Saturday, January 21, 2017

No Reins Baby. No Reins.

I think all humans are born to with a predisposition to trust and to take chances. We are given first the explorer's mind; nature egging us on to explore, to feel, to experience and to conquer. To participate in something that is outside of us, sharing in the wonder. Until we start to learn, experiences shaping our individual realities in more ways than one. We start to make conclusions about life, ours in particular and the world in general and in relation to us from the results of our learning. The child who learns to walk sees that two legs up and nature forces him to get up, one step above the animal, conquering the self that is defined on two hands and knees. The child sees evidence in walking and is fuelled towards that achievement regardless of how many times he falls back on his bottom. He knows that at some point, he will retain his balance and he will stand.

It seems like as life goes on however we lose that predisposition as a result of learning and experience. Our instincts change from explore to protect. "Jump" our inner philosopher does not say. We become the results of our experiences and even in the most resilient parts of ourselves we change. Now this is not to say that life comes to us all the same way; but it does come regardless of how charmed one's existence might be. This is not necessarily a bad thing and neither is it unnecessary however how I wonder... how much of our lives do we live unlived because of this? 

Last night on another terribly late night phonecall (not that I am complaining lmao) with Mr Joy he attempted to rein in our love. I am using the term love loosely yet at the same time not so loosely. Love is after all a daily doing; actions in the service of another, building up, protecting, serving joy for the benefit of the other. Your other. And the fulfilment of this daily doing produces the feeling in the Other that we term love. So he says a bunch of things which are on one hand meant to protect me but I realise are really meant to protect him. At first I'm hurt.... why? why did he have to disrupt our idyll? Then I heard all the things he wasn't saying. I have after all read his poetry, listened to him for hours and I hear in his voice echoes that I understand all too well.  The reins of fear.

I heard a long time ago that Life is a journey not a guided tour. The pitfalls are as inevitable as the irrefutable blessings that lie in wait. Maybe love will keep on loving or maybe it will not. And we will learn and these lessons will change you as this is inevitability in our existence. But the lessons I believe are to make us brave. No pain is insurmountable, No joy is unachievable. In my mind, we are to keep going, open hearted, open minded as we are borne ceaselessly into life.



Thursday, January 19, 2017

Here I Am. Hoping.

It has been such a long time. Such a long long time. I don't mean since I wrote as that much is clear. It has been a long time since I let love happen to me; since I let hope lead... It's maybe not so unrelated that I haven't written in the time in-between. At some point it became impossible to pour out my feelings when I was bound so tightly inside, protecting myself from hurt and pain and fear became the reason. My reason.

Today I was having a discussion with my darling S about Being Mary Jane and it led to our own love lives and the choices we have made over the last couple of years. Late last year, I finally came to the realisation that I was hurting myself but I could not feel it. How could I when I was first insulated from the hurt. The reason why any of my relationships didn't work out was that they were not supposed to. I never intended for them to because whether intentionally or subliminally, I consistently chose men who were emotionally unavailable or otherwise engaged. And when it did end, I would be fine; I would move on unbothered save a few days of emotional discomfort but no real lasting hurt. Not like that time all those years ago when my heart broke so bad and the world ended. I would tell myself that I was giving 100% to the relationship and yes I was, but the joke is I was giving 100% to the day only and the next day when the other wasn't there anymore it would not break me, I would be fine.

Of course these kinds of moments of self-realisation while life changing are never pretty. Like S said there's the unlearning and the relearning. You fight the truth but once revealed it reminds you over and over again that this is you. So I talked to God about it and I decided that I will let life in. No more hiding, no more being afraid. I will shed the protective shell around my heart because I do not want protection anymore. I will have hope. I will be open and honest and sending this out into the universe, love will feel me and it will find me where I stand. And it will be the giddy in my heart, laughter in my eyes, low long fire burning in my stomach joy kind of love.

So. Here I Am. Hoping.


With Love,
Abimbola

Thursday, April 18, 2013

18 April, 2013

It's been over a year since I wrote anything. The struggle to capture my thoughts, a war...I refuse to be writ they said. And even when sometimes I won, I looked at them, a writhing mass of part confusion, part happiness. Some pain and heartbreak and disappointment. Some parts remembering mistakes made and some part still hopeful. And I can't. I just cannot.

