A bitch and her two pups made and lost their way into the desert not far from their home. A sudden sandstorm had erupted from nowhere and blown them off course till the mother did not know where to find, again, the secret path they had taken to leave home. It soon became terrifying. The boy-dog was the first to state their predicament. It was his personal custom to state the obvious. He said:
-we are lost.
His tail was wagging as he said this. The fear had not yet touched the tail/tale of the adventure in his head. The girl-dog was wiser. She had heard the stories of the lions in the desert. She stayed close to her mother not simply out of fear, because she was quite resolved, but to breathe in the familiar smell of home.
The sandstorm passed duly but now everything was sand. The mother-dog could no longer make her way toward freedom or toward the boundary of home.
She sighed, guessed the old distance and began to walk slowly toward a barely understood concept she had heard called “east”. Her children followed her in unquestioning trust.
(For the sake of keeping the story short and sweet we may travel through their time faster than they have, not suffering the sweat, sun, agony of what they endured for hours….we meet up with them as they encounter the peculiar situation that is at the centre of this whole narration…….)
It was not long, in our time, but hideously long for them, before they ran into trouble. The mother-dog could see that a pride of lions had begun to encircle them. She found a tactful way to pull her children close to her, to shield them from the knowledge of danger. We are told that it is not in the nature of such creatures to think this way, to ward off mental as well as physical danger. We are told that it is not the way of the dog to do this yet it is the way of this dog. For, in her heart, she hoped to give her pups a little peace before the impending dark plunged them into a violent death.
The pride was slow to attack. The prey had no way to escape. They had cut off, slowly, any route of useless attempts to do so. They did not want to run.
Soon they were visible to each other; the predator and the prey. Three lionesses came forward and looked down at three measly dogs. The meat for the evening.
The mother-dog stood in front of her scared brood. Her own hind legs shook terribly. She forced herself to look at the killers. She forced herself to bark against their roar. She made herself brave. And in that stance, she waited for the darkness to come.
But the darkness did not come. A hint of recognition won the day. For in the face of the lioness that stood at the head of the hunting pack she did not see slayer, killer or predator. She saw the face of an old friend.
Three dogs walk in the midst of desert-lions into a canyon of broken trees and forgotten wells. It is the only semi-shade in all the heat and the recognized face, now revealed as the queen of the pack, has declared it to be cool at night. It is already fading day.
The queen-lion and the mother-dog go to the head of a large boulder and talk under its unique shade. The boy-dog is intrigued by the size of the cubs and grabs his sister to go and explore these magnificent creatures of smaller stature. They all begin to play.
The mothers talk.
-I did not think you would survive running into the desert.
-I surprised myself.
-all these years and now you are a queen.
-by precedence not by achievement.
-Still...all this time...we are old, we have fresh-ones of our own.
-where is your male?
-which one? There are many. I have had many pups that have grown. My present male...he comes and goes. Your king?
- He comes here at night. He is probably hunting some female...not to eat as meat. I am not sad (laughs) male is male and female is female. It is the way of the species. It is the way of all nature.
-I always wondered why you left the commune.
-my heart wanted the wild, the open spaces, to be free of rules that contradict my nature. To be free.
-they say you murdered some chickens (glances uneasily at her children playing with the cubs).
-your pups are safe. I have ordered it so. I did eat those chickens. To eat meat is in my heart. I cannot fight it. It is my nature. But you are not meat. You are a friend. It seems the commune had some effect on me after all. I cannot eat a friend.
The mother-dog allows herself to relax under the powerful eyes of her friend. The sand is cooler here. She is weary from walking and talking and protecting. She falls asleep.
The boy-dog was playing with the girl-cub when he first heard that they would be eaten. He had beaten her to a third race around the canyon. She had a fond look on her face when she said:
-I will be sorry when we have to eat you, fast-one.
Her tone was cool. She had no frills about him being both friend and meat.
The boy-dog runs to his mother and begins to bark out this new revelation of their fate. He does not know that the queen-lion still remembers the bark-language apart from the common tongue of all creatures. His mother could not tell him to be quiet fast enough. He read it in his mother’s first look. He knew they were doomed.
