Reflecting on 2023: My Music

Despite the craziness of my formal job, from January to June 2023 (it's December, and we haven't been paid YET! See previous post.), I was fortunate to have the desire, stamina and stubbornness to pursue my all-time passion: music. More specifically, to perform my own compositions, written over four decades, to listening audiences, in spaces around Cape Town that were conducive to story-telling. 

SOLO SESSION 6

In Sept 2022, I'd started an intimate concert series, called Solo Sessions. In Jan 2023, I did my 6th one, this time in the foyer of The Masque Theatre, in Muizenberg. Tickets were sold out, and the specifics of the venue taught me that my original model needed to be tweaked - the show worked much better with the audience seated at tables, sipping and nibbling something. It was a memorable event; my cousin, Theresa Smith, was my assistant, and my friend, William Rose, my photographer.    

                                                              Photo: William Rose 

SOLO SESSION 7

Towards the end of February, I bravely tackled my next Solo Session, this time venturing way out of the southern suburbs of Cape Town, to Seven Sisters Vineyards, in Stellenbosch. It is owned by seven sisters, with one of the sisters, Vivian Kleynhans, as CEO. As each venue I explored came with specific requirements, I had to change my tickets prices, to cover my overheads and earn something, as well. With a smaller audience than the previous one, the event was no less enjoyable. The venue was spectacular, and the in-house catering superb! This time, Theresa doubled up as my assistant and my photographer. I love the freshness that different photographers bring to my concert memories.      

                                                                Photo: Theresa Smith 

SOLO SESSION 8

After my 7th session, I  needed a break; I'd been going non-stop - arranging, marketing, rehearsing and performing in 7 solo concerts of original work in 6 months. I could feel I needed to slow down and step back a bit. I rested throughout March, and my next concert was at the end of April, at Suzie's Coffee Shop, in Kuils River. Once again, the combination of a magical space and a listening audience of music lovers ensured a satisfying event. 

                                                      Photo by audience member

SOLO SESSION 9

This concert was done as a fundraiser for a church in Gleemoor, Athlone. For the first half, I did a shorter version of my Solo Session, and for the second half, I did covers. Thanks to the hard work of the organisers, there were about 60 people present; the audience was warm and responsive, joining me in a sing-along, and even dancing! 

SOLO SESSION 10 

At this point, I have to mention that putting on a series like this, with NO budget and NO manager, comes with no guarantees whatsoever. All I have are my vision and my desire to do what I can, while I can. I enter into an agreement with the venue, and I set about doing everything else on my own. On the day, I ideally need an assistant and a photographer, but as you can see, that's not always possible.   

For the 10th one, I returned to a space I really like - the Homecoming Centre, in District Six. In fact, it's the foyer of the old Fugard Theatre. This day required a huge amount of determination, a belief in my bigger goal, and a huge leap of faith. On the day, Cape Town had one of its worst storms of the year. People who had promised to attend, cancelled. With no guarantee that anyone would pitch up, I went ahead. I'd advertised extensively, in newspapers, on the radio, via my email network, and on various social media platforms, so there was always the possibility that someone would attend. In the end, ONE person turned up. She was someone to whom I'd taught guitar lessons, a few years ago, and she'd never heard me perform before, so I did the show for her - with all the love and gratitude I could muster. 

On the photo with me is my friend, Elise Fernandez, who, at short notice, agreed to be my assistant for the show. I'd quite forgotten that she was also a filmmaker. To my absolute delight, she spontaneously filmed the entire show, giving me much-needed video footage!   

                                            Elise Fernandez and I. Photo by audience member's son. 

SOLO SESSION 11

My final concert for the year was in August, at The Wave Cafe, in Long Street, in the CBD. For some reason, this concert felt like the most fun I'd had at any of the solo sessions. Quite a few of my friends attended, including my dear friend, Winlyn, visiting from abroad. It was interesting to see a few people in the audience who'd attended previous solo sessions. Once again without an assistant or a photographer, I was lucky to have another friend, Gail Van Breda, in the audience, who offered to take pics and videos.  

A group photo with some of the audience members. 

 I so badly wanted to end the year with Solo Session 12, to round off the series, because I have a new concept for next year's concerts. I even started exploring possible dates late in December, but I couldn't get what I wanted. 

