Tag Archives: work

Between Jobs

I am stuck. Between the comforts of what I started with and perspectives I have now. I am stuck.

Like Bruce Banner in the latest of The Avengers series of movies (e.g. End Game) and the Hulk. I, am, stuck. Between a doctrine and expression of church I like and beliefs around how church should be.

I am stuck, between my heart and my head, my soul and my eyes – watching the stock in faith leaders’ demise rise.

It has been close to a year since I was last committed to a church. A place that I consider to have enabled a degree of peace and stability in my life. No matter how bad things have gotten, I have always had my faith. I could always channel my energies in that direction in the hope that everything else turns around.

So what happens when the very thing that brings you stability becomes the source of anger, pain and distrust? Do you say “that’s it I’m never going back to another”, do you rebound into the arms of whoever will welcome you? Most people do and just continue in their bubble with a new set of connections that keep things ticking over.

For me, being without a church has felt like being without a job. Although being free to do my own thing is good for a week or 3 and the application process (see church search) is tiresome, you start to notice the isolation. Maybe, like my working life, I’ve rarely been without it.  In that time, I’ve seen motivation to engage with that world fall flatter with occasional peaks.

I wonder, if like my period of unemployment, I’ll find something of a dream environment to thrive in again. I wonder if that will be a lasting thing or have the plug pulled in loss of funding type fashion. I wonder if this is a dying of the light inside or a chapter of recovery from the pain caused by more than one period of hurt inflicted by that environment.

Many more high profile than I have publicly denounced their now former beliefs after much questioning. Although I am not minded to denounce mine, I find this period at the cross roads a lengthy and at times, uncomfortable one. As the search continues my observations may yield questions that may or may not get answers. In the long run, not knowing may be fine if the impetus to move takes over. What fuels that? Only God Knows.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Faith

Halfway House

“One day your metabolism will slow down and your appetite will catch up with you.”

“Go to the gym now so that you don’t have to work as hard when you’re older”

“You look OK from the back but you’re a mess from the front”

“I like that you’ve got something to hang on to”

Being physically appealing from the neck down has never appealed to me. However, as time has gone on, despite eating healthy without calorie counting, my lifestyle has impacted what I can wear. In 2017 I was wearing hoodies 24/7 to disguise my burgeoning belly despite walking 30 miles a week.

By the end of 2018, I had outgrown even the new shirts and had begun to wear a big jumper over what I had. I looked at myself in the mirror with disgust and shame. Even the stress of work couldn’t take away from the fact that I was a mess, and I couldn’t trust myself to do a solo workout in the gym I’d signed up to.

I saw that an 8-week challenge was about to happen at my gym (True Grit Training) and thought I’d give it a go. High-intensity circuit training wasn’t new to me, I’d done “caveman training” beforehand lost some weight. However, the Paleo diet they preached wasn’t for me, I resented the food choices available. Heck, this week I’ve eaten cauliflower for the first time in about 3 / 4 years.

The first 3D scan told me I was practically a chocolate Buddha standing at just over 6ft tall – my heaviest in 10 years. This time I couldn’t rely on a messy break up to lose a stone in a week, it would be sheer hard work and disciplined eating. I sought to motivate myself over the long term so I set my weight target for the year and not the program. I also adjusted my approach to eating this time around. Rather than have a specialised set of foods for the purpose of the program, I chose to apply the lower carb higher protein principle to what I would eat on a regular basis.

In practice, the evening meals have been the same mix of fish, white and red meat with rice or sweet potatoes that I eat week in week out. Breakfasts and lunches have seen switches away from cereals and sandwiches or heavier cooked meals.

After 40 classes over 8 weeks, days before my final scan, I am ready to treat myself. I know I’ve lost over a stone in weight, I am one waist size down in formal trousers. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see a crazy amount of change in my shape. What I do see, is a man who is on the right path, a man who has put his mind to a mix of extreme, spinning, strength and other circuit classes. I don’t yet have the body I want but to paraphrase Bon Jovi, oh ….I’m halfway there.