-so this is the end for us?
-I am sorry.
-is there no other way?
-this is the only way, the way of nature. One day I will die and the vulture will be my predator. It is the way it is, the very real circle of life.
-it will be easier if you do not fight it. I will make the death fast for all of you.
- This was all a trap.
-I did not want to hunt you. This is better.
-for you!
-it was always going to end this way. Deceiving you was an act of mercy. My sisters-in-marriage can be vicious. I spared you their torture. Can’t you see? Once you fell into our path your lives were forfeit. This is the best way. It will be quick. I promise.
-what happened to you in the desert?
-I became who I truly am.
- A liar, a killer, an eater of friends!!
-a lion, a beast, a predator.
The queen says this with a roar and the canyon shakes. The other eaters tense, expecting the feast is almost at hand. But she goes silent again. The shadow of impending death leaves her eyes. For the moment…
The mother-dog knows it is only a temporary calm. For all her bold talk there is no hope left in her. She knows she will die here, with her children, her efforts at freedom ending in bloody failure.
-you were running away, weren’t you?
-Yes.
-why?
-to be free.
-where is freedom possible?
-I heard there is a place beyond the desert…a place….
-…flowing with milk and honey. I heard it too. Where the lion lies with the lamb and the heart is no longer hungry. It was the first rumour I heard of life beyond the commune. The rumour of my own heart was stronger.
-so you gave up?
- I settled for reality not some dream land. Do you know how many pilgrims to this utopia lie in my belly?
-I think you are one of those victims..
-silence! Once my husband comes we will feast.
-and this is your freedom; hunter for an absent male.
-no, this is my freedom; not trying to be more than I am. That will only kill you.
-it has killed me already.
The queen-lion thinks of these words long after her friend has gone silent. They twirl in her head like that first rush of courage that drove her into the desert. The early-morning joy, the first jolt, the risk before the let down. This was a letdown. She was free but empty. Freedom was nothing by itself. Once it saved you from the chains you were in: what next? Her next moment had never come.
Now she was stuck. She could not kill her friend. She knew it the moment she began the hunt. She had been altered by the mere possibility of leaving at peace with others. She was not a killer; she only pretended to be one, to fit in with her kind, to please her male, to hide herself. Every hunt had numbed her but none had cured her of the conscience of knowing there was something more. Something more.
The more was beyond her now but she made her final decision in worship of it. She arrived at that place of milk and honey without ever stepping on the land that held its promise.
The dog walked away, slowly, trying to hide the joy of escape. She was not going back to where she had come from. That would not be possible. She had travelled too far. Her pups stayed close to her side. Together they walked toward the promise of a new home.
The queen-lion watched the dogs fade with the day, out of sight. She knew what would happen next. Her orders had been firm and would be followed. The dogs were safe. She was not so sure of herself. She could already see, in her mind’s eye, the shadows gathering around her. The ancient code had to be appeased. New meat must be found. Someone else would die.
Still, as the shadows came, closer and closer, almost real, she had the vague rustling of that old joy. She felt like herself when she was young and fearless and ready to be different. She felt like she had defeated her own nature by betraying it. She felt like she was on her way home.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
may your heart break....and mine too..
Common wisdom has it that heartbreak should be avoided at all cost. But common wisdom is not always right. In fact it, probably, rarely is. Such wisdom comes from the experience of common fears and thus normally lacks the ambition to grow out of that fear. For this fear, and its twisted logic, leads us to stifle imagination, cripple wonder and to live the safe-ordinary lives that can create nothing truly spectacular. In the hum drum life, where safety is king, any act or word that may have even the slightest element of apparent risk is crucified and every path to uncertain glory is the road that will not be taken.
We are taught early in life that safety is to avoid pain and enhance pleasure. If heartbreak is the worst kind of internal pain then any possible step to that house must not be given room to grow in our minds. This colours everything. Soon we have no real dreams or passion or want or desire. All we have must be processed through the great machine of self-preservation and serve the demi-god of the circumstances we can see, imagine or control with only our naked eye and the eyes of others that have done nothing with the gift of life.
