Credit: diabetessa.org.za (2019)

When I started this blog, I had a very different idea of the direction it would take. It was going to be very cushitic, very chic, very now, very me, or so I thought. And my definition of all of these things was distinctly African, very black, very woke…very me, ahem. And when I really got into it, it became very conservative, very tawakkal, very surrenderish, … is that me? I’d constantly question myself. And yet here I am with one more post, errr noticeably similar to my previous posts, one could say. A deep dive into those touchy feely uncomfortable things. Urrgghhh. You know, I have never considered myself to be soul searchy.  And always looked askance at any stranger who tried to get too deep with me. I’ve always thought that that stuff is meant to be private. So I don’t understand why I’m obsessed with blasting these things out into the world wide web. Life truly is an oxymoron.

The thing is, I can’t promise that every subsequent post wouldn’t be a stir fry of an overthinking mess. Or weird. Or my favourite, soul searchy – that’s the thing. I’m realising that it’s the filter to my life. My marking scheme, so to speak. No matter the vibrations of life, it’s always – I’m okay if my Lord is okay with that. And I’m in pieces if He’s displeased, no matter how very okay it all looks like from the outside. And it’s funny that I’m writing this down, because I’m sat here feeling absolutely urgghhh after closing an equivocal deal for a good client. It’s especially hard when it concerns people you genuinely like. Because you want to do everything in your power to see them succeed in life. But surely not at the cost of the pleasure of The Sublime. For what then would be my definition of success?

A reprieve. It’s been cancelled, I’m informed, as I write this. You simply can’t script life subhanallah. I’m humbled with gratitude. Don’t get me wrong, I’m disappointed for my client, but I don’t want to be a part of that train. My Lord, put it all in rice. Ahem. I’ve probably said this several times, and have gotten some recoil regarding its authenticity and relationship with adverse mental health. Life honestly has no meaning for me, without His grace, and His hope, and His promise. Seeing unjust people live amazing lives, and the kindest people struggle in life – none of it makes sense to me without the lens of religion. The fact that this is literally a test. That we must account for everything. Resources, relationships, time, all of it. And a true life beckons. It’s the one thing that keeps me going, the fact that His promise is certain. Because I’m weak and I flounder, and I sometimes exceed my limits. And I hate myself. And I sometimes inordinately love myself. And I’m inconstant, but what I know for sure is that He isn’t. It really is the only thing that gives me hope. That no matter what I perceive, I know my Lord has got it figured out for me.  That I only have to worry that I’ve put in my call, because He will be there to lift my chin up, keep me sane and alive. It’s the last thing I want sometimes. But we’re here, and I’m grateful, my Lord.

I’ll be the first to admit that I fall on the other side of the seesaw. When I think of the blessings in my life, between you and me, I don’t deserve it. No matter what I tell myself, I’m worthy, anything your therapist and Michelle Obama would say, I honest to God do not deserve anything I have. And it’s a lot. I think back and wonder sometimes..my Lord, you know me, the real me, and still…this? What do you give the people that you love? To the people who worship you without measure? And this is coming from an innate competitor. No matter how hard I try, I fail and fall countless times. But my Lord, you know I can’t stand accounts. Literally and figuratively. So keep me amongst those you won’t take to account, I beg of you.

I’ve never really got the answer to a recurrent question. How is it no matter how strong I consider our bond, nothing about it seems enough? There isn’t any satisfied aspect when it comes to this side of my life. It translates to an insatiable thirst for me. It’s always no no, no matter how much I take my fill, there’s always more, more prayer, more fasting, more charity, more goodness that I’ve still got to do. It’s incredible. I’m constantly in the space of…help me, move me, rectify me. It’s always my Lord this, my Lord that, when I’m lax in my obligations towards Him. I’m always, I want more, oh I need this, I want more. The need to get closer and closer to Him. The need to surrender and place all my trust, my hopes and my dreams there. To abandon my mind, my soul, my heart and body to His cause. Because he’s the Causer of causes, Disposer of all affairs, The Expediter and The Delayer, The Subtle One, The Supreme Giver. 

There are no answers to the fact that I’d be up in the clouds at 8 a.m and in the pitts by 8 p.m. None of course other than the ones You provide. For better tomorrows, there’s no one else to turn to but you my Lord. And until we meet again, always make it so.