DREAMS

RAGE COURSES THROUGH MY VEINS.

Aghast outrage saddled by overwhelming love pressed down threatens to undo the seams of the humanity in me. I cry for us. We need to stop our bullshit. And fast.

Click ⬇️

END HATE

24 years ago a baby was born. I watched as it started to gallop, quickly gaining STAR status. Suddenly. Too sudden. Fact. As the clipse drew its curtain closed the horror part 2 drew blood. It became increasingly obvious that we didn’t know how to trust eachother. Our angered voices cried out as church bells grew silent. In the midst of that blinding fog reason echoed through the hollowed corridor of democracy. It is in this silence we found our identity. Her peace whispered, beckoning, to see beyond the words. We began to smile at first. Spurts of childlike giggles filled our belly’s to roars of laughter as the African drum beat its song. The light shone bright on our face again. Recognition. Concurrence. Hope. Future called as we saw that our fight was indeed the same.

DREAMS. YOURS. OURS. MINE.

They live on when we stand on the hill and see Opportunities raise its flag. Our revolution is of the heart. That African heart where the Lion purrs in contentment watching the clipse; a distant memory, away. Hands held, backs bent, our sweat worked that parched ground.

DREAMS. YOURS. OURS. MINE.

DREAMS ARE WORTHLESS IF ONE IS CRUSHED TO SAVE ANOTHER.

RIGHT?

The alternative? Another generation born into the lives we were? An interesting question?

Sitting in my living room, listening to the trip to inclusive creativity, this brings the hope back into the world.

With HATE being flung across the globe, I decided to ask a public question regarding my prospects as a pale skinned citizen in a country where politicians are stirring up much.

Click ⬇️

POLITICAL HATE SPEECH

SO WHY THE RAGE?

You know that peeved feeling when your gut is showing you red flags? Those flags you ignore? The very ones that oft bite deep into the sinew of, ‘I told you so.’ And hindsight can be a cruel teacher. Those flags! It is these flags I hope to shine some brow sweat on.

What is interesting about this accidental picture is both of us are wearing red sneakers. But one cannot tell which race group is wearing which pair. Sneakers are sneakers regardless of who is wearing them. They serve the same purpose regardless of our emotional identification with them. Whether we wear sneakers as a fashion statement, brand affiliation, the colour, the style and or the status it affords when we get real a sneaker is a comfortable shoe that makes our walking a bit more pleasant. It is with this ideology that I want to tell a story.

THE STORY:

It is December 2016. The work load was hampered by setbacks. Unavoidable. Inevitable. Hours turned into days now had to feature. In the absolute nick of time it was finished. The prep. Not to full satisfaction but all things considered it was good. The heat backstage melted Makeup. The seconds felt torturous. Section by section each contestant showed. Inspiration flowed. Doubt set in; deeply. Had it gone to far? Did the ideas get interpreted correctly? How did the scoring of the first rounds fair? And suddenly I heard it, “We present the work of Arion Bezuidenhout.” The gasps of astonishment rattles the auditorium as my fabric curtains fell into place. Lowered strategically. Just right. His dancing smouldered to the music. The girls rocked. Even in exaggerated hair art. “Fuck, fuck fuck, they forget an entire 30 seconds of choreography. What to do? Do I run on? I can’t. Let it go Arion, let it go.” My hands began to shake. As she entered and prowled her African Goddess sexuality the crowds were screaming. She suffered under the weight of her hair art but by her prowess you would never know. Miraculously I pinned her final look together, live on stage, not knowing if it would work. It did. They shone. 3 black girls and two white girls. The track ended and the tears stung my exhausted eyes. It was over. I think I breathed again after what was the longest yet fastest 4 minutes. I have done this before. But today I had not given a Hair show, I gave my heart. The same heart that had wept through the 3 weeks preparing for this day. The seconds, Hours. Days.

Scoring took place. I waited. And as sweet as the name I have been blessed with sounds, sweeter still when the trembling, pressure, hurts, hours, hopes, dreams finally paid of. I had won. Forever in history it will be known that the TWINCARE SA HAIRSTYLIST OF THE YEAR 2017 is ARION BEZUIDENHOUT. Nobody can take that from me. I did it.

THREADING IT ALL TOGETHER…

There is no greater moment in life when one overcomes an adversity. When that adversity costs you everything. When it demands your full cooperation. When it is tied to honesty. When it wins without argument. When the red flag blows hostility and the checkered flag wins and says not today.

In our lives we will all face hate. This is not a negative thought, but rather the thought that makes or breaks each of us. I do not want to be part of a life that waves the red flag of doubt. The red flag of cruel bias. The red flag of violent hatred. The red flag that has cost our world too much.

I want that checkered flag that gives us ambition, goals, drive, a purpose, a commitment, things to give up and things to work on. A flag that by its sheer nature is inclusive of all our hopes.

DREAMS. YOURS, OURS, MINE.

