Cuba Chronicles: My Trip In Photos

My two weeks in Cuba were an exercise in catch and release. I caught glimpses of architectural and cultural beauty beyond compare. And I released myself to the experience completely.

Here are some of my highlights - in photos.

Cuba Chronicles: Relearning Patience with Dial-Up Internet

So I’ve never been a particularly patient person. I know that I like the fast life precisely because it is exactly that: fast. No tedious hours of waiting and waiting and oh so boring waiting. So. Imagine with me the agony I feel even as I type this blog post, and wait patiently for the characters to appear on the screen long after I have typed them. Imagine what I feel when I cannot make a WhatsApp call and stay on the phone all night with my beloved because - well - that's just not how it's done here. 

To be honest, the Internet in Cuba is not bad. It's just slower than what I'm used to. And they say you never know what you've got till it's gone - even temporarily.

I have taken deep breaths, messaged my people to let them know I will be more out of than in touch with them for the next two weeks, and come to terms with the fact that old-world charm is not always all that charming.

Funny thing is, I knew that I would not have Internet for most of my time here. I just hadn't stopped to truly appreciate the full implications of that thought. I somehow still expected to be able to WhatsApp and Insta and tweet and blog to my heart's content. I hadn't formed a concrete concept of what 'no Internet' or very little Internet would look and feel like.

There's so much to learn from this revelation. I realise I'm probably as spoilt as any other millenial. And even though I have prided myself on not being attached to all my worldly trappings, apparently I still have more than a passing love affair with some. Cuba is proving that - and showing me some heretofore obscured aspects of myself.

I almost got miserable at the prospect of no readily accessible Internet yesterday. I wanted to share moments from my day with others and couldn't. I wanted to do a blog and post immediately, but couldn't. Eventually, I put down the phone and opened my ears and eyes to the beautiful wonders of this foreign land. 

Cuba is aesthetically amazing. Its rich architectural history has been painstakingly preserved. It's reputation for revolution and rebellion is heralded in every story tourists are fed. They are a simple people, and yet they are a proud people. They have an identity forged through separation from the rest of the Americanised world that has also manifested in a sense of national pride. I like that. I'm enjoying hearing about that. And seeing the relics of times I have only read about.

And I can't help thinking, thank goodness there is no phone or Internet to distract me from absorbing and fully engaging all this marvelous country has to offer. There is a calm that can come with disconnection. Funny. I'm just learning something the Cubans already know.

Cuba Chronicles: COPA and the Jamaican Prayer Warrior

She was sitting on the opposite side of the aisle two rows up from me. I could see her, not because I got an aisle seat, or because of the bright yellow sweater she was wearing, but because of the furtive rocking back and forth that went on pretty much the entire flight.

And I do mean the entire flight. From the minute she stowed away her carry-on and sat down, this woman began to rock and mutter under her breath. At first I couldn’t catch what she was saying, but as the intensity increased, and the volume along with it, I realised that she was praying. She must have been praying. That is the only logical explanation for phrases like “rout the enemy”, “put the devil’s plans to flight”, “grant us safe passage, oh God”.

When she was finished, I whispered ‘amen’ too. Couldn’t hurt. My parents raised me to reverence and fear God and the godly, in all their various manifestations.

But it wasn’t over. The flight took off, and everyone settled down, and I got into the novel I had brought along. Then the muttering started again. My Jamaican prayer warrior had decided to have her own little prayer and worship session right there on the plane in her seat. The rocking resumed, and for much of the flight to Panama, she was a mass of bobbing jherri curls and upraised hands.

Her eyes were tightly shut the entire time. I know her eyes were shut because one of her legs was in the passage, and when the air hostess was trying to pass her with the serving tray, the man sitting beside her had to tap her on the shoulder and point out that she needed to move the obstructing foot so the air hostess could pass.

She obliged, closed her eyes, and the rocking and head-bobbing and chants resumed: “Jeeeeee-suuuuuus! Jeeeee-suuuuus!” She was whispering. But I could hear.

When the plane touched down and we were taxi-ing to our final stop, my prayer warrior lifted her hands (fully, up to this point they had been at half-mast) and said, “Thank you, Puppa Jesus! Mighty deliverer! Yuh do it again!” And clapped. Then looked to her neighbour and pumped a fist, as if to say, ‘Yes, our team won!’

