Two days to my next concert

In two days' time, I'll be about to start my concert with Wayne. Having another opportunity to sing with him is more special than anyone could possibly understand. Since he left Cape Town, we've been able to do only one gig. This is our second gig since the end of 2012, and our only one for 2014. Insane!

I do think I'm a bit of a pain to live with right now, though. Even though I have different people playing roles on the actual night, I tend to do everything myself, leading up to the event. For many reasons, it's how I prefer to do a concert. Maybe I just have to put a team together well before the event and learn to trust people more.

Some of the things I have to do are relatively simple. like securing a suitable venue, which I do months ahead of time. Other things, however, can be really frustrating - like selling tickets! The good news is that I managed to meet and exceed my minimum, and the show is now sold out! How cool is that?!

I must say, though, that being a perfectionist is very tiring! Eish! I have all these details in my head - the aesthetics of the venue, lighting, sound, ticket design, brief for the MC, catering, my outfit, my hair - and, even though I work my way methodically through my extensive checklist, I tend to get really stressed out. And I haven't even mentioned the set list for the night, the songs I plan to perform. Deciding which songs to do, and then in which order, can be another headache.

The night before we had our rehearsal, I set time aside to do a long journalling session, processing my thoughts, my fears, my concerns. By the time I eventually fell asleep - at 4a.m. - I had arrived at a place of profound peace. The awareness that I gained was the same lesson the universe had taught me earlier this year: when I remove my ego issues from my thoughts, all I'm left with are feelings of happiness and peace, and clarity. When I focussed on Wayne's brilliance and on  the beautiful music we'd be making, I became super-excited, about the rehearsal and the show.

On the day of the rehearsal, all my pre-concert jitters disappeared, and I felt as relaxed as I did when we used to gig regularly. I'm really looking forward to the concert. Getting to the point, today, of having sold all the tickets, was exactly what I needed.

Tonight and tomorrow, I'll be busy with a few last-minute tasks, and then it will be Sunday, a day I've anticipated for a whole year! I'm going to be doing a concert of my original songs with Wayne, and I cannot wait! Bring it on!

I'll write again after the concert, tell you how it went.

Concert with Wayne on 28 December 2014, 7pm

TRUDY RUSHIN & WAYNE BOSCH

An evening of live jazz, in celebration of friendship. 

    

Trudy (voice, guitar) and Wayne (guitar) gigged extensively as a duo, from Feb 2009 to Dec 2012. Since Wayne’s relocation to Pretoria, the duo performs once a year – and this is it!

                           

                     Short opening set:  Summer Dawn Geffen – voice and ukulele

           Date: Sunday, 28 December 2014                        

           Time: 7pm

           Venue: District Six Museum 

          (Cnr Buitenkant & Albertus Streets, Cape Town)

          Admission: R100 (includes finger food). 

          

 Round up a couple of good friends, and join us for 

an intimate evening of live music,

   in this historic and evocative Cape Town venue.

To reserve tickets, contact me on this site or on Facebook: 

Trudy Rushin, Singer-Songwriter. 

Escape

Every now and then, when I find myself in a physical environment where something really unpleasant or offensive is happening, and there’s nothing I can do to remove myself from the place, I escape into my mind.  I go to a happy place, either a memory from my past, or a dream of a future situation – either way, I flood my head with as close as I can get to euphoria. I do this as a coping mechanism. Others might light up a cigarette or plug in earphones. 

Wherever I can, I walk away, removing myself from the chaos, as I try to adopt the nonchalance of “not my circus, not my monkeys”. But, since that’s not always possible, the only place I can escape to is the safe wonderworld of my mind, where I have the power to think anything I want to, the power  to stop any unwanted thoughts, the power to insert any thoughts I choose, and the power to create a preferred reality. I can’t tell you how amazing this is.

I’ve learnt, over the years, that one of the ways in which we discover who we are, is through interaction with other people. Their behavior – or, more specifically, our response to it – gives us a lot of insight into ourselves. Through other people, we learn what it is about ourselves we like and don’t like. It feels like the older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the stronger my reactions to other people’s behavior are. I’m at that strange age where, even though I’m cognisant of the many shades of grey that exist, I’ve also become increasingly clear about what I can and can’t tolerate. Sometimes I don’t even realise the intensity of my  feelings about certain behavior, until I’m confronted with it directly.

But my recourse is to lose myself in my thoughts - in MY mind, where I make the rules, where nothing is out of control, and where everything I know is possible, is possible.

Of course, I would never sit passively while anyone was being abused, but let’s face it, there are so many forms of abuse, some of them so subtle, so insidious, that we can even pretend they’re not abuse. It just depends on how you label it. Or where on the continuum you sit.

Tonight, I wish I could forget some of the vulgarity I’m exposed to, some of the underbelly-of-the-world-wrapped-up-in-finery I have to endure. I wish I could rewind a certain period of time – purge - start again, without having encountered some of the things I have.  But I know that that’s not how life goes. In a strange way, I am as strong and resilient as I am because of the ugliness and adversity I’ve been exposed to.

Recently, when I couldn’t bear the horrible energy in a certain situation, I thought back to the time when I worked as the Centre Director of someone’s language school and then the 8-month period in which I owned my own one. Besides the financial difficulties (which eventually resulted in the closure of the school), I experienced some of my highest highs in that time. What I loved most of all was the freedom, the space, the wonderful opportunity to implement all those things I knew was possible. It was fantastic. I’m so glad I have those memories. They remind me that what others think is impossible, I’ve already done. 

Those memories feed my soul when I need it most.

Of course, there’s always that other thought: if I could do it once, I could do it again. 

I wonder

Can I type and post a whole blog article in half an hour, without tweaking and editing the thing to death? I wonder. Will I ever have a day where what I want to do and what I have to do happen at times that suit me? Like right now, for example: I want to type a blog post, but I’m supposed to be doing a household chore that will take me about two hours. When I’m feeling sorry for myself, it seems like most of my life is like that – a conflict between what I spontaneously and organically feel like doing, and what my various roles in society dictate I do. The sun shines, and I want to put up my feet and read, listening to the birds chirping outside, but no – the sun’s shining, so I have to do the laundry. The moon’s resplendent in a magical night sky, and I want to play my guitar outside, but no – I have to make supper, wash up, or get my things ready for the next day.

I know I sound like I’m whining, and I probably am, but something that a character in the movie, "Boyhood", said made me think about life and about ageing, and made me wonder how many people in my circle of friends could actually say, in their 50s, that life had lived up to their expectations. Did we all think there’d be more to it than what there is? Did we all expect more wows? Did we think we’d feel childlike anticipation and excitement all our lives, and did we think that life would continue to surprise us? When last were you surprised? How much of this is up to us? How much of a choice do we actually have?

