TIME

*Please visit my new website:

https://ssdfilms.wordpress.com/

It is packed with unseen footage of my new documentary ‘Chasing Humans’, I am also using the website for one of my Master’s degree course. I would be publishing new articles on it today and every fortnight. I would also appreciate any comment and discussion on the blog.*

Thank you, guys! ūüôā

Artist John Seymour Lucas 1849-1923. Dated 1885

 

The world is still reeling from the effects of Coronavirus, here in the UK, we have the second-highest number of deaths in the world. It’s nothing to be proud of, it is heart-wrenching. I know a few people who have been affected by the passing of a loved one, believe me, it is not a good place to be.

Life is beautiful and challenging at the same time. When my dad passed away, I thought the world has come to an end, and when my family and friends consoled me with the fact that, time is a great healer, I didn’t believe them.

Is time really a healer? How do we tell the thousands of people who have lost loved ones that time heals? In my experience, time doesn’t stop the pain, even time cannot replace a loved one. Time can only give you the space to grieve and come to terms with their passing.

I think of my dad every day, just like that painting of the artist John Seymour Lucas, we can never replace time lost. It’s gone forever. However, we can cherish the memories, and hold them dear to our hearts.

As I was rummaging through the cellar today and found this precious painting of the artist Seymour Lucas, so we can check through our memories and find treasures of loved ones, who have been locked safely away bursting forth in our hearts. We can recapture times of joy, of laughter permeating through the fog of sadness, shining gloriously through the tears and sorrow.

TIME doesn’t heal, it helps us in our moment of weakness, to reclaim everything we hold dear.

Much love, always! ūüôā

Looking Through Heaven‚Äôs Eyes

 

I love the story of redemption. The ability to be able to start again, rebuild and succeed appeals to me immensely.

And that’s what heaven did through Jesus’s crucifixion on the cross. No matter how bad we’ve erred the fact that there is redemption means heaven is looking at our frailty through the eyes of grace.

I am a product of heaven’s grace through the redemptive power of Jesus, and I am proud of that.

 

I leave you with this song from the Prince of Egypt ‘Through Heaven’s Eyes,’ it blesses my soul. Have a fabulous week ahead, friends!

Much love, always!

ūüôā ūüôā

Chasing Humans: A Poetic Film

”Human life is as evanescent as the morning dew or a flash of lightning.’‘ – Samuel Butler. I agree because life and love is a journey. Find out more in this short documentary I wrote and directed with a friend.

 

Here’s a transcript of the film:

Life is a journey, and it starts with a cry… the cry of a new-born baby. It ends with moans, groans, or the contented sigh of an older man or woman who’s led a fruitful life.

Or it can end in running feet, a chase, a stab, searing pain, blood splattered on the sidewalk, the cold street receding away as a young life flitter away into nothingness…

A life cut short…

Humans are chasing humans and killing without thought or regard for the pains inflicted on unfamiliar people.

Life can end well, or, it may end in tragedy.

Twenty years ago, I got married to the man of my dreams, and two years later, I was in the hospital, in labour, and anticipating the birth of my son.

It was a complicated process. A short life, my son passed away two days after he was born.

My life stopped briefly.

I didn’t know how to process my grief. I cried every night, and I prayed every night.

Days passed. Time didn’t wait for my grief. And I healed with the love of my husband and family.

Three months later, there was a miracle.

I was pregnant again. This time, everything felt different, but I was hiding my fears. I smiled openly while I cried and cringed inside, wondering if the new life growing inside me would live, and survive.

Nine months later, I welcomed another son.
He lives. He’s kind and makes me laugh. He’s energetic and loves life. I had two more children, a daughter and another son.

My family means everything to me.

But something is wrong.

I’ve lived in London for over fifteen years, and every time there’s a young life wasted on the streets, I remember the child I lost.

Although my son died as a new-born baby and in different circumstances, I relive the pain every time I read or watch the news of another senseless killing of young people on our streets.

My eldest son is now 17. He’s brilliant and hardworking. He had one of the best GCSE results in his school, and he’s currently studying Medicine at A levels. He wants to be a doctor. Samuel wants to help and make our society a better place for everyone.

But should I be afraid anytime he’s out of the house? Or because of the colour of his skin?

Can I have hope that things will improve, and that love may conquer hatred, racism, anger and the ugliness inherent in the human soul?

My son believes in a better society, a better world.

Rafael Benedetti wants the world to see goodness in him. Fay Beneddeti intends to champion the course of women and family. These people are keen to see positive changes in our society.

Maybe, there is hope Afterall.

I won’t be afraid anymore.

Hope, no matter how fleeting is still better than fear.

Loving humans can be a reality while chasing humans could become a myth.

I hope love wins!

I want life to end well for our young people.

Let’s start from the beginning.

Seyi Sandra David.

 

Smile, It’s Christmas!

 

Our Scorned, Scorched Planet!