And like a sneaker picture cannot tell you the wearer, a checkered flag cannot discriminate. A 🏁 can only serve the finish line. The finish line that kisses a winner. The winner that raced towards the checkered flag, beyond obstacles. Beyond tears. Beyond trembling.

In our world do we want to afford ourselves that moment….when our hindsight is glowing through the sweat of a brow bent towards the sun, hand in hand, knowing that we turned a history gone awry into stepping stones? Stepping stones that lift our futures up. A future where the black block or white block no longer have a need to prove their importance, because one without the other; no checkered flag. Not a flag where the flag of red doubt violently cuts the potential of a victory gained through overcoming the hours that make or break us.

My father tried to murder me 2x before I was 6. They sexualized me from 4, raped me at 12. Beat me for being creative. Picked on me because I was an easy target. Stole from me. Hated me. Demeaned me. Broke my spirit till the sharp broken edge of a glass plate skimmed my wrists. I eventually passed out from the overdose. With stomach pumped and finding myself barefoot walking through Durban City, blood stained from the needles that carried the drip to stabilize me. But I knew I had to carry on because the quiet voice that told me I am loved had enough hope to get me through to my victory lap. 21 years later.

MY BELOVED WORLD/ SOUTH AFRICA

I SEE YOUR HEARTS WHEN YOU FIGHT TO BE HEARD. I SEE YOUR DESPERATION TO BLAME. I DID IT TOO. BUT I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT WHEN WE GET STUCK INTO THE LIFE WE LIVE AND KEEP PUSHING TO BE OUR BETTER SELVES MOMENTS COME THAT CHANGE EVERYTHING. NOT ALWAYS IN WHAT WE THINK WE WANT BUT IN A WAY THAT MATTERS….. WHEN WE LOOK INTO THE MIRROR AND WHO WE SEE IS NOT THE RED FLAG CALLED HINDSIGHT THAT DOUBTS, BUT A CHECKERED FLAG CALLED LOVING EQUALITY.

#AllLivesMatter

We cannot gain the sweat victory of overcoming doubt, if we simply create more.

I am a proud creationist believer! My creator says : ‘We are made in HIS image. Kings and Queens. To love your neighbor as yourself.’ We have gotten lost along the way and our hate is like the sharp edge of a broken plate. Is this what we want? If not, we need to surrender ourselves to the possibility that a, ‘POWER GREATER THAN OURSELVES CAN RESTORE US TO SANITY.’ (quoted from the 12 steps of recovery)

WE MAY NEED TO GO BAREFOOT ON ROUGH TERRAIN, BUT GO WE MUST. A VICTORY AWAITS.

We are called to be Kings and Queens of hearts. #alllivesmatter

Click ⬇️

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•

Advertisements

LOG-EYED

Sunday, 14:22

Since taking a frustrated leave of absence from attending or serving in church late last year, things have been so-so. I have said it before, one more time for good measure. Spirituality and I are an inseparable paradigm. I run from it sometimes but invariably the pull to realign myself with something profound draws me back in untold mystical ways.

Recently the nag to flip through my faith book, the need to pray, and attend church found me 5 rows from the front. Center. Stage left. It was kind of surreal. Words that plagued my thoughts all week kept popping up in the songs, sermon and news broadcasts. The most overwhelming of the lot, the statement, “No-one should be discarded or written off as helpless.” This valid but seemingly ordinary statement comes on the back of a random quiz I took on Facebook the day before. The results, correctly, showed that my success blocking negative talk centered around my sense of unworthiness. I was stunned that the quiz nailed my default setting exactly. Even more alarming is the same above statement following a discussion in the salon about my faulty faith practice. I have, once again, gotten stuck on trying to be better for my Higher Power instead of allowing myself to simply receive grace, love and blessings because I am loved. None of us can be perfect. It is in our imperfections that we can find the ability to love other imperfect people like ourselves. Those that have read my blog, ‘Mighty You’, will understand the difficulty for me to receive help, compliments or goodness. Like many of us, I am living wounded. Wounds that often cloud my abilities to create a life that my talents certainly warrant. Never mind the mere fact that I am alive. Simply alive.

It is with this single authority that I want to write this blog. Or rather feel instructed to write this blog. That authority is this, ‘At 43 lots of stuff has happened. Some my fault. Some not. But from the perspective of living hurt and fighting to overcome I can say I am as authoritative as the next. Even in my failings.’ Afterall I am, like you, still here.

The heated race factions, avoidance political landscape, corruption, seemingly endless lists of poor leaders and deplorable self-greed has South Africa and our globe in a kind of deadlock situation. Doomed if we do and doomed if we don’t!

What I mean is this:

With every side arguing it’s rights as more important than others, we all seem to have forgotten for a moment, as I have lately, that the log in our eyes must be addressed before the splinters in others can be removed.

SO HOW?

