Ufuoma Apoki's Blog

One beauty about life experiences is that you can learn from just about anything, no matter how trivial or profound they may seem. And from those lessons, you can draw analogies from one side of life to a far other.

“Come on, you can start this weekend”, he urged me after I had liked his post online.

“I’ve got like no experience, whatsoever”, I replied. “I think I’m going to be very bad at it”.

“Don’t worry about that”, he reassured me. “It’s a class for beginners”.

With the soothing reassurance and for the fact that I’m not one to back down to a worthy challenge, I took it up. How wrong could it go, anyway? It’s going to be quite a new experience, gaining a new skill. You never know when your Latino moves might just come in handy.



about the first lesson: My first lesson was that when dancing in pairs, as ladies and gentlemen, it’s necessary that the man leads and the lady follows. It has to be that way to experience the true beauty of the art. Someone just has to lead, (not control, but lead) if we are to move in unison to the beats. So most of my subsequent views would be from (but not only restricted to) the “leader’s” perspective.

about differences: two men dancing together paints quite an awkward scene. One has to fake the feminine part and trust me when I say that the possible moves are quite very limited and restricted. Two ladies dancing together (probably out of deficiency of competent males) can be quite a cute scene. However, one has to take the lead (either by reflex or compulsion) if anything really productive is to be achieved. A man cannot dance effectively, without feigns, if there's no lady and a lady cannot dance effectively and gracefully if there's no gentleman.

about initiative: the other thing that hit me was the fact that even for a pair of rookies, the responsibility to shoulder initiative mostly rested with the man. Good intentions do not always suffice; the execution of it is what will be of lasting memory. It was quite an experience as some would merely tolerate your mediocrity and inexperience in taking initiative and skilled moves; others would reassure you (deceptively, sometimes, *lol*) that you’re not that bad after all; others, still, would be more mediocre than you are; and others would be patient, even in all your mediocrity and inexperience.

about performance: there was also the realization that with all things being equal—skills and level of experience—the outcome was different each time as you switched partners. With some, you felt like, “Yeah! I can do this!” With others you reassured yourself that you just need more practice to slide on the beats. With some others, you literally felt like sh*t (*lol*). And some actually walked away in the middle of the dance song with excuses so thin you could literally see through them; you’ve just got to suck it up and bear the brunt of the embarrassment (because that’s what you’ve taught yourself to do). I couldn’t blame them, though. Who really wants to be led by someone portraying signs of uncertainty and inexperience, when there are clearly many more skilled dancers willing to ask for your hand?

about practice: a noble trait of an honest mediocre is the realization that you require lots and lots of practice to get better at your moves and steps. Some go at it with any chance they get and with just about any partner that comes across, damning any consequences that might arise, whatsoever. Some others get stuck in a limbo—the realization of the fact that with only practice you get better, and the fact that a lady wants (from her perspective) and deserves (from your perspective) to be treated the best possible way. Sometimes we give it a go or two for the night; other times, we sit all night, admiring (and convincing ourselves that we are trying to learn by observing) the more experienced dancers. Some spend weeks away from dancing and practice and miraculously want to move like the greats on a singular night.

about following: for smooth steps, like I’ve mentioned earlier, there has to be a leader and a follower. To effectively lead, there must be initiative, experience, and skill. To follow, there has to be great (not necessarily implicit) trust. With some, you feel the freedom to lead as they surrender all their necessary muscles . . . and the dance seems to flow (even mediocre as it may be). With others, there’s the reluctance to surrender independence and both partners encounter hiccups as they move. Some arrive at the conclusion (from observation and experience) that you are way less than unskilled and take the reins; unfortunately, it also results in many errors, too. Some hold your hands when you literally stumble after an attempted spin, and also teach you patiently in areas where you lack experience, whilst still ready to follow, however you may lead; with those you are very hesitant to switch for someone else when the call is made.

Dancing is quite a fun adventure; in all sincerity, it is mostly an expression of self and we’ve all been imprinted with fingerprinted selves, which we choose to express how best we deem fit.

Check: My goal drawing these analogies is not to root for mediocrity or inexperience, but to point out how the right partnership can shapen out a skilled partner. After all, the most skilled of us in a particular field was, once, wobbly at it. It took practice, patience and, most often, loving hands to steady, perfect, and forge the optimum performance.

Dedicated to all who dance for the passion . . .

Ufuoma Apoki

He takes that look at you—an inspective look.

It’s unassuming and spontaneous, sometimes, laced with a lot of prejudices, he must confess.

It’s hard and long, other times, bordering into discomfort and breach of personal space. How did we adopt such social norms, he wonders? That even a stare can be considered a harsh invasion of privacy? $It’s that apprehension that he might not appreciate your beauty if he stares long enough to break through your facade. It’s that reluctance to give him the chance of being too critical when he catches a glimpse of the darkness beneath all that beauty you wear$

Those times when he looks long and hard, his skill set of intuition kicks in immediately and, with a few deductive analyses, he passes judgment!

