Surviving Decay…

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      (Photo credit: Flickr)

”Although the living is subject to the ruin of the time, the process of decay is at the same time a process of crystallisation, that in the depth of the sea, into which sinks and is dissolved what once was alive, some things ‘suffer a sea-change’ and survive in new crystallised forms and shapes that remain immune to the elements, as though they waited only for the pearl diver who one day will come down to them and bring them up into the world of the living.”

Hannah Arendt.

I saw this quote by one of the most brilliant minds of the twentieth century. I studied some of her writings, and was pretty impressed by her bluntness, ingenuity, and simplicity. Some  of her works are ‘The Origins of Totalitarianism, ‘The Human Condition,’ ‘On Revolution,’ and ‘The Human Mind.’

It’s a known fact that when we don’t really use our cognitive function, we rot and decay. It’s no wonder that people with warped views of the world and society caused most of the evil in this present age. In layman terms, cognitive function can be aptly described as ‘an intellectual process by which one becomes aware of, perceives, or comprehends ideas. It involves all aspects of perception, thinking, reasoning and remembering.’

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I won’t go into too much details about the lack of this important aspect of our civility as humans, I’ll just try to touch base with some of the setbacks we would experience if we don’t use our brains. Lack of cognitive function is responsible for most of the ills in our societies today. Citing the examples of religious bigots like Islamic State murderers, Boko Haram and serial killers whose brain have been irreparably damaged by their intellectual paucity, its little wonder that they believe in fables and riddles purportedly yarn to elicit their obedience.

Decay is essentially part of all living things, we are born, we live, we grow old or maybe not, and then we die and the decaying would start. All living things, especially humans, have the extraordinary ability to survive decay through our offspring, thought patterns, actions and deeds.

How do we leave great legacies behind? How do we defeat the theory of decay which governs all living things? It’s simple – our thought processes is as important as the air we breathe because that would ultimately affect our choices in life, beliefs, and the quotidian or relatively mundane life we led.

Another thing I wanted to point out, also by Arendt, was the effect of thoughtlessness in the life of human beings, it’s always disastrous to lead a thoughtless life. This was aptly described when Hannah Arendt went to Jerusalem on behalf of The New Yorker, to report the trial of Otto Adolf  Eichmann, who was accused of crimes against the Jewish people, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. Arendt described Eichmann as thoughtless;  quiet authentic inability to think. Succinctly put, absence of critical thoughts can actually turn us into a monstrous, stupid, or crass entity who could be easily blown apart by every wind of doctrine.

Critical thoughts are what makes us the higher beings, capable of making sane, rational decisions. That’s simply what differentiated us from animals.

Arendt is a political theorist but many scholars hailed her as a philosopher. I love reading her works, it makes me think deeply about life and society in general. The above quote could be used and interpreted in several ways, I have chosen my way and that is the fact that we can surely survive decay. We only need to think and we’re free to create a better life for ourselves and everyone around us. Life is in stages, enjoy it while you can and THINK before you act.

NP: The life of a writer is a lonely one, I’m still slaving away on my books hence the sporadic updates on my website. I’ll be visiting your blogs as time permits. I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts, I’ll love to read what you think. :)

Enjoy the rest of your week my friends!

Much love, always. :)

Brave Heart


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(Photo Credit: Flickr)

”Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Desmond Tutu


John Parker wanted to tell the kind man who’d saved him from death, but the words caught in his throat. He mumbled inaudibly then coughed loudly. He desperately wanted to unburden and bare his soul to Anselm but realised his new friend would probably call him a monster.

Time dragged on, and Parker waited. The silence in the room was as thick as a winter fog. How could he utter such words to a total stranger? How could he tell Anselm that his girlfriend of 12 years had been diced to pieces and kept inside his deep freezer. Why? Anselm may ask. ‘Oh,’ he may simply shrug his skinny shoulders and just give an excuse, maybe, because he caught her cheating and their seven-year old daughter, Amber, wasn’t his after all. How could he tell Anselm that he, Parker, was a psycho, a sociopath, a sadist whose pain went deeper than imagined? How in heaven’s name could he tell his new pal that he’d been in prison; a prison of the mind where walls whispered obscenities and the only respite he got would be to slash himself open. How could he say such words?

‘I don’t think I should be in this room,’ Parker finally said and a sad sigh escaped his trembling lips. ‘I should go now.’

He stood up but Anselm stopped him with a wave of his large hands.

‘Sit down,’ the older man said firmly. Parker obeyed, his eyes staring straight ahead.

‘You’ve done bad things. I see it in your eyes. Even there’s pain in death, killing yourself doesn’t make it all go away. Get yourself treated, ask forgiveness and turn yourself in. There’s still redemption son.’

John Parker stared at Anselm. His English was flawless, he’d dropped the German accent.

‘Who are you?’ Parker asked slowly.

‘I’m your conscience,’ was the apt reply and the room began to spin.