Rather than pretending that things are not out of kilter and growing that yucky guilty feeling inside, perhaps the answer is to accept that each of us is to blame, directly or indirectly. Let’s all be honest our nations are tense. We need to know eachother better. Don’t you think? In the Gentleman’s Gazette article, ’53 Questions to Get to Know Someone’, by Sven Raphael Schneider interesting and useful insights are shared if we follow through with our claims of being an inclusive society, legitimately.

Click the link below.

HOW TO GET TO KNOW SOMEONE

SO WHAT IS INCLUSIVE?

By sheer definition the implication of inclusivity suggests that compromise may be a necessary and a valuable tool to reach a more inclusive, equal opportunities and more civilized and just society. This is not to say that we put up with second-best but that we first learn to love and let HIGHER POWER be HIGHER POWER.

SO THE BIG QUESTION IS, ‘WHY DON’T WE WANT TO INTEGRATE, COMPROMISE AND RE-EVALUATE OUR THINKING, COMFORT ZONE AND PREJUDICES?

I found this above quote and I think it speaks volumes to myself and the world we all are living in. This present moment. Crazy. Hectic. Frustrated. Right?

Laying in bed this arvie, I wondered to myself, how could I a simple citizen on this planet try make a difference in the my life and the lives of many others. The 12 Steps of Recovery seems like a great place to start. I have seen incredible changes in my own life through the 12 Step Program. Although I am far away from being, 💯%, my authentic self, as most of us are, I certainly am not who I was 6 years ago. I love the fact that I have had the freedom to experience the consequences of my choices. No human, government or religion has been able to stop me from facing the results of my choices. I am learning on the job, like all of us.

A QUICK STORY:

I was asked to write an essay in rehab describing whom I thought God was. Instead of writing the answers I knew were expected of me, God is Just, God is I Am, etc, I wrote it from the point of view that many would write. God is dictatorial, contradictory and cruel, etc. Yes, you guessed it. I got rapped on the knuckles, and instructed to look through my faith book to all the places my HIGHER POWER described themself. I didn’t get so far. Actually my whole perception about myself changed from the 5th word in the Bible. Created. Weird right? Let me explain. Up until that moment, 37, I had been living under the guilt of being gay and creative. Years of bullying, violence and abuse had me feeling ashamed about being creative. The crazy part is that everything I am is creative. So I was living a kind of psychological hell because the very thing I am is the very thing I hated. It somehow meant that I was sub-human because I am a creative guy. This translated into my sexual-preference. For years I was a flapper, sister, queen whatever you want to call it. I tried to hide the hatred of my creative being by overdoing my identity as a gay guy. Anyhow. 37, rewriting an essay, stumbling onto the first 5 words in the Bible, things began to change. I am still gay but my identity has less do with my orientation but rather myself as myself. Creative.

“(IN THE BEGINNING) [GOD] {CREATED}….

What I realized, at 37, is that only 2 things exist outside of creativity…..Time (in the beginning) & …… God. I realized that everything else after that is creative. The way we make money, make money. The explanations of scientific reason. The way we breathe, think, move…and love. In that moment I started to learn to love and accept that not only did I deserve to be alive, because I am alive, but that it is ok to be creative and love it.

6 YEARS ON:

My relapses are getting further and further apart and less damaging, I am calling my own shots, learning to be responsible for myself, even though I am on the verge of losing everything. I wouldn’t give this last year back for all the money in the world. I have learnt to endure for longer and fight harder for myself. This is pretty miraculous for a guy who until only 6 years ago thought that his best offering to the world was in a coffin. 6 feet under. I have a blog, as an untrained writer, that is read somewhere across the globe daily and I am still here fighting to grow as a human, to love better and do my bit to leave our world better than much of the love I received. Do I fail? Uhm, are you reading this?

All I do know are these 2 things:

Spiritual matters are real!

The 12 Step Recovery Program is worth our world taking a shot with because it is both universally applicable and personal in it’s philosophy. It may very well be the only tool that transcends our thinking, brings us back to human and creates a methodology to heal ours ourselves and others around us!

STEP 1 STARTS WITH ADMIT.

So I will go first and trust that many more will follow suit. I have already started by stating my character defect on Facebook.

See for yourself.

MY POST

I AM A RECOVERING HUMAN & SELF HATER.

For years I have hidden behind inferiority, believing that others were better than me. As of this moment I am asking my HIGHER POWER to help me to change that in me and to do it miraculously. I need a miracle because I am tired of living in the world that reaffirms my negative belief of humans and myself. We are not only capable of hate. In fact most of what we have these days started with an idea to make things better. Yes, like me, things get a bit twisted but we can change it.

ALL I ASK THAT YOU HELP ME MAKE THIS BLOG GO VIRAL INTERNATIONALLY BY SHARING IT. HOPEFULLY WE CAN PRAGMATICALLY BEGIN TO HEAL THE HATRED WE FACE EVERYDAY. IT STARTS WITH EACH OF US ADMITTING!

I guess if it is true that ‘I need to be the change in the world I want to see, it begins with me.’ So I guess that from now on like the particular sentence in a random sermon, 5 rows back, center, stage left: “No one should be discarded or written off as helpless,” rings true for me and I know rings true for most us.