It made me smile. Because Jamaican quirks are what they are no matter where on the planet we are. While we were exiting the plane, I watched the jherri curls and yellow shirt disappear into the crowd of disembarking passengers. Who is to say that beyond the bright yellow of her blouse, that prayer warrior hadn’t, in the way she knew how, just added a little light to all our lives?

How to Have a BIG WIN Year (Or What I Learned in 2016)

First of all, big breakthroughs are precipitated by years of hard work and developing good habits. None of it happens by chance. I live with the intention to be better than I was yesterday, to learn from every situation, and to mature into the best possible version of myself. This is the basis of my beliefs and actions. So even when I seem to make drastic changes to my beliefs and actions, the underlying motivation remains constant (someone needed to hear that).

At the end of last year, I decided to engage people. That was it. I decided to have a people-centric year. I set the intentions of (1) more effectively and consistently serving the ones I love, and (2) forming more meaningful connections with people of like passions. The result was a BIG WIN year. Here are the principles that stood out most:

1. Spend time with people you love and who love you. 

I spent 2016 giving more TIME to people whose company infused me with energy, who I was sure genuinely cared for me, who consistently made time for me, and with whom I shared similar passions and interests. I just gave them the lion's share of my time and consistently chose to be with them. The result was that I spent less time with people who didn't meet that criteria, and had many more moments of joy and genuine connection, and much less awkwardness, discomfort and angst. I had unwittingly found and chosen to be with MY TRIBE! These were the people to whom and with whom I truly belonged. It gave me loads of energy and encouragement and peace. There was less dissent and doubt and fear. These people believed with me and sometimes FOR me, and pushed me when I was just drained and exhausted, because they love me (for real reals).

2. Look for connection.

This is so important. I chose to just trust my gut and go after the people with whom I felt deep connections. It worked. I would go to events, talk with lots of people, and follow up closely with the ones with whom I'd felt some kind of spark. I ended up making lots of new friends with whom I share plenty of common interest. And I ended up strengthening relationships that had been casual for years. I found people I could help, and who could help me, and who were running in the same direction as me and were willing to join me on the journey. My people knowledge database expanded drastically in one short year. It was great!

3. Do what you love.

Because it's your life, and if you don't enjoy it, who will? I just threw out the burdensome, tedious tasks I had felt obligated to do and, as often as I could, did the things I was really interested in and excited about. I went to more art exhibits, book readings and launches, parties, self-improvement seminars, dance concerts - anything I already knew I loved to do that filled me with zest and joy, I pursued that. The result was more connections with people of like passion, and plenty bliss. Pure bliss.

4. Express self less and listen more.

When I made the decision to engage people more, I chose to be an active listener and encourager. My focus became: 'how can I be present for this person right now?' I made serving others a priority, and I learned something from that: people want to be heard. Often, lunch and a listening ear was all it took to turn a casual friendship into something more solid and intimate. I just listened and let them know that I really cared (because I really did). That was a definite game-changer. People appreciate honesty and genuine concern. But if you think about it, of course they do! We all want that.

Listening more also gave me many nuggets and insights that I had missed before. I re-learnt a lot of my friends last year. I heard them. You can't become a better listener without also becoming more observant overall. So I picked up on certain cues and expressions. I heard the story beneath the words. And I learned to appreciate these people, and love them so much more.

5. Learn to let go.

I didn't realise it at the time, but deciding to more actively engage people I felt strong connections to automatically meant less engagement with those I didn't. Some friendships just faded. When I went after connection, I realised how many people were sorta just there ... in my life because I had picked them up at some point, and they just kinda stuck over the years. We no longer shared common interests or passions, we just had common history. But this history was no longer relevant to where or who I was. And I had to learn to let those go. When a friendship no longer has a certain kind of intensity, allow it to become casual. Don't be afraid to let go of the people you've known all your life who you no longer relate to. If you've grown apart, admit it, love them, but don't stress about it. Allow the relationship to grow where it's growing. Don't see it as loss. See it as evolving.

