A wordsmith with a vivid imagination, an eager mind and a burning desire to carve out tales. As I journey with my muse to that land of all possibilities and self discovery, I hope my personal evolution will serve as a beacon of inspiration for anyone who chooses to stop by.
*We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.*
The last wishes of Alexander the Great………
On his death bed, Alexander summoned his army generals and told them his three ultimate wishes:
1. The best doctors should carry his coffin …
2. The wealth he has accumulated (money, gold, precious stones) should be scattered along the procession to the cemetery ….
3. His hands should be let loose, so they hang outside the coffin for all to see !!
One of his generals who was surprised by these unusual requests asked
Alexander to explain.
Here is what Alexander the Great had to say:
1. “I want the best doctors to carry my coffin to demonstrate that in the face
of death, even the best doctors in the world have no power to heal ..” 2. “I want the road to be covered…
Time had halted ages ago. The filtered light through the reinforced window the only sign that life still existed. The rays create colored rainbows and sometimes, when she looks hard enough she sees a bird soar past. A desire for freedom rises once again within her shriveled bosom.
Voice cords long broken from screaming herself hoarse, from days to months to years and decades, she knows that no one cared, for no one came.
No sound filters in, no sound leaks out. This concrete walls covered in etchings of her mindless rambling. Pleading with the jailer to do away with her, to end the madness of the dementia, but he preferred to keep her.
Each day he comes with scrapes to keep her alive.
Each day he reads to her and combs her unruly long locks with trembling hands.
Talking to her in yet another soothing manner. Reminding her of the years that belonged in another life.
Her strength has grown feeble over incarcerated years, her limbs long waxed and waned from disuse, her only strength, are the spurious thoughts of her mind. She always waits for the imaginary one to come. To talk to her, to caress her itchy scalp and drive her round in the imaginary car.
The twinge of the iron latch, breaks through mad reverie and he walks in softly, bearing warm oats and a comb.
In response to The Daily Post prompt Retrospectively funny: tell us about a situation that was not funny at all while it was happening, but that you now laugh about whenever you remember it.
Image credit: cliparthut.com
I think I must have been watching too many thrillers and reading far too many detective stories when this incident happened. It was early evening, close to Christmas time in Houston, but because it was Winter season, darkness came a bit too early.
I had family visiting the following day and I decided to go out to buy some extra stuff that evening on a whim. I had finished shopping and I preferred to carry the nylons of items that I had purchased instead of a trolley since they were not too much.
I left for the car park, which was a bit too calm for my liking and just a few cars away from mine, as I was engrossed on the phone with my mum, these two bulky gentlemen – seemed to appear out of the blues in my imagination, just a few feet away, as if they were heading towards me.
As soon as one of them reached into his thick leather jacket for something, willy, nilly, in a twinkle of an eye, I flung my purchase at them and took off, huffing and puffing as I raced back towards the entrance. I think I must have frightened not just myself, but the men too.
When I heard the heavy sound of a car engine starting and not the sound of feet pounding after me, I paused and dared to look back only to see that the Dodge RAM truck which was parked next to my vehicle was reversing and pulling away. It was the bulky gentlemen.
I still didn’t trust my eyes and I stood afar, watching until they had driven off. Striding back hastily to my car – I found my goods neatly put back in the bags and kept on one side, only my tray of eggs had suffered from the aftermath of flinging them like weapon at the unsuspecting two, every other thing was intact.
I jumped into the car and rushed home – meanwhile, in my excitement, I had forgotten that I had my mum hanging on the line all through the episode. I equally gave the poor woman a fright, because she heard my frantic chant of ”Jesus” . Now and again, when I visualize the priceless look the on the faces of the two guys and imagine their thoughts – that I am one crazy black woman – I can’t help the peals of laughter, but then again it is better to be cautious than sorry.
In shocked disbelief, I stared at the face on the boxed inset on TV. The headline news was making its evening rounds again on the local news channel. They had shown her in the morning, but as I rushed around for my morning engagements, I had glanced with vague interest at the strangely familiar face without recognition; but now, it was all coming back to me.
It was a couple of days to Valentine and I was growing heartsick and overdosed from seeing all the love shaped hearts stuck on store windows, the heart shaped chocolates, the balloons and cakes, the little teddies with their sugary messages, lovers making moon eyes at each other, even all the television channels seemed to be peddling the same syrupy valentine messages. I felt like the loneliest person on planet Earth. I was just getting over a broken passion and part of my therapy…
In response to Writing 101 Assignment 3: Prompts come in many different forms. Sometimes, a single word is all you need to get your mind’s wheels turning. Here are six words: Treasure, Regret, Home, Love, Uncertainty, Secret
I am 100 today. Not in age 😉 but in blog posts. In my place, there is an old saying that “you celebrate the small things, in order to pave way for the bigger ones” and this is precisely what I am doing. I am celebrating my 100 posts, my 192 blogger friends, my 4,247 followers and my 5,220 stats on this blog.
