When seeds are planted, they undergo a peculiar paradox. They die, and yet in dying they become new. They shed the shell that once protected them, and in that surrender, they release the essence they have carried quietly through time. What was hidden within them is forced to the surface. In their burial, they are not lost. In their breaking, they are not destroyed. Rather, they are embodied by the freedom that their new world provides.
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Sunday, 24 August 2025
Friday, 22 August 2025
The Persistence of Water
Water ordinarily should not be able to cut through rock. No, it should not. Rock is firm, stubborn, unyielding. Water is soft, gentle, without form of its own. Yet, with persistence, water does what seems impossible. Drop by drop, it carves a path through the immovable. Not in a rush, not in a show of strength, but in quiet, faithful repetition.
Thursday, 21 August 2025
Mr Jailer: A Reflection on Chains We Wear
I remember standing on the parade ground during my service
days, sweat breaking on my forehead as the music from the speakers kept us
company. Then came Asa’s Mr Jailer. The lyrics rolled over the
crowd, but what struck me most was not only what she was saying, it was the
paradox hidden in plain sight: in a jail, it is not only the inmate who is
locked up, the jailer is also in chains.
Sunday, 10 August 2025
When Needs Shape Us
Perhaps the real measure of growth is not how many needs we have met, but how wisely we respond to the ones that remain.
Sunday, 3 August 2025
The Hidden Box and the Price of Secrets
I hold a quiet belief, and I have for years: that no one ever truly gets trapped or hoodwinked without some layer of selfishness or greed sitting somewhere underneath. I still think I am right. But something shifted some years ago. Whether the change is permanent or not, I do not know. What I do know is that it began with a phone call.
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