Tuesday, 6 June 2017

My greatest learnings – life coaching

Once upon a time – okay, two years and 4 months ago, I dramatically left formal employment.  I walked out that door, and did not let the door hit me where nature put a crack on my back side.  I walked into a great wilderness of nothingness.  It was to answer the call of my restlessness, my unfulfillement.  It was to search for something that was larger than my current existence.  Because I knew that this - where I was at, was not it and could not be it - the end game for my existence.

I have dived deep into myself.  Faced my struggles.  Examined my pain.  Rejoiced in my gifts.  Awed by my accomplishments.  Accepted powerful me.  I have found out who I am.  I have been holding back from stepping forward and up; by relying on past negative outcomes caused by rejection and refusal of my most ardent hopes and wishes, by those that knew no better.  I have faced my fears.  Of failure, of indecision, of procrastination and inaction – held together by self created comforts of perfectionism and a false sense of modesty.  My past is important.  I celebrate it.  It counts.  It is a signpost that I have moved, I have grown, I have accomplished.  It is a reserve of my learnings to dip into and use to fuel my future.  I am brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous [A return to love, Marriane Williamson] for I am fearfully and wonderfully made [Psalms 139:14].

Now I am resolved and committed to moved out of my comfort zones, with a focus on accepting challenges and opportunities, embracing them in their uncomfortableness, so as to live in my purpose and my vision, which is given to me by the greatest love of my life, my God and my creator. I am affirming my destiny.

Coaching has taken centre stage in the actualisation of my vision in my purpose.  I have with temerity faced my past and boldly acknowledged my current reality.  I have found out who I am.  I have identified my values.  I know where I am going.  No – I am where I am going.  I have been to that mountain top, and I have looked over.  And I have seen my promised vision.  I am already there. 

The joy is in the details.  The planning.  Setting up my goals.  Prioritising them.  Because I am already there. 

The journey is in the joy.  It is easy.  Because I am already there.  

My feet are on the road.  I have the map.  Because I am already there.

I have my daily food.  My rituals.   My exercise, meditation, reflection, powerful questions and most of all, gratitude.  Because I am already there.

I have my life plan.  I know what I am doing.  I am moving.  I am succeeding.  I am winning.  Because I am already there.

Magnificent.  Victorious.  Triumphant.  In my glory.  In my splendour.  Because I am already there.

I am there.

I have learnt how to coach, and been coached.  Two for the price of one.  And for that I am grateful.  Coach, I thank you.  For being real.  For being authentic.  For being available.  For sharing.  I came to learn how to coaching to find out how to pass my messages in my consulting work and to find out how to help people fix their life problems.  In an awesome twist, I have got more than I bargained for.  I am grateful.

I will use my skills, plus my God given skills, abilities and gifts, to do for others what has been done for me.

I commit to looking to coaching to get me success.  I commit to joining like minded people, who are seeking for personal life fulfilment and to making a significant contribution to society.  I know that this day, this moment, every moment, is the moment that I am happy, grateful and contented in all that I am and all that I will be.

I’ve just completed a life coaching course, and one of the requirements - to sufficiently complete the course - was a 500 word reflection on, “My greatest learning’s from the course (including inspirations, insights, understandings, breakthroughs, acknowledgments) and how I am and will apply these into my life, work, and coaching”.

This – up here, is what I turned in – I’ve edited a coupl’a words.

Monday, 1 May 2017

God is good crazy

image from www.pinterest.com
‘God is good.’ 
‘All the time’
‘And all the time’
‘Good is good.’

Oft repeated in my presence.  In church.  And other gatherings where believers meet.

One day, my parish priest added, ‘God is crazy’.  There was utter and profound shock amidst the congregants.  There was a smattering of ‘Noooooooo’, from mouths not agape at the thought of a crazy God.  He still says it, once in a while, ‘God is crazy’, laughs heartily, but not once has he ever received a unified response.  I do not know what his expected response is.

I was not shocked.  I thought  - he thinks the same?  Because I confess, I have thought it.  I have.  I have with temerity to thought that God is crazy.  In a good way.  A good kind of crazy way.  Does that exist? And I am not being irreverent.  I am just expressing my inability to understand Him in my little human thinking.

