You rescued me - Orignal

I will go to sleep with God tonight
and ask that He hold me tight
That He share my pillow; drench my fears
and send my pain vanishing in high billows.

I will go to sleep with God tonight;
my nerves strumming pleasant melodies
His gentle voice whispering hopeful stories,
drifting me slowly to sleep
with the birth of a new dream,
A new dream that begins
And ends with him.

between the lines

Sometimes when I say that I am fine
Do you read between the lines?
Can you see beyond my smiles
The tears I fight and hold
from welling in my bleary eyes?


And sometimes when I fall
I look around the rough
And I find reasons to smoothly sail on
With a pleasant chuckle that I share
That masks the sounds of crooked melody
Strummed by the broken pieces of chord strings in my gut

For there is a loneliness
I feel in their hugs
With a purpose that thrusts
When they tug



For if you listened hard enough
You just might hear where
and how they want to be loved;

in the gentle sounds within their echoes;
the innocent growl in their aggression
that beckons for just a little affection;
Too weary of our neglect and rejection.

But Sometimes I say that I am fine
When I’m only really trying to hold on to
What could have been mine.

And if you read between the lines
You would see with me
The many blessings they long for
That already rest as thine.

The night I went to sleep.

Despite the blistering cold that plagued the night
I swam in an ocean of my own sweat
Forcefully wading to shore
against drenching strong waves

The night was long;
my dreams were lofty
High on mountain peaks
that appeared hard to climb

I ran but fell;
my legs grew weak.

There was a city of gold
my eyes could behold
Far up the hills
I could reach if I be bold

I wailed at the mighty torrential wind
reaching forth to pull me out and away
The moon changed into sun,
and the sun became the moon
The clouds in the sky were shaded in gray.

That night I went to sleep a boy
and woke up a man
A new man, chief of a clan
with a scar to the face
That was faded in a tan

But the morning was fresh
and the leaves green
The city of gold my eyes beheld,
It’s treasures foretold
my hands have gleaned.

Finding balance

I have realized just how bad technology has taken away the meaningful relationships I once enjoyed. Today I traveled on a bus ride with a friend who sat right next to me for over an hour. While we journeyed, we talked and laughed. And When it was time to be silent, we became. The moments we shared were simple, and they were real.

Recently I decided to take a break from facebooking. And even though I have only been away from it for a week, it feels like a life time. I felt the urge many a time to go back and reactivate my account; to reconnect with the ones who have helped to keep me in touch with the happenings across the globe these many months I have been away from home. I miss that. Already.

Yet, as much as I like to occasionally indulge in the easy accessibility of modern innovation and the expediency with which its pleasures can be gratified, I also happen to be a lamp in the woods, book on a pillow kind of guy. And occasionally I find comfort when I immerse my thoughts in the shadows that pool on the floor and walls of my still candle lit room.

Having thought through these, I guess it is a state of constant confusion we most often find ourselves reveling in. For in trying to chase one thing we most often end up losing another; and the little line that marks the point of balance becomes blurred by the illusions we create - sometimes out of a hope we have built on a false foundation. Sometimes we taper off, sometimes we fall.

Confused is where I was. Now I'm just trying to find my balance. I can't live with losing that.

Hero

I was a hero in another town. A small pretty town that blew chilly winds from trees rooted in hills. But then I moved to a city that seats beneath the sun, and the heat from its glee has so consumed me. Some days I burn.

There were days when I used to have things all figured out, and basked in the confidence of being able to think my way through any situation by standing on my two feet. Somehow these days I don’t anymore. I traveled along a troubled high way and arrived at my wits end. But that was when He pulled me over and sent me on cruise control. My hands are clasped in awe; my mouth is filled with praise.

Sometimes I wish the mistakes that I’ve made, the enormous feelings of apprehension and utter despair I get from being helpless in the uncertainty of a situation, were only a part of my dream - the part just before I wake up to let out a gasping sigh of relief, realizing that it was all unreal. Yet these moments here are real, and so is the guilt feeling that comes.

But then, after a hard fall I learn never to make the same mistake twice. For there are days when I intentionally set out for an easy fail, the first try, that when I get to give me my second chance I know just how to do it better, and go quicker. And some days I know that to relish in moments of intense pleasure, inducing the pain can work the magic; and that in my sinful state His glory is magnified. These I have come to truly understand.

