The Great Mandela is now at peace

Mr Mandela, sadly, you have now left us. I want to thank you for all you have done for your people; for avoiding a civil war and allowing peace to reign. But I also know that if it were not for you, I would not have been allowed, as a black woman, to emigrate to South Africa in 1994. I had the pleasure of living in your beautiful country for two years, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

You will be missed and you will never be forgotten. Go and enjoy your well deserved rest and may the Almighty Father bless your wonderful soul.

Ask, and you will receive: Synchronicity

When I was in London, I went to see my life coach, Pat.  She has clairvoyant abilities but does not believe in telling you the future, so to speak; as she believes that by integrating her coaching methods and intuition, that it is a more practical way of helping you with your problems.

We chatted about our families and she talked about how she’d successfully landed a role in a production in the West End, plus she had written a play that was seriously being considered by one of the popular TV networks. As Pat talked, I glanced over to her loaded bookshelf and noticed a particular book. It was the only one that was standing with its back against the shelf and title in full view, whilst the other books lay flat, leaving you to wonder what their stories were. The other thing was its colour. It was a striking, deep purple and its title was in a large font dressed in silver. It said: Ask and it is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks. My attention was taken by Pat who suddenly stopped talking about herself and began to ask me about my problems.

‘You know…’ I said to her, ‘…it’s the same ole, same ole.  Am I on track, what is my purpose?’

‘You know I don’t tell fortunes…’ Pat scolded politely, ‘…but all you have to do is ask! Ask for what is your purpose. Ask if you are on track. Your problem is that you don’t ask!’  She said with emphasis.

‘Ask? But I do!’ I responded, hoping that it didn’t seem like we were having an argument. ‘I meditate and pray constantly and with that I ask but…I don’t know.’

She lowered her head in thought then looked up at me. ‘Have you heard of synchronicity?’

‘Synchrowhat?’  I gushed.  Something to do with swimming I thought but did not dare say it.

Pat smiled and gave me an explanation. She ended by saying that I should believe when I pray and mentally state some affirmations towards the end of my meditation. My time was up but as I left, she told me not to worry.  It will all work out. Hmm, I thought.

About an hour later in another part of London, I was in a bookshop, looking for a book on Physics for my daughter.  Walking towards where the science books were kept, I abruptly stopped as there was a book staring right at me from the spiritual section titled Ask and it is Given.  I went and picked up a copy, opened to the intro, read two or three paragraphs and said yes, I must get this!

I’m half way through the book and clearly, I understand synchronicity and realize this is how the Almighty/the Universe communicates.  Synchronicity is when either, ‘a single event or chain of events’ produces a ‘meaningful coincidence’. An example of this is early this year, I found myself constantly thinking about an old school friend, someone I used to move around with in the early 90s. A month later, as I was driving to the supermarket, I spotted her ex-boyfriend, who also I had not seen in a while. I quickly stopped and parked the car, and chased after him. Wheezing out of breath when I caught up, he instantly recognized me, stretched out his arms and gave me a hug. About ten minutes into our conversation, I asked him about our mutual friend. He removed his mobile from his back pocket, scrolled through the names and when he had found her number, he gave it to me.  That evening I called her and we agreed to meet at her house the next weekend.

You ‘ask’ for something and you receive answers in a manner that you do not expect. It could be in the form of an ad in a magazine, or the ad on a bus, a bill board or a comment from an actor in a movie, a sentence in an article or a conclusion in a documentary.  Likewise, seeing the book on Pat’s shelf and then seeing it again in the bookshop, it’s clear that this book ‘came’ to me, making me to realize that I will find my answers there.

Now, for those of you who read my piece on Debbie Ford’s book (The Dark Side of the Light Chasers) will say I’ve spoken about this before, so what’s the big deal?  But please, spare me. How was I to know that this was synchronicity? The point is, I’m learning.  Again within a few chapters I’ve realised that ‘asking’ is not only just believing or placing a pair of hands together to pray. But I have to ‘desire’ it, believe that I’ve already received it and to act as if ‘it’ is already in my life. In the case of my long-lost friend, my thinking or constant thoughts of her, wanting to see her played a part in me actually reuniting with her.

