Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Take charge!

If you can't control your mind someone else will;
If you can't control your emotions, someone else will;
If you can't control your purpose someone else will
If you cant control your passion, someone else will
If you cant control your direction, something else will
The mastery techniques for achievement is but a simple wand which can be waved as you desired or can be waved and used unceremoniously should it find abode in another's zone.
Take charge, weave your thread, control your emotions, live, rule, learn now for the future.

Wednesday, 11 February 2015

Success is the sum of small efforts - repeated day in and day out.
Often times we beat ourselves for not doing enough ; not making enough money and not having enough as we would have wished to.
We fail to see and understand that prosperity has a progressive ring to its name. Prosperity rests upon a moral foundation of “the little drop of water makes a mighty ocean”; but people only see the physical ordinance of prosperity as difficult and challenging.
A little “i CAN do it” birth possibilities and open opportunities
Life become remarkable when we begin to see the power of small “CANS” and small “DOS” to make the big “DOS”. Little drop of water makes a paddle ; little pool of paddle makes a brook, a creek, stream, river and then ocean.
We cannot afford to throw away the small CANS in our lives by not noticing the wonders of it and its available differences it can create in our lives. Its time to know more about life of the small “CANS” instead of allowing the big cans you can not attempt presently to shroud your vision.
Small actions can have huge impact.
Success is also available in small “CANS”.
Little ”CANS” can create major difference in our lives.
“Break every boundary with your inner passion and you will get there successfully. Resist every chance to give up... Believe you can... Rise up after every fall... Be willing to win!”
― Israelmore Ayivor
Remember...Believe..Knowledge...Opportunities (Pink Ambition)
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Thursday, 29 January 2015

The vanity of our beauty-well being

...Perhaps they found it!
The vanity of our beauty-well being
And
The subtle confirmation that we are children of words from the world.
From every observation
We own the world to ourselves, by ourselves
We see what we look for ,
We hear from what we have seen heard
We love what we have seen loved by us
We love who we all want
But We live for what we don't have
And In the circle of our actions and needs, we live on bridges built, spoilt and often reconstructed without maintenance nor preservation.
-That's the meme.
Perhaps the words around our world should be the apple story enunciated by the lab-coats on total well-being
Yet
...Pieces broken daily
Jet lagging behind our scurried steps,
Luggage pierced
Broken bottles, inflated tubes, uncontrolled panels, records disturbed, strained bowels
Yet we pen down our needs by reconstructing the decay
And Packaging the good ,the affected with the infected.
Perhaps we have all found it
...the well being and beauty we seek for , justified by our ability to care for the exteriors
Perhaps we all seek reconstruction
As a beauty regimen that augment our vanity
Perhaps we seek more than that.
...Perhaps we need to reconstruct
When our lips look too sentimental ,
Our boobs too small for our world
And daily we cringe our neck at the heavily laden milk maid
Thus "architecting" our obsessions like the milk lassie in the dairy,
Perhaps the words of the world tell you to seek or the word says, “it can only look beautiful with a straight nose” or “ if only you can have the goddess' legs , the Selina's mouth, the Amber's jawline, the Rose's cheekbones and the Bella’s dancing eyes”.
...Perhaps we seek nothing that we have not found
Perhaps we ruin the world by the words of our needs
As we daily reconstruct the bridges that holds our esteem in tattered fragrance which we always want the world to sniff in our wake
Perhaps we are victims in the hands of those who reconstruct our bridges
Who on the spree of clinical ejaculation carve gravity muse for our powdered affection.
Perhaps we don't know ourselves
And We learnt the rudiment the wrong way
...walking the world for the words in a better beauty.
because our reconstruction came out good
we laid with the blade on our skin
caressing and , running its sharp ecstasy on our wanton flesh
strutting our stuffs and daily wishing for more.
It never stops; the hands that ticked on our flesh, cutting and laying waste the rest
It never stops; the need to have more, see more and be more of the words around our world.
Perhaps we see the truth in the lies that words around our world .
...Total well-being gravitate around inner well-being
Perhaps that’s not the truth.
We may hold our truth in our reasoning or obsession
But gravity is a stronger mien of the total state of beauty
Perhaps we don't all get it
and like the proverbial pigs with strange behaviour we have rushed to the sea unseen
all by the words around our world
We all live on the words for our world
We experience the words of our world in different areas
And we occupy the space of the words in our world,
...perhaps we do right ,
Perhaps we do wrong.
But then, for our reconstructed well being and beauty
Gravity is a stronger force!
And Society Pressure equals insecurities.

