My default response is to throw a tantrum,
blame God and make rash decisions.
I am working at it.
I want to be like Obama
Unfrazzled, calculated and smooth.
But my blood pressure is like a reckless danfo driver.
A Nigerian military regiment
invaded the Newyork stock exchange.
They marched to my desk wielding big guns,
gave a smart salute and announced to the surprise of all my collegues,
That my father, the president had sent a chopper to get me home urgently.
Aye, put a respect on my name!
All hail the chief!
Daydreams.
I expect God to be my commando warrior
To keep all these madness far from me
Bless me only with beach holidays and margaritas.
Is that even a biblical doctrine?
Instead it seems like heaven is on a long holiday.
Sending me postcards from the Bahamas
Talking about learning to trust in God
Whilst the world and my mind is gone bonkers.
When i finally became a man
I realised how lonely the masculine experience actually is.
It is not good for man to be alone
In his mind or space.
The problem is, men don't talk.
We work, worry, grunt, drink beer and play with adult toys.
Anything to escape that five minutes of painful introspection.
So we trade precious time for five minutes of wonder.
I think men need God more than we realise.
Do you remember that quiet night,
You noticed the neighbour's curtains slightly open.
Curious, you turned off your own lights,
Peered closer and discovered wonder.
This is how i feel about a good blog.
A gentle unrestrained access into an untamed mind.
I need a good blog
One that does not indulge me.
I love when you surrender your mind to a diary
Like a child discovering watercolor in a kindergarteen art class.
And then you become the audience
of your own wild thoughts.
Like lighting a blunt on a lazy saturday,
Fireflies playing on the radio,
And a local girl weaving your afro into bantu knots.
This post is about learning to find quiet.
There is a charming restaurant in the Philippines
It is called "Van Gogh is bipolar'
It welcomes clients to celebrate their imperfections, embrace their flaws,
And light a path to discovering wholeness.
I still haven't found what i'm looking for.
I'm still searching.
I will be found by You.
These ideas are like tiny birds flutterring above my head.
Ignored till they become like pesky badgering woodpeckers.
The penny finally dropped.
I think too much.
I analyse everything,
I worry excessively.
Someone said I simply need to turn off my brain sometimes.
Be still my soul.
But first, let me worry about what i'd do with the silence.
I spent last night memorising famous shakesphere quotes, listening to @BessObarotimi,
And analysing stock market activity
All so i appear wildly intelligent for a client engagement in the morning.
You have brought me to this place
So i look up to you to sustain me
I trust you to sustain me
You lift my head.
My scraggly bantu braided knotty head.
This post is about writing postcards to Jesus
I have a few concerns.
A widowed mother with a failing health,
Mortgages in an economic recession,
Playing russian roulette with a raging pandemic,
And heavy obligations of career decisions.
It is difficult not to worry.
it is tough trying to be like Obama.
These are my T.Notes.
