Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter: Your Inner Samurai
This is a letter about being the bigger man. Earlier today*, someone responded to a question I had asked on a social media platform with a remarkably snide remark. Instantly, I took off my earrings, and took my Taekwondo butterfly kick stance. I was ready to attack. I couldn’t believe the number of sarcastic, so-in-context retorts that flooded my head. They were so good, I think I shivered a little.
So good....
Dear Charly,
This is a letter about being the bigger man. Earlier today*, someone responded to a question I had asked on a social media platform with a remarkably snide remark. Instantly, I took off my earrings, and took my Taekwondo butterfly kick stance. I was ready to attack. I couldn’t believe the number of sarcastic, so-in-context retorts that flooded my head. They were so good, I think I shivered a little.
So good.
Then I stopped. As a (new) rule, I never attack immediately. I wait. Hold my breath and then let it out. Once again, hold that breath, let it out. I close my eyes. I imagine the sun is shining on my face and I let the battle drums fade into the background. Harps play instead—this part takes a while. I think about the consequences. Today, that incident made me think about what I represent. I asked myself what I’d advice someone else to do.
Overlook it, I'd say. Overlook the offense. It's not worth it. Your future is impeccable, your path is sterling. Don't play around in cyber mud.
It was hard. It is hard—doing the right thing. It’s hard to be already half -suspended in the air, arms spread out like wings, ready to flick that ankle and kick her in the mouth, all calculated. No chance of a miss.
Deep exhale.
I let it slide.
The next time someone ticks you off so much that the only thing they apparently deserve is a fine whack, a polished lecture, a sweet piece of your mind. Don’t dish it.
Offer mercy instead.
They may not deserve it. I know, but life is crazy, in a few hours, you may be in need of mercy, yourself. You wouldn’t want someone to unleash their inner-Samurai on you. Would you?
Love,
GreatGrand x
*written two months ago.
Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter: Fighting for Romeo
Dear Charly,
Everyone loves a good love story; and what's a good love story without the typical "I forbid you to ever see him again” ban? What your parents don’t know, is that those words, are the exact reason you’d see him again! Right? I know, isn’t life spicy?
Somewhere, somehow, at some time, we all get an opportunity to defend our decision to be with someone. It could be as uneventful as unsalted butter but usually, it’s a full-blown Romeo-and-Juliet type situation where the aforementioned ban is quickly enacted by the “authorities” and everyone gets weird and you burst out crying, and out the door, into a hypothetical garden, where you and your Romeo promise each other, that it’s you, both, against the world and you will overcome and all that good stuff.
I’m an advocate for romance, drama and garden-themed proclamations but i have to say- not all relationships are worth fighting for, not all guys are actually worth the trouble.
Think about it—ALL sentiments aside; discard the garden backdrop and the tears and ask yourself some questions.
Is he worth the fight? Wouldn't it be funny(or not so much) if you went to bat for him and in the end, he is, for lack of a better string of words, not the most decent of guys? Would he do the same for you? What are your values? What are his values? Do they converge? Do they diverge so much that they make a 180 degree angle? Are they parallel? Don't answer just yet and don't ask him. Observe him.
Discard also, the fact that he kisses like Adonis and that you literally become gooey pap, when he looks into your eyes.
Study him closely. It’s almost accurate, the vibes you’d pick up, if you listen- and i mean, really listen, to the words he speaks and the way he says those words; if you looked closely at him and if you prayed intently and seriously like your future depends on it- because it does. If you do this, you'll figure out if he's worth it.
Let's admit it, sometimes parents and third parties are right, parents particularly, it's like they can sense stuff we can't. Sometimes, not always. At those other times, it's their fear, talking.
I had an opportunity to defend my relationship once. I fought, of course, gladly too, because i loved to fight. It was a type of hobby. Anyway, then, i found out he was wasn't being honest (putting it mildly), a clown of a boyfriend he was, really(still putting it mildly). Those are not the types you fight for, nope, let those relationships go, let them slide into a sea of forgetfulness and don’t lift a finger to help them along. Just keep moving.
If he isn’t a clown boyfriend, then strap up your battle boots, baby.