Thursday, 25 December 2014

A Yuletide letter

Hello Sis,
This is coming from the deepest of my heart, I felt a strong need to share this with you. A lot I have written about fearless females; a lot I have written on inspiration to spur you to your feet. I believe you have the right to know as I have shared the need for girls and women to believe, to seek knowledge that brings endless possibilities especially for those who have felt the need in one way or the other to do away with their tiara.

“It doesn't matter where a girl comes from as long as she knows where she is going”.

...I heard the whispers of a young girl in the hallway and she was silently stringing her skirt in her hands with eyes downcast and courage you could purchase for a nothing dollar.

...I saw the hunger in the young lady eyes, as she eyes the man behind the wheels; she saw opulence but his brake failure is due in two hours.

...I saw the haunted look on the face of the woman who viewed her wares as nothing but “pieces of shit”, not knowing that the next two hours rolls a Royce parked to demand for what she has.

...A look down memory lane confirmed what she already knew and where she will be heading to. For the hundredth time she purge herself with the round needle of despondency, wishing she hadn't gone flesh on flesh.

.. “Why build a career”,they ask, when all you need is packed right all over you. Your flaunt response got them amazed, yet you are not convinced their way is not the right way, as the benefits of this so called career is “soooooo help me God”.

... They sold you the line, you gulped in hurried exasperation “this business cannot succeed with someone like you”

The truth is...

Little girls cry for broken toys, ladies cry for broken hearts, women cry for broken lives. We cry even with our hands akimbo and we never ask why we cry while still holding custody of our vital parts?

The light on the roof top may be dim, but the actual light can be viewed by being in the room.

This year was tough, next year may be tougher but what you see depends on what you search for.

What you search for is the raison d’etre.

Broken crayon still colours; whether it is short, long or broken at both ends.

I hope you understand.
Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year.

With much love.
Remember... Believe... Knowledge... Opportunities (Pink Ambition)

Funmi Akerele.
www.facebook.com/pinkambitions
www.google.com/+FunmiAkerele
www.pinkambition1.blogspot.com
Twitter: @Pinkambitions1
Instagram: pinkambition1
Email: pink.ambition@ymail.com

Photo: A Yuletide letter

Hello Sis,
This is coming from the deepest of my heart, I felt a strong need to share this with you. A lot I have written about fearless females; a lot I have written on inspiration to spur you to your feet. I believe you have the right to know as I have shared the need for girls and women to believe, to seek knowledge that brings endless possibilities especially for those who have felt the need in one way or the other to do away with their tiara.

“It doesn't matter where a girl comes from as long as she knows where she is going”.

...I heard the whispers of a young girl in the hallway and she was silently stringing her skirt in her hands with eyes downcast and courage you could purchase for a nothing dollar.

...I saw the hunger in the young lady eyes, as she eyes the man behind the wheels; she saw opulence but his brake failure is due in two hours. 

...I saw the haunted look on the face of the woman who viewed her wares as nothing but “pieces of shit”, not knowing that the next two hours  rolls a Royce parked to demand for what she has.

...A look down memory lane confirmed what she already knew and where she will be heading to. For the hundredth time she purge herself with the round needle of despondency, wishing she hadn't gone flesh on flesh.

.. “Why build a career”,they ask, when all you need is packed right all over you. Your flaunt response got them amazed, yet you are not convinced their way is not the right way, as the benefits of this so called career is “soooooo help me God”.

... They sold you the line, you gulped in hurried exasperation “this business cannot succeed with someone like you”

The truth is... 

Little girls cry for broken toys, ladies cry for broken hearts, women cry for broken lives. We cry even with our hands akimbo and we never ask why we cry while still holding custody of our vital parts?

 The light on the roof top may be dim, but the actual light can be viewed by being in the room. 

This year was tough, next year may be tougher  but what you see depends on what you search for.

What you search for is the raison d’etre.

Broken crayon still colours; whether it is short, long or broken at both ends.

I hope you understand.
Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year.

With much love.
Remember... Believe... Knowledge... Opportunities (Pink Ambition)

Funmi Akerele. 
www.facebook.com/pinkambitions
www.google.com/+FunmiAkerele
www.pinkambition1.blogspot.com
Twitter: @Pinkambitions1
Instagram: pinkambition1
Email: pink.ambition@ymail.com

Thursday, 18 December 2014

Pink Ambition: “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have ...