So, with the unfinished number of 11 as my total number of solo sessions (or maybe not?), I end this year. Even though I didn't achieve 12 (the original goal was 12 by Sept 2023) before the end of 2023, I'm still satisfied that I continued with the concert series: I had good experiences at the different venues, I met really cool people who were willing to give my concept a chance, and I got to perform my original songs to many people who'd never heard me before. 

Based on the feedback, I can see how important it is for me to prioritise releasing recorded music. I suppose that's something to wrap my head around in 2024. We'll see. 

I am deeply grateful to EVERYONE who supported my shows in 2023 - the venue owners and managers, the media people (radio and newspapers) who helped get my message out, the photographers, the friends who assisted me, the friends who shared my MANY social media posts, and the people who took time out of their busy lives to attend my shows and listen to the stories in my songs. Thank you for supporting local music.

May 2024 be a better year for us all. 

                                9 Dec 2023 - I sang a few originals at a Woman Zone gathering.

                                                           Photo: Theresa Smith

   

Reflecting on 2023: Employment

My usual habit of reflecting - at the end of a day, week, month, a job, a project, or even a relationship - is always intensified as I approach the end of a year. My desire to write a reflection on the year becomes almost overwhelming. I wonder what the job equivalent would be of my intense need to write in this way. My life would've taken a completely different direction, had I been a full-time writer. Maybe it's something I'll do once I exit the formal employment sector, in the not-too-distant future. 

Thankfully, my approach to life is that not everything you love needs to be done professionally. It's actually a relief to be able to immerse oneself in one's passions and keep them as hobbies. For me, the lines have occasionally blurred, with my hobbies turning into part-time income-generating activities. I know that, when I'm under pressure, in my main job, the passion that led me to that job can be eroded.  For example, when I tried being a full-time musician, where I relied on my income from music to feed my family, I hated the feeling of not being able to be as discerning as I wanted to be.  No - for me, music fits well into my life as a part-time thing. A side-hustle. 😀

So what's 2023 been like, for me? There were two parts of my life that dominated my year: my employment situation, and my music. With deliberate compartmentalisation, I persisted with the latter, despite the most bizarre set of issues in the former. In this post, I'll focus on the former. 

EMPLOYMENT

In mid-January, I returned to my part-time post at College of Cape Town, where I continued teaching English to adults in the Amended Senior Certificate programme. The course runs from October one year to June the next, when the students write their matric exams. We sign a contract in October, and a second one in January, with all the conditions remaining the same - we teach the same subjects, to the same students, in the same timetable, earning the same hourly rate, as the entire course budget is approved before the October start. 

However, in January we did not receive our new contracts. This did not perturb us too much, as the contracts had been late before. At the end of Feb, there were still no contracts. Those of us who taught only part-time really felt it, but our colleagues who were also full-time employees of the college were only expecting to be paid at the end of March. Meanwhile, the rest of us had resorted to borrowing, to survive. When the end of March came, and there were still no contracts, the educators in the programme got together, which was when the full-time staff realised that the part-timers had not been paid since January! As a team, we started contacting the relevant people in the college, working through the chain of command, raising our concerns and requesting our contracts, as well as our salaries from January. Contracts were then issued, with the hourly rate reduced by about 60% and the start date given as April, and not January!! We refused to sign, and new contracts were issued, with the correct date, but still the reduced rate. We once again refused to sign, demanding our original rate (as no-one had given us any notice about the rate changing).

A LOT has happened since then, but the bottom line is we've not been paid yet. What has become evident is the lack of integrity of the top leadership of the college group.  After going through the required channels yielded no response, the educators involved then escalated to the next level, involving the CCMA, as well as private lawyers. 

The outcome? Nothing yet. We've not been paid yet. It has, however, come to light (in the media) that the leadership crisis within the college group is much bigger than just our matter. I look forward to seeing the outcome of those other accusations of impropriety.  

