Author: queendinard

Forty Years! That age that most people either dread with an intense hostility, a morbid fear, or anticipate with heightened excitement. Others couldn’t care “Two Hoots” about it and a small number are simply void of emotions about it.

Some say that forty is the new thirty, life begins at forty and one comes of age at that time. A Forty Year’s anniversary for a company, a marriage, a nation is generally awarded because it is seen as having attained some measure of maturity and experience. A Generation is also described as being forty years. so forty does account for something.

I myself am one of the number who dreaded forty. My dread was not one of hostility but one of fear. I did not know how I was expected to react, how I would feel, nor how I would be expected to conduct myself. I had even thought that I would suddenly join ranks of “old Folks.”

They reality, though was quite the opposite. The rejuvenation and excitement I felt slightly surprised me, but then I caught myself and re-assurance swept over me in torrents. I felt prepared to take on what had hitherto caused slight trepidation. I knew I was comfortable enough to make my decisions without being put off by what others may think of them. I knew better to not be accountable to another human for my likes or dislikes. I valued being comfortable in my own skin, my appearance, my attire, my choices without feeling the need to please. It was like huge bursts of sunshine flooding my being. My steps were purposeful and huge and mentally I had made my mind-shift. Turning forty for me had paid huge positive dividends.

Now we are starting off the final week in November staring down the barrel of the final forty days of 2021. We are still dealing with the dreaded Covid-1 Virus Pandemic and in many regards our frustration, fear, angst, irritability and worry continue to plague us. We have had some relief from restrictions, are anticipating more ease, but like turning forty, have reached a major milestone and must show evidence of maturing.

As a Fifties Queen who has lived through her forties, my advice is resolute. There is only one of you and your mental wellness must always take precedence. Your growth and development are your responsibility and your shine and brilliance must never be left to the whims and fancies of anyone else. You are purposefully designed for greatness and possess all that it takes within you to exceed your expectations into the final forty days of 2021 and well into 2022.

However, there are some keys that must be unlocked. As forty connotes growth and maturity, you must be willing to grow up. As you grow up, it is important to be aware of yourself. Everyone knows what takes him or her to the lowest level and with that in mind it is important to tune into that “thing or one” responsible for that cruel onslaught. Alternately, one always knows what soothes, comforts , heals and places him or her in a peaceful place, a warm fuzzy spot like I usually say. With this in mind growing up and maturing into self-awareness necessitates tapping into finding one’s balance.

Just as forty signifies throwing off what serves no purpose for the rest of 2021, it is vital that ways, habits, situations, interactions that no longer propel you into positivity, must be discarded and placed into the “throw-away heap.” Here signifies that you are now making decisions that suit you best just as one does at forty. You decide and Not someone else. You determine and Not another.

But of course the journey may sometimes see the creeping up of fear, memories of failure and huge phobias that had previously crippled your progress. That is natural and expected, yet should not be allowed to remain. The impact should be that of using those fears, failures and phobias as stepping stones for advancement. Once acknowledged, the script should be flipped and you can set yourself up for victory, rather than defeat.

Once you tackle those detours, you must be prepared to Embrace. There will be changes within you, around you and ahead of you . Your preparation for them is crucial. So right away, that mind-shift must begin. You have to embrace a new mindset to accommodate all the changes that will come with the forward thrusts and developments. As you take hold of your changes in tight hug embraces you will be more prone to accept the myriad of great opportunities that present themselves in your path.

The journey to forty continues. What happens at forty? What happens at forty is what you allow. Growing up, maturing and developing. Your self-awareness, purposeful decisions and discarding, coupled with your wholesome and discerning embracing of mindsets, changes and opportunities are what you require as you finish 2021 and anticipate 2022.

The idea of being touched by others, ‘Unfamiliar’ others, ‘Other’ others, in a close space AlWAYS makes me cringe. I hate the thought and abhor the action even more. Imagine my delight then, at the mandate of Social/Physical Distancing in this new era of Covid-19! It continues to be my best part of those restrictions which I hope remains in place.