Yet we cannot thrive in this life-house without the ingenuity of our sense of wonder, our need for real passion in our lives, our constant craving to act out the dreams long held in our storied hearts. For true material and spiritual advancement is anchored on our great search of the unknown, our questioning of the shadows and learning the uncomfortable answers of the light. We live lives that can only be challenged and enriched by taking risk.
Stop. Now imagine for a second that you have done all I recommend above. That you have let your heart set out on to uncertain seas and sea shores. And you have failed. Imagine that this has left your heart a little more broken than before or it has crushed you completely. What to do now?
Here, we reach the crux of the matter. For I do not only recommend that you risk all for the sake of truth but I also recommend that when your attempt at reaching for the stars fails and fades before your teary eyes that you let yourself fall. That you let your heart break.
Now, my aim is not to trivialize pain or to exaggerate the unpractical but I do believe that in pursuing the extra-ordinary life that heartbreak may be necessary and ‘practicality’ less so. Sadly our examples of success seem to push us toward the inner thinking box rather than spring us out of it. Our reaction is to copy and not to innovate or build upon. There is a genuine but misguided belief to save people without a saviour or a saving path, to protect them from the ills of this world while also shielding them from the possibility of things. Christianity, at its core, offers another path-the saved must understand the sacrifice of the saviour, acknowledge it in all its brutality and daily live in the serenity of the grace it offers. It says “carry your cross” “die daily” not as pseudo-masochistic undertakings but as reminders that true character is made in the furnace of ordeal. To avoid ordeal is to miss the opportunity to grow. Everything in life tells us that it is in difficult times that words like courage, leadership, perseverance, triumph have any meaning. We avoid such trying times to our own detriment.
Heartbreak? To be broken by an event shows you are invested enough in an outcome to be affected by it. It is not cowardly to fall apart because your dreams and hopes have been dashed. It is cowardly to not dare a dream. It is not weak to cry tears when you are hurt. It is weak to not admit hurt or to worship that hurt as an excuse for inertia. It is not foolish to be used or deceived for it is wise to learn to trust in people, principles, and possibilities. There is nothing wrong in being wrong for it leaves open the door to be made right.
For all failure can lead to eventual success and every letdown is innately beautiful because of the creation or re-creation that can come from chaos. The light that is always ready to conquer your dying day. The truth that is always willing to correct the lies you have bought and sold to your-self.
In the end the truth is what the soul desperately needs. It is worth the broken heart because it is the final, crucial healing for the heart. Truth sits above all realism, practicality, relativity. It cannot be subjective because by its very nature it is objective.
We hope on things everyday that will break our hearts, all limited, finite, and not able to satisfy. I do not recommend that anyone tries by effort to shut out these false whispers because they help us realize the great shout of God. For even the lie has the purpose of failing so the truth may stand. We may need to hit our head against the wall in the dark to remember to look for the light switch. I do not wish to puncture any balloons of hope too soon. I have often made the mistake of trying to burst my own too soon or help others to do the same to theirs. It does not work. Truth must come from the realization of the individual heart. You may plant the seed or water the growing plant but you never, ever give the increase. That bit God leaves for Himself.
The individual must grow through his or her own anguished night. The heart must break. A death to self must occur. For this breaking down is the first symbol of repentance and the cornerstone of faith. Weakness must accept strength; the fallen must be raised by the power of the sun. It is not a weak position to take to give in to God. We are already weak compared to the vastness of the eternal spirit. Our lives are brief, our skins are so easily broken and our power over the earth is limited. Admitting this lack and “lostness” is simply owning up to the truth about ourselves.
To find initial purpose and to thrive in being built by it is the strongest decision we can make. If a broken heart is the path to knowing that this is the truth then: May my heart break.…and yours too.
We are taught early in life that safety is to avoid pain and enhance pleasure. If heartbreak is the worst kind of internal pain then any possible step to that house must not be given room to grow in our minds. This colours everything. Soon we have no real dreams or passion or want or desire. All we have must be processed through the great machine of self-preservation and serve the demi-god of the circumstances we can see, imagine or control with only our naked eye and the eyes of others that have done nothing with the gift of life.