In this town, I have stopped trying to be a hero. My wings wouldn’t grow and I have got no super powers. But for this, I have also lost all worry: that when I put my hands in His hands, it’s a cooling touch that shields and shelters me from the heat in this town. He is the mighty super hero that meets my every need.

August

She was tall
Yet I wished that she would grow taller
Beyond the fleshy pine trees
that stood high above windy mountain peaks

And she was hot
Yet I wished that she would grow hotter
through many cold winter nights
To be even hotter than her present summer air

But just when I began to think that maybe
That she just might increase a little further,
She gets clamped at the feet
by the force of gravity Pulling her down

Her name was August
and she was four feet tall;
Four very pleasant feet
That were measured in weeks.

Its a jungle, but I am Lion.

These are my last few days in Mandeville. The town I have come to call home these past four years. Looking back now, it doesn’t seem like such a long time ago that first day when I clutched on tight to my suitcase, and dragged it behind footsteps that left prints of mild trepidation all the way along my path up hill to my new university. But the feelings have all changed now. Just yesterday, I recall mentioning to my friend with all the confidence that stems from knowing a fact, that I am the LION of this jungle.

Summer is quickly inching away, and sadly there are lots of goodbyes being said. But I will always be grateful for the memories that will remain even after all of the happy faces, the pleasant moments of reeling laughter and, the funny and kind gestures have been altered into motionless images captured in still frames of Polaroid; after all of the gregarious fun moments and merry blast sounds have been frozen to a still silence crammed with reserved moments of diligent study from a table littered with papers and textbooks. I will remain grateful for the beautiful ones I have met in this town; the beautiful ones that were sent my way this summer.

The next town I will be living in is about 90 minutes drive away from this one. Kingston. In a few days I will be moving to this sleepless city of hustle and bustle. I hope to remain the lion I have become for the next one year I have to be there; to let out a loud roar in the face of any uncertainty or apprehensive feeling. I hope to stand tall and, bring it all home - all the years of learning - to that final finish point where I can look back and say thank you Lord for carrying me all across the way.

Thank you dear Lord for giving me the strength and grace to be the Lion in this jungle.

Summer '11

There are pleasant moments embedded
within the thick layers of a dark gloomy day.
And so very often we are blessed to hear
the soft voices of laughter that reach
our inner core to reveal
the bundles of joy and brightness laying rest.

A new friendship is made;
New bonds are formed.
Be glad the sun is shining;
Be glad that it is summer.

Summer, again.

I woke up this morning to have a talk with God. And to my surprise, He made me laugh when He talked back to me. His words were real, and felt like assuring words from father to son. He knew the thoughts on my mind, the ones I had been etching about the nice girls among the group of friends I’d be spending my weekend of vacation with. I don’t want to stray, I said. He said I didn’t have to, but I should go on and have fun. I did not know that my God had a sense of humor.

It is summer, again. It has been one full year of constant pressure from rigorous college work and clinical rotations. The past five weeks I worked every weekday at the clinic attending to all manner of patient needs: Immunization at Child Health clinic; counseling and discharging of Family Planning methods; health teachings at the wellness clinic; interviews and assessment, medications administration, and tons of wound dressings at the curative clinic; a family case study with a fifty page report follow up on that. It was with much elation that I picked my bag when the clock hit 4:30pm Friday and it was time to head home. It was time for a vacation. Time for some decent rest.

This weekend I intend to have a good time; shut down all cyber activities and enjoy real conversations with real people; pack my bag and head for the coast to feel the rush of ocean wind and water bring cool and comfort to my mind and skin; and hope that when I get back Sunday it will be with a lot of refreshment - enough to last me through the whole of Fall and Spring, perhaps until summer comes around again.

John Mayer Waiting on the world to change (cover) Uche Obi

Little girl...

You are wiser than you appear
And not even your eyes show it
You sit in the corner of the rear
Etching the thoughts on your mind
But the winds wouldn’t blow it.

Your frame isn’t so tall
And when you stand
It’s like a little child still waiting to grow
Yet you’re a shining light aching to glow
A mighty force ready to explode.

Staying my eyes on the Lord.

The clock is steady ticking, the days are fast on the run. But, some moments, I feel like I am slacking. My poor, overwhelmed, and weary little soul desires a stroke of motivation, a little touch of affirmation and prodding in the right direction.

It gets really hard to live faithfully as a christian in a world saturated with mundane ideologies, aesthetic glorification, and material adoration. Everyone wears their suitable facade, and relationships have become very superficial. My best attempt at making a head way out of this maze; a solution to this puzzle, has been like a long swim in an ocean against heavy tides and currents to reach shores which are only a mirage to my squinting eyes.