6. Get the good exhausted. 

The kind of exhaustion that comes from doing so much of something you love with people you love and thoroughly enjoy, that you are just all worn out. What's the point of agonising over things that do not serve you at all? Why get tired doing things you despise with people you really don't belong with? Find your tribe. Find your passion. And then go for it with all you've got. Take the risk. Work superhard! And get the exhaustion that fills you with joy and satisfaction and fulfillment. Get the good exhausted.

SIGMA RUN 2017

I use the Sagicor SIGMA Run to gage my aging process each year. My time, how I feel when I'm running, how many young whippersnappers breeze past me ... All of these are the non-scientific indicators I use to determine whether or not my body is still up to the fitness challenge.

This year, I saw a proliferation of tiny primary schoolers whizzing past me, my calves were on fire, my stomach was churning bile, my breathing was very halted, and I felt like a very tired 50. Meanwhile, some little upstarts were just blazing past me with all their hype and energy, and I realised that my not-yet-30-year-old body was threatening to jump into the nearest AmbuCare ambulance and just stay put.

A thought occurred to me this year, though, that had me chuckling and crafting a poem in my head while I walk-ran. It was after seeing a madman standing on the side of the road watching the passers by, and the women in particular. He inspired this poem:

SIGMA 2017

Mad man standing at half mast

Eyes bump-a-bumping

To rhythmic rotund rumps

Jouncing down the street

Drumming time

To the patter of running feet

Is it time to get a life coach?

I'm considering getting life coaching for 2017. Partly because I'm curious to see how that works first-hand, and partly because I think I would really benefit from it. I'm already driven and determined and pretty disciplined ... but the mantra for 2017 is DOUBLE EVERYTHING, so I need to double my energy, effort and impact. Life coaching can probably help with that.

What made me start to consider life coaching as more than just a fleeting fantasy was the fact that I met a phenomenal friend online. (Yes. I do that. I have met great people online: awesome movers and shakers who are also wellsprings of wisdom and knowledge about a variety of things that matter to me in life.) I find like-minded and like-spirited people wherever they are. And I embrace them and the roles they play for however long in my journey. Sometimes the meeting is fleeting - an ephemeral connection. And sometimes ... sometimes the connections stick and those strangers become friends. Long-distance friends, yes. But still, friends.

This one woman has been dropping emails in my inbox for years now, freely sharing about her life and her journey. I usually drop her a one-liner or so in response. But some time earlier this year, I made the decision to actively engage the people to whom I feel a genuine attraction/connection. (I should do a post about how that one decision, consistently applied to every new relationship, has transformed almost every single aspect of my life. It has resulted in a love explosion. My friendships, family life, work life, volunteerism ... game-changing decision, I tell you).

So I've always been able to relate to this lady's posts. They are usually of the bare-your-heart variety. Her writing is direct, yet open and vulnerable, and I have a really big appreciation for the principles she usually lands on by the end of her emails. They resonate with me in a big way, and one day, I wrote a somewhat lengthy email telling her so. She responded. I responded. And we've been dialoguing ever since.

Here's why I call it a friendship: there is an honesty in the conversations that allow us both to be frank and pull from and learn from each other. I have grown from those dialogues. So much so that I am now considering trying a life coach for 2017. Imagine: we didn't make a commitment to connect or help each other, or anything. We just talked freely, and it has transformed me. I have gained so much insight and applicable solutions to various problems ... That's the power of connection.

It makes me wonder how much more growing and learning I could do if I had one person who was devoted to that cause alone: helping me see my blind spots and triggers, teaching me the best and most effective ways to deal with certain things ... it might accelerate the growth process significantly. It could change the game -again- in magnificent ways. It might be the missing ingredient to make 2017 a real double-up year. Who knows? I just might do it.

To be, or not to be ... my #Bitmoji?

I might be jealous of my #Bitmoji. She has more swag than I do. And the way she changes outfits - in the click of a button? Oh how I wish it were that simple! My Bitmoji has clothing choices from Calvin Klein, Alexander McQueen, Bergdorf Goodman, Michael Kors, Marc Jacobs ... She can go from casual to formal in a heartbeat. She has the perfect outfits for her body size, and accessories come with them all! SMH. Lucky, lucky girl.

