Outgrowing the wild

IMG_2766

I was about cooking Jollof rice when I looked out the kitchen window to see the spectrum of bloom the weather left the sky. It reminded me of evenings in Aba (my home town in Nigeria). It reminded me of the way the weather back home tells us how much it would pour rain down. I felt dark for a minute. Six more weeks to finish university, six more weeks of trying to catch up with the reality of my second home, Brighton.

107, Brighton

I used to hate long conversations with my housemates, I used to pick times where I’d choose to hang out with them. I used to lock up in my attic room and disturb them with my late loud music and my loud laugh with uni friends but now we talk, laugh and live like it’s a ritual. We get curious with when next we get to hang out or just play random games. You can tell from our eyes that farewell day will be more like doomsday.

Journal

A lot has changed in the past three years. Things have become a little clearer, my journeying, the reality of what I need to achieve in life, most importantly what I have to give and offer. They’ve become more pragmatic than illusive. At this point in my life, I’ve learned that I’m allowed to grow especially with others who are willing to grow with me. I’ve learned courage can come from the least of things and people. I learnt that growth doesn’t need to be big to be successful. I’m also aware that I’m allowed mistakes in every step of it, I’m allowed to fall and fail because I’m human.

Pen

Writing has humbled me in ways that I can’t explain, it has changed my sense of purpose. It has redirected me to people and places that bring peace and mindfulness and it still is. The process has been bliss and I believe strongly that it’s fully been God. I’ve  had the opportunity to believe in the strength I carry with words, to pray sometimes with my pen because my mouth can be heavy to say the right words to God. If only I can write in other languages, the world will pray too.

There are many ways I’ve stripped off colours of habits that I don’t identify with, ones that won’t serve me. Many ways I’d love to do more for living and not trying so hard to live right. It’s a gradual process. It’s an investment on and for self. It’s my culture, my way of outgrowing the wild.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Advertisements

Self-betrayal for my art

05:09am

red_paint_by_abasmikael-dabtvyj

Picture painted by Abasido

I’ve held grudges for mid-nights that refused to give me the right words, for ecstatic memories I needed to feel at times like this.

Here’s how people who applaud the cracks and loopholes in my craft talk to me.

Did you hear them? Did you see what I wrote about them? No, because they feed on silence and that quietness that keeps them at a distance.

Don’t sing praises yet for the way I make you feel. Don’t be confined in my thoughts for too long imagining how I penned it all down. Don’t love me only when you can relate to my pain. Learn to understand this place I choose to write from. Learn to fall with me without fighting gravity. Appreciate the loathe that burns through the words that speak for sanity. Know this. Know this always that I’m a breathing war.

Darkness

I wish I allow myself be whole everytime my fingers itch to speak. I wish I wouldn’t choose parts of me that aren’t naked everytime I listen to my body’s vibration.  There’s art in feeling the way I do before these processes. There’s also the art of picking what my soul’s spirit wouldn’t let the world listen to, self-betrayal.

I’d cut through these layers of my flesh to compromise for losses. I’d paint my worries red to white the agony of womanhood and my evolution. I’d dance to the tune of every poet I adore to feel sane and not hate that I do this. I’d give up writing about lust, what I think of others and where I’d rather be just to outshine these constant thoughts.

I’d betray myself everytime for this art. Writing.

Do you find yourself sometimes in similar situations of self-betrayal? Would love to know in the comment section below. Thank you.

PS– This content was featured by Abasido Michael with his beautiful art inspiring this post. Do check his Twitter page out and appreciate his content and art if you like them. Thank you. 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Nwoke’m

Do you ever listen to your own repetitive connections at 03:00 am too?

Image result for sexy black man in black and white

Picture gotten from-Pininterest

I’m starting to think imaginations are art. I’m starting to love the entangling emotions built from it. How strangely I could be fluid and solid like an umelted candle at the same time. I’m starting to feel all the same.