Like or unlike; wild or conservative; haughty or humble; open-minded or walled off to differing perceptions; uplifting virtues or limiting vices. Unconsciously (or fully aware, perhaps) he fights or chooses to blend into you.

Is it all necessary, he wonders? Fighting—as a reflex that shows an inherent need for self-preservation—or blending—that fulfils the inborn hunger to merge with kindred spirits.

Different doesn’t always have to be hostile; it could be complementary and beautiful, if you think of the yin yang art. Resemblance doesn’t always fit; it has the potential to numb the spice.

So what if you’re different or similar, anyway? He could use both if he’s really sincere with himself and as long as you promise your souls are endeared, one to another. Different could be harmonious, so also, resemblance.

However, he wouldn’t fail to make deductions and pass judgments when he looks at you again. He’s human, after all. In a slightly cheesy, but fair defence, it is to understand how to play better with your soul. And he’s sure you’ve found out it isn’t always a beautiful and fair game.

Ufuoma Apoki

Ufuoma Apoki

To find the balance in most encounters is a virtue that speaks of high evolution and transcendence. It is borne of the understanding that man as a being, even if accustomed to follow certain behavioural patterns, is rarely predictable.

Being a being means we are never always here nor there, almost impossible to be pinned down in a fixed state. Sometimes we are, other times we aren’t. We decide to be and, other times, not to be. We grow and shrink, evolve and devolve, are shining bright lights one moment and engulfed in darkness the next.

It’s not often the ‘favourable’ or ‘unfavourable’ circumstances which predict the outcome, most times; it’s the attitude. It’s the plasticity and the intuition to strike the balance when to be one thing and not the other. It’s one of the greatest gifts we’ve been blessed with—choice.

If that fact that being beings blesses us as boundless and creatures of infinite possibilities, then we can decide to choose what we need to be at a given moment as our values accommodate.

One key ingredient to achieving the desired end result is focus. Focus, despite unaligned circumstances, contrasting thoughts, and elements beyond our control.

There’s only so much each man can control, even in regimented settings. When we’ve painfully learnt to distinguish and acknowledge the elements beyond the reigns of our power and influence, we can then prime and focus our energies on our strengths, attitude (which should be ideally aligned with our values, and our reactions to external elements.

After all, the destination might not be of great importance when we finally arrive; the euphoria only lasting a while. Our attitude as we journeyed through and the vital values upheld might just give the perfect shade to the destination.

Ufuoma Apoki

That nagging feeling of apprehension that always hits and seems to cause a stalemate
Not willing to go backwards to what was
Yet not able to make considerable and, more importantly, desirable progress
‘Is it just a phase’? She asks herself
Or am I condemned to such prolonged and intermittent pangs
Sometimes she wishes she were like those who couldn’t care any less
And just take life as it comes—good, bad, ugly
If she could have a surgical appointment to dissect and rid her of that part of her brain that makes her feel this way . . .
But, she wouldn’t . . .
It’s a mix of her angels and demons that make her this beautiful
And she’d rather learn to master her demons than try to be someone else
Pretend to live life on the fly—because that’s not just who she is

Now, why anxious?
She’s anxious about the future
She’s anxious because it always seems difficult to have the type of relationships she wants
She’s anxious because she might not get what she thinks she deserves
$‘because of the many flaws her present state seems to put her in’, she consoles herself
She’s anxious because she’s not investing as much, and as best, as she should into her work
She’s anxious because her work seems monotonous
She’s anxious because it seems to put her life on hold and she can’t just make it a priority
She’s anxious because she seems to invest so much into relationships
$Relationships she wants, or rather, thinks that would work
$And sometimes she gets nothing in return
She’s anxious because she’s still dependent on others for financial support
She’s anxious because she might not find someone worthy to share her angels with
She’s anxious because she might not find someone who will be patient and understanding to discipline her demons
She’s anxious because, after all, her time spent on her work might not be worth it
She’s anxious because she might not be able to live up to her expectations and standards
$because she knows to whom much is given, much is also expected
She’s anxious because she might not be able to live up to the expectations of others
$Not that she really cares anyway
She’s anxious because with all these pangs, she still keeps a straight face

I think she just anxious about being anxious probably because she’s found art in it
But she’d rather be than not
And these anxieties always come around and seem to put her life on hold
However, knowledge and acceptance is one-half of conquering any fierce and raging battle

Ufuoma Apoki

I want to be mad at you,
But I just can’t.
I try so hard to find every reason to be,
But the innocence of your voice . . .
Oh my!
It makes me fail miserably each time I make up reasons to be mad
It just melts every trace of anger

I want to be there for you,
But I just don’t know how.
I know you need one like me,
Not because it'll probably bless me more (for now)
I just feel it strongly that I could be strong for you.

