It had been a long day of building water towers in the heat that is Northern Natal.  The sun was baking down on him and his khaki shirt was stuck to the middle of his back.  He put the finishing touches to his task at hand, stretched his back out and slowly walked up a big mound of rocky outcrop.  The sun was setting and the world beneath him was filled with an  orange glow.  He looked down on the plains stretching out ahead of him, his jaw set, his eyes burning with passion, and slowly raised his arms.  He shouted out, “Yes, I accept, yes, please teach me all I need to know, yes, please take me as one of yours and let me serve you.”  Tears of joy seeped from the corners of his eyes and his heart was pounding as he made is way down the outcrop, his breath raspy with exertion.

The son of a builder he had arrived in the greater Mfolozi Park, with  building ability learned from his father and a need to work in the outdoors.  He had a willingness to learn and the greatest teacher of all time, Dr Ian Player.  It became clear that Ian Player embraced all that he did, most notably the earth was a part of this man with a huge social conscience and the importance of being.  Ian Player embraced Carl Jung and went on to be a founding member of the Jungian Analysis Centre in South Africa.  His philosophies and teachings would have great bearing on this young man with a fiery spirit and a complete supplication to the earth and where his life had led him.

I listen to this tale told to me on my park bench in Lever Road.  I have made firm friends with the now elderly Gordon who became the Chief Ranger of Mfolozi Game Reserve after Ian Player and a Senior staff member of the Natal Parks Board that sadly was.  I am continually fascinated with his many stories, he is filled with gratitude for a life well lived, a wife chosen well, who has stood fiercely at his side through thick and thin, and it is now with this further insight into the depth of the man, that I realise that when he took ownership of his life, supplicating himself to the earth and vowed to be a custodian of it, it was precisely at that moment that the universe would have kept him safely ensconced in her arms.

I am loving this opportunity to listen.  To listen to the people who have been successful with their personal happiness.  Happiness and success starts with you, not with your relationships, work, money, just you.  My own introspection has coincided with my friend Kathryn Wiseman’s launch of her beautiful book, “Hiding in the Shade.”  It is available on Amazon.  Discovering and leading a fulfilling life needs you to say, “Yes,”  “I want that.”  “Yes, I can do that”.

In closing,  from Carl Jung himself, “Who looks outside, dreams; Who looks inside, awaits”

Dream big things

 

 

 

I couldn’t get to sleep the other night and started scrolling through the various channels on offer.  I found Sex In The City in Abu Dhabi.  Having been a dedicated Sex in The City viewer and fan in the 1990’s I was delighted. The flowing outfits and backdrops were spectacular and Kim Cattrall’s sexual antics as amusing as ever, but the discussion where I entered the movie made my mind spin.  Mr Big….is suggesting to Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) that he get an apartment for 2 days a week, so that he totally dedicates 5 days a week to her, but for 2 days, both of them have carté blanche to do their own thing, whether it be nothing, catching up with friends, sport, tv, shopping……and her instant reaction is such hurt, “Am I not enough for you?”and she is particularly worried about what her girlfriends would say about their altered or different lifestyle.  She tries to pitch this idea to them while they are away, and the idea is not received well, in fact, they try to ignore any more reference to it and you can see that she is perturbed.  Quite a thought to chew on when you are a newly wed as she is at the time.

Transport me to my patio, with the warm afternoon sun on my face, a glass of champagne in hand and two gorgeous girlfriends around my table.  We have and are discovering that we have evolved, we are comfortable in our skins, we are no longer afraid to say “no,” we don’t need to be people pleasers, time is now paramount and we want to make it worthwhile.  We are done with the insecurities of youth, the hard times of young children, the competitive edge of being in your late 20’s and 30’s.  It seems that as women age they  become more  independent, more sure of our convictions, a little intolerant of fools, not prepared to spend time with people that we are not comfortable with for ANY reason, our counterparts, however are now at the retiring stage and become  vulnerable and more needy for affirmation. They suddenly find themselves in unchartered territory.  They are no longer at the helm of companies or offices, and the delight of younger female contemporaries or staff and they are at odds with the space at home, which clearly is not their domain if they have never taken an active part in it.

Contrary to common belief, we do not spend female time discussing our male partners, we often usually think we are alone in whatever dilemma is currently affecting us.  How glorious to have an open and frank discussion and realise that all relationships change with age and where we are at in our lives.  They ebb and flow, compatibility becomes paramount, as does equality of mind so that there is a constant learning and sharing of ideas and philosophies.  A damn good sense of humour helps, and a mindfulness that we are truly different.  We are Venus and Mars after all.