One day I’ll write a cynical, disappointed-in-life song, because that’s how I feel, some of the time. I’m just such a bloody optimist, that when things don’t go well, I accept the bad time as a temporary glitch, sit it out patiently, all the time believing, with all my might, that brighter days are just around the corner. Maybe if we were more open about the fact that we felt really bad some of the time, we’d all end up feeling a little less weird for having these feelings. Because we’d know that many/most of our friends felt the same way too, some of the time, and that it was perfectly okay to feel that way.  

I’ve been asked this question by two life coaches: “If money weren’t a factor, and failure not a possibility, what would you be doing with your life?”  My answer was unequivocal: “Music”. But if I were to divide my activities up into percentages – an exercise I plan to put myself through, just to see – music would probably take up less than 5% of my daily/weekly/monthly activities. Now that’s what I call ridiculous. It makes no sense to me. Sometimes I’m surprised that I still gig, and that when I do, people enjoy it so much. I probably spend 50% of my time doubting myself, wondering why I still bother. But of course I know the answer. I’d be a very miserable person if the option of making music to an audience were to be removed from me. Plan B would be to play in solitude, but every performer knows the huge difference between the one and the other.

So, just about 30 minutes since I started blogging – because the mood took me there – I now have to go and do that housework. Housework is one of my least favourite things to do, and yet it takes up so much of my time. When will I get it right to tip the balance in my favour? I wonder. 

Maybe what distinguishes us as mature people is that we know we can't be doing what we want to all of the time. Maybe rich people, who can pay others to do the schlep work, don't have this problem. 

I wonder. 

,.:'!?

Alarm goes off at 04:40 snooze for 10 snooze for another 10 get up morning routine breakfast vitamins shower wash hair dress make-up scarf leave home 06:30 walk down the road it’s dark be brave be strong you’re the adult be the adult get to the creepy café opposite the creepy entrance to the railway station pass the creepy guys who always hang out at exactly the spot where people stream across in at least four directions getting to and from their trains in the morning rush walk up the steps down the steps through the subway don’t inhale or  you’ll catch some kind of disease oh wait here’s a tidal wave of people who refuse to stick to the left and leave space for the people coming from the opposite direction so we get to the other side somehow and we’re spluttering from the cigarette smoke we inadvertently inhaled on the other side we walk across a dark parking lot because the lights haven’t worked for ages I keep telling myself I should write a letter to the editor but I only think about the broken lights when we’re actually there so we walk the rest of the way and we’re in Main Road where we press the button and bam like magic the green light turns orange then red the cars stop and we dutifully cross now that the green man is showing oh shit there’s the bus so we run with backpacks banging against our backs all the time looking back to see how close the bus is and checking if there’re people at the bus stop realize there are and know we’ll catch the bus get on still out of breath but somehow feeling alive and ticking the bus driver knows us and says what he’s heard me say so many times before one to Newlands one to Wynberg I hand him the coins and he hands me the tickets we find space near the back and settle into the uncomfortably narrow seats like everyone else we plug in our earphones and lose ourselves in our music

I get off at my stop and walk a block down a garishly-lit road past really odd shops wait at the robots press the button wait like a robot while everyone else crosses willy-nilly as though the rules have changed I eventually start to cross and narrowly miss being hit by a taxi I glare at the driver who seems oblivious to any wrongdoing I shrug and carry on the day’s long I say to myself can’t lose my cool not now maybe later my mind starts to dart around this that this that but I’m brought back to reality with the realization that I’m at the worst part of my morning the walk under the bridge a narrow pavement ideally organized into a single line of people in each direction but once again the rules aren’t what I expect you walk you push you hold tightly onto your handbag you check the ground because you could step onto anything from phlegm to a dead rat it’s unspeakably disgusting and a route I take only because it’s too dark for me to take my preferred route the one over the other bridge that I take in the summer months I seriously try not to inhale again remind myself it lasts less than a minute so just grin and bear it realize it’s like other parts of my life that I put up with focus on getting under the bridge without any serious collisions take the minor ones into my stride curse mentally as cigarette smoke is blown into my face by someone from the other direction notice how people insist on walking two to four abreast and then I’m on the other side watch out for the bus  

Walk down the road past one of my favourite food places make a mental note to stop by after work and buy something to take home get to work walk past security greet walk across the parking area through the main building to our section of the campus step inside the office I share with seven other people a world within a world that I inhabit between certain hours where I forget my dreams and what makes me shine because there are certain places in my world where the message is loud and clear that to shine is inadvisable so I spend way too many hours of my life trying to blend and not shine voice my ideas because I have so many but learn early on how far that gets me so I remind myself that I need a job to pay the rent buy electricity feed and clothe my family afford medical attention and on and on and on I do however manage to find my voice in the classroom as I teach  a subject I love and I feel I am contributing to the new South Africa one of my life’s goals but it’s hard for me a free spirit to fit into the schedule of an institution with short breaks and so many rules that make no sense and so many opportunities to introduce new systems but I am a small cog in a big complex and over-complicated system of wheels some of which turn more smoothly than others so I am constantly reminded of how unwelcome my thoughts are and I strive every single day to fit in but it’s harder than you can imagine a place where everything about me is ridiculed my clothing is commented on deprecatingly by people who are drowning in debt but hey at least they’re wearing designer outfits there is very little depth to any conversation I have and I wonder how it’s possible for people to live in such different worlds with such different value systems

For a long time I’ve believed in a few unshakable truths which have unfailingly seen me through the strangest of experiences it’s time I did some serious meditation about the choices facing me I look forward to a brighter tomorrow where I once again feel like the life I’m living is truly mine

peace

Skygazer

I know now, after being on holiday for 11 days - and being housebound for most of that time because of the freezing weather - that I would be a far more prolific blogger if I didn't have to go to work. Haha! I still dream of being self-employed, doing what I love from my home, and making a difference in my part of the world in a way that is authentic to me. But life has situated me where I am right now, teaching English at a college. It's funny how, when I first studied at a teacher training college, in the early 1980s, the idea was to be a teacher for the rest of my life. And yet, as time went by, life sent me new opportunities and I deviated from the original plan. Many years later, after some wonderful meandering, here I am again, teaching in a government institution. It affords me an opportunity to interact on a daily basis with the youth of today and to hear where they're at. Unfortunately, it's also shown me how the education system in South Africa has failed an entire generation. And that saddens me. I want to do something to show them that life has a lot more to offer than they've been told. But more so, I want to show them that THEY have a lot more to offer than they've been told.

It's a daily mission, to live my life in a way that presents my students with an alternative way of looking at things. A gentler, way, a way that builds bridges, instead of further excluding the already-marginalised.