On a personal level, not being paid my salary from January to June caused problems in my life that will take years to sort out. Borrowing money, thinking you're going to repay it a month later, then having to borrow again and again - that's soul-destroying. When I tried to communicate the impact of the non-payment, in a meeting at head office, I was told that no "emotional outbursts" would be entertained. I guarantee you that that would not have been said to a male. They say there are only two certainties in life: taxes and death. Well, I think we can quite safely add a third - the patriarchy. YOU try not being emotional when you can't pay your rent! And what's so wrong about being emotional, anyway? I'm a human being, and my basic rights were violated! Surely, within the South African context, everyone can understand how unacceptable that is!    

My anchors, throughout that time, were my family, a few friends, my colleagues, and my music. 

Thank God for them all!  

A NEW BEGINNING

Towards the end of August, after being unemployed for almost three months, I successfully applied for a 5-week teaching opportunity at a nearby high school. In that period, I applied for the same post for the fourth term, and was accepted, Also in that 5-week period, I  applied for the post for 2024, which I was very happy to be offered.

Teaching at a well-run school, with a proud history of anti-apartheid activism and a present-day involvement in social justice issues, which is less than 3km from my home - that feels like the "radical, positive change" I'd been manifesting for months. 

It's been a busy and exciting three and a half months - wow! Never a dull moment! I have no doubt that 2024 is going to be just as exciting. I look forward to all that lies ahead. 

Thank you to all who gave me the chance, with each of my applications. I'm ready to make a contribution to the students and to the school, as a whole. I feel like I've entered a significant chapter of my life. 

Time will tell.    

                                             A photo I took at an evening event at school. 

 

Three months into this new chapter

On 15 August, a friend texted me, saying, "Hopefully some good news soon." I thought she was just being kind, until a mutual friend contacted me the following day, informing me that a nearby school was looking for a teacher urgently. I expressed my interest, sent my CV, had a panel interview a week later, and started teaching five days later. And now it's just over three months later, and I feel like I've been there for much longer. 

Having worked in different places, by choice, I am familiar with being the new person among an established team of colleagues. I learn something every day - whether it's about the school's systems or the people. I've always been an observer of people, and it fascinates me to go into a new environment and meet a whole lot of people I haven't met before. I have a strong sense of who I am and what my work ethic is, so all I have to do is learn the systems in place, know the deadlines, and fulfil my duties, adding as much value as I can, in both measurable and immeasurable ways. (If only it were that straightforward! 😄)

I teach a fascinating subject - Life Orientation- which was not on offer when I was at high school. From what I've read, it was introduced into the curriculum in the late 1990s, in post-apartheid South Africa. I think it's grown a lot since then. I also teach English.

I really like the subject, because it deals with topics that have relevance to everyday life, like knowledge of oneself,  interpersonal communication, and conflict resolution. It also covers topics to do with study methods, citizenship, the world of work, and sexuality, amongst others - the latter being fairly contentious, especially amongst more conservative thinkers. I am wholeheartedly behind teaching age-appropriate sex education. Knowledge can never hurt anyone. Instead, the hope is that young people would make informed decisions, based on that knowledge.

With just four school days left for the year, we're busy with reports and other end-of-year procedures. Today we had our prize-giving gathering for the Grade 8 to 11 students. I clapped for each child like he/she was my own, remembering that feeling of hearing my own children's names being called for awards.      

I am over the moon to have a one-year contract at the same school, which will make 2024 an extremely interesting year - completely different to 2023, which had so many curveballs, in the first 8 months, it felt like a never-ending squash match. Ending the year with a job, and looking forward to returning to this job in the new year - I have no words to describe how happy I am.  

I would've loved to have ended this year with Solo Session 12, but I don't think that's going to happen, which is okay. The four weeks that I'll be home, from mid-December to mid-January, will be filled with a combination of prepping for next year, catching up with some things around the house (and garden!), spending time with loved ones, and playing as much music as I can.

Tomorrow morning, I'm singing two sets at a women's gathering, for which I've written two new songs. After a few really hot days (and nights), I'm happy that the weather's cooled down. In fact, it looks like we're in for some rain. I just hope that there's no rain when I have to cart my equipment into and out of the venue tomorrow. 

After that event, I'm off to a special event at my old high school, Harold Cressy High, where a Wall of Honour is being unveiled. Plaques have been made, bearing the names of people who've contributed to the building of the hall or to the school in any way, over the years. Should be fun. I'll get to see high school friends, which is always very pleasant.  I matriculated in 1979, and I still feel a strong connection to the school. 

