Angels, Shadows or Am I following Me …

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Walking down streets narrow and wide I feel you following me. This oddly has been my latest experience. Have you ever questioned your own sanity? I haven't contemplated into researching the symptoms or steps into the dark world of insanity nor do I intend to.

'Shrinks' better know as psychologists have never appealed to me they're my ultimate 'NO GO ZONE' totally, utterly forbidden. Yet for some other reason some shrink in a grey suit and balding hairline would probably have some studied answer to this foreign happening within me, around me.

At times I literally feel someone following me and yes, for the most part find there's nobody there.I seriously find myself asking a hundred and one questions at the same time. 'Am I being followed by my past?, perhaps it could be things I never did but could've done. Could it be my Angelic cousin Michelle in Heaven?or is it God himself protecting my path and telling me his right behind me now more than ever'.

The answer to these questions I do not know. What I do know is I managed to write this blog which in essence counts for whatever sanity within Me.

It is a poor idea to lie to yourself

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Its totally pointless to be frank! I mean its way easier to lie to others provided that they believe you of course, but lying to one's self is suicidal. Just to stretch your imagination....imagine if human beings had two brains, now visualize the emotional turmoil which would come with this much graphic picture. 

Well its no different when we lie to ourselves. We confuse our selves more to start with, we become sad, depressed and helpless. If there is anybody who can make great decisions for yourself, there’s no other than you. The saying 'The truth shall set you free' for many years was cliche and I used to think only grey, dull, bored mature folk would say such things just for the sake of 'saying something'.

But the truth is when we reflect on who we are and what lies in the core, the essence of our being, only then can we be free.

The sound of one hand clapping

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The sound of one hand clapping is like running a marathon blind-folded. Only difference being, you’re more likely to get guidance into finishing your run unlike clapping with one hand and hitting against nothing! It is without any doubt physically impossible.

I could think of a million and one things that are physically impossible without any co-existence such as giving birth. Whether artificially inseminated or going the full Monty, a woman needs the existence of a man to bring a life into this world, the simplest one being the necessity of the air that we breathe to stay alive. And not forgetting our spirituality, without it, we are lost sheep wandering around without any trail.

The sound of one hand clapping made me reflect on the meaning behind ‘Ubuntu’. The fact that ‘We are, because of others’. Think about it: Who’s Lady Gaga without her ‘Little Monsters’ and 23 197 730 Twitter followers, or Jay-Z without his record sales, a Lagerfeld Fashion show without any press and celebrities.

Like a man going to the most remote, designated place on earth without any human contact. Somewhere in that open space will be the tinniest, crawling incest along with him. Nothing is ever in isolation. Everything is supported somewhere, somehow.

Your Space or Mine?

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We all have things no matter how hard we try, we simply can never stand. Like multi-tasking: eating and speaking at the same time YUK! Yawning without politely placing your hand in front of your mouth NASTY! Yet my ultimate most irritating, unbearable one: The sharing of unisex restrooms SUPER YUK!

I've always been uneasy over the sharing of restrooms with women, let alone men. Firstly with women, she'll give you one of those nasty stares simply because you happen to have a similar looking jacket resembling the model on the front cover of the latest issue of Elle Magazine! Or you just happen to be oozing sexiness and confidence.

Then with men, you'll be freshening up your make-up looking all cute and hot then out of nowhere will be some guy somewhere in the background staring at you beautify yourself. Seriously! Or he'll think you’re freshening up simply to look good for your partner. If not your partner then for the entire table two which happens to be his table, well him and ten other lads!

And shame any poor lady who has to go through such an ordeal with her male colleagues! On a daily basis. Personally I'd die! My whole intake on the subject: You have your own space PLEASE let me have mine mine mine!

Not all who wander are lost

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‘Not all who wander are lost’ this is one statement that wrapped my thoughts into knots. There I was thinking what the true meaning behind it is. For one, wandering as I understand it is without direction yet with destination. It’s about having an idea of what you want, the big question being: ‘How you’re going to get it?’ On the other hand being lost is all about one not knowing where they are and pretty much where they’re going.

It’s like a first-time parent wanting the best for their child yet wandering for great parenting skills. A graduate wandering for ‘that job’ that will enable them to achieve their ambitious career goals, a  teenager wandering for that clic which will make them ‘ultra cool’.
 Or Bridgette Jones whose just joined an online dating site for the simple reason of finding a husband and having the perfect family she’s always dreamed of. Wandering from site to site till she finds her ‘Mr Right'.

We wonder not because we are lost, we wonder because within us we yearn clarification before reaching our final destination. 

A bunch is better than one

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Roses are symbolic of many things: beauty, femininity, fragility. Yet the one thing that thorns out is love.  What better way to say ‘sorry’ than with a rose. And for the ever present emotionally absent lover giving a rose to their loved one says ‘I love you’ a trillion times more than uttering it. For centauries these flowers have built and mended many broken relationships. And till this day continue to do so.

I recently lost a loved one, my precious cousin Michelle. Death whether expected or otherwise is never an easy transition to get through, seeing my aunt mourn the loss of her sweetheart of a daughter was tragic in itself. Yet there’s serenity in mourning, it has its own subtle beauty. As frail and fragile as my aunt was, she resembled the beauty of a garden fresh rose.

Time went by, she was then joined by her gracious friend who comforted her with much love, a while later another came by. And so it went…. Next thing you know, the room was filled with roses everywhere.

A single rose is precious, yet a bunch is pure perfection.