I'M ON YOUTUBE: TOLU FALODE





Hey Guys!

Hope you are all having a blessed week so far. So I took a leap of faith and joined the Youtube community! I post content on relationships, destiny and faith every Sunday!

 I am super excited to start and I am loving it so far. Content is already up!

Do subscribe for more discussions on topics I write about here-I just felt finally I would start to have a face-to-face or rather a screen-to-face discussion with you guys on topics on my heart.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts on topics you would like to be discussed.



Have a lovely day!



Tolu Falode.

A SISTER'S LOVE

Sometimes she walked along the foggy bank listening intently to the sound of distant voices shout and scream with laughter, as they echoed in the shadowy space of memory. Once in a while she stood there watching and searching and feeling and seeing a misty film of her past blaze before her eyes. She stirred quietly afraid to disturb the movements of the figures who were oblivious to her steps. They walked slowly and sharply running after each other, and then stopping once more before the same pattern repeated itself like an inner setting intertwined their hearts to move in coalition had been set.
She sat in this space, afraid to disturb the innocent figures as they danced in her memory, fast and slow they moved, chattering with familiar childlike innocence, he passed her a treat and she accepted in shock disrupting the movement of their feet-he had stepped outside their pattern-showing a brother’s loving heart to a sister’s unsure smile. She accepted. And once more began their pattern of screaming and dancing and running and hollering before the burly figure of their Uncle wondered into this sacred space.
She watched all the figures intertwine as they depicted fading memories that burn with the dim glow of the past.
Her figure was different though. It burned the brightest next to her brother’s before the very faded shadow of her Uncle-a voice more than a form-taken first into death’s tomb.
She looked at her face-a face filled with the ignorant bliss of childhood-a face that had not yet been scarred by pain, marred with grief, struck with death. And she hid before her young form could feel the intense glare behind her back of a future she did not want her to know yet-she did not want her to see yet the cost of his death; if she caught her eyes, her sisterly instinct will detect something strange in the air.
So she shrouded herself in their interactions. Watching, listening, glimpsing pictures in her mind-feeling for her brother’s voice, searching for his calm gaze, his wide smile, his sure footed confidence. He was the reason she kept looking back. The reason she entered this place. Dim with the stain of death, pungent with the stench of grief she still entered just to see his face.
And so she watched him intensely behind the fog. His boyish limbs grew into the sturdy arms of a man that caught his sister’s heart as she threw herself into him for support. She watched their interactions. No longer children, but now older siblings heavy with experience; a look conveyed that meant a thousand words. Once more she sat down in this more recent space. It was not far behind enough for death’s embrace to mar its form. She watched their frames as they interacted in that sibling way-laughing, crying, shouting and lounging in each other’s space. A deep bond had grown between them.
Here she felt more comfortable because the tone was more familiar. She caught a glimpse of his smile, a whisper of his words decorated the air, and she listened intently to each and every one. Still she gleamed brighter; the illumination of life surrounded her. But he grew dimmer, and dimmer and dimmer, as she stared and stared and stared until he was no more.
And this was when the tour ended. Death had grasped his form.
Through this gloomy space of memory lost and laughter stained, she watched herself scream through the pain, her form twisting and turning as she struggled through the wound that stung with such a demonic ache. A woman who had stared into death’s gaze-but was saved by the Savior’s grace. In that dark place she was birthed; into the arms of purpose, she was led. And as she walked, she stepped into her present form. More solid with strength because of the shock of grief that had thrown her, she walked into herself, blowing the memory away and facing the path before her.

But once in a while, she went into that hollow space, searching and waiting for that laugh, that came with his voice as his childish limbs once more ran around and around chased by her wider form determined to catch him and make him fall-a sibling bond-a love that remained pure-an instinct to protect one another that had always spoken into their affection for each other.
Once more she sat in that space, and they laughed with the joy of love and camaraderie until he was no more.
She hid herself in that place-determined not to destroy the picture more than death had marred its form. Shadows of a fading past kept stubbornly together because of a sister’s love. 



ARE YOU DATING THE ONE?

