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To Die or Not to Die For
When I’m dead
As I lived it
It gave me
The sweet life
Wines and roses
The trials and tribulations
It subjected me to
The sour life
Swords and sores
Don’t matter no more
Heaven and hell
The after life
In the living
But little about them
I shall die as I lived
Hooked on freedom
Freedom taught me that
It is like the air
It is love
Love is the
The earth rotates
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe
Earth axis vanishes
All love lost
Earth rotation stops
All hell breaks loose
Constricts my lungs
Inflames my sinuses
I can’t breathe?
I don’t die?
I go berserk
I go berserk
I feel no pain
Fear evaporates from my body
I am mad
Médecin sans frontières
Line between life and death
Every which way
If I die
I do so
For the living
They’ll call my action
The ultimate sacrifice
If I live
I won’t celebrate
I can shout out
From the depth of my lungs
I’ll call that pure joy
©Simon Chilembo, 07/ 06-2020
NB: I do not trivialize the seriousness of Coronavirusdisease (COVID-19) with this piece. The pandemic deserves the highest respect: we must all follow expert advice from doctors, scientists, and relevant multilateral and state health authorities wherever we are in the world.
June 07, 2020
IT IS WHAT YOU SAY
More talk on how to cope with survivor issues around outcomes of Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) on a personal level. Talk structured around principles of my COOL Coaching (Chilembo Optimal Outcomes Life Coaching) method*.
Pivotal point in awareness of language usage: “Reality manifests itself with impressions that the mind creates as from the language it processes,” Simon Chilembo.
1. Ahmet Altan: “… like all writers, I have magic. I can pass through walls with ease.”
2. Mwamedi Semboja, Twitter account tagline: “You can travel anywhere, just by closing your eyes.”
1. SHOULD I DIE: COVID-19 Reflections
2. CORONA VIRUS DISEASE COVID-19 SHALL FALL: My Reason for Optimism
3. Ode to Manu Dibango: WALK SOUL MAKOSSA
4. SIMON’S KITCHEN IMPROMPTU COVID-19 QUARANTINE VEG STEW
*Subsequently edited and presented in the book Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories)
April 14, 2020
In 1998, my father died solitary in a bachelor quarters in Tshwane, South Africa. My mother followed twenty years later. Pneumonia related complications in both cases.
There were about eleven other fellow patients in my mother’s ward at the hospital in Thabong, Welkom. She had kept everyone awake all night with her moaning in pain, crying out an unknown name all along. Nevertheless, she managed to eat her 0700RS breakfast that fateful Sunday morning; much to everyone’s delight since she hadn’t had much appetite the two previous days. After eating she fell asleep.
When my nephew, Kgosi, and I went to check on her during the morning visit hour between 1000-1100HRS, we found her sleeping peacefully. Apparently. After hearing the report by fellow patients about my mother’s restless night, we thought it wise not to immediately awaken her. She could have her full sleep during the course of the morning, and we’d come back to see her again in the afternoon as per routine.
Fifteen minutes into our arrival in the ward, an impatient family friend found that my mother was cold and lifeless. A few minutes later, a doctor declared her officially dead. She had probably died two hours earlier. No one had taken notice. It was one of those cases of “She died peacefully in her sleep”, I guess. Perhaps the same may be said about my father. He had been dead for about two days by the time his corpse was found in his residence.
I opt to convince myself that, indeed, both my parents died peacefully in their sleep when their respective times to go arrived. Neither was surrounded by their loved ones upon breathing their respective lasts.
The thought of whether or not my own death will pounce on me in solitude has been on my mind since February, 1991. I had for the first time ever gotten ill with what I later understood to have been an acute attack of the flu. Bedridden with high fever and profuse sweating for three days in my single student room, I was so weak that I was unable to lift a telephone sitting beside me on my bed to call my school or doctor in Oslo.
One week later I had recovered without having had received any medical attention. An older, more knowledgeable friend told me that I had actually had a close brush with death. Perhaps I should consider getting myself a wife, he suggested. He argued that many people who live alone tend to die unnecessarily because there is often nobody there to render immediate assistance in times of emergencies.
In the northern hemisphere spring of 1995, I had a first-time mean attack of hay fever. I didn’t know what it was at first. For many days I kept sneezing like what I thought was like a mad man. Then I began to cough as inexplicably madly. What I thought sounded like a small cat soon started mewing in my chest. This made breathing painfully difficult even at the mildest physical exertion. Then I knew I was in trouble.
