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•

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failure 2 launch

or is it?

Getting into kid mode, setting up a fort in my living room and imagination developed lands far and wide. It has been fun. My Monday has failed to launch. By world standards. Or is it?

This weeks blog has struggled to launch into itself. Perhaps the stress of outcomes to be avoided have plagued me. Perhaps the disturbing notion of colonizers not being welcome in Africa is on my mind more than it should. I cottoned onto the under belly of my blog which I was going to title: ‘Man in the Middle’. The idea was to talk about being a human in the middle of a society hell bent on being ‘most’. Strangely it seems that the liberals seem to be the humans in the middle, unlike yesteryear. It is a tough place to hold ground. Standing up for equality. Facing dismissive judgements that flow hard and fast, usually guised to hide the mask of self-gratification. After a guest Pastor from Australia spoke on Sunday the crux of this blog hit home.

Feet Planted, Eyes Up!

I have been guilty of being swooped up in my tiny attempts at standing firm on the basis of equality for all that I momentarily forgot that a HIGHER POWER is in control. Our delusions lead us to believe we are. In our quest for validation, rights, self-governance and ambition we have overlooked that in our limited capacities we are specks in a universe yet still undiscovered. This 4 minute clip, below, is just a little reminder that our inflated egos are a blimp in comparison.

Click ⬇️

THE UNIVERSE

It is so easy to become embroiled in the opinions of ourselves and others that we forget to surrender ourselves daily to HIGHER POWER. As do I?

As I write this blog in my fort I smile at the wonder of a day to just be without obligations to perform, fight or argue the negatives of our society. Surrendered to the fact everything works out as it should. To launch or not to launch?

What I am getting at is this…..

Click ⬇️ and listen out for the Q&A in the track.

BED PEACE

So as I examine myself and surrender to the fact that not launching is as vital as launching. Perhaps more so. Being sober-minded to love without borders, Love without agenda, Love beyond conditions and loving because nothing matters more. Regardless of wether our lives launch as anticipated or not, our legacy is the key we hand to those that follow. I hope and pray that my legacy will one day be that I did everything i could to be the man in the middle loving beyond injury and the hate.

Feet Planted, Eyes Up!

HIGHER POWER IS BIGGER THAN US!

If like me, lately, I have tried to trump God by boxing him in the small ‘fort’ of my mind, we need to surrender our will over to a will HIGHER.

CHOOSE ❤️

Stay your amazing self!

✌🏽

AJB•

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•

Rivonia Revelation

A low slung but consuming headache over 3 weeks has intensified concluding with me sitting in the Edenvale Hospital. Crazed thoughts drift. “Allergies.” “Tumor.” “Cancer.” Every dull light and slight noise screeches in the echo of my skull. The pink dots all over my lily-white ass skin don’t exactly cut a seductive picture either. Oh god the itch. The banging in my head. The ‘everything’ is just too much. Even for myself the dramatic is beyond ‘melo’ But here I sit hoping. Drawn dark curtains, comforter and warm sugary oats a far cry more welcoming that the sterile smells of over polished linoleum floors. Floors that bounce the fluorescents straight into the sharp crevices of the pounding and itching. Aaaaaaargh!

This week has seen the incessant arguing still unresolved. Arguments that I still cannot fathom whether they are over highlighted by my inability to see things clearly through the consuming physical distractions. The question still hanging as to whether all my social-media should be deleted. My empath is distraught by the levels of pure horror called humanity. Like seriously what the heck is wrong with us. Hatred, decadence, cruelty, egoism, unwavering self-righteousness, unwilling deafness, and petty self-glory culminating in a broth of absolute Stephen King mastery. Yet kindness prevails through it all as Johannesburg citizens and private enterprise cart gallons of water to desperate Cape Town.

Like a deliberate mic drop this blog swiftly hits the the floor exploding full throttle into the title, ‘Rivonia Revelation’.

Sitting on my patio the other day I pondered the statement that the way to hell is a highway yet the path to heaven a narrow foot path. Taking religiosity out of the equation and loosely referring to hell as destruction and heaven as enlightenment; why such stark varying comparisons. Narrowly escaping the illusion of muchness, I guess, contentment lies within a tiny sphere of just enough to pass through life equipped to live with minimal pulls towards false grandeur. Afterall they say, ‘All that glitters isn’t gold.’ I guess from a distance a flickering furnace might warm the cockles of one but close enough be fried.

