The glory of growing pains

3 March 2018- SANKOFA returns

I have died unto myself.

I have died unto myself.

I have died unto myself.

I have died unto myself.

I have died unto myself- as we all have.

I have, in recent months, quietly been moving through the burial of an old self. Mourning the passing of dreams and desires that will never meet their fruition through my name. In this death I have thrown soil onto the coffin of all that I was.

I have finally relented to the new course of my life - and have begun taking tentative steps down a new and completely unfamiliar path. I have finally pried the last of my stubborn fingers off the corpse of what was. I have finally massaged life into my new body - paralyzed by feigned inability to accept my new self. I have finally decided to inhibit my new self. I have finally stopped trying to resuscitate that dying dream of what 'ought' to have been.

I have always struggled to let go and perhaps it is simply the arrogance of man - to truly believe that we have control over time and the gifts we are given in this life. For a long time I struggled to let go, under the misguided assumption that things inherently belong to me and that the relinquishment of these things are owed to my own maturity and readiness to move into the next phase of life.

This morning I watched a video where this guy (Pierre XO) said the following " I don't think life is only about happiness anyway. I think life is a lot deeper than that. It's a lot more important to grow than be happy."

It's a lot more important to grow than to be happy.

It's a lot more important to grow than to be happy.

It's a lot more important to grow than to be happy.

One of the pastors in church said that there comes a time when the will of God and your own personal comfort can no longer co-exist.


Growth in all it's glory often looks like the violent take-off of Life dragging you,

wailing, kicking and screaming behind - and the wonder and tragedy of growth is that it does not ask for your permission. Growth is constantly at war with our comfort, and undeniably happy to come for Comfort's throat when we least expect it. So perhaps it was growth who recently strangled my comfort to death. And perhaps it is time that I lift the veil of mourning.

During this time, when I felt comfort ripped from my very being, I closed myself off to writing. Partly because I have tired myself with songs of sorrow. I have tired of speaking the language of heartbreak in all it's fascinating dialects. I have tired of knitting together brokenness into robes of strength- well fortified armour.

I have tired.

But I think Life holds Exhaustion in contempt, for his ability to delude us into thinking we're done when we're really just getting started.

So three months into this wonderful year - I am just getting started with learning a new language of letting go, of violent progression, of the inability to understand all of life's plans anyway. The thing about growth is how utterly inept we are to cope with it, blinded to the "plan" our trust is placed solely in our senses and the inevitable trial and error associated with this. Moving blindly, I have tentatively touched the face of new experiences fingers brushing over failure and self-love. Colouring-in myself again.

Now, Growth and Discovery have each established a vice grip over my hands - shackles of life which I doubt I will ever escape. I have rather decided to make music from the sound that the clanging of these shackles each make.

A music that can only be called growing pains.

For a while, I have laid quietly in the confines of my mind - which has on occassion felt like a coffin. For a while I lay in my corpse, observing nothing but the darkness. Filled with self-pity and anguish I refused to respond to the change of seasons and the need to continue living as opposed to meerly surviving.

I thought myself dead until God called me Lazarus.

From above the grave I heard His voice in the love of my friends and family.

From above the grave I heard SZA play on full blast and yearned to sing again with my chest.

From above the grave I heard Life screaming with laughter -

beackoning me to claw my way out of the coffin called depression.

From above the grave I heard discovery yearning for my touch, a pained lover beating on my tombstone, watering the soil with his tears, soil underneath which I indignantly lay.

Oh Lazarus,

life and God (who are often one in the same) will continue to resurrect you out of the chains you have shackled yourself in. Out of the confines of your mind. Out of the coffin of lies you have told yourself about who you are and who you ought to be.

Oh Lazarus, you were purposed for a death only to be raised in the glory of rediscovery.

So fall boldly,

fall head first into the coffin of 'if-only',

into the coffin of self-flagellation and unforgivness,

fall head first to your death if you must

but know this :

the darkness which you believe has suffocated the life out of you serves a vital function in your rebirth. Know that the darkness of difficulty will never hold you down below for too long.

Oh Lazarus - even Jesus wept when you died.

So weep, weep, weep away but don't delude yourself into thinking that death has a hold on you.

This much is true : you willl always die unto yourself when you have begun to walk down paths that no longer serve your truth or your purpose. You will always die unto yourself when the voice in your head speaks words of poison as opposed to life. And you will always die unto yourself if you have mistaken the words of others as the defining sign-posts of who you are as opposed to the truth of God which resides within you.

But know this... the only comfort you should ever feel at peace with letting inhibit your being is the fact that you will be birthed anew onto yourself. Take comfort in the fact that you have endured challenges before this one - resulting in your name being etched onto tombstones in your memory alone.

Look back, oh Sankofa. Look back at yourself two years ago. Perhaps three.

Look back to last month, perhaps 6 months before that.

Look back at a challenge you have overcome which took your very breath away at the time, perhaps even your will to live. And revel in the glory that you have already overcome.

You see, dear reader, you have died unto yourself before as well and you will die again. Growth and death have seamless relationship because often we do not even realize that we have already been burred and risen again. Perhaps there is a method to lifes madness but it is a madness that works to constantly evade us- to keep us moving forward, onward and upwards we go.

Allow life to breathe into you once more.

Many people have asked me "okay but what does SANKOFA even mean?", and now is an opportune time to tell you.

SANKOFA is a Ghanaian, specifically Tswi word. It's a philosophy held by the speakers meaning 'to go back to go back and get it'. It refering to lessons learnt and the knowledge therein. Utilizing past lessons to adequately and meaningfully engage with life and moving forward.

So for me, that's what it's about - this growth thing- retrieving your lessons and utilizing them for new challenges.

So here it is - my official invitation for you to join my nation of SANKOFA.

Of profound and brave trial and error.

Of the artistic pretentiousness and tenacity that it takes to run-head first at life, willing to tackle it to the ground.

Of being delusional enough o believe that you can and will make a difference.

Of many, many more burials to come.

Of lessons learnt and hearts broken anew.

Of hoping to get it right and drinking copious amounts of wine mulling over the drawing board when we inevitably get it wrong.

Of the splendor of life and the courage to try again.

Oh flower in bloom - are you ready for the petals to be ripped off your body and still knowing your a flower?

Are you ready for the joy of temporary surrenders and forging new battle plans?

Are you ready to lock eyes with growth, hiding timid smiles?

Are you ready for the trials of forgiveness?

Are you ready to grapple with self-love when it slips through your fingers during tough times?

Are you ready to reclaim your time and energy - retaining necessary boundaries?

Are you ready to battle mediocrity in the name of excellence that resides within you?

Are you ready to learn the different textures and colours which collaberate to make you who you are?

Are you ready to be loved?

Are you ready to believe your worthy of love?

Are you ready to abandon your fears in the pursuit of love?

Are you ready to be brave? mocked? and ultimately endure?

Are you ready to live beloved?

Applications can be submitted by :

- Doing one nice thing for someone else this week

- remembering who you are but knowing that that's not all you will ever be.

- Actively starving your toxic tendencies

- And maybe a young IG follow : sankofaspace

The set-up of this year looks like you operating in the world as breathing poetry.

Are you ready?

This is my invitation, but the wonder of it all is that it's not actually optional because life is going to sneak up on you sooner or later.

So let us stand battle ready and meditate on how we plan to bloom this year.

It is the butterfly effect in all it's glory.

It's God at His finest.

Are you ready for your blessings?

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SANKOFA WORKS HARD & DOESN'T LIKE THEIFS! don't copy paste my work babe x