Yet we cannot thrive in this life-house without the ingenuity of our sense of wonder, our need for real passion in our lives, our constant craving to act out the dreams long held in our storied hearts. For true material and spiritual advancement is anchored on our great search of the unknown, our questioning of the shadows and learning the uncomfortable answers of the light. We live lives that can only be challenged and enriched by taking risk.
Stop. Now imagine for a second that you have done all I recommend above. That you have let your heart set out on to uncertain seas and sea shores. And you have failed. Imagine that this has left your heart a little more broken than before or it has crushed you completely. What to do now?
Here, we reach the crux of the matter. For I do not only recommend that you risk all for the sake of truth but I also recommend that when your attempt at reaching for the stars fails and fades before your teary eyes that you let yourself fall. That you let your heart break.
Now, my aim is not to trivialize pain or to exaggerate the unpractical but I do believe that in pursuing the extra-ordinary life that heartbreak may be necessary and ‘practicality’ less so. Sadly our examples of success seem to push us toward the inner thinking box rather than spring us out of it. Our reaction is to copy and not to innovate or build upon. There is a genuine but misguided belief to save people without a saviour or a saving path, to protect them from the ills of this world while also shielding them from the possibility of things. Christianity, at its core, offers another path-the saved must understand the sacrifice of the saviour, acknowledge it in all its brutality and daily live in the serenity of the grace it offers. It says “carry your cross” “die daily” not as pseudo-masochistic undertakings but as reminders that true character is made in the furnace of ordeal. To avoid ordeal is to miss the opportunity to grow. Everything in life tells us that it is in difficult times that words like courage, leadership, perseverance, triumph have any meaning. We avoid such trying times to our own detriment.
Heartbreak? To be broken by an event shows you are invested enough in an outcome to be affected by it. It is not cowardly to fall apart because your dreams and hopes have been dashed. It is cowardly to not dare a dream. It is not weak to cry tears when you are hurt. It is weak to not admit hurt or to worship that hurt as an excuse for inertia. It is not foolish to be used or deceived for it is wise to learn to trust in people, principles, and possibilities. There is nothing wrong in being wrong for it leaves open the door to be made right.
For all failure can lead to eventual success and every letdown is innately beautiful because of the creation or re-creation that can come from chaos. The light that is always ready to conquer your dying day. The truth that is always willing to correct the lies you have bought and sold to your-self.
In the end the truth is what the soul desperately needs. It is worth the broken heart because it is the final, crucial healing for the heart. Truth sits above all realism, practicality, relativity. It cannot be subjective because by its very nature it is objective.
We hope on things everyday that will break our hearts, all limited, finite, and not able to satisfy. I do not recommend that anyone tries by effort to shut out these false whispers because they help us realize the great shout of God. For even the lie has the purpose of failing so the truth may stand. We may need to hit our head against the wall in the dark to remember to look for the light switch. I do not wish to puncture any balloons of hope too soon. I have often made the mistake of trying to burst my own too soon or help others to do the same to theirs. It does not work. Truth must come from the realization of the individual heart. You may plant the seed or water the growing plant but you never, ever give the increase. That bit God leaves for Himself.
The individual must grow through his or her own anguished night. The heart must break. A death to self must occur. For this breaking down is the first symbol of repentance and the cornerstone of faith. Weakness must accept strength; the fallen must be raised by the power of the sun. It is not a weak position to take to give in to God. We are already weak compared to the vastness of the eternal spirit. Our lives are brief, our skins are so easily broken and our power over the earth is limited. Admitting this lack and “lostness” is simply owning up to the truth about ourselves.
To find initial purpose and to thrive in being built by it is the strongest decision we can make. If a broken heart is the path to knowing that this is the truth then: May my heart break.…and yours too.
Monday, September 28, 2009
singing david gray to her.."please forgive me...."
Please forgive me
If I act alittle strange
For I know not what I do.
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And theres so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
When you look at me that way
Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into some mystery
Deep into that mystery
I got half a mind to scream out loud
I got half a mind to die
So I wont ever have to lose you girl
Wont ever have to say goodbye
I wont ever have to lie
Wont ever have to say goodbye
Yeah na na na na
Yeah na na na na
Please forgive me
If I act alittle strange
For I know not what I do
Its like my head is filled with lightning girl
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
If I act alittle strange
For I know not what I do.