Me thinks this – God decided He was going to make man in his image and likeness, out of love, for He is love.  He did not need us, He did not need me, for He is complete within himself, but still He made me.  High expectations.

We foiled his Plan A of course – man, and I.  We ‘about-turned’ from Him and we were left high and dry, distant from his constant love.  Un-communioned with God.  Dead.

Plan B, was Jesus.  Which makes me wonder, what if Jesus had not fulfilled His part, and He had refused to lay down His life for me?  Could a part of God not do what God wills? Would I ever have been born again in the Spirit of God?

Would Plan C have been activated?  Was there a Plan C?

All I know is, even after all is said and done, I have a yearning in my spirit.  My spirit which is in His image and likeness.  A yearning to return home.   A hope.  Based on faith.  Clinging in trust. On love eternal. 

And that’s that.  So simple  - obviously.  So complex - incomprehensible.  To me at least.  Crazy.  Good crazy. 

Elevation - through the Patmos Experience

image from www.pinterest.com
I am reading a book – okay, I have already finished it.  The book is Lifted from the Pit of Brokenness
and Despair, subtitled, A Testimony in Healing and Restoration, by Anastasia Queen.

My mother gave me the book.  She bought it at the prayer session she attended recently.  It is a good book.  Anastasia has dedicated the book to the courageous men, women and children who died in the 1994 Rwanda genocide, but above all, to all the survivors, whose testimonies, though in no way similar to hers, but in many ways - their courage became her courage, their strength became her strength and their hope her hope.  I find that profoundly insightful – the transference and the passing on of the determination and expectation for and of life.

Anastasia tells intimately of her life’s hurt in a relationship, the effect it had on her decisions and actions, the pain and the anguish that she felt, and of the path she took to live again, when God breathed life anew into her.

I have carried away from the book two things.  The ‘Patmos experience’ and the ‘Gethesemane experience’.

Anastasia heard about the ‘Patmos experience’ when she attended a gathering at an Evangelical church in Nairobi, and a pastor preached about it.  He said this about it.  
“Patmos was the island where John was when he wrote the book of Revelation.  The pastor described Patmos as a place that was isolated and lonely.  God allowed John to go through a trying experience that eventually landed him in Patmos.  It was while at Patmos that God gave John a revelation.  He equated this experience of John with experience in our lives where god allows us to through painful situations which leave us isolated and lonely.  We find ourselves in a ‘Patmos’ where He wants to give us a revelation.  Patmos is also a place where we encounter God and we are never the same again.  In Patmos, songs and books are written; out of Patmos comes testimonies and sermons’.“

After I read it, I started wondering about the various stages we go through in our lives, the time in years, the growth and the stagnation, the changes and constancy, the varying seasons.  From personal experience, I have realised that when everything is smooth and calm, I am constant, just there, and not really getting major things done, just dealing with life’s humdrum.  I have found that if there was no pain, struggle or isolation – arising from the trying situations, there is just no significant movement in my life. 

And as I am wondering, I am remembering my oft spoken prayer. “Lord let it count.  Let everything that I go through, let everything that happens to me count.”  I pray this prayer often.  I pray it when I am beset by troubles and strife.  I pray it as I go through them. 

I do not like that I pray this prayer often.  It means that I am often in angst.  Troubled.  Anguished.  I pray it again - Lord let it count.

I pray this prayer also - because I cannot afford to miss what makes each fraught encounter count – for otherwise, I might need to go through it all again, and I really cannot afford that, no way – once is enough I pray.  So Lord, Let it count.

I wonder too if we would get to where we are going, be able to get to where we are going if we had no ‘Patmos experience’.  Do we need that experience to be fruitful, to be able to get into our purpose process? I think we do.  At least for a person such as myself. I have found that my ‘Patmos experiences’ produce the most impactful change in my life.  Going through tying experiences that eventually lead to lonely and isolated place, brings me time and time again to what Anastasia says – encounters with God where revelations come.  Various forms of output.  Resulting in actions, internal growth, encounters, interactions, that lead to impact on my life and that of others – that which I think of as outcomes.

I’ve sometimes thought of my God given life as input, process, output with an outcome at the end of it all.  Organic and iterative.

