Girl talk was so all over yesterday... the last week saw more visits with my real time friend where pretenciousness does not exist. We are our selves and that is all that matters. We laugh so hard even when the hurt is at it's peak discovering that luaghin' at our own situations heals far better than being told lies that do not articulate really well what transpired when it all decided to roll a little to the left.
Lessons learned made some sense and the morning's teachings were sinking in, church was just a breeze that was much needed in the scorching wake of realities... What hit hard were the following statements made:
"God wants to bless our lives through the agreement made." - this is the covenant you make with God in your you time, or through prayer.
"It's not what we are running from that blesses us but where we are running to."
" Keep your faith simple, don't over analyse."
"Nothing that happens should change your relationship." - be unconditional
After which a stroll to find nourishment ensued and all bistros and restaurants were closed till 12pm which was a bummer 'cause it was way before time and we were famished so we settled for the spot I'd vowed never again I'd step foot in 'cause it is always open for business. It is good to have places you can count on. We sat dowm and ordered our coffees and our meal and proceeded to move to an outside table...
Little did we know that it would be an open day for all round counsel at the spot on the pavement verandah... Girl talk was on the cards with many a laugh and cheer and heartache stories in the in between... Pretty girls shared their stories and laughed. We,my girl and I, listened to another girl's story, whether we knew her or not, in that moment we were her friends, laughing and sharing. The sun was out, shining and we had smiles on our faces and the heartiest of laughs.
We had love in light and the darkness did not matter much for the day was just.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
something to share
I did not have words to share but in remembering love I remembered some of the lessons I had learnt along the way and posted almost two years ago... I am no guru but I have learnt some things along the way and I know I am still to learn even more along the way...
My facebook stat update 15 July 2009
Stat update: I've learnt that sometimes we love the wrong people and hold onto them at the cost of ourselves, that more often than not we like far more than we actually love and that sometimes we refuse to learn the lessons no matter how much they get regurgitated
what continued to unfold in my words as they cascaded into the comment box...
That sometimes love can hurt not because we do not love yet because we often over think the things that don’t even matter, so we get it wrong when it’s right. Love loves understanding, patience, honesty with whole truths told, it thrives best with, leaps of faith no matter the obstacles it plunges head 1st into, it relishes in the us factor more than the individual’s needs. Love loves past the obscure inefficiencies of the one who’s loved to see the goodness in heart.
It sees light in the darkness.
I’m reflecting honestly to that which I’ve honestly learnt whilst in the game of relationships. I’ve learnt in hindsight that even the bad relationships were too good for the lessons learnt along the way. That all that I’ve learnt has made me more certain of what it is that I’d like going forward. That there is no complexity in relationships except that which we create by not being completely honest with expectations or those things that we choose not to bend or compromise on with those we wish to share our lives with like morals, etiquette or common courtesy we expect and as well as the value we put upon our own personal worth’s.
Loving someone means understanding that which they are yet that gets hard when all that is brought into light to one’s knowledge is not all there is to the one being loved.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
the question that gets asked over many a time...
With each new search of self, we move further apart from the truth and the scripted becomes reality... Of the many forgotten truths our story lines stop telling tales of where we have been to get to here and honey loses its sweetness to mimic the bitter taste of ashes. How surreal is this that the ones born now seek knowledge of their yesteryear... Ndi nguban ndivelaphi, okhokho babesithin mandulo... mvelaphi yam ngokuzithutha nditsala ncambo ziphi na?
Family trees and broken histories do not give insight into the realities sought... Who am I? young black child, the sex is irrelevant for the distortment of our stories is intertwined. So "I cry Freedom" but have no true knowledge of what really transpired between our forefathers. Where were our roots first planted, is my lineage's umbilical chord rested near the heart of Azania? Is this dream of my land that exists merely in my mind? I saw a sign that read: "The African Dream" it was neon green at a jazz club and I wondered what that was, the African dream I mean, we are walking against the tide and freedom is well, are we really free?