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And theres so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
When you look at me that way
Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into some mystery
Deep into that mystery
I got half a mind to scream out loud
I got half a mind to die
So I wont ever have to lose you girl
Wont ever have to say goodbye
I wont ever have to lie
Wont ever have to say goodbye
Yeah na na na na
Yeah na na na na
Please forgive me
If I act alittle strange
For I know not what I do
Its like my head is filled with lightning girl
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
babylon....
Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule
Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon
Sunday all the lights of London
Shining , Sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon, Babylon
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule
Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon
Sunday all the lights of London
Shining , Sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon, Babylon
Thursday, July 23, 2009
the crush....
i have not had a crush in years
or so i will say if someone else was here
nothing else to hide from or fear
until i bring my hand close to your ear
and try to make music from the tear
of my heart
next to you
you say it is inappropriate to walk this line
i say rejection never looked so fine
i am done with love like yesterday
just to find a little fairy near
soon to be gone
but let me try
to sing a new song of original meaning
it is to you i have been waiting,leaning
no need for conversation when love comes
or is it just the crush?
then God bless the old word
for you are the swagger, the temple, the sword
and if it is how it is advertised in my heart
it will pass by fast
too quick for words or reason
just an old song for the new season
and if it is what i say it is
you have nothing to fear
tolkien or soyinka need not bother
no epic or saga to depict
it is just an end
and if it is only a crush
then before these words are read
i would have moved on
but i saw you in prime age
and something in me moved
like snow on the end of winter
like the last rain in june
like the marsh road of smeagol ending
something moved
so.....perhaps...it is time...to freak out
for number one
may be number two
afterall.
or so i will say if someone else was here
nothing else to hide from or fear
until i bring my hand close to your ear
and try to make music from the tear
of my heart
next to you
you say it is inappropriate to walk this line
i say rejection never looked so fine
i am done with love like yesterday
just to find a little fairy near
soon to be gone
but let me try
to sing a new song of original meaning
it is to you i have been waiting,leaning
no need for conversation when love comes
or is it just the crush?
then God bless the old word
for you are the swagger, the temple, the sword
and if it is how it is advertised in my heart
it will pass by fast
too quick for words or reason
just an old song for the new season
and if it is what i say it is
you have nothing to fear
tolkien or soyinka need not bother
no epic or saga to depict
it is just an end
and if it is only a crush
then before these words are read
i would have moved on
but i saw you in prime age
and something in me moved
like snow on the end of winter
like the last rain in june
like the marsh road of smeagol ending
something moved
so.....perhaps...it is time...to freak out
for number one
may be number two
afterall.
Friday, June 5, 2009
on ambition: part 2 : the answer: "reach of arm."
to say: "i want to change the world" is a wide and silly concept without the benefit of context. in this season of obama-love the idea of change can become the pseudo-quest for self-importance ( we are important intrinsically but not merely for ourselves). it is easy to set the task of saving the world in general and connect it to innate feelings of misapplied greatness. but life is not the united nations and the people who have had the most impact in shaping global right thinking have always sprung out of ethical-political campaigns situated in a local context. think: martin luther king and race relations in america or gandhi and indian independence or nelson mandela and the end of aparthied in south africa. saving the world begins, and may end, in the context of your own local setting.
your very own patch of the earth. true greatness is not manufactured it is merely lived up to. a thousand books on becoming will not change the silent call of your own heart, telling you to do that particular task and become a little more like yourself.
when i say i want to change the world i must begin with my own patch of earth. i do not know if the words i say or the acts i perform will have any effect on the street child in mumbai or the tortured woman in kabul. i know the troubles within my own family. i know when my friends are hurting. these are within the reach of my arm. this is where i begin to change the world one person at a time. the way i will deal with six billion is an extension of the way i have dealt with one. in our generation, private acts must match public conduct. i should not be uncaring to the people i spend most of my time with and speak love to the general peoples of the world. i should not seek to escape facing the real questions of my own corruption by subsuming them into a quest to end,say, economic corruption. i am more concerned today with living and loving within the reach of my own arm.