The reality of a fat juicy burger whether well done, medium or rare, that meat part cuddled comfortably and invitingly tantalizing, among the relish, vegetables condiments et al, tempts many a taste bud and lets off eager juices for sure. That Chicken Breast or Fish Fillet, elegantly laced and tastily attired with the appropriate colour also evoke a similar response. For those anti-meat eaters, an attractively dressed Bean, Tofu, Lentil or Veggie Burger complete with frilly and colourful vegetables, certainly create the same effect. In the end both meat eater and vegetarian human will have their way in devouring their love.

What then could be the issue, or is there any, for the meat, chicken, fish, bean or tofu being laid down, sandwiched, enclosed, surrounded, covered, held in by the bun and smothered over from the condiments, vegetables, toppings? What would be any one’s reaction if their burger spoke back at them, crying out for release and demanding to be removed from their enclosure? Would you drop it, dump it and run away, demand that it ‘shuts up, ‘ or would you sink your teeth in even deeper? We perhaps never will know.

What I know is that thrice this past week, I felt like a Big Meat, not a tantalizing piece, but a carelessly thrown slab squashed and huddled uncomfortably close to ‘Unwanted touching.’ As I sat in three different buses at three different times on different routes, persons were just too close to me. I winced for a very brief moment and hoped to reach my destination pretty quickly or at least have the seat free as persons disembarked.

Amid my internal cringing, my thoughts raced down the halls of my mind and bounded up on images of other humans in varying situations in life. There they were, not on buses like I was, but in situations, interactions, spaces where they felt that they were that Big Meat casually tossed on the bun, hardly any dressing on simply naked and rarely done. Others were the less harshly placed Chicken or Fish, yet still barely clad and certainly unappetizing. A small number of them were the Bean and Tofu, unappealingly placed on dry bun who no one would care to even cast any eye on even in their deepest state of hunger.

I wondered how they had found themselves in that unwelcome state, those Big Meat individuals. They who had been dealt a cruel hand and had seriously believed that their size, structure and perceived favourite choice status would have given them the edge. After all everyone appreciates a hefty chunk of solid structure. Those persons sadly, were left out in the cold. Who they thought would have taken the time out to provide them with the necessary perks to accompany their potential had instead thrown them out. They were grabbed at at first, but indecently slabbed in naked form amid a sea of broken bits. How many of you have been a carelessly cast Big Meat? How did you cope with your situation? Who were all around you shoving and jamming into you with disregard?

I continued to think about the Chicken and Fish Fillet individuals who had really been looking forward to be served with the pride and respect they deserved, particularly because they knew they fine form and affableness was craved by many. Unfortunately for them, they were not given the dignity that was due them. So they avenues for their advancement were consistently blocked and their attire so unappealing and bland that they failed to stir the interest that could have made them a force to be reckoned with. Do you think you fit that profile? Have you been presented in an unappetizing light just to conceal your potential and ability? Who knew you could, but rejected you anyway?

My thoughts lingered on to dwell on those Bean and Tofu or Veggie individuals. Yes! the ones with creativity, zest, unconventional ideas and plans that are worth much, would bring an air and season of renewal and freshness but were hidden away because someone thought that shaking up the bottle, stirring the pot, or rocking the boat would not suit their plans. So rather than being placed forward in their different, yet exciting and novel wear, they remained in the box to become soggy, or at the back in the dark. Their voices were not heard or barely acknowledged and would-be tasters never knew what they missed. Where along the table have you yourself been that person? Did you feel as claustrophobic as I did in those buses, those different times on those different routes? Did you attempt to shout through the box or scream out in the darkness? What did you do?

My thoughts reminded me that in some instances some individuals were also existing as filling between the bun parts. They represented those who were simply brought on board when things were falling apart and they were able to enhance the appearance of a failing situation without being recognised for their efforts and vital input. Sometimes they played many roles pretty much like the different condiments and toppings added to those burgers. Their presence was pleasant aesthetically but never taken too deeply. When did You experience that position? What was your response? How did you tolerate it ? Did You?

