Thought Box

“GODritude” (an attitude of gratitude towards God.

God is described in so many different ways by different people. In fact, to some He does not exist. Not the God of christians or that of spiritualists, there simply is none.

Gratitude is relative. It is experienced and expressed in various ways and forms. I for instance have spoken of “love languages” which are sometimes used to express gratitude for the existence of others or their presence in one’s life. Or to share in what one has been blessed with.

So what is “GODritude”? 

The simple answer; A term I coined whilst rolling around on my bed on a Thursday night, while trying to avoid this somber trail that has befallen my timeline. Listen, there was some quarrel about how to form the word, if to use it, how to use it and how it would be received. I honestly wouldn’t want to offend anyone. Thankfully, the meaning I have attached to my newly formed favourite word, allowed for the progress of this piece.

I complain, a lot. Sometimes in the private rooms of my mind, but boy I can go on. I sometimes complain myself into literal depression and lose an entire day sobbing hopelessly in bed (I seem to really like my bed huh?) Anxiety has it’s hand in this but we will revisit that topic another time. 

I also get snippy with God a bit too often of late. I am of the Christian faith, but I have had the privilege of experiencing God as a similar but different (in a good way) entinty to friends of different religions, cultures. I suppose I have had quite a few meaningful conversations with my maker, but more recently, I imagine He has thought of extending his being into a human hand big enough to slap me upside the head and bless me with a godly dose of sense. 

Yes, I wish I could only speak of good things, share good memories, make use of a completely healthy & clean tongue but as life would have it, this is pretty close to impossible. However, isn’t there still so much good surrounding one’s existence? If you have become blinded to your blessings, which happens often to most of us, try this here trick. It’s old, but it works, and we will give it a modern twist.

Thank heavens for social media (See, the gratitude seeping in). Now log on to twitter, scroll past the celebrities, blessees and bloggers and click on the handle of a reputable newspaper outlet. Now read only the titles. As you do, provoke your imagination to place you in some of those situations or events. Your mind may fail in some instances to simulate the very emotions, mental burden, trauma or confusion that would have gushed generously over your being had it been you. Unfathomable.

In my complaint state, my mind has moved from “I wouldn’t cope with this, and it could happen to me” to “God, but why should it happen at all, to anyone?”. And as written in a blog post long before He simply responds “If not you, then who”.

A friend of mine sometime ago insisted that we never fall asleep until we affirm something we are grateful for. This friend would call, listen to your long story about your long and horrible day and still remember to ask, “So what are you grateful for?”. In the same way that we make an adult choice as far as who we wish to be and how we wish to live, one must make a choice about how you perceive your God. I have the option of God the tyrant who is waiting on every false move to whip me in to shape with pain, death or disaster. The other option is God of love, the God who is love who decided to honor me with the task of proving His love, power and greatness by costantly scooping me out of the filth (sometime my very well crafted home made filth) in this already defiled world. 

A heart of gratitude is so much easier to carry. So is the belief in a higher power or higher being. Too much happens in this life for me to walk about not believing that someone is walking me through it. Humans will fail you. Humans will taint your happy. You, in your human state have managed to dismantle structures of living and living well that others have built. So we choose Him. Or Her to some. I am not here to speak you into conversion. I am her to ask you to take a second, stop and say thank you or thank goodness.

Be grateful also in your ability to be. Look at what you have experienced. The moments where your heart was pretty much yelling that it was ready to stop. You lived through it and now you have this long text of mine to get through, haha. The ability to be, the potential to be more, the grace to manipulate your circumstances so that you can be in a space that constantly says no.

Now be. See God, see you, and be. Don’t forget your manners, say Thank You.

“GODritude” 

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Thought Box

I took a walk… (Short Poem) 

I took a walk mid watching ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ for the 3rd time, to ease a sudden panic attack. I thought perhaps I was responding to the movie and the rather sad story, but as soon as I picked up my phone all I could think to write was…

For each breathless, chest clenching and heart wretching anxiety attack I suffered at the memory of the hurt you generously supplied to me.

 For the days when my legs failed to carry me out of these four walls that suffocate me because the pins and needles had almost become visible.

 For the tears I watched my mother shed because her heart bleeds when my skin breaks.

 For the humiliation of giggly girls and boys who aged only in years and inflate your ego with falacies.

 For the days when I forgot how to pray… I hope I learn to forgive. 
I pray to forget 

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Thought Box

Exhale (Poetry)

​I need to exhale. 

The time has seen me turn black and blue from the poison infiltrating my lungs that I refuse to spit out. I can not breathe. 

I am ashamed of failures I did not instigate or carry through. I am a victim who over time has learned to victimise. I now know how to suffocate you.

I am built to withstand the stakes darted at the lungs of my core being, but perhaps my manufacturer forgot the final piece.