At great financial cost to me that I could afford regardless, a former lover at that time then finally hastily made it possible for me to acquire an emergency cocktail of various tablets, capsules, and an assortment of asthma medicines. Had I been alone at that critical time, I could have died from pneumonia, the former lover said later.
Today, the Coronavirus disease (COVID-19) pandemic, moving at a frighteningly fast pace is threatening human life across the globe. The United Nations and national governments are taking drastic and, in some cases, Human Rights defying draconian measures in individual and concerted efforts to isolate, treat, control, and eventually effectively manage the disease. The ideal situation would be to eliminate the disease, of course. But it’ll take time to develop necessary relevant curative and preventive medicine. Researchers the world over are currently working at break-neck speeds to achieve the latter.
Millions of people are under various levels of quarantine throughout the world, depending on suspected or actual infections and severity. Much of the industrialized world is under lockdowns. People whose immune systems are compromised from before are dying rapidly. Some people are quarantined in their private homes with their near family units. I am alone in my abode.
I am feeling well and strong. I can’t help, though, but think about my mortality in the event that my health should take a sudden, COVID-19 related downturn. Some other shit could happen too. One never knows when shit will hit the fan. I can’t help but think that were I to die now, I sure would do so peacefully. I’d die with no beloveds of mine surrounding me. If it happened to my parents it might as well be the same with me. Family solidarity. Family tradition. I’m their eldest child after all.
Like my parents, I leave no great fortunes behind. It’s just as well for me that, unlike my parents, I leave no children behind. As to whether or not it’s a good thing to die as my corpse shall be in a cremation oven, I shall find out upon arrival on the other side.
March 15-16, 2020
WHEN I’M HERE
NOTE: Contributing to discussion on UNSTUCK – The Refinition of Manhood
“I live with no doubts. If I have any doubts, I don’t do it. If I do it anyway and get burned as a result, too bad. What’s done is done. If I die, I die. Closed chapter. If I don’t die, no regrets. I pay the price I have to pay, and move on; assuming that I can still breathe, stand, walk, and think,” Simon Chilembo.
It was as a four-and-half-year-old on my first day at school in Lesotho that I first became aware of my hereness. That was as an immediate response to the awareness of my differentness. The latter arose from my consciousness awakening to find me surrounded by many people. I somehow just understood that all were school children of all ages. There were numerous of my age, and others older. My guide, Dineo, was an older girl from the estate where I was staying not so far away from the school.
I found Dineo alternately being aggressively protective of me, and talking proudly about how far smarter I was compared to local children: I was of course tinier and blacker than all the other children because I was not one of them; I was not of their blood since my father came from a land far, far away in the north. In this so distant land, no Lesotho person had ever been. Dineo emphasized.
She went on to remind everyone about how ruthless her father was. So, if anybody was unkind to me, her father would come and destroy their lives the whole lot of them! Also, my father could do terrible things to them using powerful wizardry from his lands. Otherwise I was a sweet and happy child easy to be with, Dineo concluded.
This was a strange and fascinating scenario I could only watch without uttering a word. I did not only not know what to say or do, the atmosphere was also overwhelming in its simultaneous bewilderment and euphoria. The following day my grandmother took me to another school. I recall hearing whispers that word had been going around in the village that it was not safe for me to be at the first school. The alternative Peka Catholic school would be a safer bet for me, therefore.
At Peka Catholic school I recall being initially received by a group of nuns and the parish priest, Father Hemmel. The next thing was that I found myself in a room with several other children. We were singing “I am a tea pot. This is handle. This is mouth. Pour me out! Pour me out!”
Tracking animal pictures pasted up and around the walls of the room, I recall us repeating after the teacher, Mme Blandina, “A baby cow is called a calf. A baby sheep is called a lamb …”
And then, “A cat mews. A bull bellows. A hen cackles …”
Such began my school career. I would be at Peka Catholic school for four years, 1965-69. These remain the happiest years of my school life. This is the time I understood that I somehow grasped lessons faster than the lot of my classmates. I further found out that the teachers were extra fond of me. All nuns. The warmth they afforded me is unforgettable.
My popularity extended to older pupils, especially girls, in higher grades. At the same time, though, there were older boys that were not fond of me at all. They used to engage me into fights almost every day after school. I got my beatings much as I gave my share of the same. It ever infuriated everyone so much because I was unusually strong and stubborn for my age and, especially, body size.
I never thought too much about limitations of my personal attributes. All I knew was that I could never allow anybody to beat me up and get away with it. This was particularly so from age six, after my mother had instilled in my head the warrior heart attitude of learning to fight my own battles and settle scores alone.
