Classifying a year: good or bad

At the start of the year, I experienced this feeling of negativity and even said that 2014 is one of my worst years ever. 

I dragged this sentiment with me over the months and believed it would remain a bad year until December 31. I was constantly negative, tired, worried, insecure, ill, and depressed.  I had to delve very deep to find the motivation and courage to continue ‘surviving’ the onslaught of badness every day.

As the year is now coming to an end, I am filled with anticipation and optimism. Suddenly things are changing. I can already feel goodness approaching and I honestly believe 2015 is going to be a much better year.

Is all of this true? Has 2014 really been such a bad year? Will 2015 be a good year? In changing my attitude, I discovered that bad and good years do not exist. Time is indiscriminate. It doesn’t dole out bad and good moments. Time is time. 

My attitude classifies the year. I take upon myself many responsibilities as a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a teacher, a colleague, and a Christian. My perspective regarding my actions for these responsibilities determines my attitude towards life.

Classifying a whole year as bad or good is limited. My needs and my wants differ from other people’s needs and wants. If circumstances prevent me from getting what I need or want, obviously my view will be negative. On the contrary, if I get exactly what I need or want, I will feel positive (even lucky, for that matter).

Being more flexible and positive will help me see life without classification. I can’t always have good times and I can’t always experience a smooth journey through life. Everything in life is impermanent and nothing stays the same. Some may think that if we care less, we will be less worried about life. That may be true, but I don’t want to go through life in neutral mode. Everything in life is interdependent. That means I need to care. 

If I want to be happy, I need to learn how to control my life on a daily basis. I shouldn’t look at happiness in years, but rather in hours. This means I have to focus on my needs and wants.  I know more or less what I need in life, but I don’t always know what it is that I want. I can see my actions and I can determine my feelings. My needs can be addressed. If I am thirsty, I can drink water. If I am tired, I can sleep. My wants are different though! They’re never constant and change very quickly. 

Life in itself is precious. I want to put more effort into being grateful.  I want to fight negativity and be more positive during the new year. And, should there be any bumps along the way, I want to be able to live through challenging moments without condemning the whole year.

i hear africa

This is another poem about Africa that will be in my poetry book, Breathing African Air. 

i hear africa 

the hoopoe calls hoop-hoop

hoop-hoop-hoop on forest

tree trunk, where high-pitched grey

hornbill ignores the kwe

of a grey go-away;

cicada swarms where sun

light warms and plays tymbals;

zizzing a song, crickets

chirping cheerily all

summer long; the turtle

dove mourns the heat and coos

its love song to the breeze;

green garden gnat and red

dotted ladybird, mute

marvels of the insect

world, wing their way from tree

to tree; in dappled shade

of green and yellow grass

hides mounds of red ground where

thousands of termites work;

the anteater’s long snout

goes about to forage

for the delicacy

of the veld; the whinny

and braying bark of a

zebra standing near, while

blue wildebeest ga-noo

in the arid karoo

and graze in the heat haze;

for days the lazy cat,

camouflaged, yawns and waits

for feline fury to

fetch the food and thunders

out a roar to warn the

cackling hyenas, and

hears their manic panic:

ooooh-whoop ooooh-whoop ooooh-whoop,

waiting in pack nearby;

the sun soon sets in shades

on africa and an

elephant bull trumpets

his call to a herd who

hears the rumble and chirps

to the rhythm of the

beat; the hippo, submerged,

surfaces and grunts on

land to roam on sand where

a crocodile once tanned

in the sun; the flutter

of feathers dust the ground

and the owl’s hoo-hooopooo

breaks the silence of dark;

a distant lone jackal

howls to the moon, and my

africa says goodnight