I once breezed the thought of branding myself an astute and street smart christian. The kind of God's man who is not oblivious of the evil that exists behind the dark alleys and bushes; but rather consciously chooses to set boundaries, and walk in the ambiance of the bright street lights within pleasant lawns and meadows.

Now, it seems as if there is an aberration that exists along the boundary line between the bushes and the meadows; there is a distortion in perception of light and dark; truth now has become relative. And my weary soul is sent even into a state of more confusion.

What do I do when the walks in the once brightly lit meadows aren't as calm and pleasant as they used to be; or when the mild flowers that colored the long distance have been replaced with harsh thorns dangling from forest weed now scattered over once neatly paved footpaths?

Which direction do I turn when the clamors and screeches from the dark alleys begin to sound like an alluring and gratifying lullaby?

The days when I feel like I am slipping.

But through my frequent moments of struggle, I have also come to know that sometimes the better part of a prayer is in the action that follows; the little magic moments we might birth when we move in steady steps of faith to arrive in the presence of fate.

And so, perhaps, these I need to do: to move in these steady little steps of faith. And while moving, keep my eyes stayed upon the Lord and in His word - that my weary and overwhelmed soul may find peace and content in this troubled and confused world.

two years, twenty minutes.

It had been two years since I last saw her.
and in the two years that had passed,
a lot had happened.

But tonight, her presence became my mirror.

and the reflection I saw
reminded me much of the man
I so wanted to be for her
the super kind of man
a spark of her thought
birthed from within me,
the days when we still played prince and princess.

...and even though, tonight, it was she
who now seemed more like the super woman,
and her touch didn't quite now
feel much like that of my estranged princess

yet, her mere presence
was enough to set me back on track...
in the fleeting twenty minutes we spent
walking up the curb.

I like pretty little things
Like little damsels in pink dresses
Clutching tiny fingers in my huge palm

Like pretty smiles from strange faces
On a hot summer day
Going out of their way just to say hey

And I like pretty little things
Like cupcakes and fritas,
Peanuts and raisins

And the magic from that show
That makes you see a babbling baby
And just want to give a huge XO XO.

Reaching the End

...So take the hundred mile lead,
Run as fast as you wish,
But get rest when you can.
For when you arrive at the finish line,
It won’t be too long
After you look right beside
That there was a weary journeyed man
Trotting with arms and feet in tandem
Along the troubled high way;
Who walked with a steady pace
To claim the very same prize
Awaiting everyone
Who dared
To reach the end.

Integrity...

I once read somewhere that integrity meant being the same person in any environment or situation one might be in, being the same man in the light or in the dark.

There have been times when I think that I speak a little too much, and other times when I clutch on to the silence I hold, and utter little words of response in a conversation. But in all, I try to tell it like it is, and tell it all, so I do not have to struggle to recall the fine details of any conversation had for fear that when it came up again I might misquote facts. And some day in the future when I do get called to duty, be it in the late hours of the night, thousands of miles away, I will leave a rested wife at home who could share the details of my weekly schedule to her colleagues at work, knowing that when it was time to return, I would be coming back home almost like I hadn’t left.

Yesterday I bumped into an old acquaintance in town, on my way back from the supermarket, and we got talking by the curb on the roadside, right underneath the white streetlight. We shared stories of men who had set out on a journey far away from home for greener pastures, and all of the struggles they faced on daily basis: the stress of acculturation, the dilemmas of culture shocks, the long days and nights of feeling alone and longing for family, and being broke with all of the vulnerabilities it brought.

Usually, I would think that I was having a rough time having been away in JA for four years working on getting my degree. Well, actually I do. And as a student, I have my many broke days. But it is in these broke and difficult days that, somehow, I manage to stand at the tip of my wit, and come alive with a sense of creativity and productivity. And even though the days get really hard, I do get by with a smile on my face, enough to infect others with.

But this friend of mine had had it rough the past two weeks. He was evicted out of his house for having no money to pay rent; slept on the streets-at the court house to be precise. In his own words, “the worst part about being homeless is not knowing where to sleep when night falls upon you, and wearing dirty socks that become so dingy you can’t even find a place to wash. It starts to eat on the skin of your toes…” His story made mine seem like I was royalty, and somehow I found myself masking some of the details of mine just to match his. I couldn’t help but share the little money I had on me. My heart went to him, to his humility. He reminded me, again, why I needed to be humble and grateful, even for the little things- like being able to wash my socks whenever I chose.