I was already a seasoned fighter by the time that in my older youth years, my Karate teacher, in response to a report about a legendary fight that I had put up against some of the most notorious and dreaded street-fighters of Lusaka, Zambia, said, “If you must fight, fight. But don’t lose!”
That ethos drives my survival instincts in all situations to this day.
In the commotion typical around street fighting scenes, I would pick out ludicrous utterances that I was the way that I was as a hard-fighting child because of the strange blood that I carried from my strange, alien father. I was a little wizard that had to be killed whilst I was still a child because I was going to kill everyone else if I was to be allowed to grow up into a man.
These were really not nice things to hear for a child not even eight years old then. Now I’m a grown-up man soon to be sixty-years-old. Not a single person has perished in my hands yet. On the contrary, I have in my work saved more than one lives.
I thus learned how to balance getting unwanted extreme attention very early in my life. That, together with receiving much love on the one hand and buttressing myself against prejudice and hatred on the other, inculcated in me a strong sense of awareness of where I am at any one time.
Therefore, when I’m here, I’m here. What has to be will be. I shall do what I have to do to sustain my hereness for as long as possible, or for as long as it is necessary. If I have to love, I shall love. If I have to fight, I shall fight. The assumption being that my presence is valued here and now, and that my being here is not detrimental to my continued real and conceptual existential imperatives.
It’s not uncommon for me to hear that I take too much space when I’m here. It’s of little interest for me to seek to impose my hereness to personal and conceptual spaces that cannot, or are not willing to accommodate my being here.
If I’m here for a specific reason, I’ll do what I have to do to the best of my ability according to expectations, if not instructions. If it is really fun, I tend to go beyond, though. I’ll perform and deliver to the extent that what has to be done is compatible with my values and defined obligations vis-à-vis the given situation.
If I succeed, I succeed. If I fail, I fail. If the latter is due to factors I can correct, I shall do so accordingly. If it’s beyond my powers to correct, or do anything else in order to attain the original desired outcome, then I let go and move on to next level challenges; paying the price I have to if need be. It is what it is.
I never carry on with regrets. I carry on with new learned experiences that often empower me to perform better in the next level, even if the next level may not be related to the previous fiasco in any way. What matters is the new mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical fortification I’ve attained for the new way forward.
Throughout my life I’ve lived with the consciousness that I’ll meet all kinds of resistance in my endeavours to live my life as I see it, and as I wish to live it within the parameters of established life-supportive societal norms. I learned very early how to exert my presence with all my outward expressive faculties. This was an important skill to develop given the fact that I, as earlier stated, was a tiny child in a partially but grossly cruel world. In my adult years I never grew up to be the physically biggest man around either.
My mind, my intellect is my weapon. I load my mind with knowledge acquisition pursuits. I fire with my words: I write, I speak. I can sing too. My body is my combat machine. In this state of being, self-doubt is a known but non-applicable phenomenon to me. That is how I’ll always rise above negative forces working against me. Indeed, I might fall and lose one thing or another.
Actually, I have lost a lot of tangible and intangible things during the last twelve-to-fifteen-years. If I don’t die, I’ll rise again. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, but I will rise again. I am on the rise again as it is. My death can wait. I ain’t got no time to die as yet.
It happens time and time again: for each knock and fall I get, for each loss, at least tenfold new options for the better present themselves upon my rising again. For that reason, I never cry over spilt milk. When it is clear that the milk loss is inevitable no matter what preventive measures I may apply, I let go without shedding a tear.
No resistance. When change is gonna come, it’s gonna come. If one of the new options emerging after the milk loss will be a dairy cow, I hardly ever get surprised. Nevertheless, I remain ever humble in the face of continuous favours bestowed upon me by nature, my ancestral spirits, and my God. The resilience I put forth in times of trouble, in my darkest hours, does wonders for my ego. But that resilience is of origins far beyond the realms of my ego’s mind games’ current manifest performance and ultimate potential.
Deep down inside of me I know that constant pursuance of being a decent human being is my inclination by default, much as are my human fallibilities. When I get a knock for my own failings, my inadequacies, I shall with dignity take the punishment I get. My sense of dignity gets even more profound in the face of injustice and malice directed upon my person. Always.
I am cognizant of my strengths and vulnerabilities. These two qualities annihilate any sense of self-doubt I might have in any given situation. Because I know, i.e. my personal cognitive and intuitive data bases are adequately supplied with relevant information and energy, I’ll always have options in both good and challenging times.