Negativity does not play any part in this. In fact, if I ‘desire’ something but in the next second fill my head with a lot of doubt by saying ‘Nah! It’s not for me. I can’t have this’ then the thing is now cancelled as instead of being eager for ‘it’, I’m asking for the lack of it, which is exactly what I’ll will receive, if you get my meaning. If you want to know more about this, then please get yourself a copy of this book to get a deep simplified explanation.

As I said, I’m halfway through. The first part I’m reading gives a thorough explanation of how it works. Some reviewers complain that there is a lot of repetition. Perhaps there is. But how I look at it is that sometimes to make a point loud and clear, you have to keep hammering it home.  The second half, I’ve not looked at but it is composed of exercises which I can’t wait to do. I will keep you posted.

 

If you can imagine it, you can create it.  If you dream it, you can become it. 

William Arthur Ward

 

 

 

Embracing shadows: Debbie Ford

A dear friend of mine told me that everything that comes into my life means something.  Nothing is by coincidence or accident. Each day may seem the same but each day is different, it rewards us with a brand new gift whether that gift is an understanding, a friendship or a disappointment.  But if we are engulfed by fear and darkness then it makes it difficult for us to recognize those gifts, difficult to recognize whether or not it is an actual ‘coincidence’.  Normally such talk passes through one ear and out through the other but of recent one or two things have happened to make me to stop and consider what this friend said to me.

November last year I was in another part of the country, to attend a conference. Having arrived some hours earlier and already bored with watching TV in the hotel room I decided to go to the shops just to whittle away time. I walked past each shop as they didn’t hold any interest for me until I saw this interesting second-hand book shop. I went in and took my time going through the different categories until I came across the self-help section. Then I saw this book, in fact I was struck by its title; I read the back cover, the foreword and the first two paragraphs of the first chapter and wondered if I wanted this book. I checked by my purse, I had enough cash for just essentials so I headed back to my hotel room, Googled the author and read some interesting things about her and then as usually is the case, I forgot about the book and looked forward to my evening meal.

Two months ago, I had to go back to that city to attend a business meeting. Again, I ventured towards the bookshop to look for a magazine, and as usual, my attention was quickly taken by the books and some new titles. I suddenly remembered the book I looked at some months ago although I could not remember the title or the author’s name but remembered being intrigued by what it set out to do for the reader.  I found my way towards the ‘self-help’ section and there it was a single copy. I snatched it up, bought it then left.

After reading the first chapter I decided to Google the author again and only to find out that she died early this year from cancer. I was taken aback. Of course I realize people die but in my mind she was young (57), beautiful, still had so much before her; it just seemed weird that she had passed away and even more strangely, that I had just been introduced to her and her works. Her books have been praised by Deepak and Neale Donald and Oprah and other prominent spiritual mentors.

The author was Debbie Ford and her book – The Dark Side of the Light Chasers. I’m so sorry that Debbie is no longer with us but spirit directed me to her book at a time when fear and confusion has taken ahold. Ford explains how the various facets of ourselves which we reject or try to shun away only lead to more confusion and resentment.  Instead, we should embrace the negative parts of ourselves with love and understanding. It is only until we have done this can we reclaim our wholeness and be on track towards our purpose. When I see my friend again, I will have to tell her she was right.

Review of The Gospel According to Cane by Courttia Newland

I’ve just finished reading The Gospel according to Cane by Courttia Newland. A heartrending story about a woman, called Beverley Cottrell of West Indian parentage who has her son taken from her some twenty years ago. She is educated, previously married and taught English in a prestigious private school, a woman who seemed to have everything but as a result of this tragic action, the experience leaves her damaged, single and withdrawn. We meet her presently living in a house alone, teaching kids at an after school club and attending therapy sessions until one day, a young man comes knocking at her door claiming to be her son. She receives this son named Wills gladly but does it repair the damage done to her, to Wills?  The Gospel According to Cane