Inputs; Situations be they calm ordinary and stressful and damaging.  People, the lovelies and the not so lovelies [dare I say nasties].  Relationships with spouse, children, parents, siblings, colleagues and professional peers. Abundance and provision and sometimes lack.  And I.  The person I am. I am an essential input into my own life. 

Process; What I do to go through each moment, each day.  The things I do from moment to moment, day to day, my plan of life.  The work that I do.  The things I do to maintain my life with my creator including  reading His word, praying, fasting, participating in sacraments, reading Christian literature, listening to Christian songs, attending retreats, getting spiritual direction.  The coaching and mentoring I get and also pass along to others.  The process of living and becoming.

Output; My products and services, internal growth – mind, will and emoations, that just get me into the ‘flow of life’ as one of my life coaches calls it.  And the lessons that I carry home with me. 

Outcome; The long term, is living a life focused more on the spirit, with a mission and purpose defined with an ultimate life vision which means I am homeward bound.  The outcome is more than today.  It is birthed continually in all my moments in my journey, collectively leading me to a place larger than a goal, a purpose for my being, my life reason. To my home where my heart is. 

And then as I journey along, processing my life so to speak, come those ‘Patmos experiences’, external and sometimes internal aspects, that turn everything all upside down and on its head, and propel and spiral me to new directions, new experience, new elevations.

The ‘Gethsemane experience’ and its reflection in my life is a story for another day.

Wednesday, 8 February 2017

I’m voting for nonsense!

It is a word.  A noun.


1.  spoken or written words that have no meaning or make no sense.
"he was talking absolute nonsense"
synonyms: rubbish, gibberish, claptrap, balderdash, blarney;
informal:  baloney, rot, moonshine, garbage, jive, tripe, drivel, bilge, bull, guff, bunk, bosh, BS, eyewash, piffle, poppycock, phooey, hooey, malarkey, hokum, twaddle, gobbledygook, codswallop, flapdoodle, hot air
dated;  bunkum, tommyrot
vulgar slang; bullshit, crap, crapola
"that’s a lot of damn nonsense”

2. foolish or unacceptable behavior.
"put a stop to that nonsense, will you?"
synonyms; mischief, naughtiness, bad behaviour, misbehaviour, misconduct, misdemeanour,               pranks, tricks, clowning, buffoonery, funny business
informal; tomfoolery, monkey business, shenanigans, hanky-panky
“she stands no nonsense”

Nonsense.  Or Nanzzenzz in Keyanese.

The word runs unbidden into my head.  

I’m looking at what’s trending on Twitter, reading a politics WhatsApp group, looking at what’s posted on various FaceBook pages and timelines. Party this.  Party that.  Coalition there.  Independent them. 

Nonsense!  Nanzzenzz!

It is deafening nonsensical hopelessness.  At least to me it is - at this point.  The current opposition is tarred with the same brush as the current government. 

And yet soon I will have to choose.  The difference is the same.  Or the same is the difference.  AKA none.  Asking me to make a choice between my being fried on the pan or boiling in the kettle.  Dead.

I’m ready to make a choice.  I’ve registered – how could I not have.  The IEBC crew sometimes us my plastic chairs at my gate as they run their gig.  Tomorrow I think I’ll take them a pitcher of cold water every so often, poor guys, multiple umbrellas but still – it is hot out there.  Pause. Perhaps not. They might then ask for loo privileges.  Or maybe I can charge them 20 bob per trip.  Illegal – no license to run a pay loo.

I’ve registered.  I must to vote.  I have to vote. I am a patriot.  It’s my God given duty.  Sometimes I ask Him why why why did He get me into Kenya?  There were no other souls leaving to other parts un-festering at the time of my conception?

My village caustic tongue would equate my given task of voting to feeding chickens with water with a spoon, playing a guitar for a goat or painting the neighbours mongrel.

Nannzenzz!!  Again across my neural somethings.

I’ve discussed this with others.  Various views.  Sycophant rhetoric spewing unengaged brain coasting on the leaders sniffles and grunts voting for the party – six suit material conversations – probably in cheap polyester.  I’m not going to wake up and waste an iota of my time to look at ballot papers which might as well be empty.  I’m going to write my own name on all ballots and vote for myself.  I will just better go and mark them before they steal in my name.  I’ll vote the lesser evil.