I no longer feel but see the air oozing out. Left empty, there is nothing left to pick up the bicycle patch that could extend my survival. 

I have been ridden. A bicycle has seen more care. Like a horse and then like a dog used to fight for small change. I have been tossed aside and flicked out of my own space and reality to gather the pieces of me with the hands that were bitten and chewed by those who said that they love me.

I can’t blame those who take pride in the multiple punctures they have inflicted. Two punctures left a hole big enough for human life to seep through me. I partly blame myself. I saw the sharp edge. I felt it carress me. I remember the first time it grazed me. Of course it would crave depth.

I am not yellow. My color is off putting. So why not deflate what you have come to fear simply at a glance. 

Peirce me.

Poke me.

Plunge into me.
Slit my throat and quicken the torment. Maybe when my blood flows my color will turn to red. Even if it is for but a moment.
I want to breathe. I want to be the time keeper to an open heart that craves only me and not my death. 

I have been holding this evil in… inside my being. 
Where is the pen and paper? Where is bag of change? 
I need to exhale. 

Mathunzi Macdonald 

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Thought Box

A profound and interesting take on relationships by the late Myles Munroe 

A good friend shared the following with me. I think it is something woman should consider and men should reflect on;

*Getting understanding in Marriage!*
Listen to this, often times we misplace our priorities when searching for a partner. I want to open our eyes to something using the Bible. 
When you take a look at the first marriage in history, Gen 2:24… After God made man, he put him in the Garden of Eden, the word “Eden” is an Hebrew word for “where God dwells” so the first thing God gave man was *”His Presence*”. So the first thing a man needs is NOT a woman, it is the presence of God, and a woman should meet him in the presence of God. Eve met Adam in Eden.
Some women amaze me, they leave the presence of God, go outside to find a man and then try to drag him back into the presence of God. 
The next thing God gave man in after putting him in the Garden was *WORK*. (Gen 2:15) God gave man work before woman. That means a man needs a job before he gets a woman. God’s priorities are very clear.
The third thing God told man was *”Cultivate”…… Cultivate here means, bring out the best in everything around you*, to maximize the potentials of everything and everyone around you, To make everything fruithful. He only said that to the male. 
That’s why God will never give a man a finished woman. The male was created by God to create what he wants. The woman you are looking for doesn’t exist, she’s in your head. Your job is to take the raw material you married and cultivate her into the woman in your head. So you have been married for 20yrs and you still don’t like the product you get, that’s your fault. If your wife is putting a little weight and you don’t like that, don’t criticize her, it’s your job to wake her at 6am, ” Hey baby, let’s go jogging”  You don’t like her dress, take her to a boutique and buy her cloths you like. She can’t speak good English? Send her to school and pay her tuition fee. CULTIVATE HER!!!!
The fourth thing God said to man, he said “Guard the Garden”. The man has to be the protector of everything under his care. That’s why God gave you a stronger bone frame. A bigger muscle mass, not to abuse the woman, but to protect the woman.
The last thing God gave man was his Word… God told man not to touch the tree, God never told the woman about the tree, NEVER!!!….. Which means it was the man WHO received the word of God and his job was to teach his wife the word of God. Nothing frustrates a woman like when she asks her man “So what do you think” and the dummy answers “what ever you think is OK”….. Don’t do that bro, don’t do that. She’s looking for knowledge and direction.
That was the last command God gave to man in Vs 17, Now watch this, in vs 18, God said, “It is not good for this man to be alone” now, don’t just read the statement fast, read it again slowly ” it is not good for THIS MAN to be alone” WHAT MAN???

The man who is 

*In His presence*

*Has a job (working)*

*Can Cultivate you*

*Can protect you*

*Can teach you*
So here’s the problem, if you meet a man who doesn’t like His Presence, isn’t working, can’t cultivate you, can’t protect you and can’t teach you then IT IS GOOD FOR THAT MAN TO BE ALONE…
Summary from Late Myles Munroe’s teaching on male and female relationship…

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Uncategorized

But I couldn’t 

If only I could say what I really mean. 

With a passion for writing and a natural ability to engage, you would assume that I would take any opportunity to bare my raw thoughts, but I couldn’t. Not with prying eyes and spectators who are more concerned with the business of others. Not as a practioner in the entertainment industry who’s partner is growing daily in celebrity status. Not as someone who has already suffered front page stage lights and lashings on the Internet. 

I am also a musician. I could have written songs that tell my stories and choreographed dance pieces that paint the picture, but I couldn’t. My eyes would swell up with tears, my chest would grow tight, my hands numb with anxiety, I would simply buckle.

