Substance Abuse

 We look at out lives and wonder why we feel so empty. The food we eat, the media we consume, the drinks we drink often times empty as we settle for convenience. We participate in yoga void of meaning as we stretch unconsciously, with little regard to the original goal of the practise, we think we are who we think we are, our lives are just pacification of the demands of the mind as if that is who we are. 

We buy, we drink, we fuck, we eat in hopes of filling something with feeling within us. This is a fleeting satisfaction. We seek friendships and keep friends who subtract energy and time from us yet they add nothing but misery. It’s the loneliness we fear.

We follow blindly leaders who shout sweet nothings confidently, it must be true if they say it confidently. Their actions echoing the nothingness as they consume the sweet in form of profit. 

We pay before we pray in hopes our tithes will push out prayers to the front of queue. We pray to gods who divide us into them and us, they will burn in the pits of hell while ‘us’ enjoys the spoils in heaven.

We introduce ourselves by emphasising our job titles as if the foundation of our identity lies in ‘IT Manager’ 

Everything we consume takes us away from each other and even further from ourselves, as everything we do is framed in the dimensions of the IG square. The individualistic pursuits an abnormal division. 

How deep is your love?

We desire to be loved deeply, truly and unapologetically as we are. Exactly as we are. We seek to be seen by others as a validation of that love and an extension of our identity. We yearn for our burdens to be shared, especially when our knees begin to buckle at the weight on our shoulders. We want the kind of love that shields us from the gust of the outside world. The love that laughs and dances even when no joke has been shared nor music played. 

We seek all that but are we truly capable of providing this kind of love?

Can love flourish outside ego?

Can love be unconditional, if it comes with conditions?

I am learning and accepting that people can only love to the capacity of their perception. 

When people can reject or withhold love because of something as trivial as identity, or when people’s love is based on what they think you should be doing, even when people’s love is based on exchange obligation. This level of love is on them especially so if you are capable of loving these people despite of the things. 

I am learning that unconditional selfless self love is the greatest force, once you begin to love yourself as you truly are. Like no one has ever walked a day in your shoes, how can they know how to love you unconditionally when they are incapable of loving themselves. 

I am accepting that the external stuff should serve as the cherry on top, not the substance by which self worth is measured. 

There will always be a reason as to why someone has justified to withhold love. Let go and let God. She knows what she is doing. 

Light

Tonight I held light in the palm of my hands. 

I tried to capture it, it slipped between my fingers. 

Weightless it danced with ease as it moved from my palm to my forearm.  

The shadows darkened, almost engulfing the stray light now on my finger.  

Its fragility highlighted by the growing darkness. 

As the last of it is finally swallowed in darkness I struck by how much light is actually in dark rooms**. 

P.s There is always light, we might not see it we might not feel like it's there but there is always light. Somewhere no matter how seemingly small. 

What growth feels like

Growth fits differently once you start to see and acknowledge it. 

Growth starts to feel like the figure hugging curve riding dress that fit like a glove.

Growth starts to feel like dancing to your favourite song as the sun’s lights join through the open window. 

Growth starts to feel like a smile in the midst of a storm.

Growth starts to feel like the lifting fog on a low visibility morning as you drive to work.

Growth starts to feel like reassurance, every heavy heartbeat will ease eventually.

Growth starts to feel like once that lump in your throat dissolves to tears, you will get over this.

Growth starts to feel like ‘yer, ride this out, ride it all out, because tomorrow we not doing this’ and feeling strength in that.

Growth starts to feel like acknowledging ‘yes you are scared, yes this isn’t how you imagined it working out, yes, yes, yes’ but also knowing you have survived much worse.

Growth starts to feel like yes it stings but what to do, we move. 

Growth starts to feel like creating even when everything is screaming for you to pacify your heavy body and lay in bed. 

Growth starts to feel like the harnessing of the energy, letting it go and not hoarding what is of no use. 

Growth starts to feel like acknowledging pain is not permanent, nothing but love is. 

Confusion is futile in this game, you roll with the punches or risk being left behind, it all keeps going, with or without you. 

You have to show up play your part for you

Growth is remembering that things go forwards, always.