I'm sad that television plays such a big role in the value systems our youngsters have. Most of them want the success and the bling, without any hard work. Reality tv has promoted the idea of becoming famous for doing nothing. Singers become overnight successes because of televised competitions. While it may show that that's a possibility for some, it obscures the fact that what the majority of people do to attain success is work passionately and persistently, over a period of time, until greater skill and experience are achieved; that then leads to more opportunities coming your way and to bigger and better platforms on which to ply your craft. Not an easy lesson to teach. It's one of those lessons you have to learn by living.

What I've also realised is that the concept of success varies from individual to individual, depending on age, socio-economic background, religious convictions, family value system and so many other factors. One of the things I've had to do, over time, was to redesign my belief system, which found me re-evaluating everything I'd been raised to believe, sorting through the pre-packaged, one-size-fits-all clutter and coming up with a set of views that more accurately reflected whom I had grown into being. What success means to me now, after certain life experiences, is very different to what it would've meant had I never been retrenched, never been unemployed, never had an acrimonious divorce (yes, you do get divorces that are not acrimonious) and so many other things.

But I was actually going to write about being a skygazer. I live in a house on a little hill, where I've lived for the past 17 years. And from this hill, I have a beautiful view of the closest mountain range and the sky. I must have taken hundreds of photos of the sky from my kitchen window. What does skygazing do for me? It quietens my spirit. It makes me stop the frenetic pace of everything and just stand still and gaze. It teaches me that change is constant. It teaches me that change is natural. I've learnt, over time, to read the clouds and understand weather patterns. Sometimes, because life gets so busy during the school term, I find myself hanging washing on the line late at night. Watching the night sky is even more magical. It reminds you of your fallibility, your vulnerability. It whispers to you that, if you hang in there, tomorrow will come, and with it, a promise of a whole new set of possibilities.

In the time that my daughter's been on her adventure in Thailand, I've photographed the sky every day, so that I can show her what our favourite view looked like in her absence.

I look forward to showing that young skygazer my pictures of the sky.

Reflecting on the Thai project – No. 2: Five fundraising concerts

When I made up my mind to take on the one-year project of raising money to enable my daughter to go to Thailand with World Challenge, I knew that it would occupy my mind every single day, sitting alongside every other project or goal. Because I’m a practical person, I decided to combine as many of my goals as I could. I’m a full-time teacher and a part-time musician; my full-time job is there all the time, but I constantly have to market myself to find music work. My regular music partner had just relocated to another city, I needed to redefine myself as a musician, and I wanted to do so in a way that increased my networks and databases. The perfect solution was to put on various concerts, with different musicians, at different venues. Raising money in that way would be fun, for me, and not just hard work.

 

The first concert: 11 August 2013

Our first concert was held at Stephanian’s Sports Clubhouse, in Ottery, on a Sunday afternoon. We pre-sold tickets at R100 and were lucky to be able to sell more at the door.  We asked people to bring their own refreshments and arranged the hall with pretty tables. Friends and family pitched in to make it a very successful event. With an exciting backing band consisting of Keith Tabisher (guitar), Valentino Europa (double bass) and Roy Davids (drums), we had a line-up of young vocalists from Belhar in the first half: Ruby Truter, Courtney  Johnson and Zeta Botha. I sang a selection of originals and covers with the band in the second half – an absolute treat for me. My cousin, Derek Ronnie, was our MC. Andre Manuel did the sound and William Rose was our photographer.

The second concert: 1 December 2013

While my original idea had been to hold our second event in October, unforeseen matters derailed that plan. It’s important to keep your eye on your goal, as well as to be flexible and think on your feet when Plan A doesn’t work out. With that in mind, I adjusted the plan, and went ahead with our second fundraiser on 1 December, also on a Sunday afternoon. This time, I did a trio concert with Keith and Tino, at Baran’s Kurdish Restaurant, on Greenmarket Square, in the city centre. This time, we charged R100 again, but split the takings with the restaurant, as the ticket included a light meal. The food was great, I loved the venue with its Turkish décor, but decided that I wouldn’t repeat the ticket sharing concept, as it decreased our takings significantly. My son, Nick, was the MC, we did our own sound, and a young photographer, Lelie Hamman, took the photos.

The third concert: 21 December 2013 

If anyone had told me I’d end up doing two concerts in one month, I would’ve said, “Never!”. But that’s exactly what happened.  There were two main driving factors: one, I really wanted to have completed three events before the end of the year, and two, it was a perfect opportunity to gig with my former duo partner. When I heard that Wayne Bosch was visiting Cape Town over Christmas, I asked if he’d do a concert with me and he was very keen. We did a duo concert of mainly originals (including two of Wayne’s, played solo) - on 21 December, exactly a year after our previous performance. This was on a Saturday evening, at Erin Hall in Rondebosch. Once again, we charged R100, including refreshments after the show, but this time friends donated home-baked goods and helped with the serving, etc. Nick was once again the MC, we did our own sound, and Gregory Franz took the photos.

The fourth concert: 1 March 2014

The poor turnout at our last concert was a sobering reminder that the festive season was a risky time to put on an event. I realised that January was just as tricky, and that sometimes the festive season recovery period extended to February, so I chose the first Saturday in March for our next event. This time, the venue was Wynberg Secondary School, and the focus was on giving young musicians a platform to perform. Artists on the programme were Kai Chavda (a 10-year-old guitarist), Elton Goslett (versatile guitarist), Joe Schaffers (seasoned jazz singer) and the young band, The Dales, which did its debut performance. (The Dales, a 4-piece rock band, included my son, Nick Geffen, on drums, and featured my daughter, Summer, on vocals. A family first!) Others in the band were Ross on lead guitar, Dean on bass, and Matt on rhythm guitar. The final act was a talented group from the UCT School of Jazz, which I called The Keegan Steenkamp Ensemble. Andre Manuel did our sound, Mark Kleinschmidt was our MC and Chandre Lil’c Cee was our photographer. We collaborated with a small catering business and a close friend also donated yummy refreshments. Admission was R50, to encourage our young performers’ friends to support.

The fifth concert: 5 April 2014    

The final concert was a very special event for me – I collaborated with one of my heroes, the legendary jazz-ghoema guitarist, Errol Dyers, in a venue I’d always wanted to do a concert in, the District Six Museum Homecoming Centre. Summer and a friend, Nina, did our opening act, on vocals and ukuleles. Errol and I did the rest of the show, with a special treat for the audience in the form of a solo mini-set by Errol. I loved every moment of making music with Errol; the concert, for me, was a dream come true. We were once again in the capable hands of Andre Manuel (sound), Derek Ronnie (MC) and Gregory Franz (photos). The museum handled the refreshments. For some reason (bowing to pressure?), I charged R80 for this concert. Not only does it not make sense, in hindsight, but it was impractical finding R20 change for everyone. I suppose everything we do really is a lesson, in one form or another.  