For a while now I have alluded through my blog, social media and other mediums that I am having some difficulty navigating this ‘life thing’. I can now attest to a human flaw in the digital age. We rarely can draw the line between what we share and our personal lives. From rants to encrypted status updates to bible verses, we hold back very little. People close to us however can usually tell. They will send a kind text warning you of the possible repercussions of airing your dirty laundry. But, when you are filled with enough ills you begin to emit the vile toxins, sometimes without intention.

My anxiety disorders are amplified when various stressors present themselves. My disorder also presents itself physically. If you have had to say to me “Mathunzi, you look tired”, this is probably why. In itself, anxiety is something that is very hard to explain. Even those closest to you, who have perhaps observed an intense panic attack, or have read a page with your diagnosis cannot always fully grasp what you are experiencing. I have grown tired of trying to explain it or how recent events make it almost impossible to get through it quickly enough. Everyone has a solution by the way. The most popular is “Pray”.  Do not get me wrong, I sincerely appreciate these sentiments. Sadly my silence does not give you a large enough scope to allow you to prescribe a remedy. (Prayer is always appropriate, but is it enough).

An emotion I experience quite often is rage. I am angry. And even angrier that I cannot speak as I please. I am angry that some decisions about my life were made void of my presence or opinion. I am angry that my temper and reactions to being taunted and abused were used to guilt trip me into submission to suffer more, and sometimes even more aggressive abuse. It upsets me greatly that, more so as a woman, you must find ways to mask your pain and still miraculously show up. The horror in discovering that women are woman’s greatest oppressor. From vague disrespect to out right cruelty. A generation of inhumane social predators.

Not all my experiences were cultivated by another person or people, some of it was beyond human control. It however does not take away from my failure to comprehend the active and purposed participation of humans in destabilising anothers entire existence. Obviously no one has the power or capacity to achieve this, but they will at least try. With a need to feel superior or greater than, humans who are made of weak moral fibre and poor self actualization will do just about anything to “thrive”. Sometimes sadly, the people closest to you will embark on this damaging assignment, leaving not only you and loved ones empty, but themselves entirely worn. When this occurs the most likely turn is that of ambition to bitterness, causing for more evils to stir.

Someone said to me recently that I refuse to accept that there is very little good in some people. This then poses as a problem in accepting my circumstances which are conditoned by such persons. Maybe this is why I fail to speak. I fail to speak because I am yet to process. I fear being ridiculed for premature outlandish vocalisations of my truth. I fear my decisions to protect myself may not be seen as “normal” enough to be found acceptable.
I have said enough in writing this to trust that my voice has not been consumed and one day I will speak. It’s funny how I always urge others to speak. Not only speak, but seek help and support. To value themselves and the one life they get to live. To love themselves fiercely. I ask them to come to be and never fear judgment. I ask God to make things right. To elevate them from the confines of confusion and hurt. But I couldn’t do this for myself.

I am not ashamed of my scars or my fresh woulds which are salted on occasion. I am simply enslaved by the fear of exposing what lays beneath these bandages in case I fail to recover. I love myself enough to have started the process off removing things and people who do not serve me well. I simply don’t know how one learns to ‘unlove’ in learning to better love themselves.

I will write about learning to forgive myself another time. What a necessary process. My apologies again to the reader whom I did not satisfy by leaving out all the tantalising details. Maybe over a cup of coffee 

 

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Coffee, Food, Thought Box

Confessions of a young wife Part 2

Before we go any futher, let me mention that although I have improved greatly, my mouth still has its moments. It is as if the more you uncover in marriage, as far as your spouse as well as challenging dynamics are concerned, the more you have to say. Anyhow…

There are many ‘love languages’, and today I want to share my experience with the kind that has less potential of causing emotional damage. Funny though, as much as it is commonly related to the physical, I personally find it emotionally and mentally stimulating.

A wife who cooks and cleans. (Feminists just put down their mobile devices, kidding). Growing up, cooking and cleaning was a chore. A hideous one at that. Possibly one of the reasons the above ‘cliched statement’ grew to be a sore point for many women. Domestic duties became an exercise set to prepare us to adequately perform in our ‘wife’ capacity within the institution of marriage. To cushion the blow we were told that “a way to a man’s heart is through the stomach”. I battled to associate a pot belly with happiness, the harms of literal thinking.

I am generous at heart. This translates in to me being what I call a ‘feeder’. I want everyone to be fed, and fed well, all of the time. This however does not mean I have an interest in cooking daily. Bless the soul who developed the concept of Mr Delivery. I also did not suffer the stereotypical behaviour expected from black/african men (Come home and demand you plate full of home cooked food). Many attributed this to my husband having an English father and being of Scottish decent, but this sadly is not the cause.

My husband spoke a similar ‘love language’. 