So to all of us who have gone through marriage, childbirth, no sleep, careers, attempting to perfect our bodies with hours of gym and exercise, teenagers, young adults and for some of us, grandchildren.  We are all grown up. If ever faced with the dilemma of a young Carrie, we would sail through it.  We are most certainly enough, we are more than enough.

Take ownership, do not settle for mediocrity.

Having deposited my youngest at the airport on Tuesday, I had a rather dull drive back to my now very empty home and was at odds with what was to come next.  I was greeted warmly by my furry children and decided to amble to the park, from my window it looked empty and my dearest Molly wouldn’t be anxious.

I positioned myself on a bench, under a tree, with a touch of sea view but more importantly, the warmth of the sun on my face which was holding the liquid at the corners of my eyes at bay.  I noticed an older man at the other end of the park with his dog, but relaxed into the wood of my seat.  He edged closer to me, and announced that if he was closer, the dogs may communicate.  Harold then told me of some of his past life at the Umfolozi Game Reserve before we were joined by Peter, the baker, who as he ambled up said, “I thought I recognised that voice”, a glance at me and then “Harold chats a lot”.  Well suddenly Molly also arrived, (not my Molly, Harold’s wife).  Beautiful people, all three.  I was drawn into their discussion about how we are all connected, trees, plants, humans and I found myself nodding in agreement.  Harold and Molly have spent their lives bettering the flora, fauna and children of Africa and spent time at Findhorn in Scotland.  Molly was continually drawn to this trip, her subconscious continually nudging, she made it happen eventually. (www.findhorn.org.)  She was also the Director of TREE, a non profit organisation with the vision “to ensure that young children develop to their full potential”. (tree.ecd.co.za) The hours raced with conversations of talking to your plants, engaging and reaching out to the unknown and to touch someones life, but most importantly as I have found, let stuff go.  Give it to the universe, it will come back to you and you will find meaning.  Push yourself into uncomfortable situations, you grow.

The Tree of Life has many symbols of connection including the old “as above, so below” idea.  This may represent the symbolic nature of what happens on a small scale will ripple out affecting life on a larger scale as well. I was filled with such purpose.  I was meant to be in the park right then.  It created a new awareness of other important things for me.  Peter shared the cathartic pleasure of baking bread, the history and reverence of the act dating back in time.

A night later I was honoured to share in a toast of the life of a beautiful soul, taken far too early for us to comprehend and at the same time received a message from an equally beautiful person confirming that she had started ovulating.  Go figure.  Our souls are all on a beautiful intermingling path.

“When the world was made”, the sages say, “the moshiach was the wind hovering over all that would be. Within each thing, infinite beauty awaits us to tap upon its shell.”

I look forward to my next meeting at the Lever Road Park – I want to learn more.  I want to connect.

Many of you know that feeling when you are so determined you won’t cry,  you talk yourself into being strong, and then you have that question accompanied by sensitive caring eyes,  “how does that make you feel?” and all resistance crumbles and your face melts into a soggy mass of mascara and blotchiness.

I know that moving home is traumatic.  It is the very industry I have been involved in most of my working life.  The triggers for most moves are divorce, death, departure and debt, so the incidence where moving is for fun are extremely rare.  Even in the most exciting of circumstances there is always a period of settling required.  I know all this, but you see I have always somehow coped and carried on like nothing has changed.  I have always been unflappable because I didn’t want my family feeling insecure.  The challenge this time, is that I seem to be totally unhinged.  I can usually move on without looking back, I embrace change with steely determination, but this time I am almost paralysed with a tiredness that doesn’t seem to want to abate.

The move has given me back the sea that I love so much, the sound of seagulls in the morning, the background noise of children in the park, the smell of coffee from Bob’s Bagels, I am reminded of my children growing up in Pennington when I see young mum’s push their prams and meet others in the park for tea and picnics.  It is all pretty perfect, but I keep wondering when I’m going to be finished with the holiday and go home. When you google the word home, it comes up as, “the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.” I lit my candles last night and gave thanks for my week and for the support of my precious little family and friends.

As I sit writing this story, I note with satisfaction, that home is starting to take shape.  Most things have found a place.  My dogs are still unsettled, but I have discovered that they love the beach as much as their mother, so this will become their new play park instead of the forest.  They too will adapt.

My guru has allowed me to now run 5km every second day, and I can do it along the beach path to Muizenburg Surfers corner and back.  The thrill of the sound of my footsteps, the sea as my companion and memories of running this path a year ago with my favourite running partner gives me hope, there is light at the end of this tunnel.  I will find my rhythm and the person I was will be back, maybe a better, calmer model. Oi vey, lets hope!