Re-reading what I’ve just written, I can see the lessons I learnt along the way. The interesting thing about these lessons is that they empower and liberate us, so that when we embark on future ventures, we have an updated set of skills and knowledge. 

Life is cool, as long as you keep your eyes, ears, mind and heart wide open.  Right?

Reflecting on the Thai project - No.1

My daughter left for Thailand, on Monday 30 June, with ten other Grade 10 pupils from their school, one teacher and two staff members of World Challenge, the company that organized the trip. It’s called an adventure-outreach expedition, and includes a three-day hike in the jungle (Bangkok) and five days‘ community work in a situation of need. In their case, they’ll be at an orphanage. After those two components have been fulfilled, they’ll have a few days in which to visit the temples, lie on the pristine beaches, and shop! I think I’ve written quite a bit about World Challenge and what they do, so I’ll write about my own journey, instead. And what a journey it’s been. A first, for me.

Where do I start? Ok – at the beginning. World Challenge visited my daughter’s school last year and did a presentation on their 2014 Thailand trip to the Grade 9 pupils. My daughter came home very excited, and said it was something she really wanted to do. I went to the presentation for parents, a few days later, and could fully understand why she was that excited. 

We discussed it, considered the amount we’d need to raise, looked at the payment schedule, and decided that we’d take on the one-year challenge to raise the required amount of money to get her to Thailand. One of the things I like least in life is disappointing a child, especially breaking a promise. I knew this was one of those promises which, once made, I would move heaven and earth to keep. I’ve also been disappointed often enough to approach things in life with an attitude that relies 98% on myself, with just a small margin for outside help. At the time of taking on the challenge – to raise R28000 in one year – I was acutely aware that I had never done anything like it before. Never. And I knew it was going to be a journey and a half! J

At the outset, I told Summer that we had to use our existing skills and talents, as that was the most obvious way (to me) to generate an income. Basically, do what you already can. If I were someone who could cook well, I would’ve cooked and sold the food. But that’s not where my talent lies. (Believe me!) We spoke about it, and came up with a long list of different ways to raise money, as well as to publicise the fundraising drive and keep it on people’s minds all the time, but I knew that 20 good ideas on paper often translates into 2 practical, sustainable projects. And so we set about implementing two of the ideas: putting on music concerts (my area of skill) and baking cupcakes (Summer’s). The cupcake idea was short-lived, because our oven broke somewhere during the year and we didn’t have money to fix it. That was another element of the past year – we were so focused on “Getting Summer to Thailand”, that our plans and goals became divided into “Before Thailand” and “After Thailand”. Whatever broke could only be fixed after we’d achieved the trip to Thailand.

While it’s fresh in my mind, I’d like to give some advice to any parent thinking of doing the same thing:

1.   Raise more than the amount you have to pay to the organization, because there are many other costs involved, like buying the hiking and other equipment, having vaccinations and coming up with the spending money your child needs. I liked the fact that the parents had to agree on a set amount, at a meeting. This was in keeping with the overall ethos of the organisation.

2.      Establish EARLY on in the year what the costs of the individual items on the checklist are, and set up a plan to buy things throughout the year. If you leave everything till after you’ve raised the basic amount, it can incur steep costs in the last month or two – not comfortable or exciting at all, and you don’t want to spend the last few days before your child leaves in a state of anxiety.     

3.   Establish EARLY on in the year which items on the checklist you’ll be able to borrow, as that also brings some peace of mind. We were lucky enough to borrow a good rucksack and sleeping bag, as well as a few other items, thanks to generous friends.

4.      Use your networks. What I was telling my kids, just before the actual trip, was that this networking thing isn’t just about one project. It’s about living your life with compassion and generosity. Because, when it’s your turn to receive kindness, it’s right there. Our family and friends played a huge role in the realization of this trip, and I’ll never forget their kindness.

5.   Let people know that you’re putting time and effort into your project, and they’ll be more comfortable donating towards your cause. I saw, on the internet, that some kid (not part of this group) was trying to crowd-fund her entire World Challenge trip, and in the end had to drop out. The lessons World Challenge aims to teach, through these expeditions, start long before departure day. One of the biggest lessons is that YOU can make a trip like this happen, even if you’re not from a well-off family, by putting in the effort. WE did, and so can you!

Once it became clear that I’d be the only adult in the family working on and supporting the Thailand project, I had absolute clarity as to the parameters and the task at hand. I also knew that, for the next year, there’d have to be great personal sacrifice.   

I knew that there were a few areas that needed attention, and I worried that I wouldn’t be able to do justice to them all. Something I worried about was getting Summer fit enough for the three-day hike. I believe that, to prepare for anything, you have to do that same activity. However, getting onto the mountain was a bit difficult, for many reasons, so I consciously changed our lifestyle, so that daily walking, with backpacks, could become a natural part of our lives. In October 2013, an opportunity arose for me to implement this: I stopped using my car, because it was giving me too many problems and costing me a fortune to run. The result was that we started using public transport and walking a few kilometres a day, which we did right until Summer left for Thailand, seven months later. I tried to get her to join a group going up Table Mt at least once, but the hike happened when she was writing exams, and I couldn’t justify that. Some decisions are layered, and one has to make judgement calls every step of the way. It can be quite exhausting, but you just have to keep your eye on the goal. And be the parent! 

There were a few other challenges, but they all served to make the journey more significant, as MANY lessons were learnt along the way. I really hope Summer writes about her journey and what the whole thing meant to her, but I can assure you, I learnt a whole lot, mainly about myself.

I had little rules that I stuck to, for my own reasons. One of them was that, everytime we transferred the next amount of money (after a fundraising event or a big donation) to World Challenge, I made sure Summer did the transaction at the ATM. I wanted her to be directly in touch with the progress we were making. We also kept a flipfile, and put everything in it, including a record of payments and the balance. We kept records of every donation made. We wrote up endless checklists, too! This, in spite of WC giving a detailed one to everyone. In the end, I put the checklist on my phone and enjoyed deleting items as we bought the last round of things.

Early in June this year, I sold my car, and used some of that income towards the project, as well. I wanted Summer to have a good camera for the trip, but also because she’s a keen photographer (and YouTuber), and hadn’t had a camera for a few years, so my special treat to her was a brand new camera. No regrets. Everything we did, ended up being with Thailand in mind. If I were to label that kind of focus, I’d say it’s a mixture of stubbornness and determination. In Afrikaans, we say, “Jy hou dik”, which means you’re persistent. You have to be, otherwise you could mislead yourself into thinking things will just happen, and they don’t. Any goal worth achieving entails hard work.