In recent time I have found discipline with regards to these. A projection of some sort. Not exactly protection. I feel it but not really. It's not really happening to me. And if I deny that they are mine how can I write them? 

Sometimes I cry but I don't know why I'm crying. No particular pain, no hurt I can think of. But my sub-conscious feels what I do not. Like now.

I am still not saying anything. but i am saying everything.
 
I am counting the days of this limbo. We are almost at 3 years. 

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

*insert title here*

16th January: watching London's skyline disappear into the distance. And I can feel my heart ache. Partly I'm sure because I am listening to the most beautiful symphony I have ever hear on the in-flight stereo. Beethoven? Strauss? Can't quite place the composer.

I was broken and now I am mended. I was adrift but now I found an anchor. But at what cost? The truth is I've realised that I feel nothing. Neither for the one I always feel I'm leaving behind nor for the one I'm returning to. Is it that I have trained myself not to feel and have finally become the person I was pretending to be for so long? Again, at what cost?

26th January: ok let me rephrase. I feel. But I have learnt to isolate those feelings. Like someone hiding from something happening right in front of them. Last night I realised that I have become selfish with my happiness. Very protective of my sanity. In ways I never was. I have learnt to replace people as soon as they leave. Or as soon as I leave. I have done a lot of leaving lately. Running? You decide.

1 February : the bad part is that I cannot write. I think my ability to stemmed from the fact that I used to be very giving. I'd hand myself over. Open, willing, unashamed. That much has changed. I am guarded. I am the gatekeeper. Overlooking what? Myself? that must be it. My quest is for a spotless mind. Someone called me tortured yesterday. By myself is what he said. Self-torture may very well be your downfall. Or it may save you. You torture yourself by holding back. What hurts more?

What hurts more?

Its the trusting. I don't. Not in the way that you think. I have no time for such foolishness. I just trust humans to fail. So I am prepared for it. Foolproof plan in my opinion. Can you tell even now that there's things I am not saying? Does it make me sound less sincere than I should?v the only reason I'm writing now is so that I can maybe free some space in my mind. But I'm spending too much time trying not to say what I really want to say.
And in front of it all is a smile that doesn't belong to me and the same words said over and over again. I am fine. Great actually.

Now playing : Come back when you can - Barcelona
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Finding my Way

I am sitting at the table in the darkness, listening to the darkness and the silence keeps screaming at me. Save for the ticking of the clock as it finds its way into 2012 there's little else but the sounds of fireworks filtering into the penthouse apartment. And I am at peace. It is so silly how I cry at the littlest things these days...perhaps a product of the wonder in my heart. Appreciating every little spurt of happiness because I fought for it. I fought to be here.

Again, I am in London. This time not to search for clarity as I needed last year. But to bury an aunt who succumbed to cancer in December. I decided not to go for the cross-over service tonight because I wanted time to reflect upon the past year, and to allow my heart seek out the Lord. Its never been easy for me to connect to God in the midst of a multitude of people. And I just need to put my head in His laps and say thank You.

2011 was a good year. For the most of it I ambled along, lost and in pain. My heart heavy, my soul worn and hopes withered. Even with the clarity I found at the start of the year it was hard to stay afloat. But God held on to me and kept me. And I am oh so thankful.

In July I handed in my resignation. I really cannot say in all honesty what it was that prompted that decision. Afterall, I didnt have anything else lined up and I had no concrete plans as to what I wanted to do with myself. I left KPMG in August, heart in hands and dreams bigger than my mind could even comprehend. And God carried me and laid straight the path before me. And I am so thankful

Thing is, like they say, even if I had a million mouths, it wouldnt be enough. Battered and weary, torn and broken and bruised. But He mended me and blessed me. With amazing friends and love which keeps on giving.

And so now I am going to try to find my way. This year I shall try to make great the gifts He has given me. I have no resolutions save two.

And for you my dear readers, I shall pray this prayer:

May your paths be straight and your journey be easy. May your hearts be light and your burdens pleasant. May the roads rise up to meet you and may you and yours pass through the eye of the needle before it shuts. And may God lift up the light of His countenance upon you and give you peace.