They stared at each other unsure of what lay ahead but certain of where the trail had led behind their aspirations, and dreams and certainties and visions and collective intuitions, somehow the journey had led to a state of dissolution caused by distractions infected with dead desires and dreams cut off before birthed in the space of affection.
And then they wandered if this was a decision they were willing to push through despite the avenue it introduced to their personalities, despite the warnings it birthed in their inner sensitivities and it was at that point they each started to question their initial reactions-their initial attractions, the groundwork that laid the footprints for that first conversation; that had led them to this moment of complete isolation. And so she went into her quiet space and began to ponder on decisions; while he waited and communicated his uncertainties through his acts of disappearances-suddenly the language they both spoke was made of daggers and pokes and failed to gently prod answers to questions they left unspoken; they communicated in vocabularies loaded with accusatory fingerprints.
And so the question she began to ask herself was, how can you tell when the conversation is done? When can you begin to question if he is the one? She was sure his thoughts wondered in this same direction-funny how they both faced the same decisions but communicated it in different ways through their actions-they both realized this was the end of the road of a joint journey that now winded into different paths. But these thoughts failed to manifest into actions that communicated clarity and understanding but instead birthed pain and anger in their personalities.
And so I ask you this question: how do you know he or she is the one you would spend the rest of your life with? How are you sure they can bear that position in your reality? Well I recommend an inner diagnosis.
Start from the beginning-your heart, your core characteristics.
What do you want from yourself? What do you want produced in your personality? So many of us face this question at different stages in our lives, through daily decisions and new experiences-but it is dangerous to allow a stranger into this space of intimate reality when you are not certain if they hold the power to be able to navigate through your inner thoughts and your inner sanctuary. This is when it becomes dangerous to intertwine with a partner in intimacy-so are you sure of who you are before you move forward on your path? That is the question you must first ask.
An inner evaluation is necessary to produce an outer remedy-to a situation that has reached the point of new decisions that need to be birthed in your being.
So when you come to this path of crossroads with signals that point in distant directions-you must first face yourself to be able to navigate with clarity.
After you have made that decision, the next step is to look into this person’s actions and understand if their vision communicates a similar action of confirmation-I warn you not to pay attention to words that fail to carry actions into reality. Such words translate into a language that host imagination and confusion not clarity and communication.
The latter two are necessary for a partnership to bloom in prosperity. If you receive distractions for dedication, inattention for a cry for inclusion, I am afraid you have already faced the answer in their actions.
Now you face the challenge of communicating through words making them aware of your vulnerable position. I am addressing situations unique to the platform of real intimacy not deluded attempts dotted and sprinkled with only sexuality-but rather a conversation that hosts a language of love and growth and determination in its folds. I do not speak of the cloak many people hide behind in lust driven woes.
I speak of the desire to see this person as a part of your future possibilities. As a partner in your present realities, as a friend you can trust with your past experiences.
Do they trigger these questions in your heart? Do they confirm in actions that speak of certainty? That they would hold you up and not tear you down? That they would always be there providing shelter in your storm and in your shadow of haunted memories?
 If they push that trigger-then I would recommend you attempt to join them in this journey-I would say as for now, it seems you are both facing the same directions in your destinies and hence continue to communicate, continue to be consistent, and continue to connect in your individualities-build your relationship on this foundation and there will be no perilous prospects ahead that would withstand the sanctity of your unique understandings of each other’s personality.
But if instead these questions are foreign in your landscape of communications, if instead these questions of commitment have never met an answer in consistency, if they have never been translated into actions even after your reoccurring attempts for reception-to be communicated with in conversation, to be heard beyond the deaf ears of distraction-the answer is quite clear that you have reached the end of that conversation.
They cannot follow you forward because at this point, the universe has shifted your unique perspectives and challenged your individual realities-it is futile to fight it-because it is a fight that needs both prints of dedication to be able to proceed-but with only one set of fingerprints marked with scars of tears, shouts of pain, a consistent sense of failure, a chasm of chaos, a hole of isolation -then clearly, this is not a partner that can give you future prospects in their actions.They draw you back to past reactions.
And if you make the decision to move on in your journey apart from this muted companion, there will be so much truth you will find on the other side of your choice to honour your intellectuality-and not give into the foolishness that comes from believing in a person that has given you no basis to trust words that never manifest into hands and feet dedicated to move forward.
This is how you know if the person you are with is truly the one.
You are at the beginning-and to continue in that journey, the summary is, can you trust them to be faithful in all your experiences? Have you seen actions that have supported this dream, this desire for future references of happiness and bliss and even marital peace? If not, don’t walk down that road facing their direction, you will leave yourself behind while clinging to a connection that was lost once you reached that cross roads of questions.  

You would have sacrificed your life, your future possibilities, and even your present happiness and sense of serenity, for a partner that has not proven they can bear the weight necessary to produce collective stability.