Time – it waits for no man or dog.

Little Annabella and I have come a long way together.  The first night with me, she climbed onto my head where she slept knowing that I was near.  Nothing much has changed over the last eight years, but of late she is tiring and not the enthusiastic walker/runner she used to be.  Age suddenly creeps up on you, she now gets a little glint in her eyes, she makes her legs all stiff and stops, and I get the message loud and clear, that no more walking is required, she wants to be carried.  When did this all happen, have I failed to notice her ageing, or has my demise coincided with hers and gone unnoticed.  While taking her out just now, where she similarly refused to walk anymore, I was catapulted back to New Years Eve at least 5 years ago.

Precious and I had no set plans for New Year, but had decided that we would definitely do something together after the kids had all departed for their various venues after “pre-drinks.”  Not wanting her to spend too much time alone, off we marched to give her a lovely outing before we went out.  Ribbon in hair, attitude in her little hips, off we strutted in unison.  In and around Newlands, up to the Forest, back down to Main Road and then a meander back to the cottage.  She was puffing and thirsty, and I left her drinking as I started getting ready to go out. I was suddenly aware that she was not with me and went in search of her.  She was lying prone, little legs stiff and her eyes were wide.  I picked her up onto her feet, she just keeled over.  Hysterically shouted for Precious.  We tried again, talking gently to her, picked her up, tried to get her to stand and come to us, nope, over she went, legs straight out.  Cape Town, New Year’s Eve, not our home town at that stage, so no knowledge of vets.  We wrapped her up in her little pink blanket and headed for the car at a run.  We went past 2 Vets, and obtained an emergency hospital number and address.  The trip seemed to take ages.  I whispered to her the whole way, pleading her to be well.  We screeched into the driveway and were escorted straight into the rooms as they were expecting us.  Precious in the meantime, was wide-eyed, filling in forms, terrified that this little outing was going to break the bank.

The Vet walked in, a caring young woman.  I explained my story.  She gently picked Annabella up, while stroking her and placed her on her feet…..Annabella dear darling, looked up and trotted across the table to me, not a care in the world, absolutely fine.  Gobsmacked.  She was either temporarily struck down with tiredness, or she didn’t want me to go out?  Go figure.  Well with a lot of embarrassment and a donation to the Hospital, they couldn’t charge as there as nothing wrong, we left with our “tails” between our legs.  It was now close to 11pm.  We ceremoniously dumped her at home and went in search of some supper and a little cheer.  Barristers, an infamous little pub in Newlands found us.  The owner insisted that he could rustle up some food and we spent probably one of my most favourite New Year’s Eves ever.

So much has changed in our lives since then, but you somehow don’t notice the important stuff when you are caught up in the business of living each day.  My little girl has aged.  No longer prima donna antics, just shit happens.

“Time is the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future”

The Scale Of Love – Jean Antoine Watteau

With my research and listening skills being a little more attuned of late, I realise that so many people have issues on a day to day basis, (back to my story of the monkey on your shoulder).  I have realised that I most definitely suffer from depression and loneliness, and it is just something that you never discuss, because why should I be depressed and for goodness sake, what makes an outgoing person lonely?  These two monkeys are not always present, but they certainly track me down just when I think I am shot of them.  These goons keep following me, Depression has a firm grip on my shoulder and Loneliness harangues me with his interrogation.

With a lifelong history of moving, I now know that it is the uncertainty for a while that unhinges me.  So as much as I am excited at new opportunities, I have always just craved the simplicity of a stable home which I lost at 17 and don’t seem to have established since. With my packing behind me now I do know that I have one mighty “move” talent and that is that I can make friends with anybody.  I can make friends with the dead.  So when people ask me with quizzical looks on their faces “Do you have friends in your new spot?” and I shake my head no, thinking to myself, but I will….

I read a fascinating story, quite a few years ago and I unfortunately can’t remember who wrote if, about how the scales of love change in a relationship.  Most times, when a couple choose to be one, there is always one party that “loves more.” In this particular book, the wife had always loved more, and knew it, and after going through a tremendously rough time, and an indiscretion by him, the balance changed, and the bewilderment of the spouse who had suddenly “lost” the balance was quite profound, as he had always in essence had the upper hand.  In no way am I advocating that either party have the upper hand, rather a sharing of strengths, but this power is very subtle and I believe very prevalent.  The person who loves more, gives more, and is probably happy being that person.  The same applies to deep friendships, there comes a time, where you suddenly realise that the scales are equal and you are together and bound for the long haul and even if the scale tilts, it will revert.