She doesn't have to worry about social awkwardness and angst. She's been programmed for expression perfection. No matter the situation, she has a quip, a line, a look, or something that will usually provoke the right reaction ... especially from MY closest friends and family. And she comes with a built-in disclaimer: if something she does or says doesn't go over well with her audience, they don't blame her, they blame ME! She gets away with expressing herself HOWEVER she wishes - anger, sadness, annoyance, boredom, joy ... she says it all and doesn't care. I'm the one who has to be paying attention and ensuring that what she says is appropriate and inoffensive.

I love her fearlessness. She's not afraid to say 'I'm sorry', or 'I love you', 'I miss' you', and 'wish you were here' - and even 'you stink!' She has no qualms about telling it like it is, and even if she is afraid, she expresses that fear with fierce boldness - she's not afraid to be afraid. Or vulnerable. Or wrong and foolish and quirky.

My Bitmoji is also enviably adventurous - flying off ropes, swinging on trellises, popping out of cars, cakes and boxes, throwing on all sorts of disguises, quoting flicks like a real movie buff, celebrating every holiday on the planet  ... she's everybody's favourite funny girl.

It makes me think about the reservations we often carry with us through life. It can be so easy to start to live on 20-25% of your personality, to somehow just morph yourself into the mundane patterns necessary to get through the days, and to forget, as a result, to claim, express or develop the other  75-80% of who we are ... or could be. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we were all unafraid and crazily expressive like our Bitmoji selves? (Although, truth is, some of us are!) What would our relationships look like if we were that honest with each other? If we said what we meant and felt: I'm sorry; I love you; I miss you; I'm proud of you ... ?

Maybe Bitmojis and emoticons are our way of 'safely' expressing the part of us that wants to connect  with people and be vulnerable and open without actually being all of that often uncomfortable stuff ... maybe they enable us to express the things that would otherwise be difficult to say. Or maybe they give us a cop-out, feeding our tendency to avoid genuineness and authenticity, and helping us hide behind funny faces and quick quips that ultimately mean nothing at all.

Food for thought.

How I wasted a day OR redefining wasted time

I feel like a terrible person.

Wanna know why? I blew a day. A whole day. I did no [real] work today. I woke, made breakfast, and then I sat down and binge-watched How I Met Your Mother. Netflix has the entire series. And I am a Netflix fan. My main sources of entertainment are real life, books and the Internet. I try to Netflix with moderation. But sometimes I end up doing things like binge-watching an entire series in the time that I should have been doing ... you know ... productive stuff.

Like writing. I'm a big believer in the am-writing hashtag world on Twitter, et al. I draw real encouragement from those 140 or less characters detailing other people's struggles and successes with the writing process all across the Twittersphere. I join in the write-at-whatever-hour groups when I can. I join the late-night writers and try to use my after-work hours to polish my future bestsellers. I try to give my writing as much time as I give to my nine-to-five, because I read somewhere that it's ridiculous to give so much time, effort and discipline to another person's dream, and then pretend indiscipline when it comes to your own. I agree with that sentiment. If I can be great at working to build another man's empire, I should be AWESOME at building my own. And I shouldn't need a slavemaster to motivate me to put in the work required to build my own dream.

So I try. I defy sleep sometimes. (Other times, sleep defies me). I forego preparing a proper meal and just settle for quick cereal (I love cereal though). I read. I delve into the worlds of other writers and find out how they're doing, what they're working on, etc. I occasionally go out to get some semblance of a proper meal and socialisation.

But. There are still days like today when no matter how many times I pick up the writing project and say, I'm going to do this .... I end the day thinking, well, I blew it ... again. I didn't do the things I set out to do at all. I had an awesome day of unparallelled productivity planned, and all I ended up doing was sleep ... watch something in between sleep ... some mild housecleaning ... wash clothes, cook something ... sleep some more. That was all the awesomeness my tired brain could manage today.

Failure days?
I hate these kinds of days! They feel like failure days. I hate days when the tired is so much, and the will is so weak ... I just let Netflix take over the thinking for me. Or whatever. It makes me feel guilty. And weak. And miserable inside. And I feel worse for being able to write about how I'm feeling in a blog post, but not do the important writing for the important  projects. *Sigh*. I posted this tweet tonight:

State of mind: #needachange SOON. #amwriting for REDEMPTION. #tired but TRYING. #burnoutisreal. Somehow, in my head, it's #November already.

