For millennials: 21

 

Journaling

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There is no warmth in waiting for the right time. The patience will sting harder than the truth you believe about holding on.

Misery becomes more appealing.

“may you be defined by your boldness in running through dry and dark cracks.”

I’d get into the bus sometimes, most times with my headphones banging loud music out its tiny speakers.

Sitting by windows is my favourite thing. My eyes get to count coloured and grey houses, watch trees and many other greens. I often begin to play rhythmic music in a lowered volume to feel the same feeling I get when watching good scenery movies. I deviate into solitude and just observe.

It is powerful.

The only regular thought I’ve known is home, it’s sometimes with me and other times I fear to think of its broken tone.

I’ve watched myself grow with strangers that I call friends. I’ve been shaken by subtle disagreements imposed by the universe in openness.

I seldom believe we are all here, just making history and not living well enough. We will all die surviving with or without purpose.

“In love, the purest of our souls’ manifest.

In love, we succumb to humility and fear without coercion.

In love, we tell our stories in ways we wish they existed.”

Can you read the signs through my saggy eye bags?

I’m knackered by pressure from my wants and the wants I’m expected to want.

I heard mum’s voice on WhatsApp call and she sounded like 50 hasn’t been good to her. I’ve been thinking of her in a sweet way lately. In a way I would spoil her with happier days if she were here.

“Be generous and kind with what you bear to instil

I’m one and a half page of an A4 gone and I’m still wasting words on consciousness. This is what it feels like to fight forces that you never chose, fighting constantly.

You will live, you will live

You will write, you will write

You will love, you will love

You will break, you will break

You will heal, you will heal

You will die again and again before you learn to live to die.

“Be offended by your zeal to live because thinking of your death will remind you of here always”

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

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Self-betrayal for my art

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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.

Budapest, Hungary- Four days tour.

Full video coming soon…

…and after fiver years I gathered courage and made time which turned out to be the best since the year started to go visit my secondary school mates and simultaneously tour as well. I hope you enjoy this short clip. Full video coming soon 🙂
Leave your questions in the comment box below and I’ll be glad to respond to each and every one of them. For more on this trip, subscribe to my blog as well, as I’ll be leaving my experiences on here soon on this amazing trip!. Thank you.

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Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

On ageing

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

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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.

Oh sweet mama!

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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.

 

A poem for self- millennial poetry

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Remind me who takes it all at last,

the cries, the shame, worries and joys in the past.

These ones never heard of you,

the whole, priceless yet worthy of a true.

LOVE ME ALL THE TIME.

I didn’t need you when I needed to pray,

to wear my make-up, spray and slay.

Who left my name in your mouth?

with your opinions stinging and stinking like gout.

LOVE ME BACK TO BACK.

Can I say a word or two?

about myself, my worth, the way I eat too.

It’s not my taste for men you despise so,

but the way I love and love me to toe.

LOVE ME IN THIS SEASON.

Life without me is like no life

no star, no queen, less diamonds, no wife.

I’ll pay my weaknesses with strength and love

nevertheless, these words won’t stall or put me off.

LOVE ME WITHOUT REASON

 

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

 

The magic in ‘first times’

I had an Asian friend who I had known for over a year leave me a goodbye note. On it, part of what she had written said “..it’s been a really great pleasure to have met you, my very first Negro friend”. To be totally honest with you, I had a rush of mixed feelings just reading that line. I laughed, got offended, laughed again, cried and ran out to give her a tight hug. Why? Firstly, I imagined being her only black friend out of the battalion of my kind we have in our city, Brighton. I also thought how naive she was not to know that calling me a ‘Negro’ was sort of offensive but I read that line again and laughed again “..my very first Negro friend”. At that moment it occurred to me that, I wasn’t going to see her again until fate or coincidence brings us back together. I thought of her presence for the past one year and how time loves goodbyes. I cried for a girl for the first time in my life.

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What am I insinuating?

