Selecting the focal point

Last night, I had a strange dream. And that's putting it mildly. But, with the arrival of a new day, I've decided to do the one thing I can always do - select my focal point.

This was easily the most disturbing dream I've ever had. It was nighttime, and I was walking through a confusing network of streets in a small coastal town. It was really dark - there were either no street lights, or they were very dim. I was walking in a certain direction, like I knew where I was going, but every time I turned down a new street, I was met with a set of horrible circumstances. 

The sea was rushing wildly into the town, causing chaos, as it spewed not just debris, but all kinds of horrendous creatures. The details are fading now, but I kept trying new routes to get to where I wanted to be, and encountering new horrors. I had to fight off disgusting creatures, some of whom were trying to attach themselves to me. It was creepy as fuck, but not once did I turn back - I just kept moving towards my intended destination, wading through the water rushing towards me. 

The water was dark, dirty and foul-smelling, filled with flotsam and jetsam, and even though I was shocked and disgusted by what I had to deal with, there was no thought of giving up or surrendering to the inevitability of defeat. I didn't call out for help. I took everything in my stride, dealing with each successive wave of horror, and never doubting that I would survive. 

And that's the focal point I've selected. I survived all of that. Yes, the dream freaked me out, and I woke up feeling grossed out and wondering what had put such terrible images in my mind. But when I thought about it later, I realised that that dream was about survival - my proven ability to survive whatever life throws at me. 

This has been one of my most challenging years in a long time. While I have the greatest self-knowledge and self-acceptance I've ever had, I've also found that taking principled decisions, in a world where too many toxic people make the rules and decide who deserves a seat at the table, can be a very difficult and lonely path, filled with hardship that can be soul-destroying, making one doubt one's ability to carry on.   

I will continue to focus on the survival aspect of my horrible dream. It felt like a harsh way to receive that message, but that's what I'm taking away from it. I have been reminded - in a hard-to-ignore way - that, despite the many difficulties I've experienced, in recent years, I have survived. I choose to believe that the worst is over, and that I've made it through the darkness. 

I'll quietly give thanks and live my life appreciating that I come from a line of strong women - women who endured a lot, yet survived. Women who were independent, who loved fiercely, and who found reasons to sing, dance, laugh and celebrate. Women blessed with longevity.   

Thank you, Universe. The only other choice I have, besides selecting survival as the focal point of this dream, is to live my life in a way that promotes the opposite of the ugliness I encountered in the dream - I will consciously seek out and advocate for life, light, peace, clarity and beauty.    

                             A photo I took at Sea Point Promenade, sometime this year. 

A mini-reflection on 2022

I often say that we write our life stories by the things to which we say Yes and No. It's obvious, right? The closer we get to the end of this year, the more I find myself reflecting and trying to figure out why this ended up feeling like such a crazy year. Maybe it's been no crazier than every other year, but right now I feel an unshakeable sense of frustration at how certain things turned out. 

This was a year of saying Yes to things that had a known end date, as well as things that ended earlier than anticipated. In the first half of the year, I had three part-time jobs, including a weekly restaurant gig. That was the kind of variety my creative soul craved - I enjoyed doing different things on different days. I also liked the fact that I was able to use my skills in three different sectors I loved - education, music, and the NPO sector. One of the jobs was a work-from-home arrangement, something I'd grown to enjoy during lockdown. But when you live your life a certain way, tuning into what does and doesn't work for you, you make decisions that don't necessarily make sense to others. I stayed in the teaching job until the contract ended (June), but I left both the gig (April) and the NPO project (August) of my own volition. I learnt - again - that something that starts off as a strong YES can end up evoking a strong NO. The harder realisation was that choices that feel right spiritually don't always work out materially.   

Leaving the gig happened around a time when I was questioning my choices in my music life and was feeling a strong pull in the direction of performing my own material to listening audiences. In June, I did an ensemble concert at St Saviour's Church, in Claremont (Cape Town), with three musicians for whom I have great love and respect: Keith Tabisher (my duo partner since 2003), Clayton Seas (a talented guitarist and singer), and Summer Dawn (my talented daughter). I did only original material in that concert, as did Keith and Summer. That experience convinced me that that was what I needed to focus on. But more than just performing my own material, I wanted to do something as a soloist. At age 60, I felt like I had run out of excuses not to embark on that journey. I started developing, and rehearsing towards, a series of one-hour solo concerts, which I ended up calling Solo Sessions.