I was grateful to have reached my destination on all three occasions in one piece and exhaled gratefully to have emerged in whole and not a hot mess. I still detest being huddled close anywhere, do not eat meat burgers at all, but will enjoy and devour a well prepared, chicken, fish, bean or tofu burger with the condiments and vegetables I prefer. Unlike a burger though we all have the ability to make our own waves, enact our changes and make strides to reach our goals despite real serious setbacks. the time may be a little longer but the possibility still exists that success will ensue. As opposed to toppings and fillings, we all are capable of determining where our efforts are best utilised without feeling used.

Whatever our status, Big Meat, Chicken, Fish, Tofu, Bean or Veggie. whatever the filling or topping, we can self-regulate and self-propel.

I’m not certain how many of us in our fifties had bothered to, or even had the time to really analyse, think about, dwell on our parents’ selves, their likes , dislikes, manner of doing things when we were children. Sure we knew what they expected us to do mostly by “The LOOK.” often the “Lashes, Blows, Strokes, Thumps,” or “Objects,” Tone of Voice.” As we grew older and reflected, our minds might have wandered back to those days and like the “Light Bulb” turned on, our memories would light up to reveal a plethora of facts, opinions , viewpoints of them we hadn’t realised lay hidden within us.

Quite unlike us, our children do have their views of us and are certainly more open in airing bits, fractions, segments, chunks of it to us, sometimes to our displeasure, awe, surprise, acceptance, rejection, or even annoyance at times. I know my children have their views of me and their Dad. So I’ve been told how much I talk a lot, am repetitive, difficult, supportive, loving, dramatic, et al. I am not always in agreement with what I hear but I am certainly grateful and appreciative of their expressions.

My own parents, one of whom is deceased have left imprints of themselves etched firmly in my memory. As I peer through my Minds eyes I am unravelling threads of them that had been balled up throughout my Fifty-Six Years of being on this planet, earth. Though my version may not necessarily be their authentic selves, or indeed it may very well be, or in part, thereof, it is certainly my experience of who I knew and know them to be, as their child.

So who to this child, is, was Ray. Well, Ray from my earliest memory was my Daddy who called me “Preet” short for Pretty. He was my Daddy who brought home fruits as snacks, made bread that tasted so good to this girl who was and still is not a fan of flour and bread, fed us lots of fish and sweet potatoes, yam and codfish, was very affectionate and so did not fail to provide me with hugs. Ray was hardworking and committed and approached any task with zest and zeal

Ray was well-spoken, flashy and boastful, loved to wear his shades, shave his beard with that Phillips automatic shaver but who left his sideburns. Ray was that father who insisted that school was very important and that being at church was not to be joked with. Ray was a Chauffeur, the best and who could manoeuvre any type of vehicle with dexterity and ease, Orderly, Farmer, Carpenter, Painter.

Ray was an alcoholic who sometimes was too drunk to go to work and half-lay on the bed while I tried to remove his shoes and socks and help him to lay properly on the bed. Ray was a perpetrator of Domestic Abuse, who gave us a lovely day at the beach only to come home later at nigh and beat on mommy for some imagined folly in his eyes. Ray was and impetuous man who woke us up at night to give us lectures about our future. Ray was that uncaring man who turned off the light on the Christmas Carollers who came to our house on Christmas Eve. Ray was a father who often drank away most of his money so I did not complete my Typewriting Classes and Exam.

Oh but what else does this child have to say about Ray, what pictures are hidden in her mind’s eyes? Ray Oh, Ray, I firmly believe, was a delicate man, a solid man, a kind man, complicated man, a confused man, a complex man, a harsh man. Ray was the epitome of a Jovial Light, a sweet-savour as well as a Dismal Dark Abyss and a bitter stick. Ray was my Loving Dad and my Awful Dad.