The phrase Machona Awakening came not only from that moment I finally understood for myself that a place called home can be more a function of thoughts and feelings, contra its being one’s place of birth only. Machona Awakening is also about that moment in time it dawned upon me that I, indeed, am that I am. I am that I am with all the beauty and the ugly that define me in the eye of the beholder. That with respect to the conscious and unconscious display of my deeds as I dance through the intricacies of my life for as long as I live.
Fear I might have. Insecurity I might have. These may arise in times and situations where I lack applicable functional and conceptual knowledge. When and where I don’t know, I’m likely to be invisible; silent. If I’m ignorant relative to a given reality, it may perhaps be because it’s neither interesting nor important for my existential needs here and now, or there and then. Knowledge is power over fear, insecurity, and self-doubt. It’s about knowing what branch of knowledge is relevant where, how, and when.
I’m not a thrill-seeker. As such I’m not given to blind pursuits of the unknown at any cost. So, let it pass. Ain’t no love lost. No regrets. Self-doubt possibilities eliminated. But does that not limit maximal growth potential? Well, all things considered, I can only grow to the level I reach today. The next levels of growth tomorrow and beyond are only dreams with today’s growth experiences as their launch pad; as certain as the sun shall rise tomorrow for all living creatures of the earth. No doubt from the self, neither from nature. Solid knowledge. Self-doubt expunged.
March 02, 2020
SCIENTIFIC MAN OF GOD
Epigenetic inheritance theory has captured my fascination in a profound way. It has cast new insight into how I now think about the nature of man. That with reference to how I relate to man in the spontaneous, continuous process of writing and playing my own story as I go through the labyrinth of life. Some call it legacy.
But I don’t really care much about “the legacy I shall leave behind”. If I do have a legacy, it has, actually, built, and shall sustain itself for as long as time wants it alive. Nevertheless, immortality is the goal. Who wants to live forever? I do. Why not?
All I care about is the integrity of the authoring of my life story lines as I dance my way through to my exit point of the maze that far, far away.
My hope is that my life story shall be read and judged with open, scientific minds, both whilst I still walk the face of the earth, and when I’m dead.
Thanks to epigenetic inheritance theory, I have finally seen the light: yes, the human body is, indeed, a temple of God. By extension, any other creature that subscribes to, and lives according to tenets of any prescribed faith, has its physical body as the temple of God; at least in the Western world’s perception of the Deity.
Even more precisely, the philosophical duality of God and her anti-thesis, Satan, is not only a construct of the core of man’s existential questions’ thinking: their abodes, heaven and hell, respectively, are, in fact, in the DNA of man.
There is no place called heaven outside the realm of man’s existence on earth. Neither is there a place called hell in the same illusory domain. Heavenly rewards, or satanic retributions for our virtues and sins, respectively, we live them accordingly right here on earth. When we die, we are dead: our DNAs have switched off from our consciousness, and so have the ideas of God, Satan, heaven, and hell.
It is only the unenlightened that fuss about life after death for the deceased. The human soul leaving the dead is as real, as independent, and as infinite as the universe. So, leave it alone. It knows how to take care of itself. Ever heard of a buried soul? They failed to bury Jesus.
It ought to make perfect sense that life-after-death is, indeed, a reality for the living only. Life goes on. But, living in the dark, and confronted with challenges of life with nature, the survivors seek answers outside of themselves. Finding no workable solutions out there, panic grips them. Fear of the unknown rules over their lives through and through … (Continued in the book: “MACHONA BLOGS – As I See It”. Order Simon Chilembo books on Amazon)
December 19, 2017
I’M MOTIVATED BY FEAR: Will Smith
A fourteen-year-old boy in love is the most reckless thing. I just had to see my new girlfriend that night. To begin with, it was crazy of me to go for her when she lived in a different section of my township. You wanted to get your balls cut off and fed to the dogs you messed around in Section X, which was notorious for extreme youth gang violence in my time.
My Section Z was a relatively newer part of the township with a vibrant aspiring young middle class by Black South African standards in the 1960s/ ‘70s. This means that, because I had also already begun to make my own money then, I had finer clothes and things; and, of course, attitude. So, I want a girl, I go for her; don’t matter where she stays.
The anticipated creepy feeling engulfed me as I approached and reached the forbidden zone, about 30 minutes’ walk away from my home. It is winter, already very dark and spooky at about 2000HRS that evening. By the time I enter her street I have goose bumps all over my body. I’m breathing fast but quietly, I hear even the smallest irregular sound around me. And then I saw them slowly coming towards me, having emerged like from nowhere in the darkness around. A voice said, “So you think you are smart taking our girls, fool?”
