Punctuations

I'm sitting by the window at this really cool coffee shop in Houston called Siphon Coffee. I was supposed to come here a few weeks ago with a friend, but we chose a different place for brunch instead. Still, the curious bug in me wanted to see what the hype was about because they have a really cool method of brewing coffee and word on the street is they serve a mean empanada with some chimichurri sauce. So here I am. I opted against the coffee, but just scarfed down a chicken empanada and I'm here, sitting down, looking out the window.

A few minutes ago, I went back to my car to grab my Snuggie, as it was getting rather cold in the shop. After reaching for it, I sat for a few minutes in the driver's seat and the word punctuations came up in my head. As a writer, I'm always thinking about topics to write about all the darn time. Whether or not I do eventually write is a different story, but I could pitch upwards of twenty five stories right now if you ask me. I think about them and rehearse the introductions in my head as I do dinner, laundry and other mundane tasks daily.

So, about punctuations. I was thinking about pauses in life. Some that are temporary, imploring us to stop for a while and ponder, like commas, or maybe colons, telling us there's more to the story, it gives birth to something greater, or semi-colons, telling us that there's more while implying at the same time that we do come to a stop, and then there are exclamation marks, giving brith to that element of surprise, or shock, or disdain, fury, joy, and revolt all in one full swell! And then there are full stops or periods, which mark an ending and depending on how you look at things, beautiful beginnings.

In life, we all have to deal with these marks. These punctuations. The beauty I have discovered is not so much in the pauses, stops and all that comes with them but rather in understanding how to navigate these periods in our life. It takes a huge dose of wisdom, some deep introspection, sometimes a gut feeling and in some cases an attitude that just says que sera sera. It might be helpful if I had something deep to say about punctuations, but I too have limitations. I am not a philosopher or diviner, I'm just a writer. But if there's one thing I've learned about the punctuations it's that pauses are not bad. They might be unsettling, but should be embraced, because ultimately, they teach us more about ourselves than we would learn, if we never stopped, never pondered and just coasted on the sea because really a smooth sea never a skillful sailor made.

Let me tell you a story...

I love the art of storytelling and consider myself a storyteller of sorts...well, everyone is to some extent. A while ago, I thought about some experiences I have had over the years and then again yesterday, some of those stories played in my mind. I thought, why not share them, after all, they are what I consider great stories and they sure are interesting, or maybe I'm just biased because I am the storyteller. So, here are the stories and no, they are not works of fiction.

When I was a teenager living in Nigeria, my family lived a few streets away from the church we attended. Since church was so close, there was almost no excuse to not attend every event and all scheduled services. Now, a few streets over, there was this vacant house and some bank workers moved in. Young guys, handsome and rather successful. Let your wandering minds rest please for I was a teenager and I was not interested in them rather, they were more like uncle type figures. I remember a particular Sunday after church, very much like other Sundays. My sister and I were walking back home from church when one of the guys pulled up in his car and offered to give us a ride home. We hopped into the car and began chatting with him when my sister who was a busybody opened up the glove compartment and reached in and pulled out a little cardboard box. Let's just say it wasn't a box of candy. She brought out the box in plain view before she realized what it was, after which the chatty ride home in the fancy car turned into one in a hearse.

Several years ago, probably seven or eight now or maybe more, I remember coming home one day to find my grandmother and sister hunched over the trashcan in the kitchen, meticulously sifting through a day's worth of garbage. Now, if you know my grandmother, she has a habit of having a favorite grandchild of the moment and the sister who was sifting through with her happened to be the favored one at the time. As soon as I walked in, I immediately made inquiries so I could join in the search but my grandmother was determined to keep the details of the search a secret and her eyes ordered my sister to not breathe a word. After asking with no response I left them by the trashcan and made my way to the stove. On the stove was a huge pot of crab peppersoup. I love all kinds of peppersoup and I love crabs to a fault. The soup was made from blue crabs and it is no secret that when blue crabs are cooked, they turn a pinkish kind of orange color with hints of white. Also, this color eerily looks like dentures. My granny enjoyed these crustaceans seeped in the peppery broth so much that...