John woke up with a start, his heart beating wildly. He sat up and checked the bedside clock. It was 3 a.m. in the morning. He’d been dreaming, it was a huge relief but the incident in the dream wasn’t far from reality, his eyes sought his wife of 12 years who was sleeping soundly. He’d been hiding the voices in his head well, it was difficult explaining to his GP that he’d been battling severe depression for three years. After the loss of his job and his wife became the breadwinner, he’d slowly sunk deeper into the quagmire of depression.

There’s only one brave thing left to do, he tapped his wife gently on the shoulder, it’s better safe than sorry, he thought.


NP: Guys, I’m sorry I couldn’t post this story yesterday, I tried but life just got in the way. I totally had a different plot to this story but then, it occurred to me that men hide their frailty. They go through life as brave hearts, pillars, unmovable and then they crumple! If you’re a man reading this, please, don’t bottle things up if you’re not well. Life is in phases. Talk to your spouse, close friend or even your doctor. Depression affects a lot of people in our society today and some needless deaths could easily have been avoided if things hadn’t gotten out of hand.

The first part of this story is here if you want to catch up:

I hope you’ll all have a wonderful weekend!

Much love, always!! :)

Dreaming When Awake!


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(Photo credit: Flickr)

“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.” T.E. Lawrence


John Parker threw the cheque into the river Thames, his eyes darting everywhere like a man on opium. He dug his right hand inside the pocket of his chinos trouser and brought out a rumpled paper, he stared at it for what seemed like ages, then tentatively, inched forward, staring down at the dirty muddy water. He held the railings of the Tower bridge and contemplated his actions. Tourists trooped by, some gave him quizzical looks while others swept him away with the views.

He swallowed hard and heaved himself up but strong pairs of hands held him back. John Parker was stunned, he struggled but the hands stayed firm, locked, clasping his shoulders in a bear grip.

‘Let me go!’ Parker screamed like a trapped animal. Quickly, a crowd had gathered. Some lifted their phones to film the unfolding drama while the hands which held Parker spoke rapidly to someone in German, ‘Annette , könnten Sie bitte die Polizei rufen ? Nein, rufen Sie 999 ,’ (Annette, could you please call the police? No, call 999)  Parker realised his plans had gone awry and he hung his head in shame. The strong hands gently led him out of the crowds.

Twenty minutes later, John Parker sat in a hotel with the hands which actually belonged to a huge bear-like fellow with a weather-beaten face, scattered brown hair and very kind eyes.

‘My English no good, but me understand well,’ The man said quietly.

Parker nodded, wiping sweats off his face with the back of his hand.

‘Thanks for saving my life, it was a stupid thing to do,’ John Parker said, trying to avoid the eyes of his rescuer.

‘Okay, okay, my name Anselm.’

‘I’m John Parker.’ They shook hands and Parker began his story…


Hello friends,  I hope everyone is okay. I’ve not written short stories on my site for a while, and I thought, why not? So this is a story that’s filled with life’s truths. I would post the penultimate part on Friday. Mull on the quote before the story and please, don’t stop dreaming positively!

Much love, always! :)





In the Spotlight: Author Seyi David

Seyi sandra:

I hardly find time to blog nowadays, writing a new book(s) is a long and arduous journey. That was why I was pleasantly surprised when Nadine decided to shed the spot light on me! I was taken aback by her kind generosity in writing the feature, and also, the love and loyalties of my friends always amazes me. Thanks guys! :)

Writing is the easiest part while advertising is the hardest job on the planet, even for the effervescent writer like my humble self.

Dear friends, do visit Nadine’s website, not only to peruse the feature written on my behalf but she has so many great stuff on that website of hers. I would continue to visit as many blogs as I can, and hopefully before the end of the week, I would update my website.
I’ve missed you guys soooo much!

Much love, always!! :)

Originally posted on nadine tomlinson | live, love, write:

Today’s feature is about a woman with big dreams, a bigger heart, and the Aha! moment that inspired her latest novel.

Meet Seyi David

© Seyi David © Seyi David

Seyi David loves to write, and has done that for several years. She has worked as a reporter, teacher, and accountant. She had a brief stint as an actor while at university, before she finally decided to write novels full-time.

She is a committed blogger and a columnist for Black Heritage Today, a London-based Magazine, and Rev Up Media. Her first novel, The Impossible President, sold out of its first print run in 2004. She wrote a short story, “Tales of Five Lies”, which gripped readers worldwide. The Feet of Darkness, her second novel, is still on sale worldwide. Her latest work of fiction, Cydonia: Rise of the Fallen, is out now.

Seyi lives in London with her husband Kay, and three…

View original 922 more words



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It’s kind of crazy but I’m in a creative dilemma. I’ve got two abandoned projects (two books with different story plots) that I want to reopen and I’m feeling very ambitious. Should I work on the two books simultaneously? Or, finish one before embarking on the other one?

I’m kind of between the devil and the deep blue sea on this one. I could defeat the devil and get a boat to cross the sea, can’t I? :)

What do you think guys?

I really need your advise!