To fight for your relationship, your mind has to be whole. First, remind yourself that it’s your life and whatever you decide, you have the pleasure of baring its consequences. Consequences, spooky, huh? i know. The decision to preserve a relationship, depicts maturity and integrity. Know that I'm proud of you, if you ever find yourself in this position. It means I raised someone who raised someone, who raised someone else well!
Second, understand that "Fighting” doesn’t have to be disrespectful or aggressive. It’s just an opportunity to state your decision to stay with this person, while also, implicitly or explicitly confirming your awareness of putting up with the responsibility that comes with the consequences (it’s that fun word again).
It helps when the person you are fighting for makes it worth it. That way, you can work as a teamin building the relationship, even if it's in the least conducive environment and you can be the Bonnie to his Clyde and sing your theme song in Jay-z's voice.
Make the right decision and do your homework. Consider both possibilities: Your advisers may be dead right or dead wrong. Figure out which it is, don't fight blindly without proof, get your hands dirty and knees scraped, digging for facts to vindicate(or not vindicate) Romeo. Too many times, we fail to do our research because we can’t see past the Adonis lips and the garden-cloud. Tsk.
Also make sure your fact-finding is unbiased with the aim of finding out the truth about this Romeo-Adonis- Clyde candidate. Pray about it, divine help couldn't come in handy enough.
I hope their suspicions are wrong and no evidence can be found to support them. In that case, it's time to stand and fight! *insert war cry*
Love,
Greatgran x
Fighting against romantic injustice since 2001. Hehe.
Related posts: I found the one and she's a she; why you don't deserve to be happy; The rolex effect.
Letters to my Greatgrand-Daughter: The Rolex Effect
“Direction is so much more important than speed. Many are going nowhere, fast”
Dear Charly,
Instant coffee. Fast food. Attention spans of eight seconds. ATMs. Quickies. These are features of the world I currently live in.
Nevertheless, amidst this deep-seated dependency on speed and the power of 'instancy', Rolex Société Anonyme takes out one year to make one Rolex watch.
One watch. Twelve months. Two hundred and fifty working days of piecing together each element, to make a time piece so perfect and flawless.
A baby born at the same time the first piece of a Rolex is assembled, could very well be weaned and walking by the time the Rolex is to be on the market. It's not a mass production effort and it goes without saying that you’d value a Rolex over a Casio (no offense, Casio). Rolex watches have a reputation for excellence, finesse, precision; qualities which you can see wasn't devised based on this urgency factor.
Take a cue from Rolex and resist the instancy factor, Charly. Soak yourself in self-improvement exercises and don't jump on the market until you are 'fit for all weather'. Get off the haste wagon and breathe. Take your time (but not forever) with everything; decisions, relationships, marriage, even chewing!
With relationships, there's no rush there, I must tell you. With your occupation, remember to take care of yourself first. With people, be patient and listen to what they are really saying.
In this fast world I live in, I have learnt to take my sweet time. I stop and breathe while others are moving. I brew my tea (sometimes). I chew like a snail, i make well-thought-out decisions (most times). I listen a little longer, my gaze lingers by a second.
Don't let the crowd drag you along in its frazzled haste. Rest. Watch. Laugh. Listen. Most importantly, work on your character. Become the best version of yourself. It might not take a year like a Rolex or it might. Either way, it makes you a better person and from that emanates the Rolex-effect; the natural aura of luxury and perfection.
Love,
Greatgran x
Previously published on old space.
Note to Self: Breathe
Letters to my Greatgrand daughter: I found the One and she's a "She"
Dear Charly,
I found the One!
No, not your Greatgrand father. I found the one, years before I met him. Surprisingly, she was a girl. She had short, curly lashes and a huge mass of brown hair that never fell. She bit her lip when she was nervous and doodled like her life depended on it. She couldn't hold a 15-second gaze without breaking it and then shifting her weight on her feet while saying something completely inappropriate.
She had an easy laugh and bounced around when we were alone. You could see her heart in her eyes and it beamed a yellowish hue of gold. She had long, gangling arms and sometimes she joked about cutting them off because she said it made her feel like a furry primate.