Each night is a fight.

Some nights are worse than others. 

Some nights I'm unrecognisable, each blow lands with enough force to convince me I am worthless. On these nights it seems easier to cower and pick a method, its not like there is much value to add. 

These are the nights I know I have to fight the hardest, these are the nights I know I must remind myself that I am here.

I must remember that all things have their own divine timing, my demise included.  

I must remember that things that are forced are not mine, my demise included.  

I must remember that in the body, cells perish once their job is complete.

I live and die with each breath.

Some nights leave me black and blue, some nights the recoil leave you bruised.  

I die most nights and each morning so far I am resurrected. 

I guess someone must want me around.

Opium of the People

It is Love

Love is the question 

Love is the elixir

Love is the cure 

Love is the ultimate goal

It is Love

Fuck Julie

I am not a secretive person, I tend to share personal information in a need to know fashion and not on a free for all whim. For my own reason I am careful about the access I allow to people, currently I feel as though too many people are watching, judging and commenting on my life, when they have not been given access to it.

Because this is a time of uncertainty it can feel very overwhelming, as I am trying to grow, strangers feel comfortable enough to comment on my reality. 

Its appears much less difficult - not easy - to not care when the topic of comment is something one has willingly opened up about. But when Julie from Scunthorpe comments about how she doesn’t understand why I put butter and jam on my toast - of course she won’t understand its not her eating or enjoying, nor did I previously talk to her about my toast preferences.

Why the fuck does Julie know how I like my toast? I do not know this bitch. 

This 2020 let’s comment only on things that matter, and things that will impact our personal lives. Theres a lot of shit we can talk about. 

Fuck Julie and the toast. I am not even hungry anymore. Cunt. 

Fret not thyself, I say

Even with the red passport sat in drawer I am yet to feel British enough for it to be an identifier. I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy the airport benefits that come with having a red British passport - although post brexit who knows what that will look like for travel to EU countries-. England feels like home when returning from holiday and I am looking forward to being in my own bed, after a while sleeping in someone else’s bed loses its initial appeal. 

Having being fortunate enough to travel to other African countries, each country felt like a version of home and provided me with home comforts. Zambia is where my family is, where the hearts of people is warmer than the heat, if you fit in the small box reserved for women. 

I had this burning urge to go home, going back to my mum’s house did nothing to quench this desire, I hastily packed my life and went home to Zambia, I was certain this would quench the unsettling feeling that I was perpetually living in suitcases. My life felt like I was on someone else’s holiday, like I was sleeping in someone’s bed, it had lost it’s appeal and I was ready to go home.

The suitcases where no longer just a feeling, I was now lugging them with me. Disappointed on my return the only suitcases I managed to leave behind were of the physical kind, although I do not regret going I had grown and learned so much during my time, I kind of was glad I had one less physical suitcase, because at the airport the suitcase handle broke so it was kinda peak. 

I got back and needed a holiday, I came back having mastered the art of slowing down; you learn by force when you only have electricity for a few hours and your phone no longer connects to the internet. I began meditating and trusting my instincts. Roots began taking form and shape, I was none the wiser I began removing myself from places, things and people that no longer felt good, when things didn’t work out I knew then it wasn’t meant from me and were learning blocks, I began to trust the process of mourning the hard work and celebrating the opportunity presented to grow.

I lay in bed one night and realised I felt at home for the first time, the irony of the fact that the bed I was in was not my own made me laugh at the knowledge that the suitcases in the corner of the room where the only ones I was carrying at that moment in time. I am learning and finding comfort in the fact that nothing can cut my roots, I belong and no one can take the earth beneath my feet.

I guess home really is where the heart is. 

I am going out in nature more and ensuring my plants are growing healthy. I am grateful each day of being. 

P.S - Plus you know no where will ever feel like home if I don’t feel at home in me, in England despite my papers I am too black, too African, for these reasons and many others I am reminded daily that I don’t belong, and in Zambia I am too gay too British, for these reasons and others I am reminded I do not belong unless I conform. I won’t win trying to break my back doing things for the benefit of others while shunning my own needs. I do not win if I am beefing all of my own moves.