And Vay, Vay, Vay! Vay my mammy, mommy, mom! Vay was my mommy who made sure that every birthday I wore a brand new dress. Vay saw to it that I was always fed. Vay taught me to sew, wash, cook and clean. Vay shared her plate of rice, provision and fish with me and my little sis every Tuesday and Thursday when she did the Ironing at her other workplace and could not prepare our lunch.

Vay ensured that I had my necessities as a young girl and taught me the importance of having having personal care items and personal hygiene. Vay was that mommy who believed in God and prayer, self-respect, respect for parents, and the ordinary man and woman. Vay took pleasure in her appearance and her hair and skin were her beauty.

Vay was a Seamstress by profession who often charged little or nothing to many who could not afford. Vay was a Laundry-woman, an elderly -care-giver, a loving caregiver grandmother, an excellent craftswoman in all types of needlework, straw, wool. Vay knew how to stretch that little sum of money to always ensure that me and my siblings were well clothed and fed. Vay was that hard-working woman who instilled in me the value of sticking to the task and doing one’s best

Oh, but Vay was a stern disciplinarian who did not smile, a harsh mom whose words stung harder than a thousand bees and which left me deflated many times. As I matured and reflect, I realise that Vay was also a burdened woman, a hurt woman and silent sufferer who had undergone much. Vay was a good Mammy, a caring Mammy, a harsh Mammy, a sometimes cold Mammy. But Vay is My Mammy!

Ray and Vay had very different personalities that played out in their actions and attitudes towards each other, others and their children. For whatever reasons that brought them together, I am glad that their journey produced me. I am elated to have a been a product of their union. Despite the ills and downsides, I had the pleasure of having a Father and Mother who both afforded me much food for thought. I have not embraced the sides of them that made me cry and feel hurt, Nevertheless, I love them both. They are my Parents!

I am a nature Island girl who grew up in the North-West Town near the seaside. There the impressive twin peaks of Historic Fort Shirley stood majestically over the bay as a strong reminder of the days when protecting the area was her sole duty. In the evenings, the orange ball that had roamed the sky all day long, dipped gently beneath the horizon as I stood either atop the hill near my home or out in the road by the stand-pipe. Of course then, as awestruck as I was by her sheer beauty, I could not savour the moments for too long. To do that would risk being disciplined for being outside sunset had passed. Then, the sunset represented that time when little girls should make their way inside have their bath and wait for supper, then relax with siblings telling stories, or playing a game.

There were exceptions of course, when, as a teen, provisions were made to finish watching the football matches, even as the sun bade us farewell for the day. But the understanding was that heading home was priority especially if that night were one to attend Church Services or prepare for the Sunday Services the following day. And then, those two days of Carnival in February or March, sunsets were actually spent at Fort Shirley praying and being away from those Celebration Days. In those days my Sunset stories seemed to represent periods of getting away and preparation for quiet reflective times.

When I migrated to the Little Bit of Paradise, sunsets were equally beautiful and my love for them failed to relinquish. The Nature Girl in me still found them a complete beauty but for many years though, I thought of them as an end to a time period, the mark for rest, repose and shutting down of strenuous activities and stressful moments. My Sunset stories were closing off sessions to settle in.

As I grew older, the sunsets seemed to beckon more to me and I was very much drawn into their sphere. I am now completely enamoured by sunsets and relish them as moments of calm and tranquillity as well as amazingly captivating aspects of God’s creation. My Sunset stories are peaceful time setters for both relaxing spaces and offering praise to my God for his awesome power and great handiwork.

As I reflect on my Sunset stories during those phases of my own life I realise some poignant similarities. Sunsets were really a closing off of an era, when one took time to transition into a space of quiet calm, reflection void of boisterous movements.