We all know what rejection feels like. IT DAMN WELL HURTS LIKE A ……..! I am believing that a miracle will turn my little rent-a-chair business, broken reputation, self-loathing and human despising will change.

Click the link below to be reminded of another call to fight for life.

WE ARE THE WORLD

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•

URBANE HUMANE

Sandown,Johannesburg

Basking in the sun, pool and company the title of today’s blog struck, “Urbane Humane”. Well sort of anyway. After researching synonyms for sophisticated I stumbled onto the dapper word, ‘urbane’. To give you an inside glimpse of just how shallow I can be, my original title: ‘Sophisticated Dreams’ didn’t fit neatly into a single line, which I wanted, so out with that, in traipsed urbane. Eventually, ‘Urbane Humane’ emerged.

But before I go on, this following Mixcloud Mix has me going all giddy from pure delight. I strongly suggest that you, the reader, click on it and let it create the exact right feeling for this blog.

Click ⬇️

DEEP EMOTIONAL VOCAL #6

<

An angle that caught my eye. I love the continuity of colour and the echo in the patterns)

What, amusingly, stuck me about the definition of sophisticated was 'involving a great deal of worldly experience'. Immediately the analyst in my head was, "Wow, how is that for paradoxical?" Such a broad term that certainly conjures up memories of 'worldly' which in my failed moral compass I would hardly call sophisticated behavior. You know what I mean right? The other revelation of this definition begs a question, "If one leads an impoverished life and 'worldly' experience is low, does it mean one cannot be refined/sophisticated?" See what I am saying? This neatly brings me to my title, 'URBANE HUMANE'. Although urbane is steeped in the masculine, sophisticated society has evolved to the point of extending the right to identify oneself by ones own choosing. If you want to be silver-platinum, be one. The truth is, anyone can be platinum but the tone, style, styling and expression of that style must be, individually, designed. I don't want to go into that 'worldly' topic suffice as to say; if it is our right to choose does it mean that it is the right choice to choose?

As an example:

Is it cool to chop a tree down to manufacture matches? The very thing that can destroy many trees, a lit match, and potentially destroy the oxygen/carbon dioxide converters that give us air to breathe?

<

(Pic I took that, almost pervertedly, makes the eye beg to see beyond the trail of light….such a tease)

On that note; the EFF/H&M debacle gave my friend/ neighbor and I some great juice to use regarding the racist/not racist debates that filled social media in ZA for days on end. Let me not get into the unsophistication of much of those days….lol. For a truly ZA take on a world crises regarding the question of what is or is not racist click on the link below.

SWEET SUNDAY PERVE

<
💋💋💋💋💋

Haibo, and now?

Although a side-angle the quote above nails it eloquently, excuse the pun. In short, the urbane description of a guy who got laid, put into a delightful play on words and metaphor, paints the exact picture of this blog.

So what is an 'URBANE HUMANE?'

In South Africa the war of free-education is a heated topic. The wealthy feel that they shouldn't subsidize the poor, the poor feel they have the right to education, the government is yet to come up with a great strategy to sort the question, and the sophisticated arguments continue. But what if we zoom out and think about a urbane humane system of 'how to?'.

So banks profit largely out of student loans. Right? So what if we cut the bank out? What if we approach corporate society to cough up some funds, or get Swiss banks to hand over hidden Apartheid Arms money towards the cause of building basic but free universities that live -stream lectures from varsities that are funded by more private entities. This way educational standards can be raised as all get access to the same standard of information. Obviously translated into all official languages. By potentially offering jobs to pensioners, or youth needing jobs, who I am sure will love the engagement, we can uplift the living standards of impoverished peeps…. why not? We then insist on a system where successful graduates have the responsibility of having 1% of their incomes separated from state taxes, that are exclusively used to sustain free tertiary institutions. A system like this takes us neatly into an urbane tribal system. The elders lend wisdom and experience to a younger working generation who pave the way for those they give birth too. This way accountability, purpose, validation of humans is effectively implemented in a responsible manner in which no one person feels negated as not worthy. Certainly as time goes on and then live-stream can be replaced by actual people creating more jobs as populations swell, hopefully the funds are used wisely and grow in careful investments so that the divide between private educator salaries and government educator salaries be brought closer to validate the life changing roles of the teacher. This system can ultimately give an urbane society the 'feel good' jolt it needs to bring people together for the cause of living for something beyond ourselves…. the next generation. Also by having vested interest and human ego being what it is, a balancing of all points of view will be attained because we all like dat: 'You want my money honey, you treat me nice, real nice….lol'

On the subject of the way we treat others, Melusi Tshabalala, a guy you should follow on FB, shared a story of how a childhood memory spoke him out of running. Melusi is hysterical and educational as he is teaching his followers African languages through his witty humour. With permission, I am sharing a part of his story that I relate to so much.