Leave a comment

Filed under Just Living, Non Poetic Blogs

My Adidas

 

Sometimes your stride pattern is just as important as your shoes. The worn soul of mine meant all I had was my stride. All I had were stops and starts, long presses and short taps, perhaps they were Morse code to the universe, calling out for a new pair.

From the miles I have walked, the only thing I would wish upon anyone is the beauty of acquaintances providing rest from the intense heat.

Having made many strides, in recent times I found a formidable adversary that challenged me to dance down treacle-filled streets with concrete blocks strapped to my feet.

Even with two shoes as two sides to a story, my truth in all of this was that I had to Get Out. Clearings that energised me to walk a certain way were blocked or simply no longer existed.

I’d been here about 14 years ago yet I’d forgotten what the storm felt like. I forgot the scar caused by the lightning, I forgot the days of darkness and how I would have to keep my eyes open, fighting with the same fingertips I was holding onto my sanity with.

Every now and then my eyes would mistake a candle for the sun, yeah… I’d been here before. How many more strides could I get through?

Ask a friend, ask an adversary?

She sipped tea like Miss Piggy proved Kermit was cheating.

Stirred it now and then to keep me in a hopeless place.

My records laid before her showed my performance was ace

12-and-a-half years a slave, I took my calls and beatings.

When Liberty shook her bell I ran away, to freedom

The universe stopped re-healing my shoes and sent me several new pairs. The equilibrium has changed, I drive instead of walk, I have new scenery to take in and understand.

Even though lightning left a deeper scar from the second strike, I know that the path I am on is one that is made for me.

New shoes, my strides, in the words of Nas….”Whose world is this?”

Leave a comment

Filed under Non Poetic Blogs

Odd Future

They said I got a future, odd future gonna kill them all
Advice to ghettoise me, council hall
Playing a game, lacrosse, when they know I can ball
Don’t want to give the drummer some, it ain’t how they roll
All souped to speed past, it’s how they bowl
Call it autumn strike rate, my pedest fall
I’m red and sore, my head is raw
I’m not lion rich, I am bear paw
This eagle saw his eagle claw
Sharpened up his iron to blind them with a metaphor
It was cheesy season, like pizza breeze
Sold him every reason, one word sale of the 7 C’s
So he believes, he found his level,
Etched a sound, got an echo
Stamping ground, found a gecko
Angel in plain clothes, wrestled a devil
Took his head off, wouldn’t let go,
Decapitated, he was animated, selling vision
Restless chicken, he was built for giving
Resurrection, better living
This blessing was, born for stretching
That it did, yet the season stressed him
He got a taste, kept the bottle
American Histoy X’d him, full throttle
Called this apostle Chipotle flavoured Aristotle
Exotic carb the damned falafel too sweet to waffle,
Pigged out on truffles, learned to love the troubles
Hand n’ Heart like the Williams Sisters, Power doubles
Still its my level, not my arena, let me reign, I’ll bring Katrina
I need no pre-nup,
Caretaker climb, I only clean up
Yes they slimed me, Ghostbusters
Me myself and I, family trusts us
To make nice, this odd future
Tie love creation, karma’s suitors
To get it in, tailor Karma Sutra
To Make Life this odd future

Leave a comment

Filed under Just Living

B.A.Nning Order

Still by my skin tone I should have a sports team or a ring tone

Yet for years I was skin and bone because I walked to work unable to afford the bus home