I have my daily struggles, some like when I pray to the Lord to wean me off my constant need for self; for approval and affirmation from these lost crowd; to wean me off the need to constantly have something to prove, and grant me the grace to be truly humble.

Today, everywhere, it seems like a world of pretty facades and rotten cores. And it seems like sometimes these situations fall upon us helplessly. But It would add more meaning to the word integrity when people, even from state podiums and religious altars really practice what they preach and begin truly to see a brother’s need without turning a blind eye.

O dreams (II)

Last night was beautiful in an unusual way. Imagine trying to get a girl to go out on a date with you for the past 17 months, but each time she found a wry way of turning you down, and also managed constantly to evade your advances. She would miss calls, and not return texts. Imagine most of these actions to be intentional, but for some reason you refuse to let go. Perhaps there was something that you saw etched deep down within her core; something you still see, that you find so very rare and odd in the environment you live in.

But somehow, just like in the fairy stories, your wish was granted. It did not come with the kind of fervor you had deemed, were it those first few weeks when your heart still pumped with crimsoned infatuation running through your veins. Not that your liking for her had waned in any way, but with the time that had passed, you have come to search yourself, and have found a steady flow of likeness that rests within.

Her original plan was to take her nephew to see a movie at the cinema - a movie you would normally not pay a cent to watch, let alone spend precious minutes sitting in front of a screen. In your mind, these kind of movies were for kids and their ‘trying to be a good’ dads, and not for grown men who were plagued with a busy schedule and piles of work to do. Yet you knew that when she acquiesced to your coming along, it was an opportunity that needed not to be missed, despite the drizzling rain outside the door. This was something you had waited long for - however long.

And to your utmost amazement, the movie turned out to be really brilliant, and made the entire evening even more pleasurable than you had totally imagined. You wished you had done this sooner. The look on her face said the same, or so you’d like to think.

But then, just as you were going to turn to say thank you, and leave her with a gentle kiss, there’s a ring on your alarm, waking you up to the realization that it had all been a dream. A dream you now wish even more that it would be real. It is 6:00 a.m, and it is back to your busy day.

And so my day went.

Tonight I’m going to bed glad, hoping to dream again. And in this dream I hope that in a couple of days we would get to hang out again. This time, that it will be at her home, where I would finally get to meet with Ana, my little vicarious friend who also happens to be her niece.

Who knows when these dreams just might begin to come true. You've got to keep dreaming.

So, today, I did over an old song of mine which had been left resting for a long time, and it sounded really good. It had a nice embellishment that I believe came from time spent honing on the guitar. Some times of which I let go of the instrument out of feelings of frustration. Little did I know that these times were going to birth a subtle improvement in playing skill. I was hardly aware, but now I want to share.

I’m heading back into classes this week - tomorrow to be precise. It is a couple of months down the road till the end of undergrad. I feel worn already and sometimes torn. But I have got to press on; kick and push through this final lap. One thing for sure is certain, I will be needing to muster all of the discipline and focus necessary for a triumphant finish, more than ever. God, please help.

To think that I have started to harness thoughts of Grad school makes me wonder what kind of overachiever I’m trying to become. But I really don’t want to wait too long. I’ll be needing money,which means I'll have to work for a bit to save for some cash. Already I have a vague list of schools I’d like to send applications to. These I need to narrow down. I am still not certain of the choice to make as regards to area of specialty. My mind vacillates from between NP Cardiology to Public Health, and then to PA. Other days I feel like I want to just stay at a large university and teach undergrad and post grad. But that’s just typical me, being indecisive. If maybe I could wrap all of these options into one, I would be super glad - God, please help. For now, I guess I’ll have to take these steps one day at a time, and enjoy the happiness these last months here may bring.

What's left

There is a smile on my face as I write. Actually, it is a smirk. I am not sure of its origin, neither its intent. But it rests smugly across my face. Perhaps it is from the proud thought of my attempt at writing again after a good long while; after a rigid semester with scrupulous final exams that drenched away all of my wit and left me dry, knackered and empty. For these days it feels like writing has left me. And on other days, I feel like nearly everything has left.

The semester has come to an end with finals written last Friday. Campus was empty at my last visit Monday. Students have left to go home for the break. The halls are empty, and so is the parking lot. But I’m here still, in my room. This pleasant room that has become my good friend over these years; always here waiting on my return from whatever voyage. A trusted and loyal friend I must say.