And the boys kept coming towards me in a semi-circle, pressing me against a fence; they could have been 5, they could have been 10, hard to tell. The speaker broke away from the semi-circle to come even closer to me. Leader. I hit the fence in retreat, the gang closes in even more; I make out the face of the leader. A few more faces became familiar. All were carrying striking objects, an invisible knife or two as well most likely. These were a notorious gang that was rumoured to have killed at least one person before. Serious trouble. Fear!
Suddenly dead silence! The leader is within arm’s reach, and I understand he is about to strike. Then things happen very, very fast:
- Great concern – How am I going to explain to my parents the stupidity of bringing myself to death this way in the name of love? Goodness, they don’t even have an idea that I’ve already started these things! They sure are going to kill me a second time.
- Then I feel a lightness of my body like I am a feather suspended mid-air; total relaxation. Nice feeling. Something jerks, and a sudden urge to move overwhelms me. I moved like the wind. The leader I give one surprise right hook to the jaws and he tumbles like the earth just moved under his feet. The others freeze. I see an opening. Leapt over the fallen hero, and whirl-winded out of the semi-circle of startled young gangsters. Everybody down! I run.
- I trip over and almost fall. Only to realize that I had taken such a hazardous romantic trip in a pair of Converses without, as was the in-thing then, shoelaces. I took the shoes in my hands and ran for my life.
I do not recall how I explained to my parents my unusually long absence from home that night. But they never got to know how close to death I had come. I thought it wise to stop seeing the girl, though it would be 28 years later that I would fall out of love.
This is one of the stories of my life which have conditioned my killer instinct development as a tool for personal development, as well as working towards achieving the goals I set for myself. Because I have both in real and metaphorical terms come close to death many times, I have had invaluable training in the ability to detach, relax, let go, as well as dream, in the face of challenges in life. Almost without exception, looking back after having survived a crisis, I’ve found that coming down to zero-level (å nullstille seg: Norwegian/ mushin no shin: Japanese), inducing fear and worry to disappear, allows my subconscious me to harness and organize relevant mental and physical resources. This process enables me to intuitively structure and channel appropriate responses, saving my skin time after time. And this is what made me a fierce competitor in my younger Karate days. Many of my top Karate students have exhibited the same over the years, constantly re-lighting my passion for victory and success fire.
In these Olympics 2012 days in London, it is ever fascinating for me to notice how it is those who manifest clearly own killer instincts who take the gold. Of course, each one has own stories to tell. However, the common thread for winners and survivors includes hours upon hours of training and repetitions, discipline, endurance, strength, power, knowledge, skills, routines, responsibility, obligation, duty, loyalty, devotion, trust, ambition, confidence, passion, direction, focus, hope, faith, vision, sacrifice, and patience. All this can be real scary stuff if you ask me. Not for the weak-hearted. If you let fear rule your life, forget it: Only one Life, only one Killer Instinct, and only one Gold Medal position.
Tel.: +47 97000488/ +27 717454115
August 05, 2012
SEX IN THE JOB
“You have lots of free sex, you, Simon?” This was more of an emphatic statement from a male acquaintance.
“Tja-a-aaa… being a closed single man I do have the sex I get when I get it. I wouldn’t say it is lots and free though. I could enjoy more sex actually,” I replied.
“But, ehhh, what about those beautiful women you massage everyday at your clinic?,” he pressed on.
“Ahhh, I see! No, as a rule I don’t fuck with my patients. I take my job very seriously,” I said. Discussion closed. Nice weather today, no?
“You know that my son here, Simon, is like a doctor? He treats people with massage!” my mother proudly tells an old family friend who last saw me as a teenager.
“Awww? But I thought this was an educated man with a university degree. Can’t he use his education?” the lady was incredulous.
My mother explains, “Oh, yes, my son is educated alright. But you see, he is a business man now.”
“I have to be frank with you, Simon, massage is a low status job; that’s just the way it is. You will never be rich with this, and people will never respect you. But the thing with you is that you are so good with Chi massasje you take the whole thing to a very high level!” a former patient put it blank to me; taking me down, only to lift me again. I chose to remain high where he left me.
At a law firm in South Africa, a fascinated lawyer (White; need to be specific when talking about Mzansi fo sho) asked, “YOU, businessman in Europe! Wow, that’s very, very much nice! You do massage, you said? Men or women? NAKED? You mean these White women show you their breasts? Incredible! You have a good life, Mr Chilembo. Stay in Europe, Sir. Forget about the gravy train they talk about in this country, man!”