If I had to look further than my nose and dig deeper into me would I like the knowledge I find. Would I hate udakkie wa-beyond these confined borders of my conjured up state of mind or better yet would I see me purely reflected back at me? I am here because of those that walked the walk many moon miles ago, they gave birth to those that birthed those that eventually gave birth to the ones that bore me and I too shall one day be them who will be a Khokho to those that come into being in the future...
My roots are African, a little mixed because this, my land has been raped many a time that no-one even bothered to keep count yet the signs are telling subliminally but mostly ignored. Nna ke mang? Am I this person journeying towards the unknown, who is realizing the importance of the knowledge of one’s lineage? They say: “You cannot know where you are going, if you don not know where you have been.”
I do not know who first uttered these words other than that they have been uttered. Some things need the resounding sound of echoes, one of them is you and I.
Batho ba ko hae ba kae? Even belief systems now need the why. We, you, I, she, he, me, him or her have deep entrenched roots that should be recorded. History books tell only a part or parts of: The Story. Uncover and impart your truths unto paper and make sure that your story is rightly written so that those born of your loins have their history down in text to look up and tell their young of the journey.
The ones that came before me played their part in me. As I represent each of them in me,they created me different by the stripes of their creator and thus I was born an African. I am different yet the same to the man I pass by on the street corner. Our journeys differ but our pasts are intertwined because those that lived before us crossed paths somewhere somehow so this is not quite different. Hello to you there in your youness. I am me but these chords within me cannot let you pass by without a hello ‘cause our history binds us.
I can say no more than I am me, translated it sounds better to my tongue: Ndi ndim. Something in me seeks the natural, a rhythm that unfolds untainted but being.
Family trees and broken histories do not give insight into the realities sought... Who am I? young black child, the sex is irrelevant for the distortment of our stories is intertwined. So "I cry Freedom" but have no true knowledge of what really transpired between our forefathers. Where were our roots first planted, is my lineage's umbilical chord rested near the heart of Azania? Is this dream of my land that exists merely in my mind? I saw a sign that read: "The African Dream" it was neon green at a jazz club and I wondered what that was, the African dream I mean, we are walking against the tide and freedom is well, are we really free?
If I had to look further than my nose and dig deeper into me would I like the knowledge I find. Would I hate udakkie wa-beyond these confined borders of my conjured up state of mind or better yet would I see me purely reflected back at me? I am here because of those that walked the walk many moon miles ago, they gave birth to those that birthed those that eventually gave birth to the ones that bore me and I too shall one day be them who will be a Khokho to those that come into being in the future...
My roots are African, a little mixed because this, my land has been raped many a time that no-one even bothered to keep count yet the signs are telling subliminally but mostly ignored. Nna ke mang? Am I this person journeying towards the unknown, who is realizing the importance of the knowledge of one’s lineage? They say: “You cannot know where you are going, if you don not know where you have been.”
I do not know who first uttered these words other than that they have been uttered. Some things need the resounding sound of echoes, one of them is you and I.
Batho ba ko hae ba kae? Even belief systems now need the why. We, you, I, she, he, me, him or her have deep entrenched roots that should be recorded. History books tell only a part or parts of: The Story. Uncover and impart your truths unto paper and make sure that your story is rightly written so that those born of your loins have their history down in text to look up and tell their young of the journey.
The ones that came before me played their part in me. As I represent each of them in me,they created me different by the stripes of their creator and thus I was born an African. I am different yet the same to the man I pass by on the street corner. Our journeys differ but our pasts are intertwined because those that lived before us crossed paths somewhere somehow so this is not quite different. Hello to you there in your youness. I am me but these chords within me cannot let you pass by without a hello ‘cause our history binds us.
I can say no more than I am me, translated it sounds better to my tongue: Ndi ndim. Something in me seeks the natural, a rhythm that unfolds untainted but being.
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