As I wind up this post, I feel grateful that I survived the journey through the dark tunnel I found myself in, this year, and that life sent me a beautiful bright light that guided me out. I am deeply grateful to everyone who gave me leads to follow up on, including the one that got me this teaching job. I take nothing for granted. 

In so many ways, I am very, very lucky.   

My Sweet Unbloggable You

Once again, despite being passionate about writing, I managed to let more than a month go by without blogging. As I often say (in almost every post), I think the fact that I journal daily has an impact. Why do I write? I can't explain it. All I know is that I feel incomplete - even bereft - when I don't write for more than a day. 

We're right back to frequent loadshedding, with nobody really interested in the "reasons" (excuses) for the electrical blackouts, but everybody agreeing that we've had enough. Which brings us to the topic of what to do to voice our unhappiness and bring about change. Well, we have our five-yearly general elections in 2024, and lots of people are saying they won't vote for the ANC anymore. It really does feel like the ANC's reign is about to be brought to an ignominious end. Public discontent with the party is at its highest, since it came into power in 1994. More than that, a few minority parties have started a new movement, called the Multi-Party Charter, aimed at unseating the ANC in the next general election. Ons sal sien. (Afrikaans for "We shall see.") 

One of the most inconvenient things about loadshedding (which, itself, is a huge inconvenience) is how frequently the announcements (on an App) change! The schedule changes throughout the day! You can't plan even one day, let alone a week. It's spoilt so many things for us, because you could plan a gathering or a concert, you can factor in everything else, but if you don't arrange for back-up power, your entire event could be ruined. In my opinion, the visible fallout of loadshedding - those who can afford it, leaving the country in droves - is not as alarming as the invisible fallout: a massive increase in mental health issues, amongst South Africans. It feels like the biggest slap in the face from a government that was voted in because of its role in liberating us from apartheid. But I think this is yet another case of a liberation movement not being able to govern, post-liberation. In a quick internet search, I found that most of the cases cited are from Africa and South America. Let's be honest, it's not like most of the Western world is doing such a great job of treating its citizens with respect.  

But, I digress. I spent the first 32 and a half years of my life under the racist apartheid regime of the National Party. It was this party, with its official opposition, the Democratic Party, that formed the Democratic Alliance, in 2000. So - all you folks who were oppressed under apartheid and now vote for the DA - half of its DNA is the very National Party that labelled you "non-white" (and other racist terms), treated you like an aberration, and denied you the vote in the land of your birth. Just saying. Enjoy your t-shirt, your flag and your hot meal. It's called Stockholm Syndrome.

Ok, back to me and my life. :-) I've just completed three months of teaching at a nearby high school, with my most recent experience being final exams and everything that goes with them. Shoo!!! That's all I can say. Shoo!   

Now we're busy with the various post-exam processes, after which we'll go on our annual summer break, for four weeks. With just eight school days left for teachers, I'm seeing just how much is packed into these post-exam days. I can already see myself working on and off during the holidays (at home), and the four weeks simply flying by.      

About four weeks ago, I experienced a huge change in my life, which set in motion a chain of other changes, some current and others yet to come. Next year will see me making at least one massive change, as part of this situation. I've decided to focus on the positive side of it, and embrace the new. Without change, we stagnate. In all the ways that matter most, my year's ending much better than it started. For that, I can only feel immense gratitude.      

I feel like I have unfinished business, regarding my Solo Sessions, because I ended at No. 11. That was as far back as August! About two weeks ago, I did a little home video recording of one of my favourite covers: Embraceable You. (Check it out on my Facebook music page: Trudy Rushin, Singer-Songwriter.) Why have I been so absent from the music scene? It's simple - I'm back in teaching! Not an easy pair to stay on top of, simultaneously. I'm sure that, as I settle into my groove, in my teaching job, I'll find the energy to do concerts again. 

Ons sal sien. 

                            Singing a cover of "Embraceable You", in November 2023.  

Know what you need

Today feels like a slice of magic. It's a beautiful, sunny October day, with every butterfly in our back garden whispering to me that spring has indisputably arrived. 