 (Photo Credit: Flickr)

Scientists have now issued a warning that in a couple of decades, some parts of our planet may become uninhabitable. I beg to differ, some parts of our world are already uninhabitable. Our patched, long-suffering planet has endured human’s degradations for millennia; we don’t care about our world; we hate each other and are so quick to point out our differences, perhaps¬†I am doing the same thing, but this article is meant to be constructive.

I don’t mean for this article to pander to¬†any group of people¬†but everyone. Recently, I¬†watched a film titled,¬†‘Knowing’ and it’s about our world being destroyed by a massive solar flare which inevitably made the earth uninhabitable and in a creepy twist of fate, scientists are echoing the same thoughts. They are not predicting a solar flare will obliterate our world as we know it, they are warning us about climate change, but what they aren’t telling us to change is our attitude to everything on this planet.

 (Photo credit: Google)

Humanity has descended so low that everything is about race and religion, and this is so sad. I wanted to write an article about love, bravery, and selflessness but I am finding it increasingly difficult to do so. A young boy lost his life in a house fire today in South East London, and yet on Yahoo, people were commenting¬†on the colour of his skin¬†and his parents’¬†race? It’s unbelievably sad.

There’s an increase in knife crime among black youths in London, and when a young life is lost, people hardly care, and that same attitude is unequivocally linked to our lack of empathy. We have grouped ourselves into white/black Muslim/Christian Catholic/Protestants etcetera. And it’s the same around the world, we have created this sick, twisted ideology we’re better than¬†the next person¬†if we belong to a particular race or religion.

There’s divisive politics, people hate with their eyes but smile with their teeth. We are so petty and care only for ourselves. We satisfy our cravings for depravities in the most deplorable fashion possible it’s laughable.

I am keen to see a time when we would truly love one another with no inhibitions. Sadly, it’s a human condition, we are suspicious and find it difficult to relate to people who don’t look or think like us. However, there is that basic instinct that connects us all, our DNA. It differentiates us from animals, the ability to think, feel and¬†vocalise our¬†emotions through words. Maybe animals love and feel (I’m not an expert on that) but not on our level, and¬†I suppose the ability to express our feelings¬†should make us a better entity. We should be¬†able to take care of our environment and the people around us.

I am an optimist, but just as our earth is groaning under the burden of our selfishness and nonchalant attitude toward climate change, maybe, we will finally be able to do something together and eschew our petty differences.

Climate change is real!

The Grace of a Nightingale: An Odyssey Of Survival

 

photo of woman wearing white hat

Photo by Pete Johnson on Pexels.com

I had the wonderful privilege of¬†reading¬†an inspiring¬†article on Arrow Gate’s website. The post was about a nonfiction¬†book¬†written by a woman with a big heart. Mary Anne Willow. Her memoir titled, ‘The Grace Of A¬†Nightingale’ would be published soon.

Mary Anne touched on¬†many things, depression, divorce, suicide, hope in the midst of despair and¬†vaginal Mesh, a procedure recently suspended due to the complications many women faced when they had it done. You can’t hide what’s in your heart, and Mary Anne’s got lots to share with the world. Why not click on the link below and read about this?¬†And maybe when the book’s out, you would all read the story of this awesome woman.

I can’t wait to see this memoir in print. It depicted the resilience of the human’s spirit. We need books like this in the world.

That’s all for now friends.

I hope we’ll all enjoy the rest of our weekend.

Much love, always! ūüôā

via The Grace of a Nightingale: An Odyssey Of Survival

Walking The Green Mile

                                                                        (Photo credit: Flickr)

‘The Green Mile’ is a 1996 serial novel written by the prolific writer Stephen King. I watched the movie a few days ago and the finality of the film astounded me. The film also expounded on living, healing, empathy, racism,¬†supernatural, love, and friendship,

Someone once wrote that we’re all on death row, it’s a price we have to pay for being alive. The important thing is, have we lived at all?

Now today, I would like to write about living your life to the fullest. Which brought me to this song ‘Forever Young.’ I¬†loved it when it came out,¬†the only song by ‘Jay-Z’ that I¬†understood, although I must confess I don’t know the lyrics to most of the rapping but it’s a song that filled me with nostalgic memories.

Growing up in the idyllic town of Ilorin in Africa, life was simple and filled with lots of laughter. There¬†was this carefree attitude to things, I believed I would¬†be forever young. I was a bookworm, if I wasn’t singing¬†in the church choir, you’ll find me in choreography¬†practice. I loved my¬†growing-up years.

Now twenty-five years later, things I took for granted then are so important now. The fierce sun blazing relentlessly on my pale skin, the cold December month squeezing the blood out of my lips, running away from my mum after plundering the pantry, checking my dad’s room for loose coins, chasing after my cantankerous brothers, watching¬†horror films with my favourite¬†brother and, daydreaming about the future!

What did I miss? Oh yes, my first kiss!¬†Oh, my! That was something else, and I won’t be getting into that now.¬†I am discovering new memories;¬†I am telling new stories with my family, friends, and people I associate with.

The thing with life and living is, every moment is significant, and we need to cherish it. As we walk down the green miles of our lives, let’s leave a jolly legacy.