Looking back, I know I could have done more to raise Summer’s physical fitness, but that was also an area where her initiative was required. I’m realistic about how much I can and can’t take responsibility for.

I decided, two days before she left (after we’d done the foreign exchange, on a Saturday evening!), that I was  going to stop worrying! I’m a pathological worrier, so that was a huge step for me. We had one more loose end: I’d run out of money and we needed a comfortable ride to the airport for Summer, her massive rucksack, Nick and myself. (Now, let me put this into context: I believe that, when most of your life is a struggle, and you believe that wonderful things are not only possible in your life, but that you deserve them, you have to introduce a little luxury, every now and then.) I called around and found a shuttle company that would take us to the airport at 05:45 and allow me to pay them after my salary cleared in my account, later that morning. Sorted. Yet another lesson – there’s always a way to achieve a goal. But again, it comes back to how you live your life, what kind of reputation you have, what kind of karma you leave in your wake. This company knows me, so they were prepared to accept the later payment, knowing that I was a person of my word. Nothing is insignificant. You are the sum of everything you’ve been and done before.

So here I am, super-proud of what we were able to achieve, happy that my daughter’s dream to go to Thailand has been realised, fascinated that right now she’s IN Thailand, experiencing a part of the world no-one else in her primary family has, and excited to hear all her stories and see her photos when she comes back. I’m also keen to see the long-term impact of this trip on her.

As a teacher, I believe that everything has a beginning, a middle and an end, and I’m already making plans for a thank you gathering, where we’ll invite everyone who was part of the fundraising (and ‘well-wishing’) to join us for a fun gathering, where she’ll share her pics and experiences.

Watch this space!

And now? Now I need a new project! J

My thoughts on being single this time round

I’ve been thinking. People think that writing is about being inspired. For me, writing is about having uninterrupted time and space. I’m always inspired. I observe life. I observe people. I absorb energies. I analyse everything. Everything! And I process these different stimuli in the way that I know best - with words. Like many other compulsive writers, when I’m not writing, I’m thinking about what I want to write. I go over sentences, editing spontaneously as the thoughts tumble freely from my brain, all the time craving the time and space to sit down and write, write, write. Getting to that point is the tough part, for more reasons than I’d like to admit. My son said something the other day about how even plausible-sounding reasons for why we’re not pursuing our goals can simply be well-packaged forms of procrastination. Wise young man!

Every now and then, when I chat to friends I haven’t seen for months - or even years - the topic of my being single comes up. This happened twice this week, so of course I’ve had to deal with the topic and put some words to something that’s as natural and comfortable to me as breathing – to make it comprehensible to others. It’s funny how society can have such clear expectations of how one’s life is supposed to be. A kind of blueprint.  How to be happy, in three simple steps: 1. Do what you’re told when you’re a child. 2. Do what you’re told when you’re a teenager. 3. Do what you’re told when you’re an adult. It’s even funnier how we buy into all of that for such a big part of our lives. Some people die never having sorted through the crap to arrive at their own versions of what’s right and wrong. 

I became single in October 2011, after eight and a half years. I was eight and a half years older than the last time I’d been single. My children were eight and a half years older. We had all experienced eight and a half years of life since the last time I’d been single, and life had changed significantly. We all had. But what was new was that quiet, confident feeling of “now I know”. I knew who I liked being, and I knew which version of myself I’d never be again. I knew more about relationships  - their electrifying highs and their abysmal lows – and I had an open mind about the future. You’re not likely to hear me say, “I’ll never fall in love again – men are all shits and one big waste of time”. No. Not how I feel at all. I actually like men, and I like sharing my life with someone who gets me. I like physical closeness and that powerful emotional connection that defies definition. I always think, when people say, “What does she see in him?” that only she knows. Only they know what their togetherness feels like. Why are some people so devastated when a relationship ends? It’s because it was so right for them, they liked who they were with that person – the fit was perfect. We’re too quick to judge.

So these are some of my thoughts on being single at this stage of my life. I enjoy the space I have, to do the different things that life demands of me. I often wish I had more space and time, but the truth is I could make it happen if I put my mind to it. I like the autonomy being single gives me, but I also know that when I love someone, I’m capable of changing gears and of making compromises. For me, it has a lot to do with reciprocity. Does this person do special things for me, go out of his way for me, treat me like I’m precious? I’m ok with doing things for someone, as long as I’m the recipient of his assistance in some other way. I will never allow myself to be taken for granted. Never again. I will never let anyone tell me my needs within a relationship are stupid. I’ll never ever be with someone who can’t communicate, who goes silent when you raise a difficult topic. Hey, I could write a handbook: “How to be in a relationship with someone like me”.

A few years ago, a friend of mine was happily relationshipped and we were discussing my single status. I said, “Oh, you know, I have this long list of criteria, and when I meet someone, I mentally run down the list and they always seem to end up with too few ticks.” To which she replied, “Throw away the long list; stick to the main points.” I don’t know. The list seems to be getting longer. 

I know someone who joins clubs and groups, in order to meet men. That wouldn’t work for me. I’m not that interested in working hard for it. I’ve also been advised to try the dating websites – also not interested.  I basically like my life, I have more goals than anyone could possibly achieve in one lifetime (helps to be Buddhist), and occasionally I remember that another way of being is being in a relationship.

So I basically have an open mind. Someone I was involved with a few lifetimes ago re-entered my world a few weeks ago, and I realised that, while I had changed so much, he was in exactly the same headspace he had been, all those years ago – no growth perceptible at all. The wrong fit then, and the wrong fit now. And that’s sort of where I’m at on the topic. Clarissa Pinkola Estes says in her book, “Women Who Run With The Wolves”, that it’s good to be single for three years between relationships, and she explains why. When I first became single and read that, I thought, Hell no, girlfriend! But it’s been one of the most significant and profound journeys of my life, being single this time round.  No regrets. I like who I am. I didn’t like who I had become in my last relationship. So that’s growth. And growth takes time. And patience.

So, how’s this for a marketing campaign:

If you are a single male (no skeletons in the closet, leaning against the door, waiting to fall out), more or less in your 50s – I wanted to say at least 30, but that’s too much hard work! – and, oh I don’t know, have your own life and aren’t interested in smothering anyone, are a non-smoker and preferably a non-drinker (basically, you mustn’t need to drink to have fun), you have integrity, you have a sense of humour, you understand that some people will always need space, you’re attracted to nature, you love music (I’m sorry, but I might have to be more definitive, here J), you’re happy with who you are and you believe that life is filled with possibility, that one is never too old to reach for dreams, and that life has to be lived, lived, lived…… you let me know.  You never know. I might just share the rest of the checklist with you. ;-)

Oh, and it would help if you lived in Cape Town. J  

But then again, not necessarily. 