Much love, always! :)




”It is said that in 1923, seven of the world’s most successful men met at a Chicago hotel: the president of the largest independent steel company, the president of the largest utility company, the greatest wheat speculator, the president of the New York Stock Exchange, a member of the President’s Cabinet, the president of the Bank of International Settlements and the president of the world’s greatest monopoly. Collectively these tycoons controlled more money than there was in the United States’ Treasury.

Now, fast forward 25 years and let’s see what happened to them. Charles Schwab, president of the largest independent steel company, lived the last five years of his life on borrowed money and died a pauper. Arthur Cooger, the greatest wheat speculator, shot himself. Richard Whitney, president of the New York Stock Exchange, spent three years in prison. Albert Fall, a member of the President’s cabinet, went to prison for bribery. Leon Fraser, president of the U.S. Bank of International Settlements, shot himself. Ivan Kreuger, head of one of the world’s largest monopolies, also committed suicide. If the recent economic upheaval has taught us anything, it’s that money brings neither security nor happiness.”

I agree with the writer of the above stories that we ought to use our money to reach a hurting world with love because that’s the essence of life, the only way we could truly live. I read this a few weeks back and it had a profound effect on me and I thought, why not throw this open and find out what others think?

Now I’ve got a question for you guys! Where do you think you’ll be in 25 years? I get to choose the best answer and whosoever got this right and I’m sure many would. :) would enter my world of creation, which means that I’ll use the best answer to write a short story based on the commenter’s vision of the kind of life he or she would be living in 25 years’ time.

In the meantime, you can all listen to these awesome guys, their song is truly refreshing! You can achieve a lot if you put your mind to it! And in 25 years, you could be on top of the world…

I know I’m creature of impulse but I just feel like doing this! :)

So where do I think I’ll be 25 years time? Hmmmnn, I wonder…

Love you always guys! :)

In The Beginning… There Was Nothing…



That was how it was.

The Beginning of time. Time is predominately the controller of our destiny, but then, I believe that in life, time would not have meaning without proper documentation. Therein lies the work of a writer. I’d always told all who cared to listen that I would die a writer, and I mean it. If I become the Prime Minister today, I won’t feel fulfilled if I stopped writing. It’s like the air I breathe. Almost all my friends knew of the recent event in my life, and that really crippled me somewhat because I sort of lost that desire to write… I simply lost interest but now, I’m back and it’s as if I’ve never taken a hiatus, I guess I simply needed to rest.

With that out of the way. I’ve been graciously invited by Sherri Matthews of to join in a blog hop, she splashed my shy face on her blog a few weeks ago and today, she’s my muse! :)

Here’s the lovely Sherri!


Isn’t she gorgeous?

Sherri has worked in both the legal and medical fields but her defining and most fulfilling career was that of full-time mum for many years to her three, now grown children. Widowed young, remarried twice more, Sherri has faced many challenges, both in her home country of England and in California, where she lived and raised her family for almost 20 years.

The call of the pen beckoned throughout but it wasn’t until 2011 when Sherri lost her job due to office closure and her daughter was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome that she began to pursue her writing dream.

Now, while writing her first book*, Sherri writes articles, poetry, short-stories and flash fiction, some of which have been published in national UK magazines (Prima and Your Cat), as well as writing on her blog, ‘A View From My Summerhouse’.  She also guest blogs for a variety of websites.

Today, Sherri lives, writes, walks, gardens and takes endless photographs in the West Country of England, happily with her husband, daughter, two cats and a corn-snake called Charlie (her daughter’s, acquired after many years of persuasion).

In Sherri’s words, she passionately describes her writing career as progressive: Read that here:

”I can best define my writing process in a few short words: I fly by the seat of my pants. I struggle to rein in my writing discipline and have yet to attain a working balance, even though on an ideal day I get all my off-blog writing completed first thing in the morning before I dare check my emails.

However, ideal days don’t happen very often. So many writing projects vie for my attention and I know this is all-too common for many writers. I am learning, I hope, to listen to the writing voice that yells the loudest!

The problem is that I could write all day (on my book) and nothing else would get done. When I decide to take a ‘quick look’ on my blog, the day is lost. Certainly, I write every day. Just not on my book.

This is something I am working on changing and hope to achieve in the very near future. A cottage by the sea for six months without any internet would be very nice…maybe!

Still, I am making progress, albeit slowly! As I press on with my book, I am soon to have a poem and a ‘slice of life’ story published in two anthologies. I am also pursing ideas for putting together some of my poems, photographs and musings borne out of my private struggles (in pain and joy) while helping my beautiful ‘Aspie’ daughter navigate through life. 

It is only recently that I dared to call myself a ‘Writer’. Ultimately, I pursue the holy grail of writing so that I might, one day, be able to say that I am a ‘Published Author’.”

You can find a lot about Sherri on this awesome sites:

*Memoir Book Blurb:


Facebook Page:



Sherri is a fantastic friend and a precocious writer. I can’t wait to devour her book when it’s out, hope you would too. Do me a favour and stop by her site to see what I’ve raved about! :)

It’s good to be back blogging fully. I would still be stopping by your blogs as soon as I could! Much love to you my friends and do enjoy the rest of this rainy week (at least in London!)

Peace! :)

Seyi David