She took long, deep breaths after every rainfall and never avoided rain puddles. When we were together, the world stopped just because she smiled, we blushed at each other incessantly and my world never remained the same. But whenever others came around, she closed up fast and all they could see was me. She was so self-conscious and uncertain, all I wanted to do was hold her shoulders all the time- i think that was when I fell in love with her- the day I held her shoulders. In those shoulders, I felt all her strength, all her resilience and all her fragility.
I saw her this morning, right after I kissed your great grandfather as he left for work. She's still beautiful, very much so. She still bursts with mirth when we are alone, she still has gangling arms but she no longer doodles, she writes now, she says. Her gaze is a lot steadier, she even made it to 20 seconds, but nothing more.
Her smile broadened as she smiled back at me from the mirror- she was amused because she knew you'd never guess who it was.
Charly, I fell in love with myself ages before I met your Greatgrand dad.
I can't remember what prompted this decision but I decided to love myself anyway; and not just regular self love that is preceded by a hashtag but an intense astounding love that makes me blush in the mirror. I'd wink at myself (still do), i'd tell me how pretty I am, even when I wasn't feeling that way. I accepted me for who I was, I embraced my loud laugh, my large nose, my long arms, my complexion, my age, my hair, my skin, my body, my skills, my likes, my flaws, my inadequacies, my spirit, my abilities -everything I was destined to be. I realized consciously that every single part of me was designed intentionally for a purpose by God, even the random fact that I love only the red skittles and the red Pringles.
Once I accepted who I was, I decided to do the work of becoming the best version of me. I discovered this beautiful, fun, playful and sometimes quiet person, who I spent time getting to know and I discovered - hey, I could spend forever with this person!
I placed more value on myself and on my time and would not let anyone regard me with less than that value. In doing this, I was becoming more conscious of valuing others and respecting their time and the things they stood for and loved.
Dear Charly, love yourself and don't wait around for someone to love you until you realize how wonderful you are; don't look for love in sub-standard places, scraping around for it and eating leftovers.
Spend time with yourself and make yourself blush in the mirror. When you love yourself, you are able to love others, in the right measure and in the right quality.
It's in that journey of self-love that you can enjoy and place value on others; it's in that journey that you can foster growth in the lives of people around you and watch them flourish endlessly.
You are perfect when you realize the value of your uniqueness and spend your time improving those awesome qualities that make you, you.
Love,
Greatgran x
Ps Your Greatgrand dad almost passed out reading the first three paragraphs too. Hehe!
Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter- Why You Don't Deserve to be Happy
Dear Charly,
You do not deserve to be happy. Yes, I said it! YOU DO NOT DESERVE TO BE HAPPY!
You deserve joy-the highest form of it. You should want to climb to the top of a mountain and scream in delight, just because you can. You shouldn't have to pout and sulk because you lost a job or can't find Mr. Right or be sentenced to moodiness because Mr. Kinda-Right is acting up. Joy is that sparkly ball of tickled delight that bubbles unconditionally somewhere from your mid-gut, somewhere between your large intestines and stomach.
Oh Charly, if there is a man who makes you just plain ol' happy, i hope you are beginning to see how ordinary, common and unexciting that is. Happiness is dependent on variable factors; people, money, success, jewelry, makeup (don't ask), friends. They all have one thing in common, the lack of the consistency and the permanent ability to keep you in a constant state of happiness! So if Mr. Kinda-Right or even Mr. Right makes you happy, good for him, the day he doesn't feel too giving, guess what you'll have bobbing around your intestines? Joy! Crazy, infectious joy.
True, there is a time to cry and pout, certainly, but make sure it doesn't overwhelm you to the point of hopelessness. Endeavor not to crumble under heartbreaks and disappointments. My first heartbreak was very similar to the 6th layer of Dante's description of hell. I was lost to the world, whenever I was conscious, and whenever I fell asleep I sighed in relief as I slipped into oblivion, temporarily rid of the evil and pain on the earth. Every time I saw him, it would feel like my heart had been ripped from my chest severally and there was nothing left. It was the first time I would subject my state of joy to a person; unfortunately that wouldn't be the last time. I learnt much too late to learn to keep my state of mind independent of the willful actions of other humans or expectations. How about this- You be the one who infects with this beautiful thing called joy. It requires a conscious effort and a permanent reminder that you are full of so much love and positivity that, really, it's a wonder you haven't imploded! Your joy is from within and your internal environment must always be kept in a constant state of controlled delight, let nothing have access to it.