You won’t know the feeling of magic until you experience something for the first time. It may not be like mine with someone triggering the effect, it may just be you creating and experiencing your own magic. Perhaps, the word ‘magic’ can be a bit too imaginative. Let’s call it a sensational feeling, one that renews your adrenaline. Think about the first time you had done/started something (esp. something that you love and chose to do). The feeling definitely doesn’t feel like the end of it, it doesn’t equate to the time it begins to grow weary, it’s so alive. That, sometimes is what pushes us to finish or continue, the thought of what and why we started. Sometimes the memory it leaves builds up and takes over our strength to carry through even when the initial thought is dead. The magic in ‘first times’ should be felt as often as the zeal you have for consistency.

When was the first time you decided to go for a walk, or probably read a book? When was the first time you chose to change your hair colour, take another route to work? When was the first time you gave something you cherish to the needy or leave someone random kind words? When was the first time you chose to meditate, to switch off and go offline for a while? When was the last time you told the people you cherish how much you appreciate and love them, the first time you hung out with people that are not in your class, race or even circle? These may all sound daunting or probably scary but believe me you, the feeling you get from ‘first times’ are more reviving than the consistent thing you’ve been doing your whole life.

So?

Get up! Go out! and experience your own magic! dear reader.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

Poise

They say something about writers that I often believe isn’t untrue. You can tell the kind of life they live from their words, what they feel and how they feel. Although, most people often refer to actions as being the loudest amongst written words, I read patterns from crossed ‘Ts’ and dotted ‘Is’. Some would rather kill you and bury their guilt in words than stand up against you and utter a word. This is an example of balance I suppose.

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Picture gotten from-Colossal

What makes you you?

I’d like to be blunt. Think bluntly too dear reader.

This question should pop up every now and then in your daily life.

What makes you feel true, not what makes you feel like you should be some type of way. Not that stereotype kind of person. I’m not asking about the you you feel you should change to suit a particular circle or person. What is it that genuinely makes you smile, makes you get up in the morning and feel purposeful? What is it you feel you should be doing rather than which you are doing for a certain reason best known to you? The day you get the true answer to that question that is the very day you begin to live a life full of value. A life with so much to offer and less to ask from.

Most people up until their late forties suffer from identity crisis, not knowing where they belong or what it is they are truly living for. Others either just go with life or are very certain of what it is they ought to build for and lose as life goes on. Whichever way it is that we are climbing the ladder, we as individuals all get to that point where we stop and process it all. We reflect and make changes. The only difference is that these changes either gets worse or better. Creating a balance with life helps weed out the unnecessary, it humbles our little beginnings and keeps us woke.

Become a student over and over

Ryan Holiday, the author of the book ‘Ego is the enemy’ described one of the reasons for prolonged success in most moguls and successful people that have lived and still is, is cultivating the habit of re-learning. It might not be the best advise but going back and learning the basis of what brought you farther than ever and applying them over and over makes you the best at what you do. It humbles you enough to also learn from others and realize how much the foundation play a bigger role in sustaining timely success.

Energy is an investment

What you place value in is where you spend most of your time. To create balance, energy must be of value too. This determines where that ladder you’re climbing is heading to. Do you spend most of your time investing in people who are less invested in you? You’ll find that you’ll be losing yourself in the process. Do you make time for things that will develop your mind and encourage you to live healthier and happier? The results won’t lie at all as you’ll find yourself growing and developing from stage to stage. Energy is a heavy investment that determines where you’ll be in years to come. Invest wisely and you’ll find your reap to be solely built upon what you made time for.

There are many ways to enlarge your horizon and still be in balance, when you begin answering the first question asked in this piece “what makes you you?” you’ll find that initial step to help you put it all together and move on from there.

I’d like you to share with me ways that you create balance for yourself and your inner mind in the comment box. Thank you.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

 

Teen Transition To Twenty-one

Maturity is an attitude, it doesn’t always come with age like people emphasize.

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What is it about age that makes you feel like you’re an adult or a teen?

How does it feel to be twenty +?

In less than four months, I’ll be 21 and I’m still stuck, reminiscing about my teenage life at 20. It’s almost like clicking the refresh button on your PC, that’s how it all feels like to me. For the past six days, I’ve been writing about my teen transition to twenty, how everything and everyone from my teenage years affected me positively and negatively. I walked you through challenges most teenagers face during this age and how different we all are when it comes to facing these challenges. Today, I have one more year to give you, one more age you didn’t quite know deeply, 20.