And so as I seem to battle on this path of huge ups and downs, I was struck down profoundly this weekend with the peace that I am absolutely loved and adored.  The scale of love equalised for me. Home is where the heart is after all.

“Dal centro della mia vita venne una grande fontana..” “From the centre of my life, there came a great fountain.”  “L’amor che move il sole el altre stella”  “The love that moves the sun and other stars.”

Shenanigans is loved.  It is enough.

 

I fetched her at a Mall outside of Cape Town.  She had come all the way from George in a cardboard food box, with a new baby blanket, no food or water and she was filthy.  I hadn’t done too much research on her and so was a little surprised at what she looked like, not quite the beauty of Annabella.  Her whole body was rigid with fear, and her little legs were stretched out straight, I couldn’t even mould her against me.  I turned her onto her back in my lap, she became still and regarded me intently.  She had and still has glorious long black eyelashes, and little dark button, teddy bear like eyes.  She has a way of searching my soul, and bringing peace to my often chaotic days.

I was reminded last night of the movie, Babe and this particular line, “The pig and the farmer regarded each other and for a fleeting moment something passed between them, a faint sense of some common destiny.” The farmer is a simple man who is captivated by a piglet who changes his life and empowers him. His once drab life becomes spectacular.  The narrator goes on to say,  “Little ideas that tickled and nagged and refused to go away should never be ignored for in them lie the seeds of destiny.”

I have learnt that she is frightened of brooms and children.  She is terrified of boisterous dogs that bound up towards her to sometimes play, but perhaps it is her fear that attracts them. She took ages to learn how to cross a bridge and looks at me questioningly whenever some new challenge comes up. I soothe her through these moments and promise to protect her and tell her that she will be alright.  She has totally changed the dynamics of my life.

Something most certainly  passed between us when she held my gaze as a tiny pup.  Our common destiny is sealed.  It is a love that is totally unconditional.  It is trust.  At trying times I suddenly find her paw on my lap or shoulder (yes she can jump right onto the back of the couch now) and in happy glorious situations, she is next to me with her tongue sticking out and a grin on her face.

Babe, the movie finishes with the piglet mastering a flock of sheep through a complicated set of moves, with the farmer as her steady sense of security.  His only words to her after the gate clicks closed is “That’il do pig, that’il do.”

I get the feeling when Molly gazes at me right now, that she is saying, “That’il do Shan, that’il do.

 

 

 

 

 

Adjective:  Absent from where one should be but without intent to desert

Just about to enter the dreaded move stage….let me tell you I know how to move house.  I’m in the double figures.  There is always a story, most hilarious, because the absurdity of what happens to you becomes a joke once all is unpacked and life returns to normal.

Precious and I have been together for 9 years and I have moved 6 times, note the I..most often hauling all our things in my car to the disbelief of my new neighbours, every time. The pleasure of this is of course,  that once the furniture truck comes and fetches the big things everything is already in the cupboards and all I have to do is make beds and hang pictures….in theory.  Precious at this time mysteriously has business trips, golf trips, overseas trips that “only just came up,” or “Darling, did I forget to tell you, I’m sure I mentioned it.”

Well the move from Pietermaritzburg to Cape Town is truly one for the storybooks.  I had moved to Cape Town and the furniture and husband were supposed to arrive on the 1 July.  There was extensive packing involved as we scaled down from a 5 bedroomed, en-suite house to a 2 bedroomed little beauty in Newlands Village.  I am a “list” girl and let me tell you, they were extensive – each box was numbered and a corresponding document listed all the contents.  There were 15 boxes coming to CT, there was furniture going to auction and there were boxes not to be packed by the Movers and kept separately in the gym room, also labelled and listed.  I double checked if I needed to be there for the pack up, but was firmly assured that my preparation was so good, it would be an unnecessary expense and I relaxed to welcome all with open arms.

At the time, we had the most beautiful Malawian houseman, James, more commonly known as Jamsie.  Jamsie adds “ie or “y” to nearly every word he speaks, and is a phenomenal gardener, but quite illiterate.  He called me Mommy and would proudly announce things like, “Mommy, I cuttie the grassy, I pullie the weedies out, and I water the plantie,”  all with a gorgeous wide gapped grin.  While I packed furiously he had helped and carted boxes up to the storeroom/gym and had been a lifeline.