There’s a panoply of books neatly packed beneath my bed. A packed pile of textbooks, dictionaries and notebooks from the semester - books that constantly fed my thoughts the past four months. They too must be closed for a while now. They too need a break.

But this break will be short, for already there is less than a week left. Summer school resumes soon. And when it does, it shall be back to textbooks, dictionaries, notebooks, and a classroom filled with beautiful ladies who together with me will be writing papers and tests. And of course weeks of internship at the community clinic in Mandeville. This will be most of my summer.

This week, I have been catching up on lost sleep from the past four months. It is such a good feeling to know that I am waking up to a cold and rainy morning with no obligations or assignments, only the touch of a cozy comforter to keep me warm in bed for as long as I wish, and the soothing sounds of folk music.

Problem is I had to spoil this cozy comfort spin by accepting to tutor this lady in Biostatistics. A class I have to study for three hours in order to be confident at teaching a two hour class three times a week. The thing is I never really say no to cash offers, especially when I have time at my disposal. Or perhaps I just got tired, too early, of everything leaving. Either way, I’m glad this smile is still here resting on my face, however smug. For it is proof, for certain, that not everything has left. I still have writing on the one hand. And on the other, that strange ability to make even the most daunting task appear like sipping a glass of orange juice. To these I am thankful for His grace.

The eureka look that appear on a student’s face are my most gratifying moments as a teacher. And today, I was left with a little more than one.

little beginnings

Remember when we started small
When all we had wasn’t tall
We weren’t stocked
With goods like the shopping mall

But we started small
If you would recall

But Now I look back and
There’s a huge space down this hall
From that little place
where we started small.

Dear Friend...

You have stayed with me through my transitions
For each time I died and rose back again
It felt like a new world
One that I did not recognize its inhabitants
But your voice sounded just the same.

And through all of my life stages
There were traces of you
Supporting in all of my acquisitions
With our timely rites of passage
Brother and brother, hand in hand.

You urged me on when I was down
When I had my head buried in thigh
Hiding my many faces of shame and doubt
With a love that had no condition
You took me up and affirmed me with a crown.

You are the bridge
Between my old and new worlds
The tall tree with sturdy branches
I am thankful dear friend
For the naïve child of yesterday,
Has become a sage today.

I rise

When I stand in the middle
I stand alone
there's a crowd to the side
the winds have blown

Their sight is subtle
It catches the eyes
My knees are feeble
But still I rise.

Life as a flux!

However hard as I often wish, I cannot find the solution to all of humanity’s problems - though the thought of their struggles is a heavy weight that constantly pulls me along the way of gravity. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to play God for a day. Then, there will be no need for Medical or Nursing schools, for there will be no need for doctors, nurses, or the hospital, as there would be no ill or diseased patients. There will be no jails, nor sadness, nor pain, nor sorrows; no death, no hunger, no crime; no addiction, no suffering, no war; no earthquakes, no heartbreaks. This must be heaven in my imagination. Come live with me.

But these days, I find that situations have a way of flipping between extremes in such short intervals, even without trying hard. One minute I’m worried over a looming problem, and then the next minute the trouble vanishes, and I wonder where it all went. A similar experience I have observed with bipolar patients I encountered at the Psychiatric unit. These show a quick vacillation in mood that leaves me perplexed, and thinking to myself that these guys must be really lucky to have no need to waste time on worry. Just live.

I’m almost at the end of my clinical rotations. This the 8th week. And who would have thought they would have come by so quick. Five weeks of pediatrics, and in the third week of psychiatry, with two more to go. Some days have been dreadful, while others have been nice.

There have been days of tireless work interspersed with precious moments with patients and colleagues on and off the wards. I have made few friends with the sick kids and the mentally ill adults, and have come to realize that the label “mad” is most times misused and misrepresented. Or maybe it is just me, so easy at making friends, even with the “mad” and “crazy” men and women. Yet, I am glad to know that my appeal goes across the border of intelligence and sanity. For it is not every day that I get a “can I go out on a date with you when I get out of here”, or “can I kiss you?” from a lady. Only this time, I had to emphatically reply with a “no, that would be inappropriate.”

But behind all the charades, it feels good to know that even with the worry in my heart that aches for them, when I smile, they smile back. And in this, we share an understanding of the simple ways in which we smoothly ride the flux of life.