At 20, ‘I thought I had arrived’ (funny slang/proverb typically used by Nigerians), meaning that I thought I had it all together. I felt like I was ready for anything and any situation. Even though I was responsible and more aware of things, I still ended up with choices that are unheard of. “I’ve been following the rules, doing as I told, letting others speak for me in instances where my voice is needed, 20 is the age where I get to reverse the chain. “, I said to myself. To be honest, this was the worst advice I took from myself. One word I could use to describe my life at 20 is “chaotic” but against all odds, I strive for three things that sort of brings me peace, “forgiving, letting go and moving on”.

I made poor decisions in selecting what’s right to spend time on, how I prioritize my education, the kind of friends I trust and even the sort of food I eat. It might sound funny but yes food! I remember the last week of October last year, having to feed on rich tea biscuit, noodles and water, not that food wasn’t available but that.. I really did not have a clue what was wrong with me. Sometimes, loneliness gets to me at its peak, something that never used to happen, maybe because I haven’t been home in years or maybe it was some sort of way to keep away from the chaos I was involved in, I thought. I just found it hard to feel alive in certain places I went. It was all grubby until the end of last year.

I’m not a fan of making resolutions but I promised myself to leave every debris that contaminated “me” in 2015. I embraced this year without looking back or getting involved with what would put me into questioning my own self. I separated from a lot of things and engaged in new ones, more like disconnecting to connect to something better. It was a strenuous walk trying to regain balance again, but it’s been worth it so far  and I’m never looking back again. I choose to inspire, motivate, learn, make certain mistakes and learn again but, going back to reopen closed wounds is what I’m never falling back on.

I have until July to better my 20 and I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of celebrating 21 with much joy. It’s not like I feel any much different from being a teenager. The only change that happened to me as an adult is being more accepting of being wrong and the willingness to change/evolve. I’d like to know what 21 feels like anyway.

What are your thoughts on being 20 and transiting to 21? Are you eager to become an adult? What best advice would a 21 year old and above give? Do share your beautiful minds dear bloggers 🙂 . Thank you.

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Have you been following this writing series? Do you think you’ve missed out on the important bits? Don’t panic 🙂 the link to all 6 of them is just below. Click on the link and leave your thoughts on the post/posts you enjoy. Thank you. 

Day 1– The lie I told

Day 2– The seven personalities of one self

Day 3– Denial

Day 4– For every wasted pain

Day 5Diary of a confused teen

Day 6– Self love: Selfish

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#TeenTransitionToTwentyWritingSeries

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016

Diary of a confused teen

Every single word I never let out, I wrote down in my big book.

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I had tons of books, not necessarily diaries but different sizes and colours of note books. In one I wrote songs, in another I wrote about my daily encounters. I even had a book where my friends got to write about themselves and leave sensitive details I’ll always remember them for. Every teenager I knew, had these sort of books. It was more like our whats-app, Facebook and twitter back then and the beautiful thing was that, everyone cherished theirs.

Something about penning something down as a teenager gave me some sort of relieve and I grew to cherish fancy note books. I would write about things I wished I did, I would write about boys, the ones I had crushes on and the ones that openly displayed their affections. Mostly, I wrote about my family and friends and how they made me feel each passing day.

I wrote in diaries for three years, from the beginning of my senior secondary up until the end . Nothing more gave me joy than writing out how I felt. My presumed diaries were my second Bible. I remember writing about living in boarding school back home, how caged and restricted it made feel, how powerless most people were outside the school gate and how I couldn’t wait to become an adult and live without people having to discipline me. It’s now me who disciplines myself and when anything goes out of the way, I’m still the one who’s left to be called.

Different teenagers keep different forms of diaries. Hypothetically, most teens can make their phones, friends or even a mere place their diary , as long as they are free to express whatever form of emotion they are feeling.These diaries are where confusions are lit, it is a different kind of vibe with what we say out there to people. It is a sanctuary we hate people to invade.

I still got six of my diaries and I only laugh, cry and smile when I go through them. Haven’t kept one for the past three years and I feel some how this blog has become one, not quite but something close to one. My big book was my diary and I wrote for myself and my emotions.

Did you ever get to keep a diary as a teenager? or are you a teen keeping one? Do share your diary experiences with me 🙂 Thank you.

#TeenTransitionToTwentyWritingSeries

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.