Like the physical sunsets I experienced, it must be noted that people everywhere have Sunset stories too. These stories can represent emotional and mental images of situations, events and thought processes. They can be time periods where many of us either sit in awe and drink in the splendour of an event in our life with wishful thinking that it’s going to last, knowing fully well that it is coming to an end. We also have those sunset moments when we are totally caught up with a situation because of the thrill it offers us but which we are obligated to give up or rush away from because of other commitments that demand our attention. And of course there are those crucial times when we know that as enticing as a thought is, it cannot be retained since space must be made for repose in order not to risk being overwhelmed.

Sunset stories may also be reminders that when one aspect of our life comes to an end, when a relationship ends, when a partnership folds in when a loved one dies, when a goodbye is uttered, when something warm appears to have died, even when wax melts, a new rising occurs in another sphere. I myself have always thought that Sunsets give way to beautiful sunrises and must be embraced.

So when I stood on that hill as a girl in my beautiful Nature Isle, knowing I needed to get inside shortly, I enjoyed that splendour of that sunset I saw. When I knew I had to rush home from viewing that Football Match to prepare for “Service,” the sunset was still beautiful. And, And when in Little Paradise, I initially focused on my rest and relaxation, the sunset was still beautiful. While I still revel in its utter splendour, it remains a grand sight to behold. I am comforted that another day is awaiting.

Similarly, you must know that your situation, thoughts and events that must come to an end, that have to be cut short or set aside in your sunset moment can give way to a beautiful sunrise.

But what are your Sunset stories like? What are they about? How have they impacted you? Tell us!

A Warm accommodating Space? A Putrid Place/ A Mourning Entity? What???

When I found out that I was going to become a new Mommy for the first time thirty -two years ago, I made sure to find all the literature I could get to acquaint myself about that foetal development within the womb. Many times I poured over those Medical Encyclopaedias, watched the available Cable Channels at that time that showed and explained foetal development while in the womb, the care I needed to take as well as what could seriously hamper my child’s development and viability. Despite the emotional anxiety that had come with me becoming pregnant, from Family, Church, The Yoke-bearing Protocols that were in effect within the Education Department where I was employed and then my own relationship, I was bent on making the effort to ensure that my unborn child was in the best of health with me.

The state of my womb therefore was of crucial importance. All my checks proved that I was well physically and my child was developing as she ought to be. I read to her, sang to her, while her Four Year Old cousin spoke to her and rubbed my belly throughout the nine month period. My amniotic sac did not leak, she sure did kick around a lot and was in generally good health. Although she came out pretty early and was tiny, she was kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. Her mouth looked like she would be one to be reckoned with as far as airing her views and stating her case. Sure, she has lived up to that thought too.

All’s well for my Baby and Me but I can’t help but turning my attention to that “Other” Womb. On September 11th 2020, I did a signatory post on the sister Facebook Page expounding on that Womb, the one that was Mourning because of all the weight she was still carrying long past the due date. Persons had not seen upward mobility because of a stifling in the environment while relationships hadn’t been able to thrive because things that should have been let go were still in that Womb. Micromanagement had created a shutting down of talents at places of employment, interactions were not openly objective because there were just too many unresolved matters.

Do you have a Mourning Womb? How are you handling dealing with it? Have you been able to shed the weight that should have long since been released? Are you tired because the stress and the strain is dragging you under? What is the state of That Womb. It is vital, now more than any other time, to be sure that your womb isn’t in mourning. Mental Wellness, Balance, Tranquillity and Calm, Hope and Faith are what everyone needs. And when at that moment you find yourself being dragged low, reach out for help. The external factors bearing down on you must not be allowed to do damage. If you aren’t getting relief, you must throw out serves you no purpose. It means therefore that there may need to do an audit of outside interference that does not make for internal health. Wombs are meant to be healthy spaces for progress, development and growth.

Alternately, one cannot afford to have a Womb that is a Putrid Place. It should never be that That Womb is the entity creating the rot, the stench the ill-feeling, the oozing sore. On August 22nd 2021, my post on our Sister Face-book Page expounded on the womb being in such a state, that itself was creating the inflictions. So it may have been a case where the communication was not forthcoming, a crowding was taking place such that expansion was not possible. Internal old mindsets lodged tightly in place were impeding ones progress. Non-communication, unclear communication or little communication were all making it rather difficult for a clear plan to be crafted. In essence, the problem was an internal one of self-sabotage.