Yesterday, I thought. The day before I did too and many days and months before then again, I’ve been thinking. How would someone like you meet me? Would it be spontaneous, would be soft or angry? Would it be in a crowded room or when I’m by myself. That’s the scary part of thinking. I don’t want to be ready. I want to be with myself in full, in love, vulnerable and loud. I want us to meet unforced just like the universe has been with me lately. No mind games, no holding back. I like the modern approach, the evolution of it all. Descriptive dialogues and unending gist of our taste in music, books, movies and other people, what we worry about when it gets dark. Tell me where else you would be when you’re not with me.

Nwoke’m

When you’re here, your past is. The darkness of it won’t scare my love, I pray. The time you choose to be weak, I’ll be strong, I pray. The time you’d change, I’d learn to adapt, I pray. These are not my affirmations, they are hopefully who I’ll grow to be for me and for you until that “someday”. I believe our feet have come across same footpaths more than twice, I believe time is keeping you for magic. You are a future to wait for.

Keep yourself for me.

Nwoke’m (Igbo translation for “my man”)

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Happy women’s Day

Image result for powerful women abstract paintings

Picture gotten from-Figurative art

To be here, to join hands and to murmur what it’s like to feel this way. To feel like a woman that I didn’t choose to be but of the nature that chose me.

Here is to all the days and all the nights I stay with me, with womanhood thinking of how big of a smile I should give the next day even whilst groaning in pain. Here’s for now, where neglect and responsibility will cut through deep layers of my skin, yet I’ll stand and be silent of it all. I wish to celebrate everyday for the rest of my life women whose existence have hurt and broken them in ways that can’t be told or written, yet love is all they give.

To women of all colours and roles in life, you are a bold statue that can’t be washed away by lingering figures. You are waterproof and transparent amidst where you think you’ve been. You are still a rose to be admired by men that stand with you. You are deserving of all favours you’ve been turned down. You are all this because you are a woman.

The universe will make love to you in good timing, woman. we will all celebrate the joy and pride of being a woman with you because you are valuable and valid.

I hope you take care of yourself everyday for the rest of your days here. Happy WOMEN’S DAY!

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Struggling out of a 2:2 this final year: my Biomedical Science tale

img_1622

I barely bore you with events of my university life on here but I know once in a while I drop one or two major ones. Going back to 2015, my first year, I had blogged about my resits (What if? #17), how awful it felt to had seen my name amongst those resitting Genetics and Statistics. How sad and unlucky my summer was. What I didn’t include was calling my parents and letting them know about the situation. The disappointment in their tone as they spoke to me whilst trying to be good parents and not make me feel worse about the whole situation, the after effect of the whole conversation moved me. I guess my attitude towards everything relating to university and my course became more questionable as days, months and years went by.

Second year was heavy. As my course is a three-year course here in the UK, more pressure was mounted on me and more effort was equally demanded with the load that came with the 12 modules I had done last year. The hustle to secure a placement made it even worse but that wasn’t an excuse not to scale through. At the end of the year, I was awoken yet again by another resit which until today I have managed to  hide from my parents as I felt they would be bitter and really angry towards me if I had told them. Genetics again! At some point in time I joked about it to my friends, telling them how I’m “KINGING” in genetics resit zone. What felt terrible isn’t the fact that I had a resit, what made me break down most nights was the fact that 2:2 ends up being my portion even when I always seem to start off very well at the beginning of each semester. At some point, I just stopped asking why and accepted that university wasn’t for me. Thoughts of dropping out kicked in every now and then but the friends in my circle kept me grounded. They said my prayers with me, cried with me and most of all, they contributed to my healing and strength which led me into pursuing my final year.

It’s the 25th of February today, 22 weeks into final year and there is still no salvaging to my results so far. It hasn’t been stable and at the same time it hasn’t been the most brilliant. One half of my project and most of my course works released so far have been fluctuating with 2:1’s and 2:2’s. My first semester results came out and this time Genetics crossed the cut off point with only 7 marks and I’m most grateful to God for that miracle! the other paper sat comfortably on a 2:1 which to me is gracious. Hard-work and resilience have been with me since the school year started and to be honest with you,  it is a struggle trying to move up from a 2:2. I am 3 weeks into second semester  with 3 more course works, 4 more exams and my main project to finish. I am still with hope and so should you who is reading this thinking you’re sitting in the worst position or situation in life.