Pink Ambition: “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have ...: “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child”  - Shakespeare I never thought it would happened I lost my nerves. ...
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child”  - Shakespeare

I never thought it would happened
I lost my nerves.
It was just one of those days, when you feel the sky is below and the earth is above
Grimly despondent
Staring emptily in a dead hawk gaze
I  couldn't believe everything has not conspired against  me
Have I really been blessed?

I love music boxes; but when the song from a box from an ear range  streamed the song “count your blessings”,
I gained the nerve to crush it.
“what blessings”
 I have lost some people this year
I had failed expectations
I lost contacts and contracts
I expected business to have moved a notch higher
I lost a fetus
I depended on  some, was left down by many
I took a step of faith, but fate dealt with me silently,
I  wore clothes many wished were not for my skin
I toiled,
Some months and  days have grumbled over the next ones
Some have been happily wished away
Some have wished they could stay for ever
I have been wandering in wonder lands
I have walked the desert like the magi
Feet soaked in the blood of the desert
Trekking like the missionary and with a long wand and robe I long to decipher the codes of “womanity”
I have cooked the best dishes
And also turned over the ones that tasted like dust
I have been involved
I loved
I had worn shoes
I didn't get lucky with,
I have heard haunted cries
I have seen the decays of dead bodies
I have seen the hollows of the dead and their anger at being crushed too early by people who they allowed to be their head
Their dead stench had risen to heaven with a sore grievance
I have seen their roasted bodies decompose with disgruntled contempt
And their burnt ashes smelled promises of a revenge.
I witnessed an accident
I was told about many of such
I was told a gory tale of rape where the shreds of her breadth were ripped with bare hands.
I shared the story of a mother
Whose daily dependence is on the assaults she endured to satisfy her demented society.
Do you remember that news in the far away land of tons of women shot down for some aghast beliefs against the patriarchy
I remember and yesterday I understood their blank stares and their tear dry complexion .
In remembrance of all things that has happened to me and the ones that has affected me I just could not comprehend why “counting blessing” is needed
Then...
A tiny thought escaped the abyss of my reverie
What if I did not have the nerve to experience all these
If I could remember all that had happened, that is indeed a blessing
A counted - disguised –blessings;
Am I grateful for lost nerves
Could be paying more for a damaged one
So in all I want to count my blessings
...starting from that first one  that happened a long time ago
I still remember how glad I was when I got the news
 am I  grateful to God?
Yes!
for lost nerves
and the nerves to find it.
Are you grateful?

Remember...Believe...Knowledge...Opportunities(Pink Ambition)



Funmi Akerele. 

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Photo credit: betweenuandme.com

Sunday, 30 November 2014

Personal Influence

Though the elevator only goes to the top floor, there is always a staircase to the roof.
Vincent Steininger 

Music boxes can be purchased anywhere.The songs from it are pre-recorded. Everyday listen may bore the heart and the music box can break off due to various replay. But some music boxes never stop playing- Our strong convictions. Our motivation.

We are the world’s greatest soldiers- Women.

We sing, hum and retain the music after the music box has finally found a resting abode.The songs of our hearts is like the deftness of our hands, working rigorously and gently to weave the idea we want to see.
The story of business as told by my grandmother will never fail to amuse me.

She said life is a wrapper we must tie around our waist or chest. She said the modern woman ties the wrapper on her waist because she has gained enough wisdom on the disadvantages of the wrapper on her chest. But the traditional woman ties the wrapper on her chest because the wrapped chest serve a lot of purpose. It serves as a bank, a safe, a beauty parlour, the fashion and even the home for all her desires.
The lesson is not where the wrapper is tied, but the lesson is the belief of the purpose, and the belief of what the wrapper signify for the two different women concerned. Every time they tie the wrapper in the different regions they are convince that it is the best place. Perhaps the chest is the best place, perhaps the waist befits the wrapper, but the conviction they hum in their heart is the conviction that their concept is the best. Women are not just managers, they are leaders, and we have been running empires from the world go. Despite challenges we never forget to hum the songs over and over till it reverberates what we want to see.

“I love the expression: we are the ones , we have been waiting for” . You cannot be different until you hum what you see about yourself. The world is the music box; they may fail. Your heart and your convictions for your passion, your purpose is the song hidden in the depth of your access- your heart.

What do you see, self motivate and influence yourself to see the roof when the world stops at their last floor. You are your best motivator, perhaps the world may hum the songs with you, that is if you never forgot the song from your hearts.