"And then there was Zulu church, ezayoni. It ruined my youth. Half the neighbourhood were Godless heathens and the kids would stand on the side of the road, waiting for us to go to church. As soon as we came out of the yard, they'd start singing: "Isonto lama zayoni, yisonto lamagwala. Wake wayibonaphi indoda esonta iphethe induku. Ishaye is-come around, uguqe ngamadolo…" Then I'd start crying and my mom would klaap me for paying attention to heathens and I'd cry some more. Now it's a mess. My green uniforn is wet, with tears, I'm dragging my staff, my face is covered in tears, snort and vaseline. Isphandla (Zulu Rolex) is making me itch ngapha."

As a kid, I had similar experiences regarding itchy stuff and preened for the world to behold in my Sunday best. The point of sharing this story is simply that when we look beyond the borders of our self-made understandings, suburbs, countries and hang-ups we discover that humane is found in every urbane setting.

<

(Pic of the iconic Ponte building, JHB, ZA, from the backseat of the Taxify cab on our way to Shakers in Maboneng.)

For a while I have been on a mission to experience how others in ZA live, play and get on in life. The idea was sparked by a guy who, rightly, said that unless I had lived in a shack, limited sanitation, no electricity and walked or caught a minibus taxi as a means of transport, I could not truly understand the disparity between elitism and survival. Profoundly put into context it is both raw and startling. So back to the story of urbane humane integration.

Weeks ago JJ had told me about Shakers. I have been dying to get away from a slippery ‘mostly white stomping ground’ for a while. As an addict in recovery I came across a concept. It went along the lines of this…. for every 1 bad memory, one needs to replace it with 10 different good memories. The idea is to stop our brains from holding onto the largely ‘bad’ memories (our brains latch onto negatives better than positives, apparently), which are strong. We need to reinforce +’s by creating more numbers of fun things to remember. Because most areas in the northern suburbs of JHB are strong memories of many poor choices, to avoid the barrage of thoughts/triggers that follow I am searching for new places to experience myself as a sober human. It is timed well. As I explore my cleaner self, integrate myself into a multiracial social structure and share my journey, publicly for various reasons, I find myself being in a unique global movement of inclusivity.

<<<<<<<<<

(Shakers, Maboneng)

Shakers is a gender mixed, race mixed, and sexual preference mixed venue. With fresh meat one can choose your ‘inyama’ and have it cooked on the spot, VIP area, chill out lounges and African-centered music the cultural experience is delightful. I spent hours taking in the hairstyles, trends, and various dress styles of people. The thing that stood out most for me in this predominantly black patron establishment was the sheer camaraderie between various people. Something I often missed in my predominantly white patron venues. I felt like a kid in a candy shop. The textiles, attitudes, tastes, and expressions of these urbane humans is a pure delight to the eye in a world saturated by conformity.

<<<<

(Racing past an extraordinary colored building and colorful cement pillars, has created this excited and intriguing pic)

SO WHAT DO THESE VARIOUS STREAMS OF THOUGHT TEACH US ABOUT BEING AN URBANE HUMANE?

The answer is really simple, clear and cliched. The world does not revolve around us, individually. We are all totally necessary in this world, thus our mindsets need to change from being: MY WORLD to OUR WORLD. It is in this moment where we think plural, we open ourselves to the possibilities of a life beyond understanding. Beyond understanding because each of us do not live in each others heads. So by dropping the protection mechanism of MY to the inclusive OUR, we open the door to a world our brain cannot imagine.

The brain can only have a memory of what has been put into it. So if we dunno, we simply dunno until we do.

<<

(ending this blog with this pic is such a great shot of an urbane humane experience, transcribed into art, made functional in a situation that creates many uncomfortable urbane humane moments for all of us)

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•

A bit of Turkey stuffing

A bit of funky on Mixcloud quips this tongue-in-cheek blog with just the right flavour. Enjoy!

Click ⬇️

DJ DIMSA- LIVING LOUNGE

<

Catching a bit of vitamin d baking my stuffing and stuffing the stuff that stuffs up the stuff…..lol….at least mentally anyway)

