SPC {What I Wear-4}

Thank you all for taking the time to walk with me. Your presence enfolded me like a soft pink blanket.

Today I wear a designer voortrekker tracksuit top, a navy silk chiffon blouse with polka dots, a hand-printed vest with turquoise hearts of olive green, and a bright pink pair of knickers which are more comfortable now than when they used to be sexy.


I wear the history of women mad enough to push wagons across high mountain ranges, dressed to the nines in bonnets and voluminous dresses that covered them from neck to ankle.


I wear five years of corporate sameness. I wear the delight found in being the only one. I wear how to turn my head, my ankles and my everythings in order to appear attractive. I wear the belief that none of this matters.



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Tuesday afternoon walk

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.

Visitors

Yesterday I received a visit from depression. She slowed down time, made my books boring and my mood thick. My world became twice removed.


By suppertime I'm chopping vegetables and crying. I cry about the banality of having to prepare and eat supper and about the difficulties of communicating with Florian and life. The space around us dissolves meaning until it becomes ambiguous and dull.


After a while I give up searching for the moment in which reality took flight. Past experiences have become as exciting as sitcom re-runs.


I step outside to do qigong under the trees. I breathe deeply while raising my arms. Looking up between my fingers I deepen my breath. A glimpse of a cloud and a dancing leave stirs a forgotten memory.


I breathe out while bending down. My mind wonders back into the mist. I start walking away. I call myself back. I reach up and breathe in.


The wind remembers lightness. I close my eyes and allow the depression to settle into my body. To just be. My heart beats to a forgotten rhythm. I breathe in and blindly reach for a wish to be a small leave dancing against a blue sky and a white cloud. I breathe out the heaviness and the wish.


Once inside I curl up on my bed. Inside my heart a small warrior awakens. She wears a bright pink jersey covered in blue and orange flowers. She gently pushes against the grey static surrounding us. Sometimes her steps are as faint as a breeze on a sand dune. Sometimes she jumps of cliffs while singing to the unknown.


Today the world is back in colour. On my study wall I notice shadows dancing in a golden square. I step into a green field laughing at three dogs trying to fly after a guinea fowl.

Escape from the whirlwind

Do you ever get the feeling that you have been thrown around and around and around by time chasing its own tail?


I feel like my hair is standing on end and filled with twigs, grass and leaves. My eyes are darting around and although I know that the whirlwind has stopped turning my senses are still poised in defense. Somehow, a part of me feels that listing things after the fact will help me regain my balance.


I wonder what really happened in all those moments. Moments blurred with the speed in which I swept past, holding on to the tail of time. What did I miss, what could I have done better, said better, how could I have listened more or what could I have allowed to be born by giving it the time to slowly and gently emerge?

I close my eyes and I let go of time's tail. I slow down and look around.

And suddenly small things emerge. A moment of clarity as my eyes follow the dance of shadows across wolf fur. A reply to a apology humorously reminding me to not take myself so seriously. A realisation that another way of achieving exists and that small baby steps and lots of courage has the power to transform my life.

A hope that if I stand still long enough the hundreds of opportunities around me will manage to gently land on my shoulder and lead my heart in a new direction.