Vividly, I recall the trepidation that I felt on May 6th when I made my first post on this blog.
I felt like an amateur fisherman who was sitting in a boat that gently rocked on a calm lake, with an occasional ripple of the water, croaks and chirps from the surrounding shrub to interrupt his concentration. He hooks a wriggly, skinny worm as bait and simply casts his line into the water, in hopeful hope to catch a fry.
His minutes turn to a slow time of humming, sipping his beer and holding his bated breath; then SNAG, the pull of a first bite tugged at the end of the pole and he nearly topples over into the water out of elation and excitement of his first catch.
Now, that was precisely my reaction when I sent out my initial 2 posts and 3 bloggers Stuart M. Perkins – Story Shucker, E. I. Wong and gpicone liked my feeble attempt at getting my toes wet in the choppy bloggy waters.
To say the least, it gave me such a buzz, that the thrill nearly jolted me out of my seat. Thus, my expedition in blogosphere began. Almost each day, like an adrenaline junkie, I return for more jolts; to write, to read, to listen and to learn. I have met lovely blogging souls on this path and I thank you all for staying with me.
Need I say more about this blogging milestone? If truth be told, the warm reception at WordPress exceeds my expectations.
I am going to go off on a festive tangent as a way of celebrating my little drops by re-blogging old posts of mine as well as posts of others that catch my eyes each day for at least a week.
My alarm tinkles and I know it’s 4:30 a.m. For one moment I ask myself what on Earth inspired me to set the alarm at such a time. I shuffle to the table to shut it down – I keep it away from the bedside, because I have known myself to stuff it under the bed in blissful moments in snooze land and then spend the next two days trying to find it – and I can’t resist taking a peek at my phone to check for Writing 101 prompt.
The prompt helps to clear the cobwebs from my eyes and makes me pause to think. I think of the things that I like and that is pretty easy to think of – it stretches from here to Armageddon; I think of the things that I wish for, which ties a bit with the things that I like, but the difference is that my wishes change now and again.
I then think of the things that I have learnt over my conscious years on Earth and that really got me thinking:
Over the years, I have learnt that:
No matter how many years that pass by, that the loss of a loved one still leaves sharp, poignant sentiments in my heart.
That life really goes on, even if you wanted it to stop.
To cherish the little moments of life because, it really floats by so quickly.
To dwell on my possibilities because it stretches the scope of my horizon and makes my life more interesting.
To love and accept myself wholeheartedly. I have learnt to live as myself and not as a mimic of someone else.
That dreams and ambitions do change and it’s okay. Not to beat myself to death over the head about it, but to dream anew and look for means to arrive at my goal.
To grow a sense of humor. It is common knowledge that life is often too short; thus, I don’t want to waste it stewing and sweating the small stuff.
I should take better care of myself, health wise, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.
To have Faith, because that is really all that I have.
To keep an open mind. To welcome new perspectives and to never stop learning. The day we stop to learn, is the day that we begin to die within ourselves.
To have a sense of value for ethics and good morals without which I am less the person that I am.
To give. I have learnt that when you open your heart and hands to give, they are also open to receive.
To fall in love with as many things as possible and to give myself the permission to find out the things that I am really passionate about.
There is always room to improve on something.
Not to crowd myself with pessimistic ‘wet blankets’ in human form.
That my life is an evolution.
Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In response to Writing 101 prompt:
Today, write your own list on one of these topics:
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mouth Drop.”
I must implore you not to laugh, snicker or snort when you read this ;), even though I struggle to keep a straight face myself as I recall my brief experience in flying without wings. I promise you, it was never my intention to take R. Kelly’s – I believe I can fly too seriously.
As was the case, it was not my mouth that dropped open, but the whole body of me!
Several months ago, I made a decision to start jogging at twilight and purchased spanking new gym outfit to give myself a boost and a rush.
Feeling all geared to go, I set off for my first run and joined by my first son, I took off as swiftly as I could.
The light evening breeze was cool, my music was on shuffle and I was generally having a good time. As my sprint quickened, out of the blues, I stumbled over a cobble stone and I literally flew a few yards in the air and landed in the brush with a heavy thud.
For several minutes, I lay there winded and all I could feel was the taste of pain that rushed from my left shoulder right into my throat. It was a metallic taste.
My son who had shot off ahead of me like a whistle, looked back and when he didn’t see my robust shadow following him, he back tracked and helped me get back on my feet.
I hobbled home and nursed my pain along with my wounded pride. My crazy desire for twilight jogging nicely nipped in the bud.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 