of course my arm will extend. there is a wife around the corner and children to be born, books to write, business, activism...my horizons will continually expand. and i will grow into all of it. i am in no hurry. i am not trying to meet up with some landmark set before me. the land that is my life is virgin territory. i walk alone, competing with no one. the reach of my arm is my own patch of earth.
so, for this weekend, this is how i intend to change the world: i am going home early today- to hang out with my sisters and sit with my mother(she has been a bit under the weather lately). i am going to call friends and brothers and just talk breeze. i am going to call the woman i am chasing and try to make her laugh. for somewhere between my lack of a funny bone, anywhere and her idea of laughter only in reaction to sarcasm we have not done that enough. tommorow i am going to the house of my brother to observe capentry and eat free food. on sunday me, that woman, my brother and his woman are going to see the nigeria-kenya game. we are going to sit in the stadium and scream for the great green white green. between screams i will be sipping on my first bottle of beer ever. the reach of my arm.
and everday i will wake up to find it again: the awareness that if i live the best life i know how, if i allow grace in, as an ocean, and let it carry me on its heady wave to island after island in need of a light houses for the soul- from shore to shore, person to person, living, breathing, becoming forri, then i will be changing the world.
your very own patch of the earth. true greatness is not manufactured it is merely lived up to. a thousand books on becoming will not change the silent call of your own heart, telling you to do that particular task and become a little more like yourself.
when i say i want to change the world i must begin with my own patch of earth. i do not know if the words i say or the acts i perform will have any effect on the street child in mumbai or the tortured woman in kabul. i know the troubles within my own family. i know when my friends are hurting. these are within the reach of my arm. this is where i begin to change the world one person at a time. the way i will deal with six billion is an extension of the way i have dealt with one. in our generation, private acts must match public conduct. i should not be uncaring to the people i spend most of my time with and speak love to the general peoples of the world. i should not seek to escape facing the real questions of my own corruption by subsuming them into a quest to end,say, economic corruption. i am more concerned today with living and loving within the reach of my own arm.
of course my arm will extend. there is a wife around the corner and children to be born, books to write, business, activism...my horizons will continually expand. and i will grow into all of it. i am in no hurry. i am not trying to meet up with some landmark set before me. the land that is my life is virgin territory. i walk alone, competing with no one. the reach of my arm is my own patch of earth.
so, for this weekend, this is how i intend to change the world: i am going home early today- to hang out with my sisters and sit with my mother(she has been a bit under the weather lately). i am going to call friends and brothers and just talk breeze. i am going to call the woman i am chasing and try to make her laugh. for somewhere between my lack of a funny bone, anywhere and her idea of laughter only in reaction to sarcasm we have not done that enough. tommorow i am going to the house of my brother to observe capentry and eat free food. on sunday me, that woman, my brother and his woman are going to see the nigeria-kenya game. we are going to sit in the stadium and scream for the great green white green. between screams i will be sipping on my first bottle of beer ever. the reach of my arm.
and everday i will wake up to find it again: the awareness that if i live the best life i know how, if i allow grace in, as an ocean, and let it carry me on its heady wave to island after island in need of a light houses for the soul- from shore to shore, person to person, living, breathing, becoming forri, then i will be changing the world.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
on ambition: part 1 : the question: "reach of arm?"
i have a running lie i tell so i do not have to explain myself too much. anytime i am asked about my own ambition i usually say, by word and then by deed, "nothing". or i play to the specific gallery. to lawyers i make some broad statement about changing the practice of law in nigeria"( for isn't the word "change" the moniker of our present kairos). to writers and readers i want to write, write and only write. to christian's i am all for christ domination. they are all ready answers to make sure i am left alone as quickly as possible. the lie was initially intended to hide the fact that i had no idea what i was doing. now, i know perfectly well what my days will bring, who i am becoming, in all those general and specific colours of fate and faith. in one sense i have always known. in another sense i am discovering it day by day. but now i am ready to say it out. to put it in words and hope that, to the hearer, it all adds up to some sort of logic beyond me.
