Going through it…

There is something to be learnt in the deepest valley of grief, change, transformation.

Solitude becomes virtue, conversations with others stimulate your own perspectives.

The constant reach out to others that can shed a light, rescue you from the deep dark valley become fundamental.

The disappointment when others are also in their own valleys, hearing your loud voice screaming, unable to rescue you for they themselves are in opposite valleys, becomes foundational.

In the moment you realise, no one is coming to rescue you. Not because no one is willing, but rather everyone is in their own valley with no pathway to get to your side.

Hope comes from slowly climbing up, one step at a time, with a song in the heart, chanting melodical melancholies that give you strength to focus on the song, never mind the climb, follow the rhythmic steps each line, hook and sinker stirs in the soul.

Before you know it, you reach the top and get out of the valley, singing out loud, not realising that those who were too far to reach your deep end heard music from a distance, started making way to the source of the beautiful rhythm filling their heartbeat, upon getting closer they saw the most marvellous dance.

Each twist and turn you made as you gripped the valley walls, zealously climbing out the valley mindlessly like it was nothing but a choreographed dance routine, inspired their climb out their valleys, rushing to come see what’s happening, where this music comes from.

“What is this song you play? Where did you learn this marvellous dance? How did you do it in this valley? Please can you show us how to do it and sing the song for us?”

Well, can I really show you how to do it if you are not in the valley yourself? Did I take notes on how to do it? Do you want to get into this deep pit of a valley just to learn a deadly dance with a very high risk of demise?

Such is the mystery of life.

Each experience builds strength that cannot be transferred to another for life is an individual experience.

Draw strength from all that surrounds you, see it for the lesson it brings and the resilience it builds.

Embrace the applause when you reach the sun, out of the deep dark valley, for it never shines 24 hours a day. Soon enough, sure enough, the sun will set and the moon will rise.

Surely it is normal to be in the middle of the darkest night and still be hopeful for sunrise.

Being a Hermit

Most times I find myself alone.

My best times are with myself.

Yet my world is surrounded by people.

People I love and cherish.

People who love me wholeheartedly as well.

People I make cameo appearances in their lives.

Whom we have shared best laughs and silent cries.

Who hold my heart dearly in theirs.

Whose hearts I hold dearly in mine.

Who appreciate even singular encounters that turned strangers into friends. Family. Lovers. Teachers. Learners. Acquaintances. Everything.

Being invited to share and be part of special moments is a daily.

Being able to honour every invitation is a rarity.

Today,

I accept that I cannot be all to all.

I cannot honour my most pressing need and not shatter another loved one’s hope or desire or plea.

Yet in all these needs, I honour the need to be myself wherever I land.

Coz I’m a hermit. We all are.

The first and last relationship, need, love I have is myself.

The lowdown on ‘HAIR’piness

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Morning blog

I’m home on a Thursday evening watching my favourite TV program, America’s Next Top Model, one of the few that can make me turn down a night out in town with girlfriends. There are very few of those because I’m not a TV person, more of a pen and paper book crazy.

And I watch this very pretty freckle faced woman cry her eye balls out, because the theme for the day was, “I will make you a model” makeover for all contestants, and her makeover included cutting her very long hair crop short.

Personally I had never even noticed her out of the 12 girls until her hair was cut short. All of a sudden I could see the deep blue eyes and the beautiful freckles sprinkled all over her rosy cheeks. She really just stood out from all the contestants, she was beautiful, the kind of beauty that you find yourself thinking, “The universe must have really paused and watched her being created, perfection to the T”.

It had all been disguised by the long hair.

So the poor girl is crying hysterically the entire night, and at the photo shoot, and during the feedback sessions that they have with Tyra.

She is convinced that she is the ugliest woman on earth now that her hair has been cut short. She looks at the mirror and howls; she doesn’t see all that beauty she possesses, because her hair is gone.

This got me thinking, to what extend does a woman’s hair define her beauty and her worth?

At that moment it crosses my mind that, I have been informed many times that women with short or no hair are not appealing to men. They feel threatened by her, that she is not feminine enough, and rather appears rough on the edges.

This comes from many others, men and women, that have been quizzed on this topic, and also a dear friend who loves them weaves and I must say, she looks really good in them.

She is very pretty, has explored dreadlocks, short hair etc, and she looks really good in weaves. I, on the other hand, have always preferred to go natural and short. At some stage I even grew locks, mainly because I thought they would give me options to do all the beautiful styles that I see fellow sisters rocking, without actually buying 100% HUMAN hair!!

It is not that I have anything against weaves per se; it has more to do with the fact that I personally look best in my short almost no hair, or so I thought. And I have been told many times.

See, my high school was very strict with all students having short, untreated black hair. I got used to that look and wouldn’t even bother to do anything different even during holidays because I’d have to cut it again when schools open.

Even when I proceeded to tertiary and the workplace that became my trademark. I have always loved my natural look, not even dreadlocks can match up to how I feel when I have no hair whatsoever.

Or so I thought, until I was compelled to put a weave on.

You might think why do I feel I was compelled?

Well, I was single, and there was a funeral in the family, the deceased happened to be a male cousin who had plenty of gorgeous friends that came now and again for condolences. And obviously they would all be at the funeral.

Did I mention they were gorgeous? And I had been single for months, craving a little bit of attention?

I had cut my locks because it was in summer and hot, me not used to so much hair on my head they drove me crazy. I kept them, so I can re-attach them again at a later stage.

So I decided to explore the weave options, because they would serve both purposes, my hair will grow longer so I can re-attach my locks, and hopefully I will look good enough to attract a few suitors at the funeral.

The weave worked, everyone noticed, at work, at play, I had never ever had that much attention from people about my hair before.

I looked gorgeous! Yet I was feeling lost, in a foreign world and very irritated by the weave. I felt like I was betraying me, by succumbing to what didn’t come naturally to me, and I really couldn’t embrace it.

Eventually I removed it and went back to what I’m comfortable in, my locks, but the question still remained at the back of my mind,

TO WHAT EXTENT DOES A WOMAN’S HAIR DEFINE HER BEAUTY AND HER WORTH?

And so I ask….