The Sun

She wears the sun
Yet her skin is without a burn
Her radiant attire torches like fire
The heat from her air blows a burning desire

She shines like the sun
Rays of hope pierces through your soul
Murders your pains like a firing gun
Makes the dark speed up with a run

She is the sun
The one that dawns the fears of dusk
That lights the world with smiles for no buck
If you lose your way and need a guide
Here she is, behold the sun.

Coming Home

Occasionally, I get questioned by friends, how I manage to live so far away from home for such a long time; If I miss my family and friends back home; when I am going back home. To these questions, I’m never quite sure what to answer. But the few times when I do respond, I tell them that I have always lived away from home, and these experiences are not new to me; I have lived them before.

My first time away from home, I was about ten years old. It was going to be the beginning of my years of high school; the beginning of a journey on a lonely road that churns and spits you out at the other end, a soldier. This fine soldier that I have become. That first night, I cried after mom had dropped me off in the day. I wanted to go back; I wanted to spend another night in bed close to her. For the first time at a very young age, I would be living far away from the comforts of my home; from the familiar people I called family and friends. But soon the morning came, and I met my first new friend who was every bit just like myself - but a little more advanced with a one week experience of campus. And together, we discovered several other abandoned ones like us. And right there, far far away from home, we formed the best of friendships that have stayed through the test of time, even till this very day.

I spoke to mom today, and I could hear in her voice the longing to see her son again. And in all of the many sentences and jokes we exchanged, the words that echoed the most were the ones that were not spoken. In my mind, I could vividly hear her say to me “when are you coming home?"

And I could only mutter a silent whisper…But I will, and soon.

Only I have plans to move again. But this time I’m not totally sure where. My choice of a grad school to attend and a decent paying job to fund it will determine what city it shall be. At the moment, I have a few options in mind. But I still feel the need to explore some more. And these, are nowhere near home.

Truth is, these days I’m really beginning to agree that home is where you make it to be; and family can be the next stranger on the street who might end up in your bed, and together you wake up one morning to share the same last name, with a child in the middle that looks just the same.

And so again I say, Someday Ma, someday soon I’ll be coming home. But as the pilgrim man that I am, I have learnt to carry home along with me in my mind, and in my memories, and in my heart wherever I may go or may be. And to family? I have been blessed with so much beautiful ones that I never even asked for.

Yet in all, I am ever so glad that I still have you to come to on that day when I do return from whence I left. And that day, soon it shall be :).

there wasnt much to do

I am fine

Sometimes when I say that I am fine
Can you read between the lines?
Can you see beyond my smiles
The tears I fight and hold
from welling in my bleary eyes?

For sometimes when I fall
I look around the rough
And I find reasons to smoothly sail on
With these chuckles that I share
That mask the crackles of hopeless melodies
Like strumming a broken piece of chord strings.

But It’s in the loneliness
I feel in their hugs
A purpose that thrusts
When they tug.


And if you listened hard enough
You just might hear where
and how they want to be loved;
it’s in the gentle sounds within their echoes;
the innocent growl in their aggression
that beckons for just a little affection;
too weary of our neglect and rejection.

But Sometimes I say that I am fine
When I’m only trying to hold on to
what could have been mine.
And if you read between the lines
You would see with me
The many blessings they long for
That rest as thine.

Ready to go!!!

It is a Sunday morning. A beautiful and bright sunny day. Today, I move again to Kingston-this time, for 10 weeks. It will be 10 weeks of clinical rotations in Pediatrics and Psychiatry. The air here smells of ambivalence.

It has been a very rough six weeks of didactic learning, getting an average of four and a half hours of sleep every week day. So you might understand why I am ever so glad for a Friday night. Now it is time to get handy; time to auscultate with stethoscopes, administer meds, and do all the necessary teachings to be done. I look forward to my time at Bellevue though, despite the apprehensive stories told about the mentally ill. The kids and I usually form a kind of understanding from early, so I'm sure we'll get along alright. Through experience, I have realized that regardless of the uncertainties in my environment, I usually find ways to adapt and keep a smile - and this, usually by finding another who needs a smile, and ways to make them smile. There's always someone needing.

I am ever so humbled by how, amid my imperfections, God chooses to be consistently good to me, even in days when I know for a fact I do not deserve. There is no questioning I have my days when I doubt Him. The days when I dare to entertain the thoughts of questioning God; after waiting on a much needed intervention that did not come. I wonder where He’s gone, and why He’s departed His presence from me.

