The more I try to say something the more my words play hide and seek with me. I wish instead of having to type I could just take you along on a long afternoon walk.
While we walk I could tell you that the job with Ekukhanyeni never really got off the ground. Liza just have too many crisises at present for us to sit together and plan. However, tomorrow I start doing volunteer work for community health group, headed by a psychologist whose approach to mental health I have long admired.
I'm very excited.
Today I also discovered that one gets a field of research called antropological psychology. I love thinking about the strange and wonderful findings this could lead me towards.
For a while we just walk while the dogs run ahead chasing after birds and the wind. Our attention follows the sun rustling through the leaves.
I suddenly remember to tell you about Sunday morning's walk. The world was filled with white butterflies and purple flowers. When Shanti rushed into a puple bush she was suddenly surrounded by a cloud of small white flutters.
Strange, only the next day it was cold and grey.
But it still had a beauty of its own.
Suddenly I notice that the dogs are standing still staring at something we can't see so we turn around and start walking back up the road.
We stop under a tree and for a while our spirits fly into the leaves shining in the sun and under the bright blue sky while every now and again the sun peeps out blinds us in the I.
I notice a cool deep space where water runs when it rains.
The sun and the wind dance around and through everything.
Our hearts are filled with happiness at the beauty found all around the wide horizon and tucked away in corners where flowers and grasses create moments of stillness and movement.
Florian and I have been fighting.
I feel like sometimes he never hears a word I am saying and I hate being the kind of woman who cares.
I hate the weakness that makes my joy turn to saddness when it is not acknowledged.
I resolve to keep breathing and listening to the songs we sing.
Between my own truth and reality a dance exists which I can not yet recognise.
It moves through my heart pulling me towards a me that can feel all without being afraid of not knowing.
Sigh, it is easy to stumble a bit while learning a new dance.
Next week Saturday I will start a new dancing class.
I have not danced the last two years and I miss it.
The joy of becoming one with the music, feeling the earth vibrating under my feet and my hair taking flight.
Will you tell me about the things that make you happy?
And strong.
Things that makes you catch your breath at the joy at being alive.
Things that hide in the corner of your hearts, suprising you when you least expect it.
Tell me how to remember that it is never as serious as it seems. Tell me where my sense of humour is running around sniffing flowers. I'll tell you that I had a coherent happy mail waiting to be written before I had a fight with Florian and you can tell me "I don't know what you are talking about, this post seems pretty coherent to me." And I'll say: "That is good because everytime I am in a good mood our internet connection is down and I go and soak up the sun while composing posts that are soon forgotten."
Or if your words are playing hide and seek with mine just say whatever pops into your mind even if it describes the wall paper in front of you.
