Even the Least of These
On my birthday I awoke to this tailless little fellow in my bedchamber.
Only half the man he was before, but still bravely clinging to his wall...just a meter above the likely culprit for his harrowing near-death ordeal -- my familiar/daemon/constant companion, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth Sootica.
Today I saw a lone shoe on the pavement as I walked with my parents through Kalk Bay. The last time I noticed a discarded fairy tale slipper was in Muizenberg after a potent Cranio-Sacral Treatment that, of all the many things I've tried to alleviate the TMD I've been struggling with for over two months, was the most helpful. These little signs and wonders always encourage me along the spiral way.
Writing about the frailties of flesh is an act of extreme vulnerability. I'm actually, despite bloggish & other online appearances, an intensely private person. I feel great Fear and unspeakable shame after revealing myself in any way.
However, through sharing here I was invited to a faerie healer's home who treated me with such a twinkle and really warmed my heart with her insights and care. This is Shelley McLaren, Specialised Kinesiologist. It was an essential reminder that good can come of being honestly ourselves. While nothing good ever comes from pretense. Thank you dear heart.
So on my 44th birthday I took my folks to that awesome celebration of modern African Art, Zeitz Mocaa, to bask in Kentridge's genius and took myself to see Judy which, while I knew it would be good, wasn't exactly compelling me to watch it, but since Ster Kinekor provided the bday freebie and I'd already seen the wonderful new take on Little Women, I thought "why not?"
Yes, it's a showcase for Renee Zellweger and a tragic story of iconic child star hooked on pills. But it's also about us all trying to make our way, particularly during this trying middle passage. My favourite moment was just before "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," a song that has great personal significance to me since my dear friend Rokela had bought a little music box for my children the day she died that plays it and we only received it some time after her death. It resides in the kitchen and when I have the strength, I crank the little arm and listen to that sweet song. It's her, my golden hearted first friend, sending us a message from beyond the grave. Judy says this song isn't about a destination but rather about the journey...the ability to keep walking the path of our lives, with Hope.
On Saturday I went to watch a dear past student of mine, Jessica Moss, perform at charming local venue The Cottage Club. I taught her all through her High School years. What a privilege to have witnessed so many milestones and firsts, including her first public performances where she strummed her guitar and sang for school fundraisers. There was an unforgettable moment when she performed "Creep" at the Baxter theatre when she was about 16 and received a deserved standing ovation. She recorded her first album for her Class 12 project and named it "Cherries" after me. One of the loveliest honours I ever received. Now she is one half of Stone & Moss, a story-telling duo of no small magic. It was a beautiful evening shared with friends who over the years have become like family in the best possible way. I felt such comfort being held by the music and the love of my people.
The next day my hubby and I went to the vigil in Ocean View, a community wracked by gang violence, to honour the many dead by erecting crosses in their memories. The day before my birthday, as I basked in the gorgeous late summer sun twinkling off the Kom while waiting for my daughter to finish her ballet class, a 7 year old girl Imaan Solomons was shot as she played in her yard. We met up with many concerned friends of that community and the surrounds.
I can't help but thoroughly question my motivation for doing everything that I do. The fact that I didn't want to go to this show of solidarity was a sure sign that it was necessary. When you've lost people to violence it's so easy to feel retraumatised, although that's really unavoidable here, a city and country and world gripped by violence. This is our reality.
I'm so deeply sorry for the loved ones of these innocents.
My friends clearly know me and my proclivities well and I received so many beautiful books for my birthday. One, Of Motherhood and Melancholia, is on the "slow violence of poverty" and the writer, Lou-Marié Kruger, does an admirable job of interrogating her reasons for writing and her position of white privilege. As I've been writing my memoir I have felt the same misgivings and concerns. In the end we are all made of stories and it's important to tell ours, but not get bogged down in them either.
As I prepare for our Hearth & Soul Retreat this weekend I find myself feeling lighter and clearer despite the horrors great and small. From the gecko to our traumatised neighbours, I'm reminded that my own place "in the family of things" is just that.
We are all part of a whole and it's not all suffering.
The more peace I make with what is, the less I suffer.
This isn't about being laissez-faire. Of course we must all do what we can to alleviate the pain we see. In fact this might be the most meaningful use for our lives -- helping one another. But please, see to yourself. Stop playing the blame game.