“Joy comes when you make peace with who you are, where you are, why you are, and who you are not with. When you need nothing more than your truth and the love of a good God to bring peace, then you have settled into the abiding joy that is not rocked by relationships. It’s not rocked by anything.”
So, you see you do not deserve to be happy. Not even a little.
Love,
GreatGran x
Letters to my Great-Granddaughter: Sexual Dividends(#TBT)
Dear Charly,
"Any man who truly loves you will wait for you." This was what my mum told me. We had heard that so many times and no one was listening (being in the new millennium and all, Woohoo Y2K! Ultra-throwback). It was year 2000 and all everyone wanted to do was have sex before the world ended.
Me, I was a mama's girl (rarer than the famed "mama's boy" ), I actually listen to my mother (sometimes). Of course, I pretend like I don't and give her a good argument, but I do listen. Anyway she had given me this bit of perspective when I was about to start dating. This consequently meant I didn't have to have sex if I didn't want to. It meant, I control the sexing in every relationship (not the guy) and if I didn't want to, no guy was going to pressure me and sulk his way into my awesomely lacy underwear. This was great! This truly was the key to dating, I could date as many men as possible and not be called a slut. I would find my ideal emotionally mature man, intellectually stimulating, crazy fun, people/ family lover, a bit of a foodie and adventurous. And *drumroll* I didn't have to invest any sex! It was genius (partly because I was icky about getting all body “fluid-y” with several men. One, was really all I needed).
This is not an instructional letter. Today, I’ll just tell you how it is and what I did. It’s completely up to you to decide.
First thing to know, Charly, is this: SEX is an INVESTMENT.
Investment
/ɪnˈvɛs(t)m(ə)nt /
noun.
An act of devoting time, effort, or energy to a particular undertaking with the expectation of a worthwhile result:(Oxford dictionary)
Sex requires devotion of time, effort and energy (if you are doing it right anyway); Shave, wax, lingerie (dolly, kinky, lacey, silky), kegels, sext, contraception (patch, pill, sponge, needle), condom (ribbed, not ribbed, latex, non- latex), Lube , imagination, spontaneity (car, shower, alley, basement), mental-winding on days you really don't want to. All these, with the expectation that he will find me awesomely wonderful and eternally indispensable, that he would be unable to imagine his existence without me and pop the question one day! This was the "worthwhile" result.
What were the odds that this would occur? How many guys would I have to have sex with before I finally got one who would pop the question? Would sex guarantee me a proposal or at least something steady? I really had no idea and I am not one to take random risks. This is where forty hours of my risk analysis and management class kicks in. I wasn't ready to invest sex into any relationship that wouldn't yield superb, tangible and sustainable results. True, I had needs. You probably do too (as much as I’d like to believe you don’t, being my little Great grand daughter and all). This wasn't about needs. It was about whether at 35 years old, I’d still be creeping out of a random guy’s room at 4 AM doing the walk of shame, or even worse I’d wake up in mine and he’s gone.
I decided. No sex. True, we’d make out. Up-against-the-wall-furniture-shifting make-outs (I didn't tell you this). However, no sex. If he did love me, he’d have to wait in line while I analyzed the relationship and its potential for growth. So with my perfect man criteria in place (mentioned above), I created a timeline:
Month 1: Meet boy (no sex)
Month 2-5: Get to know boy (no sex) aka probation period
This was the most intense time; the probation period. The main activity was research; his family, his Exes. Does boy have a drinking problem, cheating history, anger issues? Does boy need sex for this relationship? Is boy willing to wait till we are married? If he is, well, good for him, he could channel his sexual energy into hunting or some other activity. This was usually always the most sexually tense period. It wasn’t easy but you know what else isn’t easy? Getting over a breakup with a guy you were sleeping with. I had to be focused.
Month 6: Dating (No sex)
Probation extension. I have standards. Do not fall short, boy.
Month 7/8: (No sex)
At this point, the relationship is probably strained from too many fights and no sex. Muhahaha. Boy begins to come undone. Boy and I. On the brink of bliss or disaster.