The prose is mature and juxtaposes nicely with the street slang spoken by her son, and the children she teaches. The characters whether it is the protagonist or secondary characters, are nicely drawn. In fact one of the characters, Ida jumps to my mind. She is so real. A woman of a certain age who probably was born after the second world war; she is happy to entertain Beverley in her home, happy to bake her a cake but is still ambivalent about the black ‘youth’ and black people and  when there is a kerfuffle on the landing between Beverley, Wills her sister Jackie and her husband Frank, she remains hidden behind the ‘blankness’ of her front door and retreats into her reserve. Then there is Frank. We don’t see him too much but when he appears with his dominant and bitter wife, Jackie, you like that he is there, acting as a go-between between the two sisters, attempting to play down the tension which exists between them. Also Newland subtly establishes the fact there are segments of the black community that are middle class i.e, they are aware of Arnica and they shop at up market supermarkets and are concerned about speaking English, properly. This is shown through Beverley, who finds badly spoken English irritating.

Newland deftly handles writing of woman in a very convincing way; it simply shows how sensitive and how understanding he is of women. The book has no chapters but initially it is interspersed by descriptions of pain although from the middle of the book to the end you see no more of these descriptions. Throughout the story, these small explanations on pain make us realize that it is, almost a facet of life. We can experience sometimes, all sorts and levels of pain and realize how time can be a proper anesthetic. In the main character Beverley, this is clearly shown. She journals regularly, as a way of expelling the pain and in return, she achieves some cathartic moments. It’s funny. Prior to me buying this book, my husband purchased the  book Singularity is here by Ray Kurzweil. It is about how our intelligence will one day become ‘trillions’ more intelligent and increasingly non-biological. On top of that, time, whether the past, the present, the future, will become one. Singular. Then reading Newland’s book I come across this paragraph, thoughts of  Beverley :-

People say time is relative, a point with which I agree. …the nature of time as experienced by human beings is the amazing ability to occur simultaneously in the past, present and future. Everything on the planet, from the tiniest amoeba to humankind, has been is being and is also becoming. That we exist cocooned within an unseen element shifting faster than we can comprehend, that no sooner than we enter the present it is already the past and we are always, without pause, speeding full throttle towards the future. Ponder this, if I lift my finger and touch the end of my nose, I am touching my nose in the present, have touched my nose in the past and about to lower my finger from my nose in the future. All exist at once.

I don’t know if Courttia was/is conscious of this concept whilst writing his novel but it is profound and in keeping with all things to do with Singularity.  Overall, this was an interesting read: I loved the beautiful prose, the descriptions of the characters but if I have to make one criticism it would be the ending. However, Newland is definitely a chronicler of the Black British experience; I believe this is the fourth book I’ve read by this author and trust that he can write our experiences honestly, with maturity and with sensitivity. I can’t wait to read his next book.

Blue plaque unveiling for Bernie Grant.

Today I attended the unveiling of the plaque of Bernie Grant. A number of us stood outside what was formally the town hall and listened to key people talk about the work the man did for the community. The clocks had been put back the previous night by one hour and strangely enough the weather had dropped a few notches in temperature quite dramatically. I scolded myself for not bringing my gloves. When the speeches were over, we all took our time strolling towards the Bernie Grant Centre, waited for sometime before we were allowed into the auditorium to take our seats. I was happy to be standing near the door as I was one of the first who had entered and chose a seat, only to watch the seats fill quickly.

It was not only good seeing familiar faces from my past but once the MC finished with their introductions, seeing ‘old’ faces such as Geoff Schumann, Judith Jacobs, Carol Thompson etc – it was good to know that these guys are still around!

The choir from Gladesmore School was magical and Bernie’s old friend from George Town, Guyana, gave a sparkling anecdote that had the audience virtually falling over themselves in laughter. The poet Zita Holbourne, recited some poems; all were lyrical and very powerful, that I would have loved to have heard some more.