Solitude - a form of oxygen

There’s something about being at home on a cold, rainy day that makes me want to write. I feel more introspective than usual, and I have a strong need to put my thoughts and feelings down in words. My son sent me something he’d written recently, and I was struck, once again, by his immense talent for writing fiction. For me, writing has always been more of the journaling type. Writing, in one form or another, seems to be a family thing, because my mom, now 84, has a stack of books in which she journalled for many years. When she moved out of our granny flat and went to stay with my sister, she couldn’t take all her things with her because of space restrictions, and she casually instructed us to throw her journals away, because, as she said, “Who’d be interested in that old rubbish?”. I couldn’t. They’re in my house, and one day I’ll read them. I found, amongst them, a small book in which she’d journalled throughout a country-wide tour she’d taken with an opera company (the Eoan Group), in her twenties! I read extracts from it to her, and encouraged her to take it home, which she did. I really hope she reads it every now and then, because she has a dry sense of humour, which comes out in her writing.

The need for solitude is another thing that I’ve seen in certain members of my family, and interestingly it’s the same people who love writing. Actually, it’s the writers and the readers who seek out long stretches of time, to lose themselves in books, or - these days - the computer.  But I’ve been a solitude seeker ever since I started living away from my family. When I was about 19 or 20, I started living semi-separately from my family, when my sister and her husband moved into a new house and my mom and I moved with them – I was excited to be given my own quarters, a flatlet on the premises. We used my kitchen as a storage place and I ate my meals with the family. But I had my own bedroom and bathroom, completely separate from the family.  It was at that time that I started the practice of lying in the bath for hours, listening to music, thinking, dreaming.

Towards the end of my second year of teaching, in 1984, I met someone and, about a year later, moved in with him. That living arrangement lasted about four months, after which I moved back home. By then, a cousin of mine had moved into the flatlet, so I was forced to find my own place. I was lucky – after just one week of squatting with my family, I moved into my own flatlet, a few suburbs away, where I stayed for a few years. I had a teaching job, my own car, I was studying part-time, I was very physically active (gym and running) and I was growing as a musician, playing my guitar a lot, writing songs and performing occasionally. I LOVED living on my own. When I couldn’t go to gym, I’d work out at home, doing the aerobics I’d learnt at gym. I loved running, and would run on my own or find someone to run with me.  

I lived that way for four and a half years, during which time I formed a good relationship with the elderly couple who owned the premises and lived in the main house. When their health declined, their children took them in, the main house was up for rent, and I saw the opportunity to solve another family situation that had arisen. My mom had returned from three years of working in Bloemfontein (singing opera with PACOFS), and needed a place to stay.  My sister’s house didn’t have a spare room, so we needed to find a different solution. I moved out of the granny flat and into the main house, which I shared with my mom for about two and a half years. At the time, I didn’t realize just how big a change I was in for, but I suppose that’s how life goes when you’re at a certain stage of your life – you still think like a child, when it comes to your parents, but you’ve actually been an independent adult for many years, and you’re not who you were before, you’re not who your family expects you to be, and you surprise even yourself when you go from living alone to living with someone else – especially your mother. No regrets, however – that was how it was, and that became part of our family’s story. 

For two and a half years, my mom and I shared a huge house in Lansdowne, owned by the Bloemetje family. That was in the early 1990s. In February 1992, I finally extricated myself from an intense, on-off, 8-year-long relationship and started enjoying being single again. Unfortunately (and this I say with hindsight), I didn’t give myself enough time to be single and to explore whom I could be and where I could take myself in life, with my energy and my various interests and skills. Towards the end of 1992, I met someone new and we started a serious relationship. In August 1993, because my life had moved on so rapidly, my mom and I went our separate ways and I moved in with my new partner, whom I married in March 1994. Mom then found a granny flat opposite my sister’s house, which was where she stayed for the next five years. That was in Massey Avenue, Crawford, with the Solomons family.

I’m still on the topic of how I enjoy being on my own, remember? J In December 1994, my first child was born. In November 1998, my second. Time to myself was rare, and I started to live a very different type of life. Having discovered that my husband had read my personal diaries early on in our relationship (why don’t we ever SEE the writing on the wall?!), I’d thrown away my years and years of diaries, and started journalling about my children’s development, instead. This gave me an outlet for my writing urge, but also became a legacy that I would leave for them, as I ended up journalling in the form of letters to them (about their lives).  In Nov 2000, my husband and I split up, and the divorce was finalized a year later.

A whole new phase of my life then began, fraught with all kinds of things I could never have imagined, particularly around the most precious part of my life - my children. Even though I won sole custody (after an unpleasant and expensive legal battle), I agreed to joint parenting, as I really did not believe that there was only one way to do the post-divorce parenting thing. Besides, I had grown up without my father, and didn’t want my children to suffer the same fate.  But there are very different interpretations of “joint parenting”, so I was then thrown into another legal wrangle, over "domiciling”. For YEARS, my ex-husband fought for the children to live at each parent’s house for 50% of the time, and each time an extra day was added to their time at his house, the next round of the battle began. There was so much unrelenting pressure on everyone, that in the end, the children were saying THEY wanted to spend 50% of the time at their dad’s house, which they then ended up doing, somewhere in their primary school years. Long story!

But we’re still talking about me and my need for solitude, right? So, when my children first started living away from me, for a day or two at a time - my son was 6 and my daughter had just turned 2 - it was EXTREMELY difficult for me to adjust.  I had become a mother, with all the intense life changes, and then suddenly I had to live without them. My sensitivity to how hard it would be for their dad influenced my decisions at the time. People tend to forget that fathers who are suddenly forced to live without their children also go through hell.

In the beginning, I’d fill my time crying and doing housework. My house was spotless at that time. Ooh, that was a long time ago! J AND…. I went back to journalling and playing my guitar, reconnecting with the songwriter I’d almost forgotten I was. In the first two years after my divorce, I wrote 22 songs! A far cry from the 6 I’d written in my 6 years of marriage.

And so I steadily got used to being THAT Trudy again. I began to enjoy my time alone, filling it with music, music and more music. Despite the ongoing legal battles about increased access, I persevered with my own passions, and slowly started rebuilding my new life. Yes, I made mistakes, including a few notable ones, but I opened myself to what life presented me, and I gave myself the space to become the Trudy I liked being. 2003 was a watershed year for me: I started a new relationship (which ended 8 and a half years later – AGAIN I missed the writing on the wall!) and started  performing with another guitarist, Keith Tabisher, re-entering the world of gigging, this time in a format that I knew was right for me  - the acoustic duo. 2003 started a whole new, exciting era  of my life, including recordings and concerts of my original work – no regrets there! Many of the things that make me happy today started around that time. 

