Here In Paradise…

                                                                                    (Photo credit: Flickr)

On Friday, March 10th, 2017, it was precisely 7.25 in the morning as I walked up the steps of Westminster Station en-route my office. I walked briskly, mentally calculating ‘my-to-do-list’ for the day and then like an image out of a disaster movie, I saw two people, a man and a woman. The man was hovering over the woman, his lips quivering, his gait was like a man under the influence of alcohol, he tried to move away from the woman and almost fell. My gaze turned to the woman, her pale face had obviously borne the brunt of living on the street. Her face was lined with weariness, her eyes devoid of happiness.

I stopped in my tracks.

I didn’t know if I should offer money, or simply give a hug. People pushed past me, a man swore under his breath, but it was loud enough for me to hear the words. I fidget with my bag and moved out of the way, my heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched them.

The man and the woman were oblivious of my presence, and sadly, I turned away.

Here in paradise, (at least that could be the thoughts of millions of people in other parts of the world) we shouldn’t have homeless people. Throughout the day, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. There was something about that couple, they may as well be working in one of the imposing offices in Whitehall, or maybe, as tourists keen to see where most decisions in the UK were made.

Centerpoint is a charity here in the UK helping homeless young people but what about middle age people, old men and women? I have a passion for the homeless, although I’ve read that some do make themselves ‘intentionally homeless,’ but still, I couldn’t expunge their image out of my mind.

I did some further research and realised that there are many homeless charities all around us. Below are some of the charities in London:

I think if we live in paradise, we should be able to do more for people less fortunate than we are (I know, we’re not all millionaires but we could always volunteer at a homeless shelter). I will volunteer at some of these wonderful charities doing such wonderful jobs, changing people’s lives.

If you’re living in other parts of the world, it wouldn’t hurt to give money to a beggar you see on the street or a homeless person. Some of you reading this may think, ‘well, she’s so naïve, most of these folks are drug addicts and rapists… maybe murderers.’

Maybe, some of them are, but some aren’t. Life’s just dealt them a hard hand.

Maybe Phil Collin’s song, ‘Another Day In Paradise’ would be a great way to finish this article.

I hope you’ll all enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Much love to you friends, always!

🙂 🙂

 

 

Advertisements

Insatiable Fools…

8420856299_cddcb313a1_b

We Only Have One Shot At Life!

Like ducks, they suck up wealth, gulping with little regards to the poor.

Like darkness, they attract light but powerless to overcome it.

Like mould, they dance with filth in their regale splendour.

Like moot, they put argument forward and steal joy.

Like hurricane, they devastate and destroy.

Like dirt, they accumulate.

Like ghost,

It would all float away!

They are the insatiable fools…

******

I watched a very interesting, and rather unnerving drama called ‘The Joneses’ with my husband yesterday. It was such a very unexpected film. The film dealt with greed, and how humans just like the idea of accumulating wealth, jealous of other people’s successes and the mad, crazy, rush to have it all. It might be because I’m approaching the big four zero, but life isn’t really about all we can accumulate materially but all we can do to reach out to others, and being better people!

Phil Collins said it best in his song ‘Another Day In Paradise.’ It was and still is, one of my favourite songs of the nineties! Check it out;

 Enjoy the rest of your week my friends! I hope you’ve all had fun so far, please, keep safe!

Much love, always!!

🙂

Home

1254534_30817637

Home is a place of refuge, refuge from the storms of life.

A home is not a house.

I walked pass an overhead bridge and saw tattered luggage scattered everywhere.

My heart lurched in sorrow, and I wondered what makes someone

Lose a home.

I saw a man’s face, peering out of the darkness, the man’s face scared me but I was curious all the same.

I walked home, sad because I know by morning, he would be gone.

Killers and murderers even found refuge in the

comfort of a home.

Oscar Pistorius is one.

If you have a home,

Thank God, if not,

You can find

A home if you

don’t lose

Heart.