How have your relationships, dreams, aspirations been thwarted seriously by your own doing? Have you remained in that backward mode of lying in a bed even after the mattress was saggy and lumpy, ridden with numerous holes and no longer comfortable for a good rest and, or, relaxation? Have you held back from articulating your concerns or failed to clarify when issues were out on the table. How have you retarded your own progress? It is certain that even if a thousand views are not for you and you yourself had that strong resolve to advance, progress would be possible. However, even if a thousand cheers are going up for you and you yourself simply do not believe in your own ability and so do nothing, progress will never occur. It is therefore necessary to look inward at the self. Leakages of self-sabotage, self-doubt and self-pity are only going to fester and form foul-smelling matter of retardation. Crass, uncouth and discourteous communication and, or, attitudes may only serve to draw away from you, persons willing to help you move forward. Self-examination is key to then “Clean House” all in a bid to cleanse That Womb, That Putrid Place.

By all means, in this current season Mental Wellness, Balance, Calm and Tranquillity will best be served if that Womb is an Accommodating Place. What is the State of That Womb? Go do your Homework!

As I sat for a reflective session following my Morning Walk, along came Sapphire! He purred like a spoilt baby yearning for his Mother’s breast, although he had already feasted on his nibble bites. When I called his name, he purred back softly then settled himself on top of the block surrounding the water metre. There he lay contentedly beside me while I continued my quiet reflection.

I watched him and my mind wandered off to a number of suppositions. Why was he so bent on being near me? What did he hope to accomplish? Did he crave my attention? Was he keeping me company? Did he sense my mood and only wanted to share my experience or was he just being a pet cat doing a “Pet Thing” of lying outside in the open air and fresh sunlight? What were his intentions? I would never know but could only suppose.

Unlike cats, dogs or any other pets, we humans Always have intentions! Sometimes those intentions are not known to anyone else but ourselves, are sometimes misconstrued and still in other instances, they are either overtly displayed or covertly hidden. Whichever though, the intentions remain. They exist in our words or silence, our actions or inactions

What is instructive are the lessons that emerge from those intentions, if one is perceptive enough to pick up on them or decipher the codes that aren’t always straightforward. I want to venture out and say that when we know our intentions are pure and wholesome, our actions or words, even when misconstrued, will be seen for what they truly are. Right and upstanding; The listeners to our words as well as the viewers of our actions will eventually come to the understanding of the core of our intentions. Alternately, the misconstrued actions or words that are really ill intended will too, become known for what they are. The light will shine brilliantly and largely on them, exposing the faux-pas we thought was undecipherable. And in the same vein, the covert and, or overt intentions of malfeasance will themselves be revealed.

So what might those lessons be. Right-standing intentions are never defeated. Wounds may occur because those who fail to acknowledge, or refuse them will wilfully inflict their damage and draw others into the fight. Eventually, the coast will clear and the true colours will emerge. Similarly, misconstrued intentions, whether they were those ill-intended ones purported to be pure, or the pure ones that were labelled unsavoury will come to the fore. Persons misconstruing them may either be doing so knowingly or unknowingly, may be individuals one least expects to or were simply those who we could be sure from the start to do what they do best. And those ill-intended bare-faced or mask-clad ones? They Always, Always reveal themselves straight-away, sooner or eventually. We may be temporarily floored by them but must Never, allow ourselves to be taken down.

But even more importantly is the fact that we should always be aware of our intentions, be concerned about them and be mindful of the lessons they portray. So when you utter a word or are bent on bringing something to light, or talking to or about others, what are your intentions? Are you seeking attention? Do you want to be a participant in someone one else’s experience? And why? for the ride-along or for the go-and-tell? Or are you genuinely concerned about their well-being? Or are you struggling with your own unresolved situations that you aren’t able to handle? You see, Intentions are Always instructive! They are either meant to make or break an individual, to enhance or corrupt a situation concerning an individual or for self-preservation at the expense of another human.