I am not convinced.  All these are not my options.

Who will I vote for?  The MCA that never responded to my email?  The lady rep whose name I do not know?  The Papa Tosh, Mresh wa Nai whose peoples – used to be called the jeshi, I have no clue if they now have a new moniker - spray paint our walls and plaster their run of the mill posters on to our lamp posts and gates in the dead of night.

I think I’ll be the lady who goes to the voting booth and draws sad crying faces on the ballot.  Or pukey faces.  I am fed up to vomit point.

None. And I repeat.  None.  Of the people offering themselves, thrusting their way down my throat [and election campaigns have not yet started –  have they? - shudder my sensibilities], at whichever level,  are worthy of my vote.  At least not nationally.  Or in my locality.  That I have heard off.

I'm looking for radical, no holds barred leadership.  Someone with values, with nothing else but determination, an ethical backbone and doesn't give a crap about anything else but the good of a nation. I'm looking for someone who's not looking for what position does for them, but what they can do for me.  My children.  And our future – mine is definitely shorter than theirs, but I’ll be watching from heaven and living vicariously through them.

I'm looking. And I know I'm not alone.

So meanwhile I am voting for Nanzzenzz - whoever that might be.  I hear their first name is Other.  Or Utter.  


image from http://nanasnonsense.com

Thursday, 22 December 2016

Being myself

A friend sent me a link to a video of Madonna’s acceptance speech for the Woman of the Year, in the Billboard Women in Music Awards 2016.

In life she says, there is no real safety, except self belief.  Coupled to this is an understanding that she is not the owner of any of her talents, she is not the owner of anything for everything she has, is a gift from God.  And that the f’d up things that happen to her, are also gifts, to teach her lessons and make her stronger.  I liked that.  A lot.  Because I have come to a realisation, belief and total acceptance of my own gifts and their formation and use is also a gift from My God, purposed by Him.

She is vulnerable, nearly breaks downs as she speaks, about how hard it has been to be her.  To be Madonna.  Controversial. A daring woman, a bad feminist. 

She is thankful for the resistance of the doubters, the naysayers, everyone who gave her hell – everyone who said she could not, that she would not, that she must not - for it made her stronger, made her push harder, made her the fighter she is today.  I liked that too.  Because I have been receiving a large enough amount of censor recently.  About being myself.

Being myself.

I have been told I am too much.  Too this.  Too that. That I care too much.  That I should just let things be, let them slide, not care.  Stop caring.

That it doesn't have to mater that people have different faces, half truths and different truths at different times.  That they show or not show, tell or not tell.  That people can come and go, disappear and reappear in my space, as they wish and as they want.  I should just let things be, I should just let people be.

I've been manipulated, misunderstood, misquoted. 

I have made mistakes, not done what I should have, done what I should not have.  I have been rebuked and chastised.  I have paid some prices, and I’m probably waiting on some bills still to be presented.

All from being myself.

The message, has been so oft repeated in the last few months – that it does get you wondering.  Who am I?  What am I?  Whom should I be?  What should I be?

Yesterday. Today.  Now.  Tomorrow.

Its complicated ainit?  And a process. 

Being myself.

Image from https://www.pinterest.com/explore/fearfully-wonderfully-made/

Monday, 14 November 2016

I will wear me, coz I fit me best

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too large
Too small

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too tight
Too loose

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
Too long
Too short

You want me to wear you
Though you fit me not
There is just something
That’s a touch something

I cannot wear you
I will not wear you
Because I do not look like me
When I wear you

I do not look good in you
I do not feel good in you
I do not look like me
When I wear you

I’ve tried you on
Worn you
Walked around in you
Been you

You cinch
Where you should flow
And bag
Where you could sheath

It did not work
It will not work
It will never work
It must never work

I know
I’ve seen it
And been told it
You are really good

The best
Of you
Is best on you
And good on you

Your thoughts
Your feelings
Your ideas
Your stratas
Your profile

Observing me
Your mental palm
Feels the kinks in my grain
And catches on my burry edges
Jagged and irregular

Some I can tell you of their origin
Some from places I have long hidden
Some from places long forgotten

I leave you with nicks
And splinters
When you brush up against me

I’ll let you know
That I have tried to smooth me down
So that you could be more comfortable