Any and every time I reach out to feel my heart,
It beats only for YOU.
I've warned it not to,
That in this way it’s going to get scarred badly,
Because no one has touched it like you have . . .
Yet still, it decides to do its own bidding.

. . .

And so I ‘let’ it most of the time,
To drive my whole being so it’ll see the errors of its ways.
But still,
The heart wants what it wants,
And no amount of logic convinces it otherwise.

But right now, I need a fix so desperately,
Because the heart isn’t getting what it wants,
And it's taking every other part in downright agony
With its incessant and (I must confess) naturally innocent yearnings.

I need to teach my heart,
To learn to beat for ME first,
Before it can learn to beat for two rightly.
So I'll have to resort to logic to fix me,
Beyond the beautiful heart’s wishes,
Because the heart seems to be getting it all wrongly.
Who knows?

So what I need now is space,
Not because I admire the uncertainty that voyagers face there,
But space from You to fix Me,
No matter how much it’s going to hurt.

When I’m done fixing my heart,
It’s going to beat right enough,
To know how to beat for two,
Not just for You alone,
And probably get what it so years for.

He is going to be naked just this once.
I know he said that the last time, but it’s almost impossible to put on any cover this time.
It’ll be long, he knows, before he gets this naked again, but when it’s ‘right’, he might gladly be.
Sincere apologies, I must say at this point, for whatever feelings these words will strike, good or bad, and the vagueness and uncertainty of his rant . . .
I guess it used to be much easier some time ago when all they’d do is just talk for hours (about nothing in particular) and not tire of hearing each other’s voice. He must confess it was much fun than presently when he has to scrutinize his every word to avoid the fatal error of slighting her tender feelings that has become so irritable.
The last time he remembers he had someone this special like you that he could talk to without all the pretence and façade was way back in high school—she could get him completely with the few and vague words he usually sputters.
This time, however, he was asking just too much many a time—psyching comprehension in his conversations, which are usually lacking in explicit expression the way other normal humans communicate.
And the feeling goes . . .
A common distasteful attitude, I have to say, that we sometimes exhibit is that we’re constantly searching for the ideal special scenario that we sometimes miss the very precious things that are close to us.
And he was certainly guilty of the grievous offence, but you can’t just ignore sparkles (even if they aren’t true to the end) when you’ve constantly treaded the path of long and loud solitude.
Somewhere along the line of this beautiful, heavenly interaction they (he, more appropriately) never defined, he had this weird feeling, ‘What if this good friend of his could be more than friends?’
. . . and that’s when simple things get beautifully messed up and complicated.
She’s been precious to him and one thing that scares so much sh** out of him is losing the precious things close to his heart, because they usually come by very rarely.
She’d probably dismiss this as an excuse to disguise the classic case of cold feet, but he’s simply just trying to mess up good things while trying to upgrade to the unknown better.
He still wonders though . . .
But he’s brave enough not to play the game, probably because he doesn’t have the heart to or he can’t just bear to see her get hurt.
Anyway, the deed was done, because in his mind it was already concluded. There was no going back.
You wouldn’t get the pleasure of judging the outcome, though, but he, however, thought it was a virtuous thing to do . . .

Ufuoma Apoki

It comes and it goes . . .
The promise of the serene mind flow.
It's all a fleeting desire I know,
That in experience always goes stale,
Like a never-ending fairy tale.

And here it is again.
The sound of that famous tune,
That I hope, this time, wouldn't end in ruin.

But I dance to it anyway.

Who wouldn't dare take light steps,
Even in a dark alley down the path that leads to destiny?
If you ever do believe in such pious debates.

But I'm not just a who,
I'm one of the rares,
Who without much arrogance,
Admit are nearly extinct.

So I dance,
However and wherever it leads.
It couldn't be any worse I feel,
Than dancing to unknown tunes or indecipherable voices.

Wherever this path leads,
It's guts over fear,
Because the dark clouds get clear,
When you shake off the sheets of cold fear that hold you down.

So, please dance with me, my Dear,
Even if only for this moment,
Because we'll never just know,
If we'll ever hear such tune again,
Of pure beauty and innocence.

We should never have to say, "Had we known" . . . .

Ufuoma Apoki

Scared and unsure . . .
He walked away like he's done before.

But just in a twist . . .
one of those moments that changes destinies,
he turns around,
takes back the steps he'd taken . . .

With passion burning in his eyes,
he gives up everything,
holds her so tight and says the words - just exactly as he heard his heart say it,
with no apologies whatsoever . . . .

But then,
twas just another fairy-tale gone sour,
Sad to say, as he had expected.

He walks away for a second time.

This time though,
his spirits were high,
his heart light with a seemingly unusual smile that lit his face and kept him wondering.

He'd never have forgiven himself if he lost that moment forever.