What are your Intentions?

Walls are usually structures erected to enclose or surround property or buildings, from vandalism, encroachment, impositions or to even hide contents, seclude oneself or disallow outside or unwanted intrusion. They are sometimes used to add to the aesthetics of one’s environment, but generally, the foremost idea of, or reason for a wall is to provide a strong sense of protection.

Often the owners go at lengths to ensure that the material used to construct that wall is of the most sturdy type, is firmly entrenched and generally pleasant to look at. The height and width of walls may differ depending on the size of the property, the contents therein and the ability of the owner to adequately fund that wall. Sometimes too there are signs on our walls giving stern warning to would-be intruders or even guard dogs or security guards as added boost

And so in similar fashion, we humans have erected and continue to erect internal walls within us. We have built our walls for a number of reasons. Sometimes the walls we build are emotionally defensive owing to the hurt that we might have accrued overtime, are still nursing and harbouring, Because we are fearful of, or unable to relinquish that hurt, we ensure that our Defense Wall is of its sturdiest material and firmly rooted to avoid being torn down. We fail to allow any semblance of caring near. We may not trust another human easily and may tend to question even random acts of kindness.

In other instances, the walls we build are walls of offence. We might have been wronged in a large way and so erect that Offence Wall to always have the upper hand. Our guard dogs of harshness and sarcasm are always on alert as are our security guards of sharp criticism, meanness and crassness. We will not let in anyone unless thoroughly stripped, even when a human has the credentials of genuine warmth and good intentions. Our brokenness is just too much to allow us to trust.

Ironically, those walls of defence and offence are in reality, broken and fallen walls of security, assurance, humanity and dignity that have overtime felt the effects of life’s weather. Storms of deceit, abuse, failure, internal turmoil, and a host of erratic weather patterns leave us so emotionally and mentally drained, that we become destabilised, shaky, crumble to the touch and lay on the ground in disrepair, disuse and crippled from.

A verse in the bible comes to my mind. Found in Proverbs 25 : 28, it quotes thus:

“He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like a city that is broken down and without walls.” kjv

“Like a city whose walls are broken through, so is a person who lacks self-control.” niv

This seems to be adding a new dimension to the notion of the walls we humans possess. It appears to be positing that walls can also be means of guarding or containing oneself from self-explosive violent outbursts or unhealthy attitudes or behaviour patterns. In those instances, strong walls of what I like to term “Soul Control,” are necessary to possess. They act as boundaries or barriers to contain or curb the unsavoury aspects of us that may be fuelled by our own internal turmoil or outside influence of other humans who themselves may be lacking in self-control.

So walls in themselves may not or do not have to be bad. We all have them and need them on occasions. But what do we do when our walls fall down? It depends on that wall. Undoubtedly, if that wall was one that should have been to guide our self-control, we are in trouble with ourselves because our “Soul-Control” may be in peril We will therefore need to come to terms with the next best move; that is to reclaim our ground and not remain down to. We will need to be rebuild in order to handle the next assault. If it is a wall of offence, that may auger well, because it may mean that we are willing to entertain the idea of forgiveness, kindness or human dignity. We need not be afraid to forgive or be kind . Doing so may be tedious and time-consuming but in the end our spirits will be free-er and unfettered. If it is the wall of defence it may mean that our trust ropes are not so tightly wound up and we are slowly unravelling to the notion that good humans still exist and that happiness is not so elusive or impossible to acquire. We can forge ahead cautiously yet happily, enjoying ourselves in a whole new way.

Our walls are a part of our development and progress. We have to be aware of our walls are. We owe it to ourselves to determine what to do about the walls we possess. We must know what to do when those walls fall.

Tend to your broken walls and fallen walls!