This truly is my state of mind.
1. I need a change soon. If not, monotony will be the death of me.
2. I AM writing! It's my constant in life. No matter what is going on around me, my ability to write coherently has never left me. And my writing usually somehow goes directly to/from my heart. I value that and see it as a redemptive quality.
3. I'm tired, but I'm trying. These days, this should be my motto. It's not just that I've been fighting flu and sinus issues for the last month ... there's a weariness these days that is so overwhelming ... I ward it off most days, but sometimes, like today, it just hits me full force and it's all I can do to raise my head and look over the edge of the bed. I am realising that burnout is real, because I'm now walking through serious physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. I was on fire for the first seven months of this year, and now? Oh gosh man! I feel like tiredness has set into my bones. I need to rest ... or something, but ... there is so much to do, and so little time to do it in! You don't make an impact by playing it safe. You don't get to do great things by working just a regular job with regular hours. Achievers push. I believe that you don't grow if you don't push yourself past your own limits, so I try to push myself forward, because how else do you expand your horizons? It takes a toll sometimes, but most years, I can look back and honestly say going out of my comfort zone and taking on new responsibility was worth it. If I don't drown under this new workload, 2016 will be one of my best years yet. I'm working for it.
4. I'm not superstitious. I don't believe in any of the spooky stuff either. But I have this great feeling about November. I don't know why, and I can't sensibly explain it, but it's going to be an exceptional month. And in my head, I keep thinking I'm in November already. My brain just keeps skipping past September. Dunno why. Go figure.

Nothing is wasted
Part two of this rant is that I may have to redefine what I call wasted time. Is the time really wasted if I spent it getting some well-needed R&R? At what point did I accept the notion that any time spent doing anything outside of my (perhaps foolishly narrow) definition of productivity is wasted? And why do I feel guilty for giving myself a break for a day? Funny; if I had spent the day reading a novel, I wouldn't feel as terrible. Because it's somehow more sophisticated to say I spent the day reading a literal, physical book, than it is to surf the net (even if most of it is reading long-form opinion in the Guardian and NY Times), or binge-watch anything on Netflix or YouTube. Isn't that just pretentious? Where did I pick up that notion? And is it correct?

And on another level, is anything ever truly 'wasted'? There's a song by Elevation Worship that says 'nothing is wasted'. I'm starting to think maybe they're right, and I should learn to relax and just let life be.

If I did that, today would not be seen as a wasted day. And I wouldn't feel worthless for it. I would realise that after a month of fighting off the flu and not taking any real rest, and on the tail-end of juggling four major side projects in addition to my mainstay job, maybe a day like today is my brain and body's way of reminding me that I am not a robot, and I must occasionally pause and relax.

I want to reach a place where I master the pace of life ... where I'm always building and making progress, but doing it in such a healthy way, my brain and body don't feel the need to just shut down on me. I'm working towards that, too. Maybe I'll get it by November. Or maybe I'll figure that out by the time I'm 60.

Either way, what I'm clear on is that I'm making progress in some sort of way. And even though right now, I still have days like this - where I feel less accomplished than I'd like, in the end, when I look back on the big picture, there's something happening. And that something is good, beneficial, and very, very promising.

I woke this morning with a clear head ... and Nora Ephron came to mind

I woke this morning with a clear head. After walking around for the last three days trying to balance what felt like a swollen, oversized, inflamed bowling ball on my neck and shoulders. The pain has waned, the mucus has subsided, and I woke this morning with a clear, normal-sized head.

Nora Ephron (1941-2012)
Author, journalist, essayist, playwright,
screenwriter, novelist, director, producer,
blogger ... and one of my biggest
inspirations :)

I was going to read my Bible. I took up the laptop to find Matthew 5 and ended up on Pinterest reading Nora Ephron quotes – a turn of events for which I'm sure she would have had several witty remarks. She would probably have worked it into a plot for a famous romantic comedy,  adorning it with brilliant lines that would have made the movie a quotable hit.

