On Sunday, I completed my first Sigma 5K run. Given my history of
athletic NON-performance, this was a big deal for friends and family
(hehe).
My mother, spiritual maverick that she is, put it all into wonderful
perspective.
She encouraged me to approach every day of my life with the same level
of tenacity and drive I'd applied to Sigma.
In essence, what she said was:
When you get tired and feel worn out, DON'T STOP. RUN ANYWAY.
When you feel drained and parched and starved and desperately far from
the finish line, DON'T STOP. RUN ANYWAY.
When you feel sick and close to dying, and feel like thousands of people
are easily passing you by while you're there giving your best and not moving an inch, DON'T
STOP. RUN ANYWAY.
You may not win the WHOLE race, but you will win YOUR race, meet your
goals, and accomplish something spectacular.
Have a great day, you! :)
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
1,600 too many ...
The Sunday Gleaner's main story
lamented the loss of
an unbelievable
1,600 children
to crime and violence.
That's 1,600 futures snuffed out;
1,600
solutions
to problems
in Jamaica
that we will
NEVER
have the joy
of experiencing;
1,600 voices,
smiles,
lives
that will
never
be heard,
seen
or experienced.
In my mind,
it creates a
yawning chasm
in the future
of our nation.
We will never know
what we have lost
in those 1,600 children.
Our record for
savage heartlessness
is nothing to be proud of.
It's 1,600 innocent lives, Jamaica!!
When will we wake up and stop the senseless killing?
Friday, February 1, 2013
Bad News Blues
Yesterday was an exercise in deep grief and tragedy.
I sat through the first half-hour of TVJ's news broadcast experiencing a gamut of feelings from the darker end of the emotional spectrum.
First, a policeman was killed and five others injured during a tactical training exercise. Somehow, one (or it could be some) of the rifles that were supposed to contain blanks were loaded with live rounds of ammunition. The result was fatal. Then 14-year-old Sherifa Saddler was killed, allegedly strangled with her school uniform tie, and her body thrown from a car onto a street. Then some deranged lunatic shot a four-year-old in his face. He died on the spot. To hear the mother talk was heartbreaking.
I haven't watched the news and felt this way in a while. It wasn't the normal level of expected sadness. I felt wave after wave of overwhelming grief as story after story unveiled horror upon horror. I cried.
But it wasn't done. Imagine my shock when I later found out that the decomposed body of former high-schoolmate, 23-year-old Brittney Mighty, was found in Port Rocky yesterday. Brittney had been reported missing for a week, and now ... well, we all know the tragic end to her story. It's too sad. And it's too much too soon.
Today is the first of February. Jamaica has already racked up a shocking number of deaths by murder – and murders of a most gruesome nature. We're one month into the new year, and I'm just hoping that these murders/stories are not indicators of how 2013 will be.
We want Jamaica to be the ideal place to live, work, and raise a family by 2030, and yet it seems that not even our police force can get it right – with each other. I shudder to think what the death toll will be like at the end of this year if we continue this way. I shudder to think that so many lives are uselessly lost in this very small, yet very great, island each day. Why can't we just get it right?
Seriously, why can't we just get it right?? If you believe in prayer, do us a favour and whisper a prayer for Jamaica.
I sat through the first half-hour of TVJ's news broadcast experiencing a gamut of feelings from the darker end of the emotional spectrum.
First, a policeman was killed and five others injured during a tactical training exercise. Somehow, one (or it could be some) of the rifles that were supposed to contain blanks were loaded with live rounds of ammunition. The result was fatal. Then 14-year-old Sherifa Saddler was killed, allegedly strangled with her school uniform tie, and her body thrown from a car onto a street. Then some deranged lunatic shot a four-year-old in his face. He died on the spot. To hear the mother talk was heartbreaking.
I haven't watched the news and felt this way in a while. It wasn't the normal level of expected sadness. I felt wave after wave of overwhelming grief as story after story unveiled horror upon horror. I cried.
But it wasn't done. Imagine my shock when I later found out that the decomposed body of former high-schoolmate, 23-year-old Brittney Mighty, was found in Port Rocky yesterday. Brittney had been reported missing for a week, and now ... well, we all know the tragic end to her story. It's too sad. And it's too much too soon.
Today is the first of February. Jamaica has already racked up a shocking number of deaths by murder – and murders of a most gruesome nature. We're one month into the new year, and I'm just hoping that these murders/stories are not indicators of how 2013 will be.
We want Jamaica to be the ideal place to live, work, and raise a family by 2030, and yet it seems that not even our police force can get it right – with each other. I shudder to think what the death toll will be like at the end of this year if we continue this way. I shudder to think that so many lives are uselessly lost in this very small, yet very great, island each day. Why can't we just get it right?
Seriously, why can't we just get it right?? If you believe in prayer, do us a favour and whisper a prayer for Jamaica.
Friday, January 11, 2013
A Girl's Story
I knew this girl.
She was raw.
She was uncensored and unafraid.
She was honest - to a fault.
And serious.
All the time.
About everything.
And intense.
She lived her life like that - intense.
She thought hard about everything.
And cried plenty - and waaay too easily.
If you asked her a simple question,
She would break it down to a science
And answer you through philosophy,
With language that breathed literature.
She was a very complex creature.
But, oh God, I loved her!
Because she was so authentic
And so genuine and so real.
She was who she was
And people just had to deal with that.
Most of them didn't.
But she didn't let it bother her.
She was always on the outside.
She didn't quite get people.
And people didn't get her.
They said she was a little weird.
No.
They said she was weird a lot.
But she didn't let that bother her
Because whether they said she was weird or not
They had to admit that there was something about her -
This thing they couldn't name or define
And it wasn't a bad thing either.
It was a good thing - whatever it was.
It was a special and powerful
Potential.
Life can be this thing - this place - this big, scary mass of people and
She was raw.
She was uncensored and unafraid.
She was honest - to a fault.
And serious.
All the time.
About everything.
And intense.
She lived her life like that - intense.
She thought hard about everything.
And cried plenty - and waaay too easily.
If you asked her a simple question,
She would break it down to a science
And answer you through philosophy,
With language that breathed literature.
She was a very complex creature.
But, oh God, I loved her!
Because she was so authentic
And so genuine and so real.
She was who she was
And people just had to deal with that.
Most of them didn't.
But she didn't let it bother her.
She was always on the outside.
She didn't quite get people.
And people didn't get her.
They said she was a little weird.
No.
They said she was weird a lot.
But she didn't let that bother her
Because whether they said she was weird or not
They had to admit that there was something about her -
This thing they couldn't name or define
And it wasn't a bad thing either.
It was a good thing - whatever it was.
It was a special and powerful
Potential.
Life can be this thing - this place - this big, scary mass of people and
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