Why do I believe cooking is more than a chore? My husband’s reasons for taking his turn to cook, do the dishes or make a cup of tea were varied, but at its core his wished to remind me that he was present and wished to meet my needs. He came how one evening, after we had consumed take outs for a while (way to long honestly) and said “Tonight you are cooking, what do you need”. I turned around with such vigour and enlarged my playful eyes and responded quite swiftly “What the hell for?”. His response was simple “I miss my wife’s cooking”.

My husband did not miss my cooking (as good as my cooking can be if I say so myself), he missed my attention, consideration and warmth. The things that homes are built on. Cooking, when done well, is an art. The reason our ‘quick meals’ and failed lasagnes are found acceptable however is the heart behind the art. Someone took the time to consider my physical and mental needs. The body and mind sadly do not function on romantic utterances. 

Look at the concept of negligence. Failing to meet the physical and mental needs of a child by failing to provide regular and wholesome meals is considered negligence. Marriage doesnt suddenly allow us to evolve in to super beings whos needs suddenly differ from those of all mankind. 

The mind also requires a sense of order in order for it to function in an orderly fashion. Creating a space where this is attainable speaks more of your ability to sympathise with the needs of those you care for than your domestic finesse. 

I am appealing to the part of our beings that are able to put the needs of others before those of our own. This speaks more of us than it does of those who receive. An abundance of self love allows for an extension of genuine care an affection. With no expectation of a word of gratitude. How much more happier would we be if we found contentment in simply knowing that we have done good and we did it well. 

Food speaks to all of our hearts. So men should not shy away from learning and speaking this here language. 

I probably should mention that we live in an age of food channels, food blogs, cook books, cooking lessons, Woolworths (hahaha) so excuses have been reduced.

Explore the human condition. Relationships thrive on the reciprocating of meeting human needs. 

Let me cook… Not 

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Uncategorized

Confessions of a young wife Part 1 

My sincerest apologies to all those who were getting ready to indulge in tabloid type gossip. Perhaps I will visit that realm in Part 4. There will only be 3 parts in the year of 2016 and I am hoping to have numbed all traces of “woman scorned” by 2017.This then suggests that Part 4 may never come to exist,(In short, don’t hold your breath). 

Growing up I spoke very little. I was extremely opinionated but I used my words sparingly. I then got married in 2012. The flood gates were opened and I just could not stop. My endless jabbering was fueled by the fact that my husband, who also spoke very little to most, and kept his opinions to himself, was responding. Not only to my commentary, but in equal quantity with his very own. Where lies the problem you ask? I no longer seem to know WHEN to simply keep my mouth shut. 

Marriage is a tricky maze to navigate. It requires excellent precision, patience and dedication. “Communication is key” is probably one of the most heard of statements by those embarking on a marital journey and those who are curious about it. What “they” (the people we assume know better) rarely emphasize that silence is just as, if not in certain circumstances, more important.

When dealing with annoying habits or when things get a little heated, what runs the fastest is the tongue. Sterotype exist for a reason. Woman tend to excel at this. I personally learned just how much I could say in moments of frustration. Put into play the power struggle of “who has the last word” and you have yourself a full episode of Game of Thrones in your living room or bedroom,in 4D. 

I have sat too many times in retrospect and realized that all I had to do was hold my tongue. “Winning” an argument could be a loss as far as the cause. Fighting to get your point across is a breeding ground for war. Listening is truly a skill many do not possess.

From a wife’s perspective, I wish our gift registries included a box full of ‘Shut Up’. Don’t get me wrong, I am an attentive listener, but in a fit of rage most of what you hear sharpens the weapons of your responses. Now, once things are said they can not be retracted. “I am sorry I said that” is not a marital vacuum cleaner. Some times what you have to say may be right on the money, but in the wrong place and/or at the wrong time it may turn into the most useless piece of information that is expressed on planet earth, in that moment.

The ability to ‘say something’ may also become the birth of spite. How many time do you say something simply to touch a nerve because you feel wronged? 

The tongue can be damaging. From either spouse, be it either sex, what comes out of your mouth may be the glue that keeps you and your spouse together or the match stick that destroys all you have worked so hard to build. 

This is a lesson I am still learning. I sadly seem to be a slow learner in this regard. When choosing a partner I’d assume one would pick someone with a decent level of reasoning power. Saying what is necessary and leaving your spouse to process the information, without interruption could allow for them to find confidence in who they can become for you. 

Once voices are raised and insults are hurled, the aim is lost.

Looking back, even if all it served was retaining my dignity in how I am considerate of my spouse in what I said, there are times I could and should have kept quiet. 

Knowing also the debilitating feeling of being on the receiving end shouldn’t one remain mindful? 

Not only in marriage, but in all engagements, I am going shopping for the biggest box of Shut Up. Empty vessels make the most noise. Thoughtless women destroy with their tongues. 

Cook or something,I hear it’s calming 

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