I was reminiscing this the other day, the ever important question of gift, talent or unpardonable passion. Clear as day it occurred to me that I have always relished in writing. As long as I can remember it has always been my point of refuge and solace – the very best company I ever had through my introverted days – even through teenage that kept me out of trouble. It’s a strange thing to say, as it may sound as if I knew this always too clearly. I however remember that when once asked what was the one thing I cared about the most that meant the world to me – the answer was clear – my thoughts, ideas and writings! Mind you, land and property were on the table among the treasures making their bet, but quite honestly I didn’t give a hoot! So much for a 21 year old to say!
And then the days of adventure came and a long time I did everything but write. You bet however I kept my notebook and often jotted a few thoughts. But my creative sense was gone and my sense of fiction I must have outgrown, or so I thought. The years went by in the wilderness and I barely read except for a few motivational stuff which would be considered light reading especially if you had chewed on the like of Shakespeare, Thomas Hardy, Wuthering Heights and Jane Austens pieces. I knew that officially it was over, and for a moment I had overgrown creativity. For a moment I didn’t seem bothered, but yet deep inside I was deeply troubled.
How could this be, yet this was the one thing that ticked for me and made the lights go on inside of me? It was as if I had a secret world that was unlocked by the magic wand of a pen…!
But then did it really matter? …And I would think what else really mattered to me and what did I really care about?
And it occurred to me. Not much!
I didn’t give a hoot about sport; who cared that everybody else got so excited seeing some boys chase up a ball kicking it back and forth around a pitch! Didn’t give a damn about TV; what good did one get glaring at a screen to see other people live their lives….(Talk of Keeping up with the Kardashians. …. SMH!). And so was I least bothered about various other causes and things – in some way however music appealed to me. Certain type and mostly the tune or lyrics. But mostly it was the words! No wonder easily I fell in love with the book of Psalm when I became a devout Christian. And I suppose this is where my story changed. O Lord overnight I turned into a politician! You never saw me take to the crowds so passionate about a cause, I just now wanted to change the world! So much zeal and passion! I had never felt so alive and confident in my life! And since then it always was about people. Praying for people, Serving people; giving, teamwork, leadership…. it was all different, all exciting. ….
But there was this missing piece, always lurking in the background. Yes , I loved people and all I was doing and all. But there was one thing I knew was given to me that must have been handed down from the heavens.
In my new world I wrote bits and pieces here and there – I always say poetry saved my life. In my lean moments when I couldn’t write – poetry did it for me. In the years that followed I never read much; poetry did it for me.
Until my whole world came crumbling down in 2009 – with the loss of my mother!
And all was bleak. Dark. Empty.
I probably didn’t know this at first. Until when I couldn’t write. And my world fell apart. Deep within I was dead. A zombie.
Of course for mere mortals, not in a thousand days could they ever tell what was going on! The sun was still shining and life was on. After several days I could afford a smile. But deep within I was a dying man. The only thing I knew I could do, the only thing that allowed me to say my deepest prayers and mourn was gone! Now for the first time had gone away from me. I had lost it, alongside the one I dearly loved. God bless her soul. She was a woman who loved God. I had lost it, even poetry I couldn’t write no more – every thing was bland and empty.
But as you’ve heard God works in mysterious ways – his manifold ways to manifest.
And even in my lostness – he hid a strand of poetry in song for my soul.
And even though for months I couldn’t write yet the lyrics and flow of song carried me on. It was the Psalms that held it together for me – strings of poetry in the scriptures perhaps my only food.
It’s when I concluded and this I know for sure, I’m a poet, I’m a writer and above all a Psalm of Praise to the King of Kings; the author of creativity and all beautiful things to be enjoyed. To Him be the Glory now and always.
The story behind the Psalm360 project. To be continued…..