In Sept 2013, after quite a few years of learning to enjoy living on my own every alternate week, my life changed AGAIN, when my daughter decided that she wanted to live in one house and she moved in permanently with me. So, for the past 8 months, I have not had much solo space. How has this affected me? I suppose as mothers we learn to compartmentalize, so I’ve spent a lot of my energy focusing on my daughter and her needs. You can’t switch that off, you know. I play my guitar whenever I can, but I also have a day job that takes up a lot of my private time – I’m a teacher! - AND I’ve recently got involved in a new, exciting venture, that of presenting a weekly radio show, which also takes time: I have to source guests to interview live on radio, do research and prepare for the interviews. Two hours on radio means many more hours of preparation. But it’s a new part of my life I really enjoy, and I will continue to do so for as long as I have this wonderful opportunity to be on radio.  

So, why do I seldom go out? Why do I often choose to stay home? Why do I seem to be such a homebody? I NEED time out from all the people I’m constantly surrounded by, in the different parts of my life. Ironic that I’m also a performer, someone who needs other people to attend my concerts, etc. But maybe not so strange after all? Maybe many other ‘creatives’ can relate to what I’m saying?  In order for me to feel I’m living a balanced life, I need time to myself. This morning, I have taken some wonderful time to myself. Yay!!!!

I know myself well enough to be at peace with the fact that I will constantly find creative ways to experience the feeling of solitude, wherever I find myself, because it’s just another form of oxygen to me.

Below: three of the many pictures I took this week as I made my way around Cape Town, walking a lot more now that I'm without my car: a stream in Newlands, near Josephine Mill, autumn leaves lying on the pavement, and a magical autumn sunrise, seen from a bridge in Wynberg. 

Time management that brings joy

It’s funny how, when we think of time management, we think of all the things we have to do, especially for others. Yes, in the workplace, time management is about fulfilling contractual obligations, but even there, I feel we could be doing things differently. What I’m going to write about is by no means something I’m practising regularly, but it’s something I’m working towards mastering  – time management that brings joy.

I’m currently on a 9-day break from work – that’s counting in the two weekends, as well. Nine days that I could be experiencing in a number of different ways. Whichever way I choose, I will emerge from this mini-holiday with a certain set of feelings, based on how I spent the nine days. It’s up to me to go about this time in a way that gives me the best feeling afterwards – like investing, but towards a desired feeling, or state of mind.  Basically, I just hate the thought of wasted opportunities.

As you may know, I’m a great list maker – I can’t start any project without a list. This is why I function so well on my own – I don’t need others to make things happen for me; I just need the space and time to make my own life happen the way I like it to. When my personal matters and my home base are sorted, that’s when I function best in the rest of my life, when I’m able to be more effective in the various roles I play.

The crazy, nonsensical truth about this holiday, though, is that I don’t have one centralised list – rather, I have a few bits of paper with different lists relating to the different parts of my life: my day job (as a lecturer), my personal role as a mother and ‘housekeeper’, and my part-time jobs as a musician and a radio presenter. Believe me, besides those areas, I have at least three other huge areas of my life I want to make more exciting and authentic – those lists aren’t written anywhere, they just tend to occupy my brain a whole lot. Those things that we always say we’ll get to ‘one day’.  For example, I want to find a dressmaker to sew for me, because I know what I like and I don’t seem to find that in the shops. But, as long as there are electrical and plumbing repairs to be done in the home, the private seamstress idea can exist only on the periphery.  But does it have to?

And this is where my theory of 'time management that brings joy' comes in. I realise that it often entails a good bit of financial management, as well. I suppose it’s just about planning carefully, not deferring one’s joyful aspirations indefinitely, because that is exactly what makes one’s juices dry up and turns one into a permanently disgruntled, unfulfilled, joyless person. I’ve had enough of that – I want to be gruntled, fulfilled and joy-filled.  :-) A mistake too many people make is waiting for others to bring them happiness. It doesn't work that way - you attract things and people that make you happy when you're already happy. 

So this is how I propose the ‘time management that brings joy’ theory would work, for me. I have to try it out first, before I can advocate it. But try it I will. Starting TODAY! In fact, I already do this to a certain degree. Committing to a period of a year to raise the money needed for my daughter’s adventure-outreach trip to Thailand, while my broken car stood in the driveway is an example. I divorced the car in October last year, after it had become extremely unreliable and expensive to maintain, and I decided we’d use public transport until the car was sold and I could afford another. But for the past year, I’ve been putting on concerts to enable my daughter to go on a trip that could never be described as one of life’s necessities........ UNLESS someone decided it could.

And I suppose THIS is the crux of ‘time management that brings joy’ – what do YOU regard as important in your life? What brings YOU joy? What is it that, after you’ve spent time doing it, makes you a better person? Once you can be honest with yourself about that, you can start to draw up that To Do list. My friends used to laugh at me because I used to draw up my To Do List for housework, work my way from room to room, cleaning, clearing, sweeping, dusting, emptying bins, etc – but between each room, or whenever I chose, I’d play my guitar! That’s how I made cleaning my house bearable. I didn’t need anyone to bail me out – I just needed the freedom to choose when I’d work (on what I had to do) and when  I’d do what brought me joy. Space and time. Autonomy. Freedom.

So today, one day before Pay Day, when all the bills have to be paid and I have to do all those things that working adults do in order to fulfil their societal obligations, I am blessed with an overcast day. Somehow, this kind of weather always spurs me on to be productive. Today I will manage my time in a way that brings me joy. This means making time for what I have to do, as well as for what puts a smile on my face. The best time to start is right now, after I’ve posted this article.

I am going to live my life with time management that brings me joy – and I’ll see what else it produces.

Radio Kaap se Punt

A few months ago, a whole new dimension was added to my life, when I was asked to join a community radio station as a freelance presenter.  I got the opportunity only because a friend who was being signed up to do a weekly show recommended me strongly, as she sincerely believed it would be something  I’d be good at and that I’d enjoy. She was right! I love it!

The highlight of my time on radio so far was my interview with my mom, May Abrahamse, a former opera singer.This picture shows the two of us in the studio last week, on Sunday 20 April 2014. 

One of the things I liked, from the very beginning, was that I was given free rein as to what I’d focus on, how I’d fill the two-hour slot. I decided to divide the two hours into two separate parts: in the first hour, I focus on “interesting people doing interesting things’, and in the second hour, I focus on the South African music industry.  With this as my template, I’ve interviewed some fascinating people. I’ve learnt a lot and also heard music I’d never heard before.