With Christmas and New Year kitsch behind us, the messages, guilt, and phony platitudes spewed beyond ad nauseam gone; reflux tastes better. Before you get all uppity about my opening remarks and whatever else will follow know I also succumbed to sending messages. God I hate it. I tried my best to say something quirky and sincere but because it is so commercialized that what is a daily, normal sincerity for many smacks of bullshit because of the number of randoms, completely misplaced. Saying, being, doing nice things should not be forced upon anyone because of a season but should be a natural order of how we live! No, I don't have a heart of stone but the gallant of the holiday season is so trite that I cannot bear it. Perhaps one day, God willing and best he does, I might be able, when money is a minor consideration, to do a true anonymous random act of kindness that means something to someone. I am so grateful for the help I got over the festive season as I really needed it and the minimal fuss was truly gifted. I cannot say thank you enough. Gosh, I really wish that I had had strength to endure the year a bit more than I did, the start of 2018 might not have reached it's inevitable sprint. Alas I just couldn't. Too much, too little and just too too. From my faith perspective I simply cannot buy into the absolute horror of a season dedicated to the birth of my said faith group and the pomp at which we unashamedly tint the tinsel to match. I just can't. I have worked fastidiously at avoiding this season as I cannot bear the falsities and worst yet the manner in which yearly applaud given for a job well done. It has to be my absolute worst character defect…. I don't brown-nose well. It makes me feel like a whore and if I want to feel that way, well hun there are far more satisfying methods that can be deployed. With this having being said, a wry smile turns to the glint in my eye as I hear the thoughts rush past my lips: "Wonder who is going to be offended by this piece of my mind now?" "Speak your truth," they say, "Be yourself." What an absolute crock of blah blah blah. Lately every time I open my mouth, try discuss things that really matter to me somebody somewhere is offended. I just can't take the paradoxical irony. Us people tend to like the truth as long as is it not our own. Right?

(A personal prayer….Dear God I beg you, please can I make enough money this year to go somewhere on holiday for the entire festive season that I don't have to face any of it. Where true, genuine and human connection is untainted by overrated & overpriced marketing induced seasonal psychosis….. please.)

Now that I have regurgitated that out of my system after a long season political niceties I can breathe again.

I am not a miserable kinda guy at all. In fact I am so up, usually, that I am too much for people. Fact! But this year end trivia gives me a hernia, constipation and dizzy spells all at once. Sadly I missed a really fabulous Christmas lunch invite due to stuff…damn it! Stuuuuuuuuuuuuufffff?!?!

I just cannot understand how people think it is is cool to rip people off, con them, lie, cheat and or steal throughout the year and then think a bit of gift wrap will hide the atrocities of what us humans are being. But in the face of being the second day of 2018 by 35 minutes, let me not get started on humanity……lol. Myself included, just in-case you are flippantly muttering, "who does this bitch think it is….lol?"

What I really want to get to is the gift that would have truly made my day, season and perhaps a couple of years. Beyond the stuffing stuff!

The movie, 'Home Again', with Reece Witherspoon really revved up my motor. It happens in the end, around the dinner table and the movie concludes with a satisfying gulp of romanticism. It leaves me with the thought, "When will I get to a point with others, where beyond the stuff happens?" You know what I mean right? That place of you are you, I am I and together the we is a special place without the stuff stuffing us up individually!

I would like a season where the sex, the power struggles, the fake politeness, the can't stand eachother, and the spite is worked through enough to get to where the amusing appreciation without expectations of another lay. You know the stuff that gets in the way before genuine and authentic mayhem lay and awaits the brave who venture beyond the humanity we all fall privy to? Yes, that place. Each relationship of whatever kind has this stuff. Perhaps my idealistic persona has kicked in but I want this place where 'it-is-what-it-is' is a harmonious flow of human interaction that respects the 'it-is' instinctively. I know it exists as I have that kind of relationship with my Higher Power and have kissed this nirvana with a few humans in my 43 years on this planet. I know that I am loved flaws and all. And my understanding of these relationships is that there is a connection. And connectivity is what we all crave, I think? I mean why else sugarplums would the world of cyber connectivity be such a competitive and multi-billion income industry? But is cyber connectivity any actual connection at all? Mmmmmmmm?

So having cleared the verbal/mental phlegm clogger out of my brain, I don walking shoes deciding that this blog will fall where it will and those that take offense must simply do so! I mean let's get offended by world hunger for crying out loud.

So end this mind clearing blog I sincerely do wish; for you and myself:

Your truth whatever it may be, may you get beyond the stuff that holds you back. May your relationships be richer and colourful; your experiences more deeply satisfying. May kindness pave your way and joy drive you as the sun, moon and stars kiss your eyes looking forward to the blessing of life in hands/heart and mind. May 2018 find wisdom in action as purpose unfolds clearly with minimal doubt.

Be blessed and the blessing.

Happy New Year!

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•

FASHIONING

In years gone by, fashioning crafted swords out of blooms of steel, tin and alloy, was a prized skill of the metalsmith. Today although crafted swords are still being manufactured, a lesser weapon in comparison to the nuclear weapons of the modern age. I always ask myself whether this makes us less civilized than we think we are. What do you think? Surely a more civilized society is a more enlightened one? Comparably, the single combat non-contact sport might arguably be a more civilized fight. That’s if the only resolution is combat. And yes I do think that sometimes defense is a necessary evil when innocent lives are being threatened. Gangsterism is in my opinion the most cowardly method of violent resolution.

But what am I rambling on about?

Recently I have been going through an incredibly tough time. The level of stress is taking its toll. The exacting discipline to overcome the difficult circumstances has been exhausting to say the least. It has not been easy to fight my way back from my recent experience but today everything has begun changing.