And occasionally I rationalize His absence as a consequence of my indulgence. I think, perhaps I really do deserve these things that happen to me, because I have been naughty here and again. But after it is all said and done, there is a voice of hope that whispers within. I sit back and stare, amazed, at how He worked through all the situations, the good, bad, and ugly to bring me to a place of rest and joy. And to know that it really did not matter if I had been naughty or not; deserving or not, He still comes through for me, even in the most frightening, intimidating, uncertain and overwhelming circumstances. I find it most gratifying. And it gives me the drive to go, without a doubt that He will be with me even now as I make this trip.

Wait up Kingston!!! I am on my way!!!

It's here

The much anticipated day has finally arrived. It is Sunday, 12:30a.m February 13, 2011. In a couple hours from now I will be live on stage, stroking the chords of my guitar, with words and songs to stir and entertain an expectant audience. I hope I do alright. But I’m sure I will. Usually, I do.

The days have run by so quick since my audition in October 2010. At the time, Valentine’s Day seemed like a really long time away, and the air of anxiety that blew across my face these past few days held still and mild.

Yesterday, I felt a strong wind blow at rehearsals. That sort of anxious wind that blows within a podium or beneath its pulpit; always present to greet, size and shake up the next amateur to approach the microphone. And not even my feigning pro could prevent its ploy. It got me for a little bit. Well, maybe more than a little. But I was glad it was only "rehearsals."

Today at 6pm I hope to own the stage. I hope to strip Mr. Anxiety off its insidious ploys and the scheming manipulative games it plays.

In retrospect, it was a bit hard creating a balance between the rigors of school, tests, labs, study, and meeting with my boys for practice and jam sessions. Then there were the hassles of carrying the guitar from home to class every other day, and dreading being compelled to play in class...ha!- well I eventually did, and it turned out to be a fun time for everyone.

I will always remember these days; the rushing to the clothes store in the wake of the morning with hope that the shirt I window shopped and constantly dreamed of the previous night hadn't been bought and taken off the stand; dashing out of my room at 6:50 am to meet up with an interview appointment on the radio set at 7 a.m(its about 20 minutes from my home to campus)- but you know they had to wait. And I'm sure that these memories will remain to help provide me with pleasant moments of nostalgia on a melancholic moonless night...

One such night after practice on campus, on my home in a taxi, I got off at my stop and forgot my guitar in the trunk. When I realized about 10 minutes later, a few steps away from my home gate, I went back to the park in search for it, and stayed waiting until about 10:30 pm. I did not see the taxi nor my guitar. Sad. I had assignments to complete the same night, and class the next day for 7a.m -this would be where I would catch up with most of the hours of sleep I missed that night. I was drained.

I found the taxi the next day during break at 11 a.m. Talk about being ecstatic :).And I was glad for the protection and mercies He gave. I still am.

For me though, the show will be a success when I can send a message across in our celebration of Love. To rekindle the hearts in our audience, the true nature of love. A love given to us from above; from God who is the author of Love; who loved the whole earth so much that he gave. And today at 6pm, it is my desire that I too, can give…in a soothing melody that will appeal to the soul.

For I am glad and grateful for these blessings that He gave to, even, me.

Tonight I played music in the dark. I could hardly see my fret board to hold the chords, but I knew I was hitting them right. I knew because the music sounded right to my ears. There was a close resonance between the guitar chords and my soul. At some point, I could hardly tell which I was stroking. I swear I almost felt a tear well in my eyes. That was amazing. I'm glad my confidence is peaking.

My heart has been gladdened the past few hours, for what exact reasons, I’m not particularly sure. But today I felt the touch of God resting upon me. He loves me, I was reassured. I am grateful for everything; for the things His love does. The ones that appear to be right, and the ones that do not, but until they too become…

It’s the brink of another month. February. At school, I’m still having a little bit of a hard time gaining full understanding in one of my classes. Daniel. It is a class where we study the book of the bible filled with biblical prophecies about the End Time, the destruction of kingdoms, and the coming of Christ for His people. There have been many interpretations and explanations. I am just worried that religious institutions may be apt to teach theological classes based on their inherent doctrines, and as such, send out somewhat prejudiced messages. But I seek His wisdom, now and again, and hope that I may find the truth in His word.

