
Chani and Flutter, two of my favorite reflectors have awarded me a beautiful award. The blogger reflection reward.
After resigning I have been reflecting on my dreams, futures, likes and dislikes, beliefs and fears and anything else crossing my line of thought.

Every night I dream about a bear fighting with a wolf. Why? What does it mean?
The bear is impersonal yet defensive. It merely wants to keep the wolf out of its territory. The wolf is curious and fearless. It want to know what the bear is protecting.

My dream is to create spaces where people can recognize the courage of their dreams. Where they can claim back their dignity. Where they start building a life filled with the joy of discovery. The majority of poor people I come in contact with are black. I am white. Between us lay a history of oppression.

A black student in my research class points out that it is presumptuous to assume a that a garden is needed in informal settlements. The ladies we work with refer to us as the white ones. Someone I admire in my facilitation class talks of fighting the white apartheid system. He also talks about a childhood where their small home was always full of people and laughter. I remember a childhood separated from reality. We each had our own room and met for breakfast, lunch, dinner and television.
My dream wolf curiously explores new territories. My dream bear wants to protect her territory.Is there a space where curiosity and defensiveness can meet? Will learning occur when differences and similarities are acknowledged, accepted, maybe even enjoyed?

I once read about bears sharing their food with wolves. The wolves would have died without the food left by the bears. Wolves do not have the skills to hunt for food below the surface of a frozen ocean.

If these words does not make sense it is because I feel confused. The feelings I hunt are blurry and undefined. I lay on my bed listening to the sound of the wind and ideas move and change their shapes rapidly. I speak to friends and words disappear around the corner the moment their meanings are recognized.
The sun whispers. Her voice gets absorbed into the edges around me. Glimpses of possibility reflect up from journal articles.
Where does this leave me? I suspect it will take time to find out.
My heart knows how to recognize small signs. She is filled with courage, hope and patience.



