Have a very Happy New Year my friends!

On Prayer and Gratitude

"I will give thanks unto the LORD with my whole heart; I will recount all of His wonderful deeds." Psalm 9:1

"O give thanks unto the LORD; call upon his name: make known his deeds among the people." Psalm 105:1

"Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." I Thessalonians 5:16-18

"Be careful for nothing, but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God." Philippians 4:6

"Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving." Colossians 4:2

Happy Thanksgiving.

Run Your Race

Ah, the demon of procrastination! This post is almost a month overdue as I began mulling with the idea of the title several weeks ago. A month ago yesterday, I participated in my first structured race since becoming an adult. Running was something I did in high school and while I was quite good at it, I became sedentary and totally nixed exercise out of my life as I aged. A while ago, I made a list, a bucketlist of sorts, of things I wanted to accomplish before turning 35. I visit that list quite often and I am proud to say I have accomplished some of the things on the list. Some took careful thought and planning while others just naturally happened, like my desire to vacation for an entire month (I was able to do that in Rio de Janeiro for a whole month after taking the bar exam last year). I visited the list again recently and decided to attempt two items on the list that gnaw at me constantly; the desire to run a half marathon and to learn how to swim (swimming because it just makes sense to know how to save myself and others and because I badly want to be a scuba diver).

So, in my attempt to run my first half marathon, I began by walking for a few minutes everyday. I walked for a couple of days and then decided that I would give running a shot. At first, it was rather hard because I had not run in so long. My legs ached, I was out of breath and honestly felt like a backpacker with several months supply worth of items trying to climb a mountain without training. However, I was determined and did not give up in spite of how weary I felt. I ran everyday and with time I realized I could run longer and actually enjoy the sport. When I began, I would run a mile in 14 minutes and in the space of two weeks, I watched my time go down to about 10 minutes. I'm still aiming for 8 but that's another post. Interestingly, my daydreams and spaced out moments shifted slowly to athletic gear; Lululemon, The Nike Store, and the workout section at Marshalls and T.J. Maxx. I even surprised myself by joining a running club that met at 5:30am in the morning.

What I learned though about running is that running a race or preparing for a race is quite similar to life. When I first started running, I called my best friend who is quite the runner and has completed a marathon to ask how fast she could run a mile. I then called my sister and asked the same question. Initially I felt a bit defeated because there I was running a mile in 14minutes and on my bad days 15 minutes when they were almost nearing single digits. I was even more exasperated when my almost sixty-year old mother said she could cover a mile in 15 minutes. There I was in the same bracket as an almost retiree!

Foolishly, I forgot to take into account that both my friend and sister had been running for several years while I had only just picked up the sport after a hiatus lasting amost a decade and half. I had to learn that my journey was all mine and that trying to judge myself as a runner against their accomplishments would only bring me ruin. Realizing this was my journey was further heightened by a popular quote by Einstein on fish, geniuses and tree climbing. Even though my application of the quote was somewhat out of context in regards to my attempts to be a better runner, it freed me to run on my own terms and at my own pace.

And truly that is how life is. We need to run on our own terms and at the pace that's right for us in spite of what others around us might be doing (however I do not mean this as a license to be irresponsible with our choices in life, certain things should be done at certain times in life). My first race was a 5k I ran with a friend. When the race started we ran together and encouraged each other to keep going. Eventually she ran ahead of me and I was behind struggling to keep going. I finally caught up with her and outran her because I take very long strides and just generally walk rather fast. We played this little dance and finally in the last mile, we ran in stride. Running in stride allowed us to converse and encourage each other, and in doing so the race did not seem as daunting or tiring because we were in it together. When I wanted to stop and walk, she encouraged me to keep going and I was able to do the same for her as well. We watched as others ran by us, but we kept going knowing we were not in a contest with any other runners but were in the race for individual reasons.