I remember the biggest frustration about rehab was the privilege of choice and freedom taken from me. Rightly so as I had become a hazard to myself. Excruciatingly frustrating nonetheless. My ego wanted recovery on my terms. Oh gosh I threw every plausible, justifiable and humanitarian excuse I could think of at my helpers. The truth was that my pampered and addicted ego wanted comfort. My ego, as it still does, does not suffer well. I wanted the ‘world’ to know that I was fabulous but huuuuuney I was a toxic. I needed to be popped into the yellow box inscribed with red, ‘Hazardous’. I didn’t want anyone to know that I hated myself. I didn’t want anyone to know that I felt betrayed by life and myself. I didn’t want anyone to know that death seemed a better option than the ‘Picasso Face’ staring back at me. The very mirror I was polishing in morning duties I didn’t want to do. I wanted my pile of ego blinded anger rather than the labour of discovering the truth about myself that kept me a prisoner to my lies. I thought my nice car, nice home, nice job rubbing shoulders with the whose who was better than facing my truth. A truth which everyday I pay the price to rectify. A truth so beautiful that I see past every propped up designer frilled sequined what-what. I can’t help myself. Every bling I wonder who are we trying to impress and why?If the story behind it one stained by integrity or lack thereof. I don’t know why I feel this way but I am addicted to real. I crave authentic over plush. Even in relationships I value truth as hard as it is over lies. Somehow a lie eats at me and makes me quite insane. A truth I am fighting tooth and nail for. Honesty. Not the kind of debated honesty that is rife with egoistic battle. A truth that when you experience it, as hectic as it is, it somehow releases all the shadows that cling to us like cotton balls in velcro.

Over the years as I have and continuously learn to let go of ego I find a greater joy exists within me. The freedom to choose rather than to follow blindly. Blinded by the fury of glittered masses with hidden secrets and insatiable appetites for indulgence. It is as if I get a taste of something higher than me when I share my little with an other in need. Seeing the need of the hundreds around me, at the hospital, patiently waiting their turn to have medical treatment I am brought into an uncomfortable reality. A reality where human stripped away from behind social media facades and ‘fake it till you make it’ pretense is where the mic hits the tar exploding into full colour realism. Where who we are is the same as they are. Each a story. Each a life striving to survive beyond an ailment. Each a hope of a brighter tomorrow. The arrogant whitey hiding that they are on equal footing as the maid. The concerned maid wondering how her kids got to school as she got here before 6 to get done in time to wash the clothes. By hand. The fearful foreigner wondering if they will be rejected. The elderly, hipsters, nicely dressed, the made up, the couldn’t care less and myself huddled together following a process of wait, pay, wait, get called, wait and hope nothing more serious will follow. Hoping that today will bring resolution so that a life free from this warming but cold reality can be avoided and forgotten for a while. Where ego can stroke our self-glorification and blind us from the fact that we are the same. Frail humans.

SO WHY IS THIS HIGHWAY CALLED EGO SO CONGESTED?

Is it possible that our need for purpose is being used against us by the very same species as ourselves that manipulatively sprinkle sparkles of illusion over our authentic selves? Are our lusts for validation bridled to magnified truths twisted just enough to lead us from the hard underfoot ground to the self-heated, lush, luxury and almost self-driven vehicles filled with fat propped up, injected faces and plastic loaded bodies blissfully unaware that greatness lies in the freedom of choice and not in the low hum of speedometers heading to a chaos covered in bejeweled horror?

As a stylist I often have to swallow the bitter pill of: ” It is the clients choice at the end of the day,” and as a guy desperately trying to do my job honestly to have to sometimes settle for doing something that, although, not life-threatening, still a lesser truth, is tough to do if putting food in my belly is the bottom line. Sometimes I wish I had the courage to starve to death than be forced to survive on a lesser satisfaction. I guess it is like taking a pill to stay alive but one which burns all the way down.

SO WHY DO WE RECKLESSLY FORCE EACHOTHER TO SWALLOW THAT BITTER PILL ONLY TO FALL PRIVY TO EYES THAT SEE OUR GLITTER BUT NOT OUR HEARTS?

The evidence is so overwhelming. Each of us craves this illusive love. Today as I sit in my queue I see it in every set of eyes begging for their personal ordeal to be over. My head pounds as the lights seem to cut like a knife. But yet the prisoner in orange and chain seems more valuable than my hurt. Somehow the beating heart whispering words in a language I don’t understand, so alive. I am content in my pain and itch. I cry as I read the story of the Pastor that got shot and didn’t make it. A whispered rumor is that a colleague hired a hit man so that his own coffers could be loaded. Money honey! Is this where we are at? Money more than life? Are our hearts so dead to the glorious lives we are given? Are we so stained by every luxury that we fail to see the heart that fought bravely to live but didn’t. God I weep, unashamedly.

I LOOK AROUND AND WONDER WHY WE HATE EACHOTHER SO.

For what?

When the mic hits the floor and the rubber burns on the tar we are left with the same result…. you, them, us, I and everyone else are here together. Not one made as better. Not one made as plush. It is our fear of being discovered that we are not really who we display ourselves to be that keeps our ego fed. Our ego hates being aware of the fact that at the end of the day when all is said and done…… we all are the same. Frail humans craving love, hiding behind our plush ‘fake it till you make it’ bravado’s. Trying to be brave in the fact that we are living disappointed. All of us. But we need to find the foot path of wonder and lose the highway of bewildered.

As I sit angered by the one I love, for leaving me to go through this alone, I smile and remember love hurts. I am not the only one. In fact none of us are. My fear dissipates. Joy sits with me in my pain that smiles at those who valiantly serve us today. Who knows what they are going through? Love hurts so beautifully kind.

Click ⬇️

NAZARETH: LOVE HURTS

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?

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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.

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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.

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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 ❤️

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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.

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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.

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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•