                                 Summer & I, after Solo Session 2 - Photo: Marwhaan Lodewyk             

So far, I've done three Solo Sessions, and am busy securing venues for my next three. In the meantime, I've been approached by a poet (whose name I'll reveal once we're ready) to do a collaborative performance. It's both exciting and scary to contemplate, but my soul is wide open to collaborations with people whose work I respect. 

Having said as much, I was enjoying the growing momentum of my Solo Sessions, and - for many reasons - I want to continue exploring that leg of my journey. This is not about growing numbers in any one audience. In fact, my concept is intimate concerts, in interesting spaces, to audiences of about 30. It's something into which I've put a lot of thought and it ticks boxes that have particular meaning to me. More than that, I have learnt something from each performance. And when something means that much to you, you don't stop after your third one. No matter which other collabs I take on, I will continue doing my Solo Sessions.  

Clayton, Keith, me & Summer - Photo: Bianca Rasmussen

It's the 11th of November. I currently have one part-time job (teaching English to adults doing matric), which earns me a fraction of what I need to earn, to cover my overheads. So it's back to the drawing board, as I have to either add a second part-time job, or change jobs completely. Something full-time has come up, to which I have to respond TODAY. If I succeed at that application (very strong possibility), I have to leave my current job. (My heart breaks at the thought of leaving the students so soon after having started this journey with them.) At the same time, there's a very interesting part-time prospect that has come my way, but with no guarantee of immediate work. I'm qualified, I'm very interested, but when you enter a new sector, there's an element of risk. Struggling with the impact of risks taken this year (had to give up medical aid, etc.), I think it's time to revert to a more cautious approach.     

Even though there's a rebel inside of me, shouting, "But if you persevere, you can live life on your own terms", I suppose being an adult is not quite as straightforward as that; sometimes, the Venn diagram of what you'd love to do and what you have to do doesn't have an intersection.

My ideal life, if money were not a consideration, would be to live in a cottage, with all the creature comforts (like wifi, etc.) and a cute, manageable garden, with an outside eating area. I'd be in a peaceful area, with lots of trees, but a short drive from wherever I needed to be (shops, etc.). Actually, if we're talking dream situation, I'd ditch the trees any day to live near the ocean. I'd walk on the beach every day. I'd have a comfortable chair with a lamp, where I'd catch up on all the books I possess, but have never read. I'd work from home, writing on my computer. I'd also have a music room, where I'd compose, rehearse and record. In addition to all of that, I would perform. Sometimes I'd do my Solo Sessions, and sometimes work in a duo/trio, preferably performing my own songs. I'd travel all over South Africa, sharing my music with people, for as long as I'm able to. I'd keep in touch with my family and friends, enjoying the company of people who love me as I am. I would leave South Africa, about twice a year, and travel to different countries, experiencing other languages, cultures and foods. But I think I'd always come back to the Mother City. 

I'd like to think that I would always be open to new things, and that, since risk taking wouldn't be linked to my ability to pay rent, I would take risks, venturing down unknown paths, and seeing where they led. 

And, lastly - because I expect my procrastination tendency to have disappeared, in my dream life - I'd put things in place to leave a legacy (of my music and writing), for when I transition to the next realm.  In some ways, I've started working on this already.     

I am 61 years, two months and one day old. And life, with all its ups and downs, goes on.

(I like the numbers in today's date: 11/11/22) 

           Imagine seeing the ocean every day! I took this pic at Sea Point Promenade, this year. 

Sunday Somethings

Every now and then, I hear someone say, or read in a social media post: "I don't care what others think of me." I've probably said it myself, on quite a few occasions. But it's not true, is it? We actually do care.

If you've ever checked how many likes your social media post has received, you care what others think. If you've ever tried to grow an audience, either online or in real life, you care. If you've ever tracked the number of views on a YouTube video you posted, you care.  

If I genuinely didn't care what others thought of me, I'd never iron my clothes, I'd probably never wear make-up, or make sure my hair was cut on a regular basis. I'm one of those people who, if I notice a mark on an item of clothing I've just put on, will remove the item and put on something else. If I notice the mark while I'm out, I'll feel embarrassed for that entire day, like I owe everyone an explanation.  Crazy! A real waste of emotions. 