Happy new year. God be good to you all. Be good to yourselves above all.


Much love

Abimbola

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Who Am I

If I asked you to describe yourself, what words would you use? Would you describe yourself in a one line sentence, stating the obvious? Would you be funny, smart, beautiful, tall and 25? Or would you be melancholic, choleric, sanguine and a libra. Would you be sexy and have oloju come and do? Would you be dedicated and courageous and driven and afraid? Lol...I just described myself as I would have, a long time ago.

However in recent times, I have realized that I cannot describe myself in those words. Because doing that takes all the wonder out of it. If I said I was funny would you not wonder how I got to be funny? Or if I said I am by nature a lonely person, if you have met me you would immediately argue with that. But that would be because you do not know me. You do not know the experiences that have shaped me, my life. The little and big things that have combined themselves into forming me, as you see me.

Which is why when I started reading Bobo Omotayo's "London Life Lagos Living" I was immediately captivated by it. Right from the Prologue. I said to myself, "he knows, he's got it".

I have come to know myself a bit well in the past few months and I am still learning myself. Why? because to the constantly stirred broth that is me, new experiences are being added every minute. I am constantly changing and I am blessed for it. But today;

I am the scar above my left eye after a pillow fight with my brothers

I am the prayer to God for a baby sister when my mother was 7 months pregnant

I am the cholera that ravaged me that my father thought that I would die

I am the Danielle Steel novel I read when I was 7.

I am my first kiss

I am the tears I shed for my older brother when he wouldnt come home

I am the silence in the dark cupboard my brothers locked me in

I am the first iced lolly I ever had

I am my first steps that I dont even remember

I am the pap i puked down my father's shirt because all I wanted was mashed potatoes and vegetables

I am my first day at Olashore. Complete with round geeky glasses

I am my set 6 class

I am my suspension letter

I am the As on my WAEC result

I am the songs I sang on stage at University

I am the first copy of Calais I found at a roadside bookseller at 14

I am the wedding dresses I sketched at 13 and the slef-destroyin lily I drew at 15

I am the tears I shed after a relationship

I am the increase in my heartbeat the first time I heard "Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzalez

I am One Tree Hill, Season 4 Episode 9

I am my resignation letter and my search for different

I am the dreams that I have let go and I am also the dreams I have refused to let go

I am my silent smile and my silent anguish

I am my pilgrim soul


Now Playing: Collide - Howie Day

Perspective

How would you define happiness? By whose definitions should we abide? Would you adjudge me to be less happy or not at all if my definition doesnt resemble yours?

Last weekend I went to Makoko (or as my friend J likes to tease me for my pronunciation, "Ma-koko")with photographer friends, Teju Cole and Leke Alabi-Isama on a photo-walk/photo-canoeing and at Makoko, my heart broke and I cried.

It was not their poverty that made me cry. It was ours. Or maybe it was theirs...but what right do I have to those tears? Even while I felt pity for them, seeing through eyes coloured by my supposed enlightenment and betterment for want of a more appropriate word, I wondered how they saw me. What did they think of me? Did they want to be me?

Did they want my Gucci sunglasses or my Gucci rubber shoes or my pretty purse? Those stupid things that I hold dear. Or did they pity me for my inability to just be free from it all. And just be happy and content, as they appeared to be.

As we canoed our way through what in civilization may as well have been Venice, I wondered if they ever got out. And a voice inside immediately challenged me. Why should they? it said. They appeared to have everything they need so why leave? Are my dreams better than theirs because they are different? And then I wondered about their dreams. What was their motivation. Or had they simply stopped dreaming? And will Makoko be all they'll ever know?

Till now, all I have are questions. What do they know that I dont? What have they seen? What have they heard? Surely they must know something that I do not know now, and perhaps may never know. Surely they must know the secret to life and all the world's happiness. How else can they look so happy?

I want to know what they know, I want to hear their stories. They may break my heart. But at least I'll know.

Makoko, I will never forget.


np: Heartbeats - Jose Gonzalez

See photos taken by Leke at http://imperialmedia.shutterchance.com/

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