sought of a sharp kick up the spine, a warning that rang deep within my veins. GET OUT! That day we had driven down from Dresden cutting through Strasburg for a meeting. June did all the packing and I did the thinking, it was my turn. We had been in Dresden for three days and I was bored stiff in the office. No one knew what they were doing. The place was like a lab set up to disperse any form of inspiration known to man. I was the victim that was going through a slow death and knew it. June observed quietly from the sidelines. She had her paintings and I my thoughts.
She pulled up in front of her apartment in Maastricht and I staggered out of the car like a drunken fighter. My manager had said I needed to head into Amsterdam the following day and then it was Spain for a week before San Diego. In the past this would have been a walk in the park. Now it felt as though I had spent too much time in the air. I can’t remember what we had for dinner but time flew and before long I was lying in bed and staring at the white ceiling and the shadow of her beautiful lampshade.
‘You don’t fight me any more,’ I said as if talking to myself.
‘Why should I fight you?’ she replied, as she settled in and turned to face me.
‘You used to tell me that this side of the bed was your favorite.’
‘It still is when you are not here,’ She said.
‘And now?’
‘I have no choice, even if I sleep there, you will find a way to move me back to this side.’
‘You give up.’
‘I give up.’
‘Tell me something why did you mention this?’ She asked as an afterthought.
‘You know me. I do these things.’
‘I think we both do. Do you remember the bird?’
‘What bird?’
‘The one I mentioned a while back. The one that flew in through the window and before I could get to it, it was gone. And then you came into my life and now were here. You are my angel.’
‘Yes I remember.’
‘I am proud of myself today.’ She said.
‘Why?’
‘When you fell asleep while I was driving I thought I won’t be able to drive back into Holland but I made it past the border until I thought why is he sleeping like this it is my turn to rest and be taken care of.’
This time I was silent. June took the limelight of our relationship I didn’t. Most times I was in another world searching through my mind for something I could never put a finger to. I was like this as a child and it never occurred to me why. Of late things were different I was bored to death of work.
‘I know what you will do?’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. It is the way we are, it is who you are, I know what you will do.’
‘I don’t know if I can.’
‘You should sleep more. That is why I let you sleep in the car. It is rare to see you sleep like that.’
‘I know.’
‘Ok. I won’t say anything anymore I’ll sleep.’ Those were her last words before she migrated to dream land.
Soon I was in my own world thinking and working my way through all the facts. I had put a deposit down for the new car I loved. I would have to lose this. Boy, I would miss the roar of that sports engine. Then there were the other commitments I had, those too would have to go. Something had to give for another to take its place else my life was never going to change.
I got out of bed and walked into her living room. It was decorated with contemporary art from her paintings. The girl certainly knew what she wanted. Unfortunately this time I was staring blindly at the paintings and seeing my future mapped out on a path I never thought I would follow just yet. I couldn’t run from it. I had made a promise that when the time was right I would give back. Things weren’t ideal but it was now or never. My mind was made up. If I had the same feeling in the morning I’d do it.
Five hours later I was up and staring again blankly at the ceiling. I had said my prayers and now I was ready. Beside me June’s silent frame rose and fell as she breathed quietly in her sleep. I thought of waking her up to tell her that I would do it but stopped myself. I had to do this on my own. It was a path I would walk with eyes wide open. Soon I was moving and then I was placing the call to the VP of sales in San Diego.
As I hung up the phone June walked into the living room.
‘Why are you up so early?’ I asked.
‘You did it didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
She gave me a hug and then left. That day I quit my job without another to go to. I was confident that I had enough experience to do as I pleased and find whatever work was out there. A few months later life taught me different and before long I was fulfilling my dream of becoming an author. Today when I reflect upon the hectic lives that authors lead until their books make the big time I know for certain that I made the right decision during that time. It is better to have nothing and feel alive than to have everything and be like the walking dead. Thank you Father!

Road Trip...

I sat in the car waiting. Every so often I would hear the sound of a distant vehicle approaching and then soon see its headlights come flashing past me. Before long it would be gone into the distance. Still I waited it was too soon to try.
‘Not yet, not now,’ I whispered quietly beneath my breath.
The desert was as silent as a graveyard. Nothing could be seen or heard for miles. I had crossed the border an hour earlier and still had another three to go before hopefully I would be home safe and sound. Before then I would have to face the test of time. I would have to learn what life had in store for me.
Perhaps it was my fault that it had turned out this way. My enthusiasm may have gotten the better of me. I had driven like a lunatic, breaking speed limits that did not exist. This was not the kind of trip one did alone but I had done it. I had driven into the sandstorm losing sight of any of the cars in front of me and cruised safely to the border after four hours. After wrestling with border control I was in Bahrain and walking through the mall searching for the movie theater. I emerged two hours later to see that darkness had descended in this part of the world and I began planning my long trip back home. Riyadh had no form of escape in terms of cinema so the best one could do was cross the Saudi border into neighboring countries to catch up with life.
I got into the car and before long I was again across the causeway and heading into the darkness of the desert. After driving for an hour I was just beginning to think I would make it into Riyadh in good time when I heard the engine cough, stutter and then die completely. Soon I was pulling over into the sands knowing that my fate had been written.
I sat in the darkness waiting quietly. What were my options? There was no form of road assistance in these parts, no high way phones for emergency services and the nearest help was at least three hours away and that would be calling my friends with the hope that they were in. What were my options? I could stop one of the cars because at the speeds at which they were going past me, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be picking up pieces of my self in the desert before I was able to ask for help. I was getting pretty thin on options. One thing was for certain I had to stay in the car as walking would certainly be the end of my life in the heat.
As I sat in the car, I told myself to wait and allow for time. All the gages had indicated that all was okay and so it was hard to tell why the car had broken down. I tried to visualize them again through my mind as I had done just before the engine had cutoff, oil normal, petrol tank full, engine cool, yet no life in it? I had been driving the rental for over two weeks without any problems yet it had chosen this place of all places to break down on me. I told myself I had to be patient. It may be dead at the moment but who could tell what would happen later. I would give it half an hour and then try again. ‘It was bound to work, it had to, Father you cannot abandon me like this,’ were the quiet words from my lips.
Half an hour later, I closed my eyes and prayed. Then my hand went again to the key in the ignition and I held my breath. Soon I heard the engine roar to life and I smiled in the darkness. I slowly pulled out of the sand unto the road and began cruising at a slow speed. I knew there was fuel in the car and now I just hoped it would stay alive long enough to get me home. Before long I had picked up the pace and then I realized I was passing slower cars and making good time. I entered Riyadh four hours later feeling like a man who had conquered the world. I was sure that the engine had been dead for no apparent reason and with no help forth coming for miles I knew my fate was sown with whatever faith I could muster. As I walked into my apartment and poured myself a glass of water I knew if given the chance I would change nothing of what had taken place. Perhaps the event had been a challenge and there was more than a credible reason for the car breaking down as it did. However to me what mattered more than anything was how my faith had pulled me through despite the odds.