I often think about where all of that concern comes from. Why is it so important for us to be perceived in a certain way? Why do we all seem to struggle with being just who we are, warts 'n all? Why is fitting in so important? What fear lies beneath all of that? The most obvious is the fear of rejection, which I think is a very understandable thing. But think about it: if being accepted by the pack means you have to fit into a narrow description of "normal", or risk ridicule and possible exclusion - even if it causes you to suppress who you really are, and even makes you dislike yourself - is that really the better alternative?    

The interesting thing, though, is that as you get older, you genuinely don't care as much about fitting in as you did before. Most older people simply don't give a damn! It's often said that old people are set in their ways. Now that I'm older, I understand it completely - we've lived through so many experiences and seen so many outcomes, that we've narrowed down our options to what we know works. Yes, sometimes we can be a bit slow when it comes to new technology, but those gadgets are just add-ons, aren't they? Before you asked Alexa to switch on your music, you'd switch it on manually.  Same result - you get to listen to music you enjoy. I think younger people mistakenly think that not being able to handle modern gadgets means you're stupid. One day, when their kids and grandkids are laughing at them for not wanting their pizzas delivered by drone, they'll understand. 

But there's another thing I've been thinking about: there's something immensely ironic about the level of self-confidence and self-knowledge we have, when we're older. It's hard not to think about how different the trajectory of my life would've been, had I been this sure of who I was when I was in my thirties, or even my forties.  

I feel like I've spent at least the past twenty years living Plan B. I have consistently ignored Plan A, no matter how persistently it banged on my door. The intensity with which I've always regarded my music life is at an all-time high, and I can't help but feel a sense of urgency. Having said as much, I won't waste time dwelling on what might have been, and will pour myself into my performance life at every given opportunity. I enjoy teaching, I'm good at it, but, given the choice, I would choose playing my guitar and singing over teaching anytime. Sorry, students - it's not you, it's me. 😊 

The best part of being 61 is that I'm far less afraid to be who I truly am, to speak my truth, to implement better boundaries, and to go with what I feel is right for me!  I've had to deal with some tough consequences of walking away from toxicity, in both my personal and professional lives, but when I reflect on each situation, I know without a doubt that I'd make the same choice again. I think I've also reached a point of peace, in my life, where there's practically no topic I feel can't be discussed calmly, to reach a peaceful solution. No matter how awkward it may be, it will always be less awkward afterwards. It doesn't always mean that the person I want to have that conversation with will be open to it, but I know for a fact that I can talk calmly about anything - even if it's really, really hard, at first.   

Today, I had planned to join an 8am group walk close to the sea (Sea Point Promenade), but when my alarm went off at 6, I decided that that was way too early for a Sunday (I get up early to teach on Saturdays, too), so I reset it and went back to sleep. Later, I went to a public walking trail, about a ten-minute drive from home, and had a lovely 45-minute walk. As usual, there were lots of people, mainly walking their dogs, so it was perfectly safe for me to walk on my own. But here's the thing: because of the huge gap between the rich and the poor in our country, it's very difficult for me to enjoy something like a peaceful walk in nature, knowing that the majority of our citizens don't have access to those kinds of places. Why? Two main reasons: one, working class areas aren't built holistically, where people's needs (for recreation and exercise) are taken into account. And two, the residential areas close to our city's natural beauty have always been reserved for the rich. No, I'm definitely not rich, but I can take just a short drive out of my area to access this green walking space.

One of the pics I took today, at Alphen Trail.

Today I spent hours working on my teaching prep for the next few weeks, and I'm amazed at how much work has to be taught in the given time. Many of the students haven't studied for a long time, and I hate rushing through the syllabus, but that's exactly what I have to do. It's fine for some of the students, but not for most of them. And so my usual dilemma surfaces again, where I don't understand why and how certain decisions are made. It's like our country's education system is just churning out semi-educated people. It breaks my heart.    

And so, as I anticipate the second week of November 2022, I'm still trying to deal with the fact that 2023 is around the corner. This has been a very challenging year for me, and I couldn't be further from where I'd like to be, financially. I can only hope (and manifest, and visualise) that the year ahead will be much better, in every possible way.

In my next blog post, I'll tell you about a cool collaboration I've started working on, with another artist. Very exciting!