40 and 1

41 today. A little kinder than me at 40 at 2300hrs yesterday. Kinda sorta almost more uncertain about many things: faith, hope, salvation, nationalism, race, and so much more. But even more intensely curious and alive in so many more ways. Old and yet young. The curious case.....yeah, kinda sorta almost.

Above all, gratitude envelopes like a shroud and humbles me. For much, for many. For people and events. For health and challenges. For naïveté and increasing fights with jadedness.

And whatever fights with religion and all I may have, above all I know there's a God....and I am not Him.

Thank You Father.....for the next 40 years. Long may the knees hold out. And may the belly get flat...well kinda sorta almost. Love you Lord....in my own way.

Alone
In the dark
Unsure..

Alone
In the dark
Waiting..

Alone in the dark
Wishing
Craving

Alone in the dark
Emotions
Clawing
Desire
Building
Sorrow
Growing
Unease
Growing
Heartbeat
Racing
Hope
Floundering

Alone
In the dark
I want to talk
To you
About you
With you
About you

Alone
In the dark
I hold conversations
With you
But you're not here

I'm alone
In the dark

Acerbity....ever so near

I remember a short conversation with one person that segued into a slightly distasteful something with another.

I'd had my makeup done professionally and a colleague who was used to seeing me look more like one of the dudes or something was reeling in shock. Conversation follows:

He: "I can't believe this is you. You look really gorgeous. Why don't you do this more often?"

Me: (trying to hold the laughter in because I didn't  want to try the efficacy of the artist's waterproof mascara) "have you any idea how much work goes into this? I honestly can't be bothered to do this regularly. Normal makeup will have to suffice. This is for weddings only Biko."

She: (I hadn't even noticed there was someone there)..... giving him really dark looks and in a tone that made he and I look at each other and back at her "tell him joor. What is it?"

I assume from that exchange that she thought my response was based on anger or something similar. Truth is it was just fact. It takes a village to raise a child. That village without a make up artist wouldn't be able to doll me up for the pictures. Some people have gotten the mAkeup thing down pat. But even for them it's not a 5-minute thing. I've never been able to girlie-up enough to do that.

But why should I be upset with the one who does? Or with the guy who likes the dolled up doll? That I'm still unsure about. 

The art of cowardice

Seems easy doesn't it.... to just fail. To give in give up roll over play dead

Ever look at a person dedicated to the smell of their failures? Ever been that person? The one with all the excuses for why trying shouldn't happen? The person believing in all but themselves? Have you?

Being a coward requires courage. To wake up and slink past your mirror unwilling to look at the face you know will be staring back at you aghast and unsure

If you're a dreamer with no push to wake up....
a thinker with no more than the regular fleeting desire to act
The excuse giver.....there's always a good one
Or the best ever..... the quintessential procrastinator

Then you know don't you, the pains dnd the joys, ...now don't you be a liar, of giving up. Like the near addiction of picking a scab just enough that it never heals, being a coward demands perfection

Here's to the cowards. Misunderstood and maligned. Looked upon from the lofty heights of the rave in their disdain.

I leave you though.....been one of you too long. The warmth of the company of kith and kin I must now abandon and find new loves and new paths.

A toast to you. And a fleeting backward glance as I step into the ring with the bold and the brave. To be knocked down and spat at. To be heckled and jeered at.

To take my place amongst those who dared. To try. To succeed.

For I want to know the smell of sweat and hard-won victory. Farewell, for I drink a different brew now.

(Icon made by Freepik from www.flaticon.com )

....mental

A friend told me he learned to compartmentalize and perfected mental speed-searching because he needed to. That's me paraphrasing. But you should get the gist. 

 

You learn as you grow older that this is a necessary skill to have. 

You choose what has the power, if any, to shake you.

 

You screen your emotions and learn to be joyful when you're grieving, upbeat when you're depressed, friendly when beneath the surface you're seething with anger, pleasant when the sarcasm is simmering underneath and like a pressure pot something just wants to let loose, calm when your emotions are a riot, respectful when you really just want to tell the other person just how much of an ass you think they are and politely tell them to ‘with due respect’ stop being a jerk-off.

 

Duplicitous? I think not.

 

 

For every reaction or action is just a notch on a number line of emotions or actions. So you learn to choose your battles. You learn to live in a manner that doesn't leave too many unanswered questions in your head. You learn to give yourself permission to be more than the sum of your emotions and fears. You learn to exhale