I just downloaded two seasons of Gossip Girl and House, each. GG, mainly out of curiosity to find out what these people are about. But I find it a real hard time going through the first episode without being plagued with a feeling of guilt from keeping away impending work. I hate that. All I wanted was a few moments to indulge. But right now it is exactly what I’m going to do. And let the work continue in the morrow.

February 13, 2011

I spent a good part of last Sunday taking photo shots in preparation for the concert. I was told to write up a profile for me that would go in the brochure. The thought of me having a profile threw me a little off guard. I didn't see that coming, not so soon. I wasn't sure how, or what to write in it. So I looked up a few of my favorite artistes' profiles, and after a few minutes came up with one that looked like it could stand tall among the legends. he he! (No exaggerations, I kept it true :)). Well maybe in another few years, it just might. But for the show, I'll be playing Rain on Me, Angel like you, and Call me.And I wish that you could come.

Simple things.

Lately I’ve been questioning things: the textbooks that I read, the preacher’s interpretation of a bible text, and my lecturers’ scholarly view on a topic. Sometimes there’s a voice in my head asking, “who gave you monarchy over truth?” I’m starting to see that my textbooks, authored by renowned academic doctors and professors, have got errors in them - both typos and info. Then I get this compelling feeling like I need to educate someone, make them see that there is another way that just might work as good, if not better. But most times, I find myself learning to assert control over my tongue. I learn to keep quiet, and let these wise ones have their say. Maybe someday the ambiance might become serene enough for them to hear what I will have to say.

But things are getting too complicated. It seems as if everyone is running really fast to reach some destination I’m not yet certain about. I am not in a hurry to catch up. I usually do, following with a few inches behind. That way I get to know the furrowed paths not to trace, and learn from the mistakes of the fallen ones the places where I might stand the tallest. And just as my cousin’s fb status read “life was much easier when Apple and Blackberry were just fruits,” I want to go back to the simple days. But not without my computer :).

January is rolling by quite quick, and it is back to the days of waking up early in the mornings. Getting up for my 7a.m classes is a mighty huge drag. But wake I must. And each time, I struggle with the urge between those very pleasant minutes of sleep that occur just at the brink of dawn and my innate resolve to be a responsible man. I really try, hard.

It feels even more comforting reaching campus to realize that just like myself, everyone appears tired and worn out. But they keep pushing regardless, which is why I really admire these ones in my class - the special ones who amid the chaotic bustle and rigorous work load thrown our way still find time to share and enjoy the simple things of life. The warm smiles that ease the cold mornings, a reeling laughter from a funny joke that cheers the heart, and the amiable conversations we get to exchange over lunch.

And each day, I’m gladdened to know that just as simple as the sun shines, there is a bright light that radiates from these faces that casts away the dreadful shadows from tedious and sleepless nights. A bright light that shined from the simple things that they shared.

coming home rehearsals (Uche Obi).MOV

Make Every Second Count

It is the New Year. But I am not sure exactly when my new year began, or if at all it has. At the moment, I am just going with the flow of the status quo. The earth still revolves and rotates like it always has. The sun still shines at noon when it doesn’t rain. And when I look in the mirror in the mornings, I still appear like I did last spring. The wall in my room did not get painted; the curtains are still the same. But the pastors preach that the world is soon coming to an end. Yet the only change I see from last fall are the dates on my computer and the one on my cell phone.

Then I wonder if this whole New Year chatter isn’t just an accumulated succession of seconds and minutes, and I reason that it would be wise to MAKE EVERY SECOND COUNT. The choices we make may very well lie within the continuum of time. Between the good and the bad; the happy and sad; the yes and the no, there just might be those few seconds that could make a huge difference.

Just a few days ago, I had a sudden pang of idiopathic worry and got a bit depressed, so I decided to lay on my bed with hope that the sheets would suck away my troubles over time. And even after a lot of time had passed, my worries did not. I woke up still heavy, feeling like I weighed twice my body. But the time had slipped, and I couldn’t catch it back, not even with much yelling or chasing after. Again, I reasoned that the best thing to do would be to take advantage of the time in hand, and MAKE IT COUNT. Let bygones be bygones.

There are a bunch of things I would like to accomplish in 2011; a number of resolutions I’d be glad to utter, and maybe struggle really hard at keeping. But who knows what tomorrow may bring; what joys; what sorrows?

And so, as I struggle along the way, I hope that each second of the day I can rest and hold on to the ONE whose eyes are on the sparrows, that great and faithful ONE who has promised to constantly watch over me. And this I hope for you too. HAPPY 2011!!