Ah, Nora! How she lived! I think of her, and the word fabulous comes to mind. I enjoy her books, movies and essays. So delightfully humorous, and relatable. I loved 'You've Got Mail', 'Sleepless In Seattle' and 'When Harry Met Sally' long before I knew who had written them. In fact, I loved Nora precisely because she wrote these movies. Then I read 'I Remember Nothing' and 'I Feel Bad About My Neck', and I just loved her wit and blunt honesty. It's always refreshing to hear truth without the side serving of bitterness or hate. Some people tell you the truth, but it is so tainted by sadness, it just sounds and looks ugly. Then others tell you the same truths, and there is such a beautiful acceptance - a coming to terms with it - that makes the impartation gentler, more meaningful and ... wholesome.

Nora Ephron had that vibe. She said things that were true, but cushioned them in humour, or with a simple grace that made them more like gentle advisories than rude slaps. And she laughed a lot - at herself and others. Everybody who knew her said so. She mastered the art of taking life just seriously enough to get the lessons without allowing them to permanently harden you. I think I would have liked her if I'd gotten to meet her in the flesh. But I am happy that I got to meet her, to some degree, through her work, and her words.

There's a fundamental presumptuousness which accompanies writing about people we've never met as if we knew them. But there is also something wonderful about getting to meet a person through their work and words. It gives you insight you probably would have missed if you knew them in the flesh, because writing often reveals the depths of a woman/man.

That's why I love the literary arts. It introduces you – intimately – to perfect strangers, and seduces you into connections with people and places unknown. Through their words, you get glimpses of their minds ... and sometimes, what you see is so wonderful – so powerful and dynamic and brilliant – that you fall irrevocably in love. I honestly don't know how anyone goes through life without succumbing to the charm and magic of reading ... and writing.

I like the way Nora Ephron puts it:

“Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I've accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.”

How true! How very, very true.

Life is not a straight line

One of my friends has decided to come out. As a writer, that is. She's made some bold steps in her life recently: quit the nine-to-five, (stable) job; set up her own website; started her own literary movement online; decided to earn a living on an entirely freelance basis ... . She has decided to waste no more time building another man's empire, and is now concentrating her efforts on building her own legacy. I admire the courage it takes to walk away from the traditional model of security that we were brainwashed into, and pursue a heartfelt - though as yet unrealised - passion. I haven't as yet surrendered to the need I frequently feel for a similarly great disruption in my life.

Earlier this year, a young man with whom I am acquainted just got up and left his nine-to-five, and flew to New York to basically camp out in a studio to produce the album that was burning a hole into his heart - and head. He came back to Jamaica remarkably thinner - and yet somehow infused with a freshness of purpose and depth of character that left me feeling a need to re-meet him on these new terms. The energy he exuded was so altered - so transformed by his experience of tuning in to and pursuing the thing he felt he was born to accomplish - that I realised I would have to discard some of my previous beliefs about him and learn him all over again.

I ran into him on the street after his return, and we just stood there talking about how his brief experience with less-than-ideal circumstances had shifted his perspective, cemented his conviction and determination, and birthed a solidness in his personality that I had not previously perceived. I marveled at it, and wondered if it was because action - small though it may seem - had replaced what was once just a whole lot of raw desire, angst and ennui. I mused that when people start to take actions based on their personal convictions, and from an attempt to be as true to their authentic selves as possible, instead of just following the dictates of tradition, they tend to have a certain je ne sais quoi - a certain something - a resolute stolidness - about them that is often missing from those who never make the bold move or strike out on the road less traveled.

Widened experience widens horizons and perspectives. It grows people up and teaches them patience, discipline, maturity and persistence. I keep meeting it in friends from high school and college. The ones who were full of longing and have done something in the direction of those dreams are now full of a certain wiseness ... the best ones exude a calm understanding of placement, timing, persistence, and the unpredictability of life. You talk to them, and beneath the sentences runs a current of sagacity. Life has taught them something, and they have been gracious in accepting the lessons.

Then there are the ones who are clearly disappointed and disoriented. And have allowed it to hollow out their hearts (and faces), and chisel their cheekbones into hardened bitterness. Their eyes are shifty. They laugh and self-deprecate. While they are talking, they glance at you to see how you are responding, and if you are reading the emptiness or uncertainty behind their words - you can sense their fear that you will detect the facade and call them out on it. Or worse, call someone else's attention to it.

