when the heart opens

yesterday fey, arjun, shanti and i walk through our favourite field.


letting go of understanding, mithril's memory pierces my heart. the sweet sharp ache reminds me that i might never again meet him as a huge white smiling bundle of fluff.


suddenly a field of yellow flowers. i sit down. my heart contracts around each precious memory.


the aperture of my heart opens into each moment. a small cream and red bug sits on a smaller cream and red flower. a swallow's wing turns golden yellow against a rain washed blue sky. a tree breathes. tiny seeds dance across the wind and through the afternoon sun.


in that moment when nothing makes sense, everything makes sense.


the love of all who allow my tears to fall gently holds me. i gently hold the part of me that needs to know.

thank you all*

Goodbye Mithril

Once, not long ago on Monday, I still had a dog named Mithril.


He had the softest, brightest fur which he often covered in mud.


His tail had three white hairs right at the tip. These always reminded me of the story of a Japanese woman having to pull a hair from the breast of a wild bear in order to tame her husband's anger.


He also had gentle yet inquisitive brown eyes.


He loved to nibble my hand while I scratched his stomach and he groaned in his sleep.


I love him very much and I cannot believe that I will never see him run and pounce through a grass field again.


I will never again see him waiting for me in the driveway and leaping around in joy when he recognises my car.


I will never again see him pulling his paws up and offering me the soft white gray fur on his breast.


I can't believe that he is just suddenly gone.


I miss you Mithril


I pray that I may meet you again soon and I thank you for bouncing through my life.


Another Mithril song.

Who am I?

I don't know who I am.


Sinking into meditation I often encounter sadness, resistance and not knowing. Walking through a field I often encounter a deep joy when seeing wind move through grasses and in a tree filled with yellow flowers, highlighted against the colour of a thunderstorm.


Resting in meditation I sometimes feel myself open towards myself, towards the world, towards a gentle acceptance of the unknown. Or I get interrupted by a phone call from an unknown number and find myself closing off from myself. I feel that I cannot relax, cannot unfurl, until I know that which I am not sure of.


I know who I hope to be. I know who I do not want to be. Yet, I suspect that I exist neither between these two states or as a result of them.


I exist in each moment as a result of conditioning, thoughts, actions, expectations, observations, hormones, feelings, wants, not wants, acceptance and love. Yet there is also the me that surrounds all these things, watching. What about the me who experiences beauty from a place that is open and free? The me who allows myself to rest in the awareness that each experience is but a small part of my all? The me that pushes towards a yearning which I do not understand? The me that builds barriers to protect me from a threat that I cannot name?


Every day I am blind. I don't know where life starts and I begin, I don't know where I come from or where I am going. Everyday I see the beauty which surrounds me, new aspects of myself and those I love. I feel this love in my heart. It feels real. I feel a fear of loosing it all, of loosing myself, in my solar plexus. It feels real.


I cannot say who I am. Yet, I also know that I am a woman of thirty seven who wears jeans most every day. Who has gone back to University, who walks her dogs through a field filled with pale green grasses, who loves to dance, who fights with her partner, who discovers how to love her partner more, who laughs with her partner while fooling around. A woman who is restarting her yoga practice, who wants to drive to her Nia class and also wants to stay curled up with a book while it rains outside. A woman who reads Georgette Heyer when she also wants to read about children's participation in environmental projects, wild witching, literature and the environment, deep democracy, links between democracy and the environment, a mink who escapes from captivity and the last bit of a Erica Young novel.


A woman who needs a job, who worries where the money will come from, who mourns the disappearance of species and quiet fields and who fears calls from unknown numbers that leave no messages. A woman whose car takes too long to start and whose office is filled with the peace of things her heart can rest on. A woman who took too much drugs in her youth, who hurt those closest to her and who finds it difficult to trust. A woman whose live is changed by reading about a death and who suddenly sees the spaciousness of being present to each moment. A woman who strives for perfection, a woman who is able to see the joy in surrendering to chaos.


A woman who is trying to arrange a year and a future filled with things that will grow her closer to the person she wants to be. A person who she does not know and cannot define. A person that might never be defined because she is fluidly moving through and into her past, present and future. And maybe this is the way I want it.

More than good enough

For a few months now I have been shy to show up on theses pages. I have felt that enough is enough and that I should really snap out of the funk that has settled over me.


Patiently I wait for my mood to pass. Yet, when it does, I'd rather celebrate on a sunlit lawn than risk too much introspection.


Some mornings I wake up feeling sadness and worry rise up from my heart and solar plexus. I get impatient with myself. Enough already. Why am I creating this? Why do I always open a door through which these things can enter?


I also have flashes that right now this is me. This is where I need to love.


And then I go again. Wanting to be happy all the time. Wanting to be the kind of person who is comfortable with others and easy to love.


How to pursue a career filled with others when I long to to hide away from them? Why do people often seem to be paper cut-outs? How do I love myself when I keep on sabotaging myself? How do I make sense of the world when I want to be someone else?


I could have faith in my journey. That showing up and being present is all I need to do right now. There are no guarantees that this is the right way.

The right way might well be found on the other end of a cognitive rainbow. Yet, I am tired of pushing and shoving at myself. Hoping to be loved more once I'm perfect, when it is the imperfect me who needs love. Who deserves unconditional acceptance.



So I will gently hold the places that want to cry. That fear that I am not good enough. That I will never allow myself to fully love. That I might never fulfill my dream.


And whenever I can I will set my spirit free to roam amongst sweet smelling grasses, to follow the wind on its travels and to rest on a fat fluffy cloud.

Interviewed by Julochka

from Moments of Perfect Clarity.


1. What's the best thing about south africa?

The diversity of the people, the landscapes, the animal and the plant-life. A a short drive can take me to a different world. I can sit myself down in any city or suburb and see a wide variety of people and styles passing by. In my classes I interact with students whose lives, backgrounds and outlook differ quite radically from my own. Being allowed into someone else's world and exploring our commonalities and differences is an awe-some experience.



2. What's the worst?

Inequality, violence, uncertainty.


3. You often mention that you've gone back to school--what are you studying and what made you go back to school?

I went back to school to study Psychology but changed my mind midway. I am now majoring in Geography and Anthropology and want to do my post-graduate studies in Environmental Education. I went back to school because I wanted to change myself and the world. For us both to become wiser and more tolerant to the differences within us while preserving and building on what makes us strong and beautiful. I want to help create a future where everyone has the opportunity to be fulfilled rather than consumed by life.


4. You've built a fantastic structure in your yard, was it a nautilus you called it? what is the significant of that name and what are your plans for it? is its construction based on traditional, age-old building methods? (ok, i realize that's more than one question, but this structure fascinates me.)

We called it the Nautilus both because of its snail-like shape and because we like to think of it as an earthship. Our plans are to move into it and to live surrounded by soft, cool, rounded earthen forms rather than harsh, energy consuming, square bricks. We are also working towards establishing an ecovillage, of which the nautilus will form the core, where people working in the city can live in a more sustainable and communal way .



5. When are you going to have another batch of puppies?

No more puppies! The four we have are already more than my two hands can tickle.


If anyone else wants to play
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions.
3. You can then update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You could further include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you can have fun asking them five questions.

Joy finds me

Sitting outside eating cheese-curls
staring at the moon
I feel content.

A cloud draws yellow circles around the moon.
A cheese-curl laughs at its reflection.

A wolfdog runs past a wheelbarrow of orange pumpkins.

The moonlight and dark blue dusk surround us.