Bernie’s sisters got up on the stage and talked briefly about their life with their brother and that as theirs was a large family; family was considered to be always important. There would be regular family gatherings. At this point, Bernie’s sons went out onto the stage. One of them talked briefly of running his pub with his wife in Hampstead, and reiterated the importance of family and discipline. One of the sisters said that she did not want to comment on her brother’s politics but how she was impressed by his commitment to the Tottenham community and Haringey as a whole.

All in all it was a great evening and I’m sure I can speak for all those who attended: we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The only thing I would say is that I found out about this event by accident so I think it should have been promoted more widely and not to be seen as a ‘black’ event. Bernie Grant was elected as MP for everyone who lived in Tottenham and not elected just for a certain group of people. As the current MP, David Lammy, Lord Boateng and other prominent personalities were all present, it would have been good if they had stuck around with the crowd after giving their speeches but they were nowhere to be seen! Oh well, such is life.

Out Of The Ashes by David Lammy: Review

 

I’m almost coming to the end of Out of the Ashes, the book written by the MP for Tottenham, David Lammy.  Firstly I have to say that I am surprised, really surprised. But why should I be you may ask? Is he not Harvard educated? Or have I been totally bowled over by the rumours that the man is a ‘sell out?’ The truth of the matter is that David can write and the man is passionate about his area. On concluding this book he has made me to realize that, like most things, it’s so easy, sometimes too easy to be dismissive as Lammy is not just some mere simpleton. His style is lucid, sensitive and accessible, and when needs be, he is still able to serve up hard statistical facts which does not interfere with the style of his writing. You believe that he cares about his constituency and his constituents and that no matter what is said of him or has been said about him, he is for Tottenham. Like myself, who was born in Tottenham, grew up in Tottenham and luckily educated by the borough, I’m aware that there are lots of cynics who say: Well! After all he is a politician, what do you expect him to say? That maybe, but one can also argue that the ‘riots’ gave Lammy the opportunity to dispel the rumours that he’s just a ‘careerist’ and the opportunity to get his hands dirty, for once.  Lammy and Clegg in Tottenham

I managed to get hold of the second edition that came out July of this year where in the book he answers all those questions that were ringing in my head: he wrote the book so quick after the riots (that’s because he was already writing the book and then the riots took place); he did it so that he could make some money (any profit from the book will be donated to charities connected to Tottenham).  So the book talks about the riots, immigration, and reform.  It explains how the underclass in Britain came about and what should be done about it.  Lammy places his argument within a context; he goes at length to explain his case cogently but he does not lecture or preach. He looks at the root causes but knows what should be done regarding the symptoms. And although I was overjoyed that he has all these incredible ideas, I couldn’t help but feel his hands are strongly tied by the forces that tower over him.  This is shown in a tiny instance when Lammy was Minister of State for Innovation, Universities and Skills and Gordon Brown became Prime Minister.  Brown requested meetings with the ministers.  Lammy complained to Brown about the increase of knife crime in Tottenham and how it was a regular complaint from the mother’s who attended Lammy’s surgeries. They wanted something done about it!  Brown listened then said the solution to the problem was ‘tax credits’ and then asked Lammy if there was anything else he wished to discuss!

Lammy also manages to weave in some touching biographical details i.e., his fear that he could end up in prison and how some family members also lived in Broadwater Farm; how his father abandoned the family and left for the US and Lammy’s success in winning a chorister scholarship at a cathedral school. It just goes to show that not all is bad in Tottenham.

Although I enjoyed reading this book, I hope it goes some way in putting away the rumours that Lammy is not really interested in the area. If there are truths in the rumours, then I hope he uses this opportunity to show that he is for Tottenham and I don’t mean just being vocal on the betting shops invading Tottenham High Road but making sure he constantly touches base with his constituents and that it’s done with concern and sincerity.

 

Week 8: Synchronicity or what?

