Monday, November 04, 2019

Perspective

























Devil's Peak from the Woodstock writing desk of my content: It's the MOST beautiful day in ALL the world; summer gets closer and closer, the days get longer, much longer.

Listening to Heinrich Schütz's, Die Himmel erzählen die Ehre Gottes, SWV 386: In essence, all glory to God. Seems pretty apt as I post this photo.

On another note, which reminds us that Mordor is never far away, the Chilean Government has just recently announced that they are suspending this year’s UN Climate Talks, They were scheduled to take place in Santiago next month.

They have blamed the suspension on the protests that have been wracking the country’s streets these past few weeks. 

"But instead of derailing it, the protests get at the very heart of what global climate talks should be addressing: the huge and expanding gap between the rich and poor, the fact that so many people are denied their basic rights, and an economy that prioritizes big business and polluters over the needs of everyday people." - www.350.org

Inequality fuels the climate crisis, which in turn fuels inequality. This is a vicious cycle that must be broken... but in our lifetimes? It's a struggle to not let oneself be overwhelmed by negativity and cynicism. 

Nevertheless, I continue to sign the petitions.

Saturday, November 02, 2019

Black & White and Green & Gold





































The arrival, last Sunday of what has now been a week-long cold front: endless downpours roaring and thrashing their way through Woodstock... even the dumping of snow somewhere in our province. 

It was a wonderfully moody coffee-drinking-and-book-reading-filled Sunday afternoon.

Now, as I type these words at exactly 13h00 today, Cape Town erupts in a cacophony of hooters and sirens: South Africa is the 2019 world rugby champions!

As trite as it may sound, this country needed something, this, some good news for a change; the last decade has seen the barrel scraped of its last dregs. There's almost nothing left.

Between storms


Between storms: It was a magnificent day, last Saturday, to enjoy Cape Town after having been away for so long, and to end it with a long anxiety-fee walk through the Company's Garden... 

Wasn't it a Zen master who said that if you sit still for long enough (on a bench in a garden), the world will surely come to you, or, ha-ha, at least past you?

Into the storm








"What am I doing here, what is the point of these smiles and gestures? My home is neither here nor elsewhere. And the world has become merely unknown landscape where my heart can lean on nothing. Foreign – who can know what this word means?"
- Albert Camus, from Notebooks, 1935-1942

Because of the weather, the plane could not land at its first attempt. It took another restless, anxious twenty minutes of circling above the storm and the peninsula before the second, successful attempt. You can run but you can't hide... somewhere along the line, there's a landing. Or an Icarus-like fall from the sky because your fuel is up.

Into the storm: fat, wind-swept droplets spattering my lenses. On the unprotected walk from the back of the plane and into the safety of the airport. I relished gulping in deeply the fresh, bracing ozone-filled air.

Home. 

Every single one of my rescue orchids but one had flowered in my absence. A shot of joy to my heart not unlike adrenalin.

Stale air.

The winter weather of my content.

To unpack for a Friday evening alone at home on the couch surrounded by books, a frosted wine glass and, also, roasted & salted plump peanuts and raisins instead of leaving the flat for a restaurant meal, or to refill the kitchen cupboard.

While the storm raged against the glass like a plague of fat flies trying desperately to get in..

Friday, November 01, 2019

No-man's land

I leave Durban for home on Friday. But only after being warned by weather reports and the pilot of the storm we'll be flying into.

Entering the plane is for me the welcome entry into the no man's land between worlds... "the area between opposing armies and trench lines".

Consciously entering the time capsule of the plane, where my body and mind is locked in and buckled up, followed by my instant body-wide relief as the wifi and my ability to make calls is cut, just like that.

That is the moment when I'm at my most relaxed and deeply immersed in my happy place of mostly solitude and silence.

Except for the noise in my head.

It's a time for processing and introspection as I'm left with nothing but my emotions and thoughts and, in turn, my reactions to those.

I've been away for a month and it's time to join the dots, which some may call staring into the abyss; I no longer fear the abyss and welcome gripping its edge at every opportunity.

Two worlds, often more.

Rather the noise in my head, than the world's... at least mine goes silent with time and reflection.

Heading home and into the perfect storm.