No product sells without the hearts involved.

What do you want to see, self motivate yourself to break your visions, augment your passion and soar. When the music box stops singing, the songs in your hearts reverberates, only you can hear the thuds of the songs, but people see the rhythm in the deftness of your fingers and the marches you strut around.

Personal influence is a song, only you know the rhythm, like i am singing now, you may not be able to guess the song but if you watch this page often you will see the dances like the splash of colours on the pages of the art that I am creating.

Speak, write move, pace. Dance, sing, launch forward, dive but never forget you best ally. You.

Influence your hearts to sing even after the old music box is broken.

Arise your compatriot – your hearts. Influence your passion with your convictions.

Its a brand new day and month!

Remember...Believe...Knowledge...Opportunities(Pink Ambition)

Funmi Akerele.

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Email: pink.ambition@ymail.com

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

*How does one mourn a friend?  Lara’s funeral is on Friday.  It’s been a long week for me and I am still confused.  My somehow scheduled and organize life has gone berserk, since the day I found the neigbourhood gathered in front of our house. Right in the midst of the confusion, our popular grapevine, the woman beside everybody’s house was able to share the story with much breaking news dexterity  “they said she just had her bath and she tripped and fell down their expensive staircase”.  That was our popular grapevine side to the story; she was always the first on the scene and no one has ever tried to beat her to it.
But I knew that wasn't the story, I can bet my life  that the story was different. So I rushed to their apartment to ascertain if my friend and only neighbour; the landlord’s wife was truly dead.

I met Tade, the deceased husband in tears.  Our eyes met, he looked down to look up again and confirm that my friend had truly died amidst tears and a bout of vigorous head shaking. Lara couldn't be dead; I looked around and my eyes went to where we sat two days ago analyzing the movie we watched about abuse. Lara couldn't be dead, even if she was dead; her death was too cheap. Lara whose face is a picture of every child’s innocence and whose friendship had come to mean a lot to me.

 I felt her death was too cheap. With this conclusion I decided to take control of everything amidst my anger, pain, confusion and annoyance at the deceased whose corpse had been taking to the mortuary after the unfortunate incidence.  I waited till the mourners left, and took Lara’s children to our flat.  I bathe them and as much as I would have loved to be the CIA, I waited till they finished their food. Kishi, the first child played around with his food. I believe that was expected considering the circumstances.
But Simi, just about 5 years old has always been the chatter –box, and she eat and talked at the same time without any idea of what was going on.

After her food and a little Ben Ten Series, I took them to the children’s room to rest. I knew Kishi was attached to his mum and would understand a bit of what had happened so I allowed him to sleep as he was not ready to talk to anybody. So I went to sit beside Simi’s bed and asked quietly “Simi did you see mummy fall”.
She nodded then went on to narrate the event of the day from the time they woke up, I couldn't stop saying “and then what happened” till she got to the news and right before it she yawned. I knew from experience what that meant and intuitively brought out my I-phone and opened to the content which never stopped to amaze her.
And quietly she said. ‘’Daddy slapped and push mummy at the top of the staircase and she hit her head on the wall, mummy tripped and fell down, then she slept.

I felt cold. It was a cheap death, because two month to this event, we both laughed over this possibility and she said Tade was a very good and noble man and would never do such.
His beatings had become a ritual, yet no one knew. Not even us the neighbour, until Lara told me. He was very discreet, very cheerful and conservative; the man who conserve all his energy and aptitude to beating his wife.

They were a wonderful couple, everywhere. He was a wonderful husband as we saw. A good father and a good landlord who at one time I had drawn comparison with, to the amazement of my husband who said he could see beyond his extra cool facade. Tade was an epitome of a good man in every area, yet he was a wife beater.

Is it possible to understand a dangerous situation and yet live with it, by it and for it? That was Lara. She lived with it and died by it.  No one can understand why some women don’t leave. Not because they don’t want to, but they believe they just couldn't.    
                                                                  
In Lara’s case I believe she had the idea that it was bad to leave her husband. Yet I couldn't understand why it wasn't bad that he was beating her. She was culturally wired to believe that, what she has worked for all these years will go down the drain if she walked out.

Psychotic? Isn't it?

But maybe not psychotic if you believe a lion would cut his claws and run back to your arms crying “please don’t wound me”.