We both laughed heartily for what seemed like forever, causing consternation in the wider office.
Professionally the man did one hell of a good job for me, I paid him well; we both lived happily ever after. I wonder if women’s breasts of all colours, all shapes, and all sizes haunted him much as they did me the rest of the day afterwards. But then again I had “Show me the money!” him. I guess it is the money I look more at when I’m at work. A body is just a body for money, yes or no, yes?
I liked Frodine’s entry not long ago. Lying prone on the massage table like she has done more like a thousand times before since she first got her massage treatment from me about 8 years ago, she says, “You, Simon, I’ve been wanting to ask you this for along time: don’t you ever get uncomfortable touching people all the time here? I mean, when you work you touch people almost all over the body, including sensitive areas; don’t you ever, um, get turned on?”
My hands are creamy, and I’ve switched on to a professional mode already gently and deeply gliding down her fine curvaceous back. In that state, I hear what she’s saying and take it for what it sounds like to me, an innocent question. So I quietly but gutturally respond, “No!” and continue with my work. When she moves like uncomfortably and says, “Oh!?”, I realize that I have to switch off a bit and explain a little more:
- Ok, it does happen that I am aroused occasionally, of course; I am only human like everyone else. And, besides, my good health and robustness make me most virile indeed. But you see, the moment I step in to my clinic, ENERVITAL, my persona changes to become strictly professional and impersonal. That way I can focus on what the essence of my job and mission are about. It’s a matter of both professional and personal integrity.
- Furthermore, given my hypersensitivity to racism and racial stereotypes (remember I was born and raised in the former apartheid South Africa), I am ever conscious about how non-Black people respond to my
being, my presence, my thoughts, and my actions. For example, I (speaking for myself only) don’t go around carrying a penis the size of a horse’s between my legs (but then again I do not go round flashing the organ about in public like a horse does when the heat is on); and my cognitive capacity and work take place in the only brain I have in my head, the one above my shoulders. As far as I know my penis contains no part or parts of my brains, and neither do my testicles. I get a kick out of being an anti-thesis of racial stereotyping vis-à-vis Black people (men) and sexual behaviour, amongst other things.
- Above all, I get an extra awesome kick every time I with honour and dignity manage to resist, and overcome, temptation. For me, every day at work is a day of continual emotional, philosophical, and spiritual growth. I thrive with my physical growth in either the bedroom or the gym, or the other way round, ehmmm… depending!
Today weather nice or not nice, yes?
July 24, 2012
ENERVITAL is my multifaceted Health & Wellness brand comprising:
- Chilembo Nordic Chi massasje®
- COOL Coaching®/ NLP
My goal at ENERVITAL is to help people attain their optimal state of health to enable them realize the most optimal wealth creation potential for both themselves as individuals, as well as their work/ business enterprises. In the perfect world my mind sees, healthy and wealthy people create and lead healthy and wealthy organizations and institutions. These form the basis for healthy and wealthy nations of abundance, where all have their basic needs and wants plus more are perpetually satisfied. On the grander scale of thought, health and wealth are means to world peace attainment.
In the perfect world my mind’s sees I define wealth as follows:
- WEALTH: Sustainable long-term state of resourcefulness.
– Resourcefulness: Boundless creative ability and innovative capacity.
Resourceful people will always find solutions to challenges; and they will always find new and better, more efficient, and more effective ways of doing things. This translates to higher productivity, functional and rational use, as well as allocation of resources. When all is said and done, the rewards then are higher profits for business, higher returns on investment, and higher remunerations for the workers, as well as greater revenue generation for the state. And voilà, all live happily ever after!
It goes without saying therefore that my ENERVITAL Healthy & Wealthy People® will be at the top of the food chain. Given their abundant creative and innovative energy, as well as capacity catalyzed by what I do at ENERVITAL, these people make things happen; they are not made by things, and are rewarded accordingly across the board. In (the) community many of these people are generous, considerate, and kind; they have strong philanthropic engagements in many parts of the world.
If you also want to be healthy and wealthy, so you can have the necessary strength and endurance to help make this a better place for yourself and others to live to the fullest creative and innovative potential, come to ENERVITAL!
My dream: Peace on earth. All are healthy and wealthy. Abundance is real, equitable.
Tel.: +47 97000488/ +27 717454115 (South Africa)
July 09, 2012