If everyone was equal, there wouldn’t be no school, no competition whatsoever and definitely no evolution but other people’s success shouldn’t stall us from ours or blind us from attaining  unmeasurable success instead it should push us.

img_1625

I did tweet this last week but it doesn’t mean I can’t do better. In fact it is not an excuse! It is the reason why I’m pushing to move on from a 2:2, proving to myself that even if it’s not for me, it is definitely not impossible!

I hope you find a grip too and go on from there dear reader. Do leave your thoughts and comments in the box below. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

On ageing

In my thoughts, in my head, in my journal. Here.

img_1257

 

Win your battle before you come home to mine.

Don’t remind me the trails of footsteps I face everyday.

It’s not enough to live young, wild and free because I know of places that don’t bring me such experiences.

Hold onto the existence, let what you have to say complement mine. Let what you have to give add up.

Don’t scare me with silence. Don’t tell me I’m too young to learn what grey hair can teach. It’s my cup of tea.

I am not here to prove how much neither do I seek accomplishments that will one day be forgotten.

I’ve been told countless times to win, win and win but I never got led to. My bruises, pain, tears, countless failures equals me.

Give me what you call wisdom, give me peace of mind. I’ll find my fun,my energy, my space and most importantly, me in all of it. Let me be.

Ageing is just a state of mind.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

Dear woman, dear man..

fullsizerender-3

There are ruthless ways your own words may have been translated. There are places you sing songs of war and some you whisper courage. Twice you may have been beaten down by fear, ignorance and love with hopes to come to terms with ever flowing chills. You may have seen you without the others, those you lean so strongly on, those who made you want to read this in the first place. Perhaps, I’m wrong. Wrong about you being unhappy and in pain, constantly wanting more, or maybe you’re happy for the wrong reasons. This may not be for you, this may be for more.

For you.

Dear woman,

You can’t bear it all. It’s perfectly okay to take a step back and care for you. It’s alright that you feel for two, to feel more for others. It’s womanly to embrace your beauty and show off what you’re sensitive to. Your boldness is what men who lack courage detest, your aura is what keeps you grounded to your ego. When you are passionate, the others may not understand, when you seek, you find the roots, when you cry the earth bleeds, when you’re broken the world hears you too. You matter without validation, you’re a piece men cannot do without. You have the ability to create and recreate generations and this power makes you a god. You were born to nurture, give, give, give and give again. Bear this in mind when you belittle you. Hold this high up in your head when you walk into crowded rooms. Educate others when they say to you “you can’t”. Let it warm you always. Let it keep you with love.

For you.

Dear man,

 We hear you. We hear when you’re silent, as it’s as loud as your ego. Your strength and resilience is admirable. The corners you cut and the length you go to get what you deserve have bred feminists. You have the ability to break and mend even though you may choose the former in pressing situations. Your pride and consistency for the things you’re passionate about makes good women appreciate you and good men work diligently with you. However, you sail with your crew members only, often forgetting that passengers could know a thing or two about sailing. It’s totally okay to let your shield down. These walls you build against us breaks you more than it does to us. It’s okay to feel, to cry, to admit to not knowing. It’s fine to accept women that ask for equality, to feel intimidated by once in a while. It’s okay to ignore challenges and just feel. Live with and for the moment without chasing shadows. Breathe without asking for more air. Allow yourself to be drowned by and with love, allow yourself to understand what you constantly fight, allow yourself to hold on for long without the thoughts of letting go. You were born supreme. Society has made you in-charge, regardless, seek to open up a bit more.

Dear woman, dear man..

You need each other to grow, understand, love, feel, chase, reciprocate, challenge,bear and live. You need you most importantly. Begin with this.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

What ‘they’ won’t tell you about failure.

Image result for failure in black and white

Picture gotten from-Bounceback

First of all, everyone preaches these days about success without addressing the odds of what’s likely to happen if it isn’t attained. Most times, people that fail to talk about failure have been winning their whole life and other times the rest are those that hide their failures or just don’t talk about them.

Before you think of turning down a decision, request or an action, the major force that propels you to drop it is the voice in your head saying “NO! I can’t do this because I’m afraid of not doing it right” or “NO! it’s not going to happen because I’ll end up failing anyway”. It’s never necessarily the fact that we can’t do it, but the thought that propels this fact.

