Have you given yourself permission?

Let’s start with some music first. Me playing my rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ – that eternal melody.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch, like me
I was once lost, but now I am found
was blind but now I see.

What do you think of my rendition? Is it bad? Is it good? Is it average? Really, it does not matter what you think – for we all have our prejudices, our biases; and art, as is life, is subjective. What matters is that I’ve given myself permission to play the tune, then went ahead and played it.

Perhaps, by now, you could be building a million-dollar business, but you are waiting for external validation. You are waiting for another person or other persons to give you the go ahead. Know what my sister? Know what my brother? You are enough to give yourself permission. In fact, you are more than enough. For you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Yes, sister. Yes, brother. You are created in His likeness. You are a majestic being. His Glory and His Grace is in you.

So, go ahead, give yourself permission:

Permission to start that business
Permission to apply for that job
permission to seek (find) love
Permission to forgive yourself
Permission to let go
Permission to stop drinking, or procrastinating, or (doing) whatever is dragging you behind. Sister. Brother. Give yourself permission to be great. To fly close to the sun. To swim in the deep. Yes. To be great, seek His Favour, His Grace. And, give yourself permission to be. To do.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYgv2XZsgys&t=76s

(Meanwhile, get my short stories collection at: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/)

Comments

My-Once Molly (thinking of Valentine),

My-Once Molly… the girl who broke my heart, the one who got away, the one who promised me the world and left me to survive alone – typical of our Kenyan politicians… I hope you are good. Now, as February – the month of love – lurks about, I find myself thinking of you. Thing is, my dear Molly, I have new neighbours. A young couple, very much in love like we once were. The young lady, her name is Val… maybe Valentine… I don’t know. This Val, a spirited girl with rich, deep, heaving laughter - almost like yours. Her smile… ah! You should see it. The shine of the morning sun distilling the dew upon cool meadows… I am totally in love with her. Alarmingly, she teases me much and I am getting ideas… Molly, dear, wherever you are, please pray for me… the temptation is too much. If you don’t, the frail creature that I am may fall. This, despite having numerous songs in my playlist to warn me. Invariably, Majengo – that infamous locale – does a dishonourable appearance in most of them… ‘Maj...

My Once-Molly (Political versus Business Ethics),

Dear Molly. How are you? As always, I hope you are well. You know, there is something about you, something that made me inspire for better. Was it that rich smokers’ laughter of yours? The daring twinkle that flashed in your eyes when you were angry? The tight curl in your lips when you were about to lash out? Anyway, Molly, I continue with my business training. I am now thinking of business as warfare – the honourable kind of warfare; chivalry, observing the rules… not the Machiavellian 48-Laws-of-Power warfare where there is no honour, but only winning. Politics of deceit, our president calls it. Well, these past couple of days have been chilly… a precursor to June’s biting cold? Anyway, I am more often sad than happy during the cold months of June and July. I totally blame this on Sam Kahiga’s short story, ‘The Last Breath’ – if my memory serves me right. Off the ‘Encounters from Africa’ anthology. There is a way he made June and July sad. Pretty much like you wouldn’t tai...

My-Once Molly (Praying for a Rainbow),

Dear Molly, I hope you are ok and are keeping safe in these floods. As for me, I am heartbroken. I am in pain. My mind, my body, my spirit aches. I am numb with grief. As is the nation of Kenya. The picture just won’t get out of our minds – the father, trudging stoically, his dead, muddy son slung over his shoulder. It’s a devastating image… the screams, elsewhere, as a boat capsizes, the swollen river swallows a lorry… Izrael has visited the land. Dear Molly, a while back, the nation faced drought. Then, images of dead livestock, emaciated men, women and children, parched, cracked earth, haunted our screens. Elsewhere where there was a glut in food production, the farmers cried for their fellow starving countrymen. They demanded for lorries to traverse the rutted roads and take the produce to their brethren… collectively, we prayed for rain. Dear Molly... will we ever catch a break as Kenya? The Covid-19 pandemic that paralysed lives and livelihoods in 2020 as we recovered from th...

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