But I am not your broke ass negro

When it comes to relations I’ve been alone

Disowned by my own

Made to feel a sell out because I didn’t buy into narrow minded sing-a-longs

I like chocolate vanilla and cinnamon

But I am not your broke ass negro

The walls are speaking I feel them breathing

My life leaves some grieving about underachievement

I’ve had to patch and weave things to survive and feed me

They snipe and lead me like a big cat to the Zambezi

Try to drown me in comparison, liken me to Audley Harrison

But I am not, your broke ass negro

I am not your broke ass negro I am that brother fighting to live

Not your gym class hero, just a lover dying to give

My equities zero but I’m nouveau riche

Just capitalist minds won’t measure me on the populist list

Yet I seek to better me

Some just want a better me, while others try to feather me

Tickle my ego, stick in the needle be infused with my substance as here we go

Get off on my supply and leave me to die,

A reluctant broke ass negro

If I was broke I’d be dead but my heart is still beating

I’ve taken some beating but this egg will be an omelette when it’s done heating

See along the way I’ve had to go to some wild places and gain some flavours

I’ve had to up my skill level, change some behaviours

I’m aware of my flaws I want to be loved for my plus points

Instead of being derided for being an urban myth, a great man that never wasr

Don’t take this as unsubstantiated moans cause

I’ve learned to be patient but I wont tolerate the

Lack of respect for the struggles I face the, position in my race

In my lane I keep the pace

I’m not working at your favourite pizza place

I’m not sitting on my backside with 4 kids by 3 women playing Xbox

I’m not hustling my number none hit at the train station with the immortal question

Yo blood, do you like hip hop

I respect the hustle and I don’t feel a hero

But I’ve got 2 degrees with the strength to keep knocking on the door of a career so don’t you dare label me a broke ass negro

Don’t say it with your eyes, with your heart, with any of your body language

I want to be able to do more than treat myself to a subway sandwich

See I’ve planned my years around career progression

Avoided holidays like science homework then we’ve hit recession

Hit the rocks of stress but never sunk into depression

So to the guys with relatives who say when folk ask what you do – don’t tell them

To the guys that work hard and don’t get the recognition they deserve I hope you have or find someone that makes you happy and helps you be your best

To the guys that regardless of how hard life hits them they get up strengthened

Hear my expression and adopt or lengthen

I am not your broken negro

You need to mend your ego, give it an abortion

I refuse to be a broken man, I strive for bigger portions

For I AM ME

Leave a comment

Filed under Race

in his mind

His lines like intricate splashes of colour, spill on to the page like tears rolling down the mountain face

Gathering momentum as they descend because he is well grounded and his salt flavours his earth

Striving to be the salt that flavours rather than the dirt grounded by hurt

His lines monetize time hoping he’ll profit from faith in hard work

Flowing like blood around the body of truth, growing in spirit in spurts

Painting pictures of perennial punch endurance his heart is not opaque

His lines mean his audacity of hope was a slow bake but he was and still is on the rise

See in his lines, his heart has too much rhythm for him to know when he’s been beaten

Indignation seething, success still teething he takes notes of conceited believers

Recipes for deceit from facetious deceivers are levers for him to believe in the notion that perfection is found in fleeting moments

More than the results of intelligence quotients bad times will ever be the quota for a life in marvellous times

So we ignite with a life in marvellous minds, transpose to life in marvellous lines which don’t always make for those marvellous times

There’s no pardon for this grind, never milling around or spewing bile

Life is reality and we cannot afford to live in exile or domiciles of the docile

So as I learn life as his lines are my lines and in my mind I have to live my life in marvellous grinds because marvellous lines like hearts can be broken

Leave a comment

Filed under Random Poetics

Hate The Game

I’m not clicking with their click because my feet got more rhythm
Clicking keeps the game ticking but they don’t clock your vision
Unless your poly ticking your progress is forbidden
Everyone’s a player but the rule is unwritten
Like a failed exam paper your hard work is marked hidden
Playing dim getting bright might get you in position
Hear and deaf see and blind is the house you got to live in
As you find bridge building’s the key to your city
Visibly their style is clean know what I mean
Rolling into work like new upholstery
Knifes in the grey matter they’ll stab you from between their teeth
Make you token monkey when extra juice they need
For the game is endurance yet we yell conspiracy
When we’ve played it to perfection with no medals received
Pot calls kettle black when nothing hits the boil
I try not to play but the machine is well oiled.

1 Comment

Filed under Just Living