I intend to do just that.

I believe everyone would have a wonderful Bank holiday, at least here in the UK. If you’re my friend and reading this from other parts of the world, have a blast this weekend! ūüôā

Much love, always!

 

The Buffalo’s Mum

 

(Photo credit: Flickr)

As dusk descended upon the savannah, there was a stampede. The gang of tough looking Buffalo scattered into disarray when a couple of lions charged into their midst looking for easy prey.

They spotted one. A dazed calf confused by the ensuing mêlée was the easy prey. The Lions went in for the kill as the savannah swallowed thundering dust. The herd scattered into the surrounding darkness. However, a miracle was in the offing. Never doubt the love of a determined mother!

I watched mesmerised as mother buffalo went back into the fray and fought off the marauding gang of the lion pride. They had managed to ambush the fledging calf and were about to settle down to dinner when Mama buffalo barged down in fury.

The rest of the herd charged back in support.

I wiped a tear away.

That buffalo¬†is just like my mum, always rushing to my aid, to her, I’m still her baby, always there to support, guide and give advice.

Mama Buffalo saved her calf, like all mothers, either human or animals would have done.

I love you mum, and it doesn’t have to be only on mother’s day!

I hope everyone’s having a wonderful Sunday. I am still recuperating, it’s taking longer than expected but hey, that’s life. You take the good with the tricky.

I will visit some of your websites as soon as possible. Much love to you all wherever you are in the world!

Anyone has any story about mothers? Please share in the comment below.

 

ūüėÄūüėÄ

 

Let Go?

”Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring,¬†all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”

Leo Buscaglia.

I would be a¬†year older tomorrow. I came home from work today and found myself¬†trawling through some motivational articles to make sense of the¬†impending days ahead, and then I stumbled¬†on the short article below. I¬†believe I should share it¬†and I am keen to find out your thoughts on this¬†though. Do you agree with the author’s point of view? Or maybe you don’t, why?

******

‘They say that, at some point, you learn to let go. I must disagree. If it just takes one moment to let go, then you never really held on tightly enough. To a dream. To a goal. To a place. To a person. To anything. I believe that you let go little by little. You let go a little, then hold back on, but with a little less force until you fully release yourself. And the tighter you old on, the more force you let go with. The deeper you dive, the higher you‚Äôll fly. The closer you get, the further you‚Äôll pull away. The weaker you feel, the stronger you‚Äôll become. So do not be ashamed of your weaknesses. We all have them. You must learn to be kind to yourself. You must learn to understand yourself. You must believe in yourself. Never think that you are a bad person. Differentiate between your self-worth and your actions. To say that you are bad is different from saying that you made a mistake. You can‚Äôt fix yourself, but you can fix a mistake. And remember, not one person on this earth is perfect. We all make mistakes. We all fall. We all have flaws. We just need to look within ourselves and treat ourselves as humans who are worthy of respect and hope. Do not give up on yourself. Get back up. Be brave. Be happy.”

Najwa Zebain

Najwa is a Lebanese Canadian author who self published her book, ‘Mind Platter’ in January, 2016 by Createspace. She is a deep thinker¬†and writes from a wealth of experience. I don’t know her personally but I sincerely believe in her story.

I hope you’ll all have a fantastic weekend!

Much love, always! ūüôā

A Liar In Heaven

Tobias Amos slid the knife into the drawers, stealing a quick look back. He stared at his hands in dismay; it was as red as the sweet chilli sauce Mama bought a day earlier.

‘Where are you, Tobias?’

Mama’s voice bellowed a few yards away.¬†He scanned the room in nanoseconds; saw the red gown Mama loved wearing on special occasions hanging loosely on the sparsely filled wardrobe. He dashed towards it, yanked it off the rails, wrapping it delicately around his crimson fingers, allowing the blood to soak through, his eyes the colour of a limpid pool.

He closed his eyes and was transported to the events of eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds earlier. He could feel the knife ripping through the supple milky flesh, the bones cracked, the gurgles of blood splintered about the basement like the paintings of Michelangelo. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long scrawny neck.

Mama entered the tiny room, she took in everything, the deranged look on her son’s face belied the calmness she felt. Tobias Amos¬†stood still like a statue, watching his mother’s reaction.

There was an uneasy silence.

‘What have you done?’ She asked in an icy tone, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

There was no answer.¬†He kept his eyes down, all the feeling of conquest and elation he’d felt had evaporated like a mist in the night.

‘Tobias Amos, what have you done?’ This time, Mama inched closer, towering over her whimpering son, whose bravado had dissipated…

******

I haven’t written for¬†quite a while¬†but today, this just came pouring out. I have lots of manuscripts I’m working on, and lumping this with other unfinished projects is a mammoth task. However, I don’t believe in letting a good story plot go to waste. We’ll see how this goes!

I hope you’ll all have a wonderful weekend. I’ve visited several websites and blogs, if I haven’t been to yours, please bear with me, I’ll touch base soon.

Much love friends!

:):)