Someone once said that your “strengths” are not the things you’re good at – they’re the things that give you strength, that make you happy. If that is so, then this is one of my strengths – I LOVE working on radio! I love every part of it – securing studio guests, chatting to them before the interview, and then doing the live radio interview. I love the energy of live radio – it’s hard to explain. I suppose, being a performer, it’s the same as the rush I get when I play and sing to an audience.   

But live radio is a lot more than a performance – I have the opportunity to give people a platform to talk about their lives, their ideas, their organisations, their creations, their art. What’s struck me about all my guests, so far, has been their passion for what they do.  When people are passionate about what they do, whether it’s owning and running a tour company or training people to teach English as a foreign language, they’ll speak with great enthusiasm about what they do, which is very interesting for the listeners.

I’ve also realised how much I enjoy sourcing music and playing a whole hour of different music to what you normally hear on radio.  So, every now and then, when I don’t have a guest for one of my hours, I play music.  I particularly love playing South African music, giving local musicians the airplay they deserve. But I also love playing the music of the international artists I enjoy.

I suppose that what I’m trying to say is, radio is a very powerful medium. As this station grows and reaches more and more listeners, its power to inform, empower and entertain will increase. I am thoroughly enjoying being part of this leg of the journey, and I hope to be a part of it for much longer. Right now, I am just a freelancer with a two-hour weekly show. Who knows what the future holds?

The radio station is Radio Kaap se Punt and its frequency is 90.7FM. People in Cape Town who don’t get the signal clearly and others around the world listen to it via the website, on the live audio stream.  The website is www.rkpfm.co.za.  

Trudy Rushin & Errol in Concert, Sat 5 April, 7pm

I am excited to be working on the last few weeks of fundraising towards my daughter’s World Challenge trip to Thailand.  I’m pleased to announce the next concert, No. 5 in our fundraising series:

TRUDY RUSHIN & ERROL DYERS IN CONCERT

          Original vocal-guitar music

                            at

THE DISTRICT SIX HOMECOMING CENTRE

A musical collaboration between legendary guitarist, ERROL DYERS, and singer-songwriter, 

TRUDY RUSHIN. 

Step out of the chaos and noise of city life, step into this memory-filled space, and immerse yourself in the soulful sounds of this acoustic duo.

 Pictured below: Trudy Rushin & Errol Dyers at the Nassau Hall, in October 2011

Guest artists: SUMMER GEFFEN & NINA STEVENSON - ukulele & voice

DATE: Saturday, 5 April 2014

TIME: 7pm (19h00)

ADDRESS: Corner Buitekant and Caledon Streets, Cape Town

TICKETS: R80

Refreshments on sale.

For tickets, contact 083 491 3048

Please help us spread the word by sharing this post with at least one other person.

Thank you.

                 

Real fakes

In the twinkling of an eye, the first week back at work is done. Nine more, and then it’s time for the next holiday. In those nine weeks, so much will happen. We’ll complete the registration of new students, know how many students we’ll be teaching, draw up class lists and be assigned our ‘guardian’ classes. We’ll meet our new students in their class groups and start with orientation, which can be done in an interesting way.  As a creative person, I believe every part of life can be infused with creativity – nothing needs to be done in a tried and tested way, if you have the will and energy to make it fun and different. Then I remember that I work at a government educational institution where, unfortunately, a certain mindset prevails.

Today, I walked in on people talking derisively about me and the way I express myself. People whom I'd regarded as friends. Awkward. To spare them the embarrassment, I pretended I hadn’t heard.  The fact that I’m writing this at all, means it was significant to me. The main significance is that I prefer to know who’s genuinely friendly and who’s faking it. Makes life a lot simpler. The clarity is liberating. I have no loyalty towards the fakes – absolutely none. I happily turn my back on their limiting, parochial energy.

After  the sorting and orientation of new students, we start with our year’s work. I like to start with the end in mind – one of the points in Stephen Covey’s book, “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”. I give students an overview of the year: the dates of the college terms and the end-of-year scenario, explaining how many tests, pracs and exams are done, and what the pass requirements are for my subject, English. I advise them about strategies to meet deadlines and to ensure the heavy workload, across their subjects, stays manageable.

Like all educators meeting their new classes I explain the class rules. I refer them to the college’s Code of Conduct, in display in every classroom, and I explain the chain of command.

I always let the students talk to me, in my first encounter with a new class. I keep it simple, because I teach people whose mother tongue is not English, but I make sure I hear everybody’s voice, and I give everyone my full attention as they speak. Over time, I reinforce, by example, repetition and consistency, that in my classroom we speak and listen to each other with respect. It’s very interesting what comes out in the way they introduce themselves, that first day  – very often, the first impression they create is exactly who they are for that whole year. Sometimes, though, people  undergo quite radical change in the course of a year. 

By the end of the first term, our students will have had about seven weeks of lectures and three weeks of assessments. Some of them will wonder what they’ve let themselves in for (we teach the first year of a three-year course), while others will be visibly blossoming.

And then we have a short break, after which we have the second term. I’ve been given a 6-month contract (my third successive one), which means I have peace of mind till the end of June. Better than being unemployed. This is one area of my life where I crave certainty and peace of mind. I’ve seen the dark side of the moon – don’t want to go back there, ever.

*********************************************************************************

I’ve been reading odd articles, recently, about introverts, and have come to accept that, even though I am a performing musician and a teacher, I am actually an introvert, needing vast amounts of time alone, seeking out solo activities. I read about someone who said that he’d worked out that he needed two hours by himself for every one hour with people. I haven’t come up with quite so mathematical an approach, but I can relate to that sentiment. If I’ve been surrounded by people all day, I look forward to a quiet evening. If I’ve had a few days, even weeks, where I feel my need for solitude has been frustrated, I’m quite happy to forego big invitations, even at New Year’s Eve, to spend time by myself. I did it this year again. If you take a controversial decision and YOU’RE at peace with it, then you know it was the right decision.

One of the benefits of increased self-awareness is that you start to understand, and be more confident about, the choices you make. The better I get to know myself, the clearer my life becomes, and the more at peace I am with my strong yearnings for particular kinds of people and experiences.

In conclusion, while I feel stifled in some areas of my life, flying my flag at half mast, choking on the toxic air I’m forced to breathe, I have to say that I’m excited about the new beginnings that lie ahead - one, in particular. But, more about that over the next few weeks.

All I know is, I’ve been journeying in a certain direction for quite a few years, and I have sailed some stormy seas.  The truth is - no matter which way I look at it – I’m still on course. And the people who understand, appreciate and celebrate that, are the ones who really matter.