I had a terribly restless night on the eve of the furniture being collected, so bad that at 4.30am I sent Precious a message to say that I was going to get on the 6am plane and be there to help him, he just couldn’t do it alone, I didn’t expect an immediate response, just wanted to warn him of my intentions.  Blow me down, my cell rang within 5 minutes of my message….”Darling, didn’t I tell you I was in Johannesburg?”  Now as we know from Bill Cosby, women enunciate, (after they swear) “#*###**#, no you did not mention it on the phone from Johannesburg last night, who is moving our furniture?”  To which he answered, “James”.

Fury, desperation, sadness, loathing, what could I do?  The furniture was collected, orchestrated by Jamsie, who  didn’t use a single list, he phoned me many times, “Mommy, I’m not sure of the boxie, the manie, she’s crossy with me”.  Needless to say EVERYTHING arrived in Cape Town, late one night in the pouring rain.  To add insult to injury, they refused to unpack the van that could not get down our street until I paid a further R9000 for unlisted items and boxes.  Precious sensibly didn’t arrive.

So time heals and dust settles.  We are in the process of moving again. Precious is going on an urgent trip to KZN.  You don’t say…..

 

I recently heard a  story about a large company that were visited in the forest by the powers that were the company.  A wise man and friend of mine set up his staff in precarious positions with all their heavy duty equipment to cut down a large portion of the forest in full view of the visiting officials.  Head office were always very quick to pounce when accidents happened.  As these 650 workers operated their enormous equipment with harnesses and roping the wise man said to the visiting entourage, “Gentlemen, every one of us has a monkey on his shoulder, those 650 workers of ours do and so do you.”  Stunned silence, but he carried on.  “We all have no idea of the hardships going on in everyones lives, whether it be lack of food, a problem with school fees, an unexpected pregnancy, death, divorce, we all have these monkeys that come with us. Accidents happen when sometimes these monkeys become so heavy we lose concentration and unfortunately in those 650 people’s lives, a little oversight ends as a fatal accident.”  Needless to say, the wise man had captured the attention of head office and made his point.

I seem to literally drag troops of monkeys around.  I’m constantly commanding my shoulders to relax as I drive, telling myself that everything will work out.  Pretending “I’m fine”, when I’m dying inside. Well on Saturday morning, very fortuitously, I was asked to write about The Secret Sunrise series at St James beach.  My monkey came with me.  En route I was wondering why I had committed to doing it with all I had to get done on this particular Saturday morning.  I still had a property to view and a daughters birthday party to arrive at and be fabulous for.  Out of my car I trundled before sunrise to obverse just what this concept is.  What is it that is motivating people to get up early for to gather at surprise venues for a secret sunrise?

I am a beach bum, so going down under the railway and onto the beach, crushing shells as I trod was close to orgasmic for me.  My feet hit the beach sand and I instantly started a heart beat I haven’t felt in a while.  The moon was hanging just to the left of the mountain, and the waves were silvery, the tidal pool totally still looking more like an ice rink.  Up past the colourful huts I meandered to a huge grassy field, which was beautifully enclosed in colourful bunting with the odd sunflower making an appearance.   Groups started to trickle in, some in gym clothes, some with beautiful tutus, some in old shorts and t shirts, some in regular clothing, two beautiful friends with  flower wreaths around their heads.  Two puppies are frolicking around my legs as I get my earphones.  Still totally enraptured with the lighting of the morning and the waves licking the shore, I was a little distracted. Suddenly music starts pulsing in your headphones and you are gently called together.  The message is simple, close your eyes, feel the music flowing and let yourself rock gently.  Feel your toes, your knees, your quads, your body as the music flows through you.  Bring all your baggage in and let your body deal with it.  Shout out loudly for your bad week or rejoice with a shout for your good week. Let me share that I am not hugely demonstrative or free with my feelings, but I was totally drawn in.  I shouted and swayed away to my bodies seemingly ancient rhythm.

The confines of every day and the set norms we operate to melted away.  Not only did I rock with the music, I danced with a total stranger, I made eye contact,  I touched elbows, knees, foreheads and noses. I ran in slow motion to the music of Chariots of Fire.  I sprinted found the grass to fast paced music, I jammed like I was the lead in a band, I was free as a bird. We faced the sea as the sun rose teetering on the rocks and allowed those warm rays to enter us and caress our faces and bodies.

This is Secret Sunrise,  this old girl learnt the benefits of sharing and being open to change.  I came away beaming.  I came away full of light and love.  I came away wanting to make the world a better place.  I came away translucent and free.  My monkey was nowhere to be seen or felt.

Secret Sunrise – where is the next one please? @secretsunrisecapetown

Alchemy: a seemingly magical process of transformation