In an incredible turn of events I was gifted with 2 extraordinary gifts of kindness today. A friend gave a R1000 tip and another that I had borrowed from that was stolen by my scam artist has agreed to do a service exchange for monies owed. As I write this blog the tears just weep uncontrollably. Sometimes, just sometimes goodness comes back to us in the most unexpected ways. But, and there is a but, we need to stay in the fight.

So often in this world we tend to crumble at the signs of difficulty. Although I have been plagued with lower back pain in my attempt to cope with my demands and stress related flu has hit hard, get up and go I have had to do. Agreed I needed time off for a few days to regain the will to fight but done it I have. Not pretty but done. What are you facing that is fashioning you towards greatness? As most entrepreneurs know the hurdles one crosses to achieve ones visions is not a road paved with party lights and decorations. It is tough. But the self-appreciation of goals accomplished is unlike being employed could ever give one. I think this is attributed to the fact that live or die entrepreneurs are their business. The deciding factor, however, is are you the kind of metalsmith that hardens a sword or weakens it? What I mean by this is…. are we the kinds of people that use our gifts to enhance the world, in love, or do we destroy lives by enhancing only our own?

One of the flaws of our consciousness is when we think with small-mindedness.

Part of the responsibility of our particular gifting/s is to share with others as is their responsibility to share with us. No one man has the exclusive right of being uninvolved in life. We are all equally here, right here, right now. Thus the responsibility of being a citizen of the planet that ambassadors the champion cause of making the world a more free and equal place than we inherited it is a must.

Recently a quick read on LinkedIn caught my eye.

It struck me that Africa is starting to ask some valid questions and it makes me proud to witness it. I wrote about this very topic, in a loose manner, in a blog called ‘FAIRY-DUST’.

Click ⬇️

FAIRY-DUST

It is time that Africa rises from its spell of thinking the rest of the world is better. Enough global news has clearly indicated that the world is taking strain under egotistical power mongers. It is time for the citizens of this one planet, Earth, to stand and fight for its rightful place to equality. We are Africa and we are amongst the richest continents, if not the richest. It is time for us to put aside our ‘in-house’ fighting and take our brothers by the hand and be united with the cause of raising the failing status of our magnificent continent.

But I am not the only one saying or thinking it!

Zooming back to ZA, Democratic Alliance leader Mmusi Maimane is up’ing the reign on corruption by stepping up anti-corruption units, sending police on training camps for a year to provide better efficiency and service delivery. In a time where the baddie won the match for a while, opposition alliance parties to the ZUPTA ANC are banding together to fight for the Madiba Africa that saw us shine beacons of gold-glazed hope onto the world at large.

The nobility of this non-contact combat against oppression and elitist supremacy is the highest order for which our mutual gain will create more eager to participate integrated societies and willing to share than our current system that enslaves people to capitalist greed. I am not saying that ambition is a bad thing, not at all. However, when ambition is applied to a universal mindset we quickly see that a greater good will yield a standard that gives way to speedier growth and hope. Think about it!

As we head into the holiday season in ZA, I hope that enlightened consciousness fills each of us up. I hope and pray that universality draws us to a brighter better future for all. Let’s make 2018 the breakout year that yields awesomeness and a restored faith in humanity and its dream of a better future. Nothing matters more than treating others as we want to be treated. I am fighting myself, daily, to be a good, kind and productive human. Are you?

Click ⬇️

LIVING LOVE LIFE

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•

#standforsomething

IT IS NO SECRET, I STAND FOR AUTHENTIC LOVE ABOVE ALL ELSE.

My favorite international DJ, DJ Stevie B on Mixcloud has dealt another loin-grinding body-shaking mix. I bust a move, alone, in my living room. I simply adore this man’s transitions and vocal choices.

Click ⬇️

DJ STEVIE B

#❤️🌍🌈

My empatheticheart has been tossed like a sailing boat against volatile seas this week, rudderless and torn sails lost to the battle of violent and invasive onslaughts. From being lectured by a complete stranger as to whom, when and how I may be entitled to use terms of endearment, my Mayoral hero Herman Mashaba facing a vote of no confidence by a revolting ANC ZUPTA corrupt gang, our Miss SA/ Miss Universe’s reputation being called out by racist attackers, my personal favorite Miss SA contestant finally being crowned Miss SA and not to mention the Libyan Slave/Torture trade fillingthe news. Never mind the continuous harassment of my own scammers repeatedlytrying to get more money out of me, which I don’thave, with some or other cockamamie story. I am fighting the urge to just give up on life. I don’t want to live in a world like this.

Thankfullythe failed votes of no confidence will dig a deep guttural hole into the failing and corrupt ANC grip.

Thankfully Naomi Campbell is organizing a march in the UK to march to the Libyan Consulate to prostest this disgusting practice. THE WHOLE WIRLD MUST DO THE SAME!!!!

I woke up this morning in my little but beautiful home in Sandown, Johannesburg, ZA and had a deep sense of spiritual connection to my HIGHER POWER. The message to myself , and all of humanity is a stark reminder that nothing under the sun is a secret.