How am I spending this day? Relaxing, soaking up the Vitamin D? Nope, but giving myself a different kind of gift - catching up with laundry, other housework, and myself. Teaching full-time means that weekends are the only times I can do these things. So here I am, typing a blog post (which makes me happy), while keeping an ear out for the end of the washing machine cycle. Every 30 minutes, I get up, put a load on the line and another one in the machine, then carry on with my other activity. Right now, it's blogging. Oh, I'm also defrosting my freezer - I left it way too long, again! 

I know I often write this, but I'm always surprised to see how long it's been since my last post. I love writing so much, that I could easily blog every day. Anyway, I get my daily writing need met by journalling, so that's probably why I blog so infrequently. 

Ok - updates! 

My Day Job

Yes, I still have one! In fact, my application for the 4th term post, which I submitted during my 5-week contract, was successful!!! YAYYYY! And I've just completed two of the ten weeks of this school term. I go to school every day, appearing to be completely normal, but inside my heart is a vibrant Bahian band, laying down a pulsating samba beat for my brainwaves. 

Around the time that I applied for this term's post, I also applied for two of the school's advertised posts for 2024. To my utter surprise and delight, I've been shortlisted for both, and am being interviewed this week. Oooohh!!!! Watch this space!!! I am SO grateful for these opportunities, I don't even know where to start! I look forward to updating you in my next post, which may be in more than a month, given how busy life has become.   

So, yes! What a different path I'm on! Eight weeks ago, I was in my third month of unemployment, following the conclusion of the part-time programme in which I'd been teaching, at College of Cape Town. In the preceding 6 months, I'd gone through the indignity, along with six  colleagues, of not being paid! Despite this case having reached the CCMA, there's been no resolution yet. We have not yet been paid for teaching from January to June 2023! Truly a case of truth being stranger than fiction. It messed up my life so much, that it will take me years to undo the damage done. Fighting for what's owed to one can be exhausting and extremely frustrating. I'm beginning to understand why people who don't get paid for work done, end up walking away from the dispute: never underestimate the lengths to which people in power will go, to assert that power, which usually entails not taking accountability for their mistakes. 

But, I digress. My main point is: THANK YOU, UNIVERSE!!! The wheel has indeed started to turn, and my gratitude knows no bounds.

So, how does it feel to be in a new work environment? I actually find it very interesting being the new person, at my age. At this stage, I'd say I'm grateful for the lessons I've learnt over the years - especially about myself, about other people, and myself in relation to other people. I've added a codicil to my mantra, "Know who you are". It's "Know what you need". I know who I am, and I've learnt to maintain my individuality in the company of others with different worldviews, but what I've realised is that knowing that is not enough. To avoid slipping into default mode and inclining towards the views of extroverts, simply because they're expressed so confidently and frequently, I have to have my practices that put me in touch with who I am. Basically, I've had to remind myself that my Trudy Routines are by no means superficial or faddish - they keep me grounded and were arrived at through many, many years of trial and error. There's a quiet confidence in this kind of self-knowledge, which is why I say Yes to things that may make no sense to others. Is teaching at a high school stressful? Yes! Is it interesting? Hell, yes! Is this an environment where I can learn and grow? Most definitely! Will I make a difference while I'm there? I hope so! Will I make new friends? I already have.    

That's enough for now. Oh, before I move on to my next topic, I have to share a little classroom exchange: In response to my reminding a Grade 8 class that I had actually lived during the apartheid era, a student asked, "Did you have slaves?!" 

 My Music World    

With the busyness of school (including after-hours school events), I've inadvertently allowed my music to take a backseat. I haven't been practising as regularly as I used to, simply because I've been too tired. There have been a few highlights, though:

• On 30 September, I sang three of my original songs at The Castle of Good Hope, as part of a Heritage Festival. It was the first time I'd sung there. It was interesting, especially to meet and enjoy the work of other artists.  Someone present filmed us and sent me the videos of my songs. It's always interesting for me to watch myself performing live - that's how I learn about my unconscious mannerisms, and what about my performance worked or didn't.  

                                       Inside the grounds of the Castle of Good Hope 

• On 4 