As always my wise teacher says it so clearly. Thank you Tara Brach:
Spending less time online definitely helps me feel more connected.
Spending more time connecting to body and breath mindfully and committing to be more fully present in whatever the moment holds is where it's at.
I take strength from the courageous storytellers. The truth sayers. Here another The Moth gem on what it means to really be there for one another:
Rest well, tomorrow is another day which asks us to keep showing up, step by step, with hope.
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Only half the man he was before, but still bravely clinging to his wall...just a meter above the likely culprit for his harrowing near-death ordeal -- my familiar/daemon/constant companion, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth Sootica.
 |
| Who me? Innocent Guardian of Kazak camelhair slippers? |
Writing about the frailties of flesh is an act of extreme vulnerability. I'm actually, despite bloggish & other online appearances, an intensely private person. I feel great Fear and unspeakable shame after revealing myself in any way.
 |
| Thanks to my lovely friends Nicola & Aparna for our therapy sessions via meme/gif primarily |
So on my 44th birthday I took my folks to that awesome celebration of modern African Art, Zeitz Mocaa, to bask in Kentridge's genius and took myself to see Judy which, while I knew it would be good, wasn't exactly compelling me to watch it, but since Ster Kinekor provided the bday freebie and I'd already seen the wonderful new take on Little Women, I thought "why not?"
Yes, it's a showcase for Renee Zellweger and a tragic story of iconic child star hooked on pills. But it's also about us all trying to make our way, particularly during this trying middle passage. My favourite moment was just before "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," a song that has great personal significance to me since my dear friend Rokela had bought a little music box for my children the day she died that plays it and we only received it some time after her death. It resides in the kitchen and when I have the strength, I crank the little arm and listen to that sweet song. It's her, my golden hearted first friend, sending us a message from beyond the grave. Judy says this song isn't about a destination but rather about the journey...the ability to keep walking the path of our lives, with Hope.
On Saturday I went to watch a dear past student of mine, Jessica Moss, perform at charming local venue The Cottage Club. I taught her all through her High School years. What a privilege to have witnessed so many milestones and firsts, including her first public performances where she strummed her guitar and sang for school fundraisers. There was an unforgettable moment when she performed "Creep" at the Baxter theatre when she was about 16 and received a deserved standing ovation. She recorded her first album for her Class 12 project and named it "Cherries" after me. One of the loveliest honours I ever received. Now she is one half of Stone & Moss, a story-telling duo of no small magic. It was a beautiful evening shared with friends who over the years have become like family in the best possible way. I felt such comfort being held by the music and the love of my people.
The next day my hubby and I went to the vigil in Ocean View, a community wracked by gang violence, to honour the many dead by erecting crosses in their memories. The day before my birthday, as I basked in the gorgeous late summer sun twinkling off the Kom while waiting for my daughter to finish her ballet class, a 7 year old girl Imaan Solomons was shot as she played in her yard. We met up with many concerned friends of that community and the surrounds.
I can't help but thoroughly question my motivation for doing everything that I do. The fact that I didn't want to go to this show of solidarity was a sure sign that it was necessary. When you've lost people to violence it's so easy to feel retraumatised, although that's really unavoidable here, a city and country and world gripped by violence. This is our reality.
I'm so deeply sorry for the loved ones of these innocents.
 | ||
 |
| Favoured bedfellows -- reading is a glorious way to slow down & edify |
We are all part of a whole and it's not all suffering.
The more peace I make with what is, the less I suffer.
This isn't about being laissez-faire. Of course we must all do what we can to alleviate the pain we see. In fact this might be the most meaningful use for our lives -- helping one another. But please, see to yourself. Stop playing the blame game.
As always my wise teacher says it so clearly. Thank you Tara Brach:
Spending less time online definitely helps me feel more connected.
Spending more time connecting to body and breath mindfully and committing to be more fully present in whatever the moment holds is where it's at.
I take strength from the courageous storytellers. The truth sayers. Here another The Moth gem on what it means to really be there for one another:
Rest well, tomorrow is another day which asks us to keep showing up, step by step, with hope.
Subscribe to Foot Sore & Fancy Free by Email
And please verify your email address (check your junkmail!)
Thanks :)
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