Some of us have always been a substance of failure, or was born to be told that we’ll never make it. A few others just choose to settle with failing because it’s become a comfort zone over time. However, success has been constantly fed into our ears in every corner we seek for a push that no one really points out the effects of failing. Not to say that failing is a good thing when really we should be aiming for sky high, but to enlighten your mind on how failing appreciates success more and keeps it longer than those who haven’t had their first fall.

Here are what people don’t stress on when they talk about failure;

  • Nobody is immune to it- Even the greatest falls, those who are used to success fail. So, quit thinking that failure is for losers or to re-frame that, quit seeing yourself as one.
  • Failure gives value- Think of the last time you failed an exam or you were reprimanded by your boss about a meeting. You’ll tend to be more present, more attentive and willing to learn more than when you were about the life of getting it right all the time. Sometimes, failing makes you love what you really hate because of the focus you lay on it.
  • Failure is unmeasurable success not attained yet- Most legendary stories of people who went from nothing to elite were never told without the words “tried and tried again”, “Never gave up” “Hoped” “Failed”. Of course everyone’s success story is different but with most, you can read patterns that got them to where they got to. These are the principles that prepare you for the big deal. Therefore, I urge you to embrace failure if you find yourself in the position, accept it but never admit that you are.

Are there more things about failure that you think people really don’t emphasize on? Have you got any success story to share from having failed once or more than in your life? I’d love to know in the comment section dear reader. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

Oh sweet mama!

img_0449

For those who harbour a special kind of love in their hearts, I believe you all can relate to the chills your mum/mummy/mama gives you. For those who have lost theirs to this cruel world, I believe you all too can feel yours even more than I do. Every mum is a blessing, a celebration and a joy to the hearts of those who cherish a good thing.

I can’t say I’m closer to my mum than I am to my dad but part of who I am today was hugely impacted by mama. She would resound these native proverbs (incomprehensible ones) when I was little each time she wasn’t happy with me and they never really made sense until now. I sing them to my friends in English like I’m actually advising them when in reality I miss being scolded by mama. She makes the most jokes in the house and will always be the first to discipline any of my siblings including me whenever we decide to be naughty. I hated the days of “church every sunday and wednesday” coupled with “fellowship every friday” but all that I miss now knowing how much I’ve drifted away and how far from home I am.

It’s not easy to raise five children, and sometimes I look back now and admire mama in the purest way ever. The least she does is complain about how best we should be doing, instead she would find alternatives even if it means risking her all to get it for us all. Everyone in the house will call her “mgbo” (meaning-bullet) because she’s overly protective of her own especially towards papa. I’d tease her sometimes about her tummy asking her when we’d be expecting more siblings. Her response never changes anyway “Zuzuru gi shi eba puo!” (meaning- stupidly get out of here!).

I was never used to saying “I love you” to her but staying away from home for more than a year has got me into the habit of doing so, knowing how much I miss her and her Sunday white rice with “ofe akwu” (palm kernel soup). One of the tastiest you’ll ever have from a typical Igbo (ethnic group in Nigeria) home. Mama will giggle and say “Okay” each time I tell her I love her. Guess that’s the Nigerian way of saying “me too”. I very much miss my mum and I can’t bear another year apart from her nor my dad and siblings.

How much does/did your mama/mum mean/meant to you dear reader? Would love to know if there are momma’s boys and girls around my blog :). Thank you for reading.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

Empty but still as beautiful

This is the way you found me.

The profoundness of my honesty that you broke with all the pain you left unstitched. How pure my tears were until they began to drop with grains of my mascara. The forming of the old soul in me.

img_0443

Even as broken as I was with your reciprocation of love with lies, the bitterness of rubbing it in each passing day and refusing to let my soul breathe, I still have me. Even when I gave me up for you, compromised my ‘me’ time for you, the patience of self haunted me back in a good way.

I’m still as beautiful anyway, only that presently I know where my beauty chooses to stay. Paying less attention to the world that settles with being sympathetic about the way I choose to turn up in my own space. Killing them subconsciously with my genuine pursuit of happiness and self-love. Hope you good still?

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.