Recently I started an online dating profile. I eventually deleted it because I found myself meeting people who were either judgmental,dabbling in things I don’t want to be part of, or looking to make a quick buck. Being scammed once this year and my heart shattered with little regard is enough thank you. I guess I am just an old-fashioned guy that does not fit into this modern world. A world of opportunists that seem to be riddled by narcissism and nepotistic instincts; mostly.

It’s true….. I do struggle to know authentic from self-serving manipulation.

Look life is better for me than most. As I listened to the emblazoned speeches of Mayor Mashaba and Presidential hopeful Mmusi Maimane I couldn’t help but weep. Our world system as it stands isso unjust. It favoursthe few at the expense of the many.

Click ⬇️

MMUSI MAIMANE SPEECH

When will enough be enough?

Yesterday at the Democratic Alliance March seeing the mothers with kids in tow, whom had traveled from afar made me want to quit my life. I was so close to writing a letter to the Mayor asking if I could be sponsored a small wage and work the rest of my life for free to help with the JHB regeneration project. I still might, so torn and conflicted I am.

With increasing measure I cannot reconcile myself to a world where the name of the game is money. The stirring in my soul is for more than minuscule glory. Something that aligns itself to the purpose of using my life to count for the benefit of lives so vandalized by racism, elitism, sexism and classism. I mean what the $@&* is wrong with us?

Slavery still?

So as I grapple with my own disturbances of purpose versus indulgence I leave you, us and myself with this question, “Are we really going to continue to turn a blind eye to the desperation of the world around us, for a bit more stuff we cannot take to the grave?”

CHOOSE ❤️

Click ⬇️

SWEET DREAMS

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽 •AJB•

Salted Butter and Apricots

Rough!

‘Halftribe’, Mixcloud brings such soothing relief to a the last month of nail-biting angst.

Click ⬇️

SOLAR TERM

Rough is hardly the word to describe this recent moment in time. Day 3 of no water in my home in Sandown, Johannesburg, sacrifices being made to play catch up on my finances, dealing with an injured heart, a new venue to operate my rent-a-chair out of, remaining honorable, meeting expectations and getting on with it has been raw to the bone. Let’s just say that my faith has been stretched that much further. Also, running into my ex a while ago finally brought some closure to open unanswered questions that I have labored for 15 months. Gladly, yesterday, a shift in tempo saw me able to buy some food for my home. Look I haven’t starved but I certainly have had to cut out every ounce of niceties, except chocolate, to meet the responsibilities I have. It’s done and some semblance of normality is emerging. With re-payment plans in place and beginning to be met I munch on my comfort food of peanut butter toast laden with salted butter and a side of apricots. Gosh have I missed the luxury of eating fruit.

Honoring my clients and friends who extended the hand of favour towards me in the midsts of the recent scam I fell privy to was ever so fabulous to do.

The bottom line is that obstacles, unforeseen events, self-inflicted struggles and curve balls will inevitably punch us a bloody nose. That is ok. The question is whether each of us will roll up our bloodied sleeves and do what must be done, honorably, to deal with them.

In the salon yesterday I was referred to a new client. She had been observing my work from the corner of her eye and was taken by the results. We chatted about her desired result and her valid gripe about her dissatisfaction with the results her current stylist was delivering in comparison to her achievable desire. The opened door granted me the chance to educate whilst understanding. As a stylist I do my best to never bad-mouth another’s work as ‘hair history’ is a large subject that influences outcomes loftily. What struck me as an all too familiar yet strange result after the quotation, with saving options and alternatives given, was the reluctance to pay the price. It is a funny phenomenon that each of us wants what we want, whether good or bad, but somehow don’t want to make the necessary investment to achieve it.

Erik of BetterMan put out an email yesterday that I asked if I could quote. It is the direction of today’s blog. (Apologies for the screenshot, but ‘copy&paste’ was malfunctioning today….🤣)

An interesting read from a corporate perspective regarding the changing landscape of how people approach business in a technology accessible world shed some interesting focus.

Click ⬇️

SUSTAINABLE

Too often you and I are taken by the fashion fad of the season and forget the big picture. Taking a more reasonable and sustainable outlook towards mutually beneficial outcomes, long term,may open our eyes to behavioral changes we need to make. A sustainable and beneficial world is what we would like to leave generations to come after-all?

My recent experience of being in a situation that required serious sacrifice taught me a valuable lesson. I was so busy focusing on being a good guy in a turbulent world that spews so much hate that I forgot my own needs. What I mean is this: I poured my heart into trying to save and prove to another that I was worth a go in love that the thing that sustained my life bore the brunt of shifted focus. Although romance, sex & love etc are not bad things, contrary, when it takes over it can blind us to dangerous outcomes. So pay the price I have and am for neglecting the fact that my own needs are as equally important to those of everyone else. Oh well, I guess this is the inevitable battle of an empath/nurturer/giver. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Take heart!

As each experience unfolds, if we willingly participate in the rhythm of life, we grow, change and learn.CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

•AJB•