But then I felt fatigued
My soul dimmed
My spirit darkened

You are beautiful
Stunningly so
You absolutely fit you best

Would you give that up
And wear me
Kinks and burrs

Come on and try out me
Wear me for a while
Perhaps for ever
I tease you
I do not want you to wear me
I cannot see me fit you

And even if you did fit me
Then there would be two of me
And I would not like that

There can only be one like each
Because each is already as each should be
And each is sufficient

Come now, and let us reason together
And agree from henceforth
That you will be yourself as I remain myself

And if you ever do hear
Of any trying to be another
That you will arise and voice a nay

That you will want them to know
That each is singular
Because each fits self best

So, I’m letting you know
That I will not wear you
I will wear what fits me best

I will wear me, coz I fit me best

Image from https://www.pinterest.com/explore/john-steinbeck-quotes/ 

Monday, 2 May 2016

My fears are alive - I am alive

When I was young – I still am by the way, so let’s use the phrase “much younger”;  When I was much younger, I watched the Incredible Hulk transformation scene just once.  And that once was enough.  It terrified me.  So I stopped watching his transformation.  I always knew when the transformation was about to happen -after that David someone had been smashed smashed a bit a bit – I never knew a person who got beaten as regularly as he was, I mean, every week?  Surely?  Anyway, my siblings would start screaming – He’s changing, he’s changing, he’s changing!!  I would ran from the sitting room to a side alcove and wait out the changing, as I asked my sibling anxiously “has he changed? has he changed?”.  The music would change, and Hulk would growl, then I’d know he’d changed, and I would return to my seat, to watch and cheer him beat up the bad guys. As I wrote this, I have googled and watched an Incredible Hulk transformation clip, and I am wondering, in retrospect how did I believe such dot not?  My fear of the transformation is gone, but my fear was very real then.

I was brought up on myths and legends.  There were the handsome ogres with mouths hidden under hair at the back of their heads- that they fed flies into as they walked away with a young undiscerning bride, she completely taking by their glittering countenance.  There was cursed wailing Cain wandering the earth in eternal punishment.  The seeking giants who stepped over whole blocks of houses or from hilltop to hilltop looking for someone to steal and go and torture unto death for their amusement.  The ndiba maï – spewer of water - a creature that waited on kids coming back from the outhouse at night, and covered them in water.  Talking animals, singing birds, thinking oddities.  Wonderful fables, whose messages were at the time lost to me, except for the literal fear they created.

I could not go upstairs or outside alone at night – what if there was something waiting for me at top of the stairs, outside the door.  And the leaves of the banana tree casting shadows in the bathroom window, were alive and must be things like urban hyenas trying to get in through the closed window at me.  You are a scaredy cat, you are a scaredy cat, you are a scaredy cat – they’d sing.  Who cared.  My grandmother always said, ke gwoya kainokagïra nyina - he who has fear, returns home.

And it did not help that at some point, my over active imagination took the horrors of the fables, juxtaposing them into my everyday life.  I created worrying pictures of falling aeroplanes, splitting grounds, collapsing houses, running wildlife, thundering earthquakes - an evil jumanji-like world, that no one else knew about, and where I never knew what was going to happen next, who was going to live, and who was going to die.

Fear is exhausting.  For self preservation, and compelled by other unimaginative factors, I stopped worrying and blindingly lived only for moment, only for the now, because the next moment was when the fear was going to be realised. 

With time and happenstance, my youth changed dimension.  I got hitched and birthed a brood.  For me the worrier, there is nothing like all those responsibilities to set the systems off.  I worried.  Constantly.  On the road.  At work.  At their school.  At home.  In bed.  Asleep.  Too much.  Too much.  Constant. Worry.  That grew into potent fears because some of the worries did get realised. 

My lot of fear is unashamedly bountiful.  Never runs out.  The fear of of being wrong.  Of being right.  Being too bad.  Too good.  Too accommodating.  Not fair.  Not sympathetic.  Not generous.  Not successful.  Successful.  Arrogant.  

My fears are alive. They feed on my experiences of yesterdays, and the uncertainties of all my tomorrows.  I step into them, fearful yet resolute.  I am alive.