After completing Week 8 something happened. I just happened to be browsing an on-line newspaper and tucked at the bottom of the page was a request for readers to write about experiences that have happened to them; experiences they have fictionalized.  I quickly went to my ‘recent documents’ on Word and looked at stuff that I had written some time ago. I found a story that was close to the word count requested and spent a week tweaking and altering.  When I felt it was close to perfection (just kidding) I submitted the story, with a part of me asking myself why was I doing this? Did I really think they would select this?  Five days later I receive an email from the editor telling me that he had selected my story to be published in the next edition of the newspaper.  I could not believe it!  It had made my day, it had made my week.

Clearly, The Artist’s Way is an amazing book.

Week 8. And so finally…

I have finally gone through Week 8; it has been moving, frustrating, trying, freeing. The Artist’s Date?  I’m now in London to spend the Easter with my mother.  Right now, the time is 11.55pm and I’m typing this and at the same time watching the riviting Law & Order (the US one).  The weather fluctuates between really warm and a miserable cold.  And the cold is so cold that my left knee has quickly begun to react by throbbing a dull ache.  Annoying!  I’ve dug up my thermals and thick tights, telling myself I have to wear these daily, even if the sun unexpectedly begins to shine.  I didn’t do the MP’s today but tomorrow I will read Week 9 and start my MP’s on Monday.  Have a good week!

The Artist’s Way – Week 8: Does this ‘Week’ know me? Has it ever met me?

I read Week 8 then stopped.  I could not believe what I was reading. Did Ms. Cameron specifically write this for me? As ‘it’ seemed to be so apt: talking to me, knowing exactly where I was in my life and what my problems were?  It knew why I felt the need to blame someone, anyone; why I was hiding and therefore procrastinating on what I was meant to do. The conclusion drawn: fear was the driving force and I allowed it to dominate me.

But nevertheless I still need to read it again just to make sure I have not missed anything. Well in fact I have!  I must read it again because I really didn’t have enough time to do the tasks and exercises which as any TAW follower, is a must! But I am finding this book to be thought-provoking, even to the point of being slightly disturbing.  Will keep you posted!

The Artist’s Way – Does it really work?

The Artist's Way

I realize this is the wrong time to mention The Artist’s Way as I’m currently on Week 5. Never mind so what am I experiencing? Anything profound?  Difficult to say only except that no matter what I feel that I have to keep going. I bought this book over a year ago and just watched it collect dust while it was on my book shelf.  Then one day, I said to myself that ‘tomorrow’ will be the day that I will start this thing! And so I did.  I did my Morning Pages, sometimes the Artist’s Date, occasionally the tasks and had to keep reminding myself to do the Check-ins, and then I stopped, without giving myself any reason.  This year, I promised that I would restart it and complete it. When I completed Week 2 I understood why I stopped last year. I was afraid.  Afraid that this book could impose some changes that I was not ready to handle. The strange thing was that after Week 3, I went for a walk to the nearby park and three Rottweiler’s charged towards me! As I stood facing the gate of house, hanging on and screaming my head off for dear life (as I really thought I was going to meet my maker!), two of the dogs ran past but the other one bit my calf.

Shaken, I went to a house and took refuge in the property until the dogs were harnessed put away. An exchange took place between me and the owner of the dogs. She apologized for what happened but was very defensive about her dogs. She insisted on taking me to the hospital and paying for any medication. I was given a cocktail of tetanus, anti-rabies and antibiotic injections plus a number of tablets. I found out several days later the owner lied about her dogs being up to date with their shots. But anyway, I am fine. But it got me thinking. Synchronicity? Even before coming across this word in the Artist’s Way I was never a believer in ‘coincidence’.  So the question I put to myself was did I bring this negative experience into my life, and if so, why? I still don’t know the answer (unless any of you guys can tell me).  But I pray that as I continue with this journey which I want so much to work that the ‘excavation’ does not unearth anything else profound.

Week 4, I found myself writing more than just three pages. Writing a letter to myself when I’m 85 and writing a letter from myself at eight years old I found totally cathartic.  The experience stayed with me for the entire day, and just kept me thinking about my past. My past was not all that great but I guess I have learnt to bury all the debris deep within, believing that I would not have face it but in Week 4 I did.  I’ll keep you posted.