I'm not judging. I think on any given day, I can be a mix of the two. There are days when the courage and the calm comes and floods my soul with an ethereal peace. Then there are days when my eyes would rather remain transfixed to the pavement, instead of telling old friends harsh truths. On those days, escape, abandonment and bridge-burning seem desirable. It can be so easy to flee ...

... which makes me wonder at the courage it sometimes takes to stay. It must take strength, I think, to remain in a place that reeks stagnation, depression and death. For whatever reason, there are persons who will never take any radical step in any direction. They will never launch out into the deep. They will learn to tiptoe through life, live with their discomfort - sometimes a sacrifice for others - and  train themselves to draw on a reserve of ... something ... to get through redundantly unfulfilling days.

I think it shows courage in a different way. Doesn't it probably take more out of a person to remain discomfitted? It takes a certain gigantic cowardice, yes, but that actually requires enormous amounts of energy, time, and life.

What I've realised is, most of us never listen to our guts beyond hunger pangs. We tend to hold back, stay in the stream of conventional normalcy, and float with everybody else to that place of mediocre malcontent that most nine-to-fivers hit by the time they greet the big 4-0. And then they grieve the life they did not live because they never worked up the courage to kick the habit of mundane comforts. The gargantuan price we pay for sameness only seems deceptively small.

That's why these friends who have decided to step away from the path mapped out for them by society have earned my admiration, and given me much to ponder. They have decided to live driven lives. Is that much different from my somewhat spur-of-the-moment trip to Mexico earlier this year? What was I looking for in Mexico that I couldn't find in Jamaica? What did I acquire in Mexico that has left me feeling like my days in Jamaica are fast approaching an expiry date? Food for personal thought.

The point I wanted to make though, was that this friend who has decided to hone and offer to the world her writing voice, did a blog post in which she said she was, once again, starting over. I shook my head at that. Because life is NOT a straight line. And the impression I got was that she kept starting over with hopes of somehow one day achieving a straight-line history. She wants to look back and see a perfect trajectory from one direction. I used to think like that too. I used to announce every blog post after prolonged absences with a new determination to 'begin again' and 'get it right this time'. Then one day I realised I never got it wrong. Who defines what my blogging experience ought to be? Where did I - did we - pick up the notion that we had to live our lives in a straight line - in this perfect trajectory from Point A to Point B to Point C? What sold us that lie? And why did we buy it so easily? Why are we only now just realising the need to challenge this? These questions sometimes rob me of sleep.

Life is a crooked line. Pun intended. It's not even a line sometimes. There are gaps, and stops and so many curves. My friend keeps starting over, instead of building on what she did before ... because she thinks that not carrying through what she had started in a particular way somehow invalidates the effort. I grieve for that belief, and for the societal institutions that popularise and propagandise it. I realise that by not starting a new blog everytime I had a hiccup in my writing frequency, I established a body of writings that bear testament to my continuous efforts to get my thoughts out in some coherent verbal form. It gives me eight years of work to look back over. And to build on. It proves that my hiccups were conquered, and gives me a base to work from ... a history that is not a cute black point extended in one direction over large stretches of time. It's a mess of writings and words that tell a very human, mixed up story that gives glimpses into the growth of a mind.

I salute my friends for taking their leaps of faith. But I want to tell them to forget the straight-line approach. It never worked for Bell. That's why he stuck with the curve. I want to tell them to do him one better and go for squiggles and mushes and messes. I want to tell them to celebrate the crookedness of their paths, and I want them to realise that all of that mess of scrawling and bawling behind them led them here - to the moment when they stepped into their very own with new-found self-respect, self-reliance and self-determination.

And I want them to tell others who they meet along the way to not torture themselves for the absence of a straight line behind them ... and to make their path forward as uniquely artistic and authentic as possible - hiccups, ennui, angst and all.

Selah.

Some Tuesday motivation

#GoGetIt #LiveYourDeam #NeverGiveUp #LiveUp #LookUp

This is the thing I remind myself (well, one of many things I try to remind myself) when life gets a little rough. There are days when I forget. There are days when I forget to be positive and think positive and act positive. Sometimes I forget that this moment is really just a moment and that it does not and will not define all the other moments to come ... . So here's a reminder for those of us who forget: treat a moment like nothing more and nothing less than a moment. And if you forget ... ah well, tomorrow, we try again ... :)