I wonder why some women refuse to see the obvious, yet they could analyse it if it happened to another woman. I also wonder why abuse and violence is constructed to be the fault of the woman. How many times have we seen raw violence from a man to a woman or a woman to a man and we laugh it off as one of life’s occurrences. Or we say “There must be something wrong with her.  She must have a tongue as sharp as the devil too. 

Women die, lay bruised, and get abused everyday by their partner; because she never walked away nor report the incidence.  Not only in marriages but it also happens in relationships. I remember sharing with Lara about my sister who condoned a walk-in and out relationship because she believed she loved the man. Abuse is not necessarily when a man lays his hand on you; abuse is also when he abandons you in a relationship, walk out on you and believe he can walk in again. Even if he holds the magic wand, must he misuse it?  Abuse is when he impregnates you and walk out , then come back again to see if it’s has been taking care of so that he can pick up from where he stopped .

It is delirious that at this age of civilization things like this happen. Even your boss with a razor tongue has never seen the back of your hand so why should your wife.
Maybe she could, may she couldn't, maybe she feared to, but all in all there is a fear of the unknown which paralyses whatever action an abused person may want to take, because they are never sure if the abuse would simply end by their walking away.

Terrible!

Lara had a good degree, she knew and must have discussed during her days in the university that she will never condone violence or abuse on women. However, when it came to her, she could not leave. She put her degree aside, and thought more of her social disgrace and alienation until she landed herself in the grave.

 One of the things we believe, which is very detrimental to our safety, as women is that we make everything look easy, and our culture and society has dictated some uncouth ideologies about sufferance in marriage , abuse or domestic violence in marriage as a woman’s cross. We are wired to think we should  be the perfect woman, mother, and daughter, beautiful and make everything look easy. We try to balance everything, a little pain here a little pain there. Yet it is not simple. Bottling anger, oppression, abuse, and misuse should not be easy.

Yes, Lara had a good degree, but it became worthless the minute it had no voice, because her voice the voice of her knowledge must have told her the expected result. “What if I die?”, she should have asked.  He may marry again; even at marriage the children are still orphans because you can never be sure of the treatment meted to them .We are not only orphans by some circumstances but we are also orphans by the choices we make and the ones we refuse to make.

When we talk  about crimes committed against the defenseless, domestic violence against  women, the children, do we really talk about the impact it has on generation.  Every day, women are being mugged on the streets, sexually assaulted, harassed, date-raped, beaten and killed by their partners  and for some reasons we accept it. We accept slaps, the bruise, the knife cut, the knife wounds the blow we see on their faces, as the pains of matrimony. Lurking behind the perfect portrait of marital bliss can be a license holder of  marital torture and rape.

In my own case I believe telling her to get out was not enough. I should have done better .This is not a guilt trip, but I should have done better. I have never been hit by a man, just like some of us, not because we don’t have a razor sharp tongue or temperament to hurt the devil himself, but because we are just the lucky ones, and because they are the good ones. Even the docile without a razor tongue are still hit, so I deduce it is not a temperament issue. It is worse than that. I have heard stories of the "wonderful-man-beater-chocolate and flower bringer". What is the impact on the children that happened to see all these? Kishi refuse to talk about the death of his mother, Simisola kept asking when mummy will come. But give or take 2 years she may forget about her whereabouts and remember a mother that once cared.  Will Kishi take after his father? It is tucked down their memory, will they do it? Won’t they do it? Only God can tell the effect of that which they saw. 

Lara , am sorry  I didn't  go to the police with your story, even though you told me you  would deny it .
I am sorry that I didn't involve a higher authority. If I have confronted your husband, wouldn't it have been worse than this. I am sorry.

Despite cries, campaigns, injunctions, laws, violence still continues all around the world. Somewhere, somehow a voice is crying over a recently lost loved one who was murdered and silenced by an intimate partner.

This isn't just women’s issue. Women, children and men have the human right to be safe in their own homes. As Abraham Lincoln once said “The strength of a nation lies in the homes of its people.”
Lara I am sorry he finally killed you, much more am sorry he killed the little angel you carried within you. Her sojourn was just 12 weeks and four days when she snuggled down the abyss of her father’s violence. Adieu Lara.
As we mark yet another day for the elimination of violence against women  all over the world, I hope we will be  concerned to give more than a little thought to the bruises we have seen, the silent cries we have heard for help around us and help to stop the indiscriminate violence against the defenseless and against women around us.

*This is a social consciousness story by Funmi Akerele. Founder of Pink Ambition .

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