i have thought about a definition for what i consider a worthy life beyond the the general sound bite of a "discover your purpose" seminar or book or book from seminar or seminar from book. i woke up this morning with an old quote from an odd book of delights in my head. the book is "Hannibal" by that writer of outstanding thrillers Thomas Harris. in one bright scene our heroine, clarice starling, is deciding what to do about our villian-hero, hannibal lecter. lecter has been abducted by one of his earlier victims, the demented mason verger, and is sure to be killed if starling does not intervene. she weighs her choices. she is, by now, a suspended FBI agent, her career lies in ruins, she may be facing criminal indictments in the near future. and all of this in the line of duty, while struggling to do the right thing ina world of wrong motives. she does not need to save him. she is the only witness to his abduction and no one believes her or really cares if lecter lives or dies. she could go home and mourn her descending life rather than risk it all for a man who is dangerous and would kill her if she ever got boring. it makes no sense to face verger and his gang of goons backed by money and the government. it is not worth saving a monster. her final thought in making her decision is of her father. he is the highest ideal of the worthy life, to her. it is with this thought that she rises, holsters her gun, turns her car toward the lair of villians and arch-villians with the declaration: "the world will not be this way within the reach of my arm."
i am going to write books but that is not my end. it is merely a means.
i am going to practice law but that is not my destiny or destination. it is merely a path to take.
i believe that in jesus christ we encounter the light above all lights, the light by which we can truly observe other lights. i believe that in his life on earth he showed the way man and all men should live and love and die to live again, full. i believe that jesus is the way to see God and what He wants with us. it is in seeing God that we see ourselves alive and living, full. looking and living toward jesus is the means to an end in God. i am not to take that revelation and move into a jungle in vain pursuit of the "pure life". faith or real religion is not an escape from the problems of the world, it is an answer to the problem of the world.
so, now i have a new answer to that old question: "what are your ambitions? what are you on earth for?"
the answer: "the world will not be this way within the reach of my arm." my gun is packed, i am turning my car toward the storm and danger. i want to change the world.
i have thought about a definition for what i consider a worthy life beyond the the general sound bite of a "discover your purpose" seminar or book or book from seminar or seminar from book. i woke up this morning with an old quote from an odd book of delights in my head. the book is "Hannibal" by that writer of outstanding thrillers Thomas Harris. in one bright scene our heroine, clarice starling, is deciding what to do about our villian-hero, hannibal lecter. lecter has been abducted by one of his earlier victims, the demented mason verger, and is sure to be killed if starling does not intervene. she weighs her choices. she is, by now, a suspended FBI agent, her career lies in ruins, she may be facing criminal indictments in the near future. and all of this in the line of duty, while struggling to do the right thing ina world of wrong motives. she does not need to save him. she is the only witness to his abduction and no one believes her or really cares if lecter lives or dies. she could go home and mourn her descending life rather than risk it all for a man who is dangerous and would kill her if she ever got boring. it makes no sense to face verger and his gang of goons backed by money and the government. it is not worth saving a monster. her final thought in making her decision is of her father. he is the highest ideal of the worthy life, to her. it is with this thought that she rises, holsters her gun, turns her car toward the lair of villians and arch-villians with the declaration: "the world will not be this way within the reach of my arm."
i am going to write books but that is not my end. it is merely a means.
i am going to practice law but that is not my destiny or destination. it is merely a path to take.
i believe that in jesus christ we encounter the light above all lights, the light by which we can truly observe other lights. i believe that in his life on earth he showed the way man and all men should live and love and die to live again, full. i believe that jesus is the way to see God and what He wants with us. it is in seeing God that we see ourselves alive and living, full. looking and living toward jesus is the means to an end in God. i am not to take that revelation and move into a jungle in vain pursuit of the "pure life". faith or real religion is not an escape from the problems of the world, it is an answer to the problem of the world.
so, now i have a new answer to that old question: "what are your ambitions? what are you on earth for?"
the answer: "the world will not be this way within the reach of my arm." my gun is packed, i am turning my car toward the storm and danger. i want to change the world.
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