Month 9: (No sex)
Tsktsk. Boy has cheated. Boy is acting up. Flirting with anyone and everyone. Boy thinks I'm oblivious.
Month 10: Goodbye, boy. On to the next.
Ten months. Difficult but effective. Heads up, just in case you try to do this, this won’t work if you are idle. Be busy at school, work, community projects, church. Do not trust will-power. My will has its strengths but resisting physical intimacy isn't one of them. I had to aid my will by selecting men appropriately and by self-branding (Dating and Business school really are connected!). He had to understand what I was about and know for certain that the sex thing was not off and on the table. It was off, far off.
I'm no super- woman here, I invented it because it makes sense and I had to protect myself……. from myself. I am my own greatest specialist in joy- sabotage.
Another reason I listened to mama was the fear of ending up with the wrong man, who I couldn't let go of because I felt attached to him. That would be selling myself short! I had seen it too many times. My train of thought usually was: If I meet him, have sex with him, then discover he's no good but I can't leave him because sex and its hormones make me feel bonded to him, tied to him, then I’d be in a pickle. An avoidable pickle (those are the worst pickles). Oxytocin, vasopressin and endorphins; the hormones of deception. They collectively make you feel attached to the guy, like there’s something monogamous about what you just did, helps you feel secure, soothes you and binds you. I guess in retrospect, the only reason older people tell you not to have sex is because of the effect of those darn hormones and the false sense of security they bring.
So Charly, if you have never had sex before and you plan to wait till you are married, make sure you have a good reason for doing so (told you all of mine). If you started already, humour me and try the ten month trial period on a guy. Let’s see if he makes it to month five.
Love,
Greatgran x
This post was previously published on our old space, feistyphi
Letters to my great-granddaughter- The Assasination of Mary
Dear Charly,
This is the story of the assassination of Mary.
It was a dark, stormy night. As the rain slapped noisily against my window, all I could think about was completing my task. I sat in my old dilapidated room contemplating the plan. Ms. Y had come to me with the job. The target was Mary.
Mary had been making enemies or maybe not, I didn't care. My job was to take her out. In my line of work, many get paid for the services they render, but I do it because I enjoy it. I can't say many of my "colleagues" don't enjoy it much either but some of them end up in a shrink's chair. For me this is somewhat of a hobby. There's a joy that comes with taking existence, isn't there? A little laugh bubbles somewhere deep in your throat as you stare at the lifeless corpse you made. One minute there is life, a rhythmic thumping, a pulse - next, stillness, quietness.
Mary like everyone else would experience the stillness soon. She'd be removed, forced to cease, forced to rest in peace or in the Lord or in a pit. I smiled, almost fondly. I know Mary myself, we work together and I had thought knowing her firsthand would make the job harder, not in the slightest, in fact, I was ever so enthusiastic. I had no motive to kill either, so I guess the murder would never be traced back to me. The joys of getting away with murder, I giggled to myself as I polished my weapon. I'd write a book one day; How to Get Away with Murder, except someone beats me to it first.
Early the next morning, Mary was found dead at her desk. A couple of us knew who did it. Not to worry, i wasn't the only one who took Mary out, it was more of a group effort. We all chipped in at the office, a little stab here, another there, the same way we chipped in to buy her a chocolate frosted birthday cake last June. Now she was out cold, face ashen and mouth agape.
Just in case you have never thought about gossiping and backbiting this way, this is exactly what it is, Charly. The moment you open your pretty mouth to slander another person, you literally just killed the person. It's actually called "character assassination"; dishonoring another individual. People do stupid things, people do crazy things, people do down-right weird stuff but it's not your place to judge. Never was, never will be. When the gist comes your way, let it slide. Forget it and don't relate with the person based on what you heard.
I've done my own share of gossiping, probably enough to cover the next four generations of my progeny (another reason you don't have to). I've learnt to reconfigure my mind through a deliberate process, not to speak ill of people and to wish them the best, even if they slip up. Catch yourself when you can and stop polishing your weapon, someone might just be pointing a nozzle your way.
Love,
Great gran x
No one was hurt in the making of this post! If your name is Mary, I have nothing against you. Marys are my fave!