After the race, I was able to reflect on how it mirrored life. Life really is not a sprint, but rather a marathon. Running in the race called life looks different for everyone. We're all built differently physically in terms of athletic prowess and even more so in life. Further, everyone knows what they are aiming for and it would be great folly to measure our progress based on that of others. Further, there's honeslty no merit in trying to outrun anyone, because our understanding of why they run or why they are in the race is quite limited. Also, having a running buddy is invaluable because they help bring something out in us that was already there to begin with. They don't make us any better, but simply by running alongside us, they help us believe that we can accomplish feats we once thought impossible. What's interesting though is that sometimes we have to and need to run alone and that is okay because there is no limit to the encouragement we can supply ourselves from within. Ask King David who knew how to encourage himself.

Thus, as I hit the refresh button to keep up with the results coming in from around the country as yesterday was Election Day, I am reminded again that the race to either the House or Senate or other offices did not begin with the candidates waking up a week ago and deciding to run for office. Running for most took months of campaigning, building a team, raising funds, running out of energy, desperately wanting to quit, but still finding the resolve to run until the stop sign, until the lamppost or not stop until the lake was circled and remembering that the race whatever it is continues with every sun rise.

Friday Memo

I Dwell in Possibility- Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility
A fairer House than Prose
More numerous of Windows
Superior for Doors

Of Chambers as the Cedars
Impregnable of Eye
And for an everlasting roof
The Gambrels of the Sky

Of Visitors the fairest
For Occupation this
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise

Friday Memo

The Man in the Arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly, who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievment and who at the worst, if he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
                                                                                                                                 ~Theodore Roosevelt

The Last Ice Bucket

Just over a month ago, it was almost impossible to not see people from all walks of life drench themselves with buckets full of ice water and in some cases cubes of ice to raise awareness of the disease Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis popularly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. I did not participate in the challenge because I really do not like to get wet at all, I was also not nominated by anyone and importantly, I thought it was rather bizarre that I would opt to subject myself to an ice-cold bucket to avoid giving to a cause.

The history of philanthropy is rather strong in the United States and some of the greatest philanthropists of our time are North Americans and so it was heart warming to see a return to that culture of giving. However, what I found unsettling about the ice bucket challenge was that it was just another opportunity for some to post videos to social media and jump on the hip bandwagon of the moment. I would argue that most people who did the ice bucket challenge have almost no idea what the letters ALS stand for, neither do they have an understanding of the basic etiology of the disease nor even know whom Lou Gehrig is, although that last part is unimportant. Still, as I saw scores of people continue to drench themselves and squeal in short video clips I became concerned about how much the ice bucket challenge was more about the people doing the drenching than the actual sufferers of the disease.

Surely, a lot of good has come out of the challenge, because so far, the ALS Association has received over a $100 million in donation, leaving the executives in the fortunate position of deciding what to do with the windfall. The donations pouring in are noteworthy because this time last year, the Association had only managed to raise $2 million. Yet, when put into perspective, ALS only affects a minority of people, as there are about 12,000 sufferers of the disease and most victims are white males and veterans. Thus, all things being equal, and given the percentage of donations that will fund research, visible gains might be recovered for sufferers of the disease with the hefty donations.

Yet, for all the good the campaign has done, I am still not a fan and became even more wary of the entire challenge after reading about a firefighter who recently died after having being electrocuted while helping to stage a massive challenge. When someone has to die for people to have fun raising money for a cause the entire premise is just plain unsettling. Further, it’s also upsetting because I am quite certain that few of those who gathered for that particular challenge or participated in others like it gave much thought to the disease once they got into some dry clothes and gloated over the response their videos got on social media.

If we truly care about a cause, I would assume that finding a remedy should consume a good deal of our time. I am very concerned about poverty and disease in Africa and hardly a day goes by that I do not ponder on what can be done and what lasting contributions I can make. As far as giving to causes, I do so without having to be cajoled into it or without the fun or lack thereof of being drenched in ice-cold water. And for certain, when I have the means to do more, I will do so. What bothers me though is that given the short attention span of our age and the tendency to jump on the next bandwagon, the donations may not be replicated in the coming years, and then what? For sure, most people are now aware of ALS and might be spurred to begin a new tradition of giving to the Association, but the converse might be the result and once the last ice bucket touches the ground, ALS and all it stands for will only be remembered as the fun activity that occupied a certain summer some years ago.