SLEEPING WITH THE PAST

I never understand why some women hold on to the past-I never did quite feel the necessity to hold myself back. Why face backwards when the future is calling you ahead? Why exchange your destiny for hands that have only given you death? Death to dreams, and decisions, death to certainties and visions. Why give all that away for a man that has nothing else to say? Nothing else to add to your reality but instead gives you nightmares in exchange for your humility: humility to his pride, his personality and his preposterous attempts to hide your identity. Why hold on to the past-why choose to stay in those experiences? Why deny yourself the chance to embrace a new season of opportunities?
I guess my question is really answered in a woman’s uncertainty, in her refusal to take a hold of that courage that was birthed in the female’s need for security.
The thing with a female’s need for security is, when it is exposed to fragmented pieces it translates into a language of inadequacy. She starts to feel unsure of her personality, she begins to question the weight of her beauty, and sometimes she even considers if she deserves the stroke of destiny. And the saddest part of this inner surveillance of inadequacy is, it is produced in the bed of deception she refuses to relinquish.
She sleeps with the past, refusing to release it. She fails to realize you cannot chase the future in a place that hosts a permanent taste of pain-produced in his inattention, indecision, his lack of leadership used as a dagger against her determination.
But so many women stay still in that place refusing to engage with a future that waits patiently by the day. As the sun rises and sets she still stays in that bed, familiar with failure, chained to indecision, strung on his words that never follow into actions-refusing to release herself from that bed of deception, she becomes a mute machine, activated only with attention. But that button of conversation is never engaged, as she waits for a chance to speak in communication. And still she waits day by day, hopeful with that strong certainty women have a tendency to display-waiting for a day that she will never be free to relate with-standing by the door of drained dignity.
This is what happens when she sleeps with the past-she chains herself to faded memories, she exchanges her value, for a worth that is less than her dignity. She allows herself to be used as a towel to mop after his views, she makes excuses for his mood. She always has a ready answer to defend the man she knew-blinded by who he used to be-she never truly sees who he really is.
But some women wake from that dreadful dream. Some stand firm and refuse to compensate their destiny. Some realize, this is no place for her to hide. A woman was meant to move forward not to lay behind. Some question these new experiences and wonder, why should they be chained to his mixed messages? Why should they pay the price for a story that was always a lie? But these women are few and far between. And that is why so many men face the challenge of learning what it means-to meet a woman that understands the meaning of the term ‘femininity’. It is not weakness, it is not meek-it speaks of more than delicate dreams of destiny-she has strength, she sees ahead-she has no desire to just lay in bed with clouded words that never translate into actual experience.
And when one such man crosses the path of a woman that understands the power in her identity-usually a product of a past encounter with a lover who tried to deny her individuality-he does not understand the power behind her dignity. He fails to see, she is no longer an innocent stranger in the land of relationships-she has crossed the path of experience and recognizes the signs that speak of a dead end. She speaks a language he is unsure of-because it speaks of worth and love not lust infused words fueled with temporary actions of inaction dotted with attempts to continue a conversation.
No she understands those signals-she has seen them before. And when this woman is birthed through the decision to leave the bed of past deception-when she finally decides to walk away from that language of indecision, she still faces the challenge of not turning back when he comes begging once more for attention. That is a place many women have failed to move ahead because they give into once more a tone of deception.
But some women don’t fall for those intentions-they may be genuine, they may be true, but once she left that bed of deception, she left you. And some understand the purpose behind their decision-some are eager to see the promises in their heart actually materialize before their eyes-and so they access you once more with a more practiced eye and decide- not because of hurt or pain or an intention to leave behind a revenge filled graze-no-she walked beyond the decision of sleeping with her past because she realized, the past and the present do not have the same eyes. They do not have the same smile, they cannot host the same space of happiness and pain-how can a past that gave so much hurt, heal so much pain-how can that come from the same space? She calculates this equation in her head, as women do when they seem to remain quiet, and then she sighs and remembers how much it took her to decide to rise, it took too much to be compensated once more in a past pact of trust that was broken in return, over and over-it was ripped like it had no worth-and so she cannot invest in a broken trust-it will bring forth only more loss. And so she decides to move ahead and leave everything behind-she picks the experiences and chooses to move ahead on her path-eager to meet opportunities, ready to meet a partner that understands the joy in honoring a commitment, and speaking life into freedom and liberty as they together build on a foundation of certainty cultivated in trust and dignity-not compromised with uncertainty and not tortured with false promises that fail to materialize into reality.
But these are only a few women that make this journey.

A lot stay on that bed sleeping with the enemy-even when they know he holds no language to feed their inner desires and destinies-and so they trade their dreams, they leave behind their hopes for a bed of poisoned promises and suffocate and silently slip into a space of statuesque stupidity. Step by step they turn into a stony embodiment of a drained destiny.

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