Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

I believe it was yesterday; perhaps the day before. yes it was the day before, I remember now, I think.

There are times when a good sentence just comes to you; there are other times when ambivalence can neither be feigned nor correctly projected. For a very long time, I have been trying to hone the craft of free association and stream of consciousness writing, with the goal of crafting the perfect first sentence… like Gabriel Garcia Marquez in 100 years of solitude. That first sentence is written in three tenses and summarizes with explicit beauty, the bliss defined in the futility of pursuit… outlined throughout the book.

Colonel Aureliano Buendia [of which there are 16], as he faced the firing squad, would recall the day his father took him to see ice for the first time. My memory is not as good as I would like it to be… but that was in my recollection, the essence of that sentence. That story came into my consciousness again because the book “the secret” was recommended to me… along with my favorite book in the entire world… “the alchemist.”

In turn, without necessity, I recommended 100 years of solitude.

This evening, while driving aimlessly in the yuletide hour, I wondered into the supermarket wherein I rent movies from their withering bouquet. They also sell quite nice wine. [not such a good sentence]. As I was checking out [no pun intended], two remarkable things happened. I looked up, and among the nondescript pseudo-knock-off-made-in-china-replicas of actual products, I saw the book… “The Secret.” So I bought it. Read more

On this day, last year, Zahra Lauren Hickling came into the world. When I look back on that experience, it is safe to say that she ushered herself into the world. Her Ghanaian name–for the day in the place where she was born–is Abena. Read more

The most remarkable series of coincidences is coming into my midst; each of which surrounds death.

Two days ago I rented three films, to watch in the passing hours of night in this vagrant hotel room. Two days ago, I rented: Bobby, Into the Wild and Control.

“Bobby” is the story of the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy… [a feature came on CNN today indicating the significance of May 15, 1967 in his life].

“Control” is about a band called Joy Division… I have never heard of them; however the film was about the lead singer Ian Curtis… who killed himself on May 18th 1980.

The film “Into the Wild” [watched right after writing about my love for hiking] was about an Emory graduate, Christopher Johnson McCandless who traveled through the US [using the name Alexander Supertramp] by foot for two years following his graduation… then he died in the Alaskan Wilderness.

He arrived at the “Magic Bus” where he lived in his last days, endured many trials in the wilderness [and there he ultimately died]; he identified his time of arrival at the fateful Magic Bus, in an inscription on the wall [most significant in the film], dated May 1992.

Today is May 15th; All of these films relate to activities surrounding this month, this week, this day. Read more

My sister sent this to me to put my mind at peace; this is remarkable… especially since I just learnt that the Ga Festival has started… a period in Ghana where no street noises or festivities are held for four weeks, because in this period of time, corn is planted, and everyone prays for a good harvest. Then in August, everyone reaps.

Interesting.

Corn

• To dream of husking pied ears of corn, denotes you will enjoy varied success and pleasure. To see others gathering corn, foretells you will rejoice in the prosperity of friends or relatives.

Corn and Corn-Field

• To dream of passing through a green and luxurious corn-field, and seeing full ears hanging heavily, denotes great wealth for the farmer. It denotes fine crops and rich harvest and harmony in the home. To the young it promises much happiness and true friends, but to see the ears blasted, denotes disappointments and bereavements.

• To see young corn newly ploughed, denotes favor with the powerful and coming success.
• To see it ripe, denotes fame and wealth.
• To see it cribbed, signifies that your highest desires will be realized.
• To see shelled corn, denotes wealthy combines and unstinted favors.
• To dream of eating green corn, denotes harmony among friends and happy unions for the young

In this, the most significant dream, my mother sat beside me on the edge of the bed, in a darkened room, smiled happily and put her warm hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and I knew from her gesture that I had to get out and face that bigger purpose.

I will step out in the light of the morning.

I becon my calling from the usher of daylight… and tomorrow, I know that I shall receive that call and step out into the morning. I really miss my mother, but I know from her smile, that she is ok…

… and so am I. I know that her dreams are happy and fulfilled, through each and every one of us. So I keep walking.

“to sleep perchance to dream… what dreams may come.” - Willy-boy Shake-rod

I had a dream two nights ago in which I was sitting in the presence of Bill and Hillary Clinton, in a very casual [if suits and lounge chairs is casual] setting. It was at what appeared to be their residence.

I would think this to be too far fetched to mention [so I did not write about it]; but having spent more occassions than I could conjur in fiction, traveling in the respective entourages of President Kufuour [African Union and Ghana], President Barroso [european Union], and Louis Michel [Belgian Presidential Candidate], Prime Minister Portia Simpson-Miller and the Portugese President… I am open to any ridiculous pseudo-fictional possibility these days. I am still not convinced though… hence this blog entry.

We shall see if it happens.

My thing is, I am inspired by Obama. So why dream of the Clintons? And why were they sitting attentively to talk to me. Stranger things have been known to happen. I am still not convinced.

We shall see.

I had a dream a few weeks ago that I did not understand. In this dream, I saw my house, and it was a farm… I have never seen this place before… and in this place, i was to plant 32 head of corn by 20 head of corn, then in this field, a symbol would be revealed to me.

I have never seen this symbol before… it had four sharply pointed corners [ like spearheads or arrowheads arranged in an outward arrangement like a ninja star]… but it was a tribal symbol [like a crop circle]. I have never seen this symbol in any of the Adinkra symbols here in Ghana. Nor is corn of any tribal significance in this culture[as far as I know]. So I never wrote about it. I dismissed it.

The symbol itself had solidly shaded spearhead corners (with a width of approx 30 degrees) the center of this symbol was very intricate, but I cannot recall the details of it. I just remember these four sharp corners. When I see it, I will know it.

The farm house [shaped like an old school lunchbox type barn] was on the right, next to the road, and the field of corn was on the left. I cannot remember whether there was a windmill or watertower… but there was a rocky brownish grey hill to the far left in the distance… and the ground was a golden yellow… except for this field of fresh green stalks of ripe sweet corn.

The only thing I thought about was the fact that the office space I am partially inhabiting in Jamaica, is 30ft x 20ft.

What makes sense of this open prairie?

The funny thing is, I know absolutely nothing about planting or harvesting corn. I will learn. I have to learn.

Now I am confused. I have written fiction, I have written fact, I have written honestly, I have written to fill the time in this empty room, I have written to come to terms with myself… and for me it feels like it is working out.

The only problem is, I have become quite the narcissistic and an overbearing bore… rehashing this blog as though in some way it validates who I am.

I really want my privacy back.

Now, more than ever, I am exposing others too much. Perhaps because I have grown numb exposing myself invasively.

There is nothing sacred left. All that is left, is me… and this room… and boxes of old memories.
I fill that empty room in the only way that I know how. So what should I do now?

Get another hobby.

I blame the people in my life for not understanding my needs; yet it is I who never expresses my needs in explicit terms for these needs to be understood. Now, I am making a solemn attempt to communicate through my turmoil [ie constant state of being.]

In my family there is a tremendous history of depression—on both sides of the family—and I want to make every effort not to venture too far down that road on my own: and thereby descend into madness also. For the better part of my life, I have found that my personal body, my instincts and my mind have felt so open [as receptors] to the environment around, that I almost have to slow myself down to receive messages and guidance from my surroundings.

Those two variables [mental illness and heightened awareness] define the conditions of a continuum that I face, and try to comprehend, more often than not. Read more

The timing of my finding this is incredible. A [UWC] friend from Jordan just launched a website. What she says about her UWC experience in the first paragraph of her Bio, is uncanny. We are pretty much saying the same thing… at the very same time… from different points in the world. Trying to make sense of the world, through our experience of it.

“Born in Amman-Jordan, Lana came to the United States at age sixteen to attend the United World College in New Mexico. It was there that she first experienced creative expression as means of personal discovery, cross cultural communication, and healing…

The problem of ‘the other’ and the desire to make new meaning led her to Consciousness Studies…” - Lana Nasser, Arab Woman Talking

Lana is an Incredible woman. We were friends and we danced and laughed wildly together in the good old days of yore. The United World College has had a TREMENDOUS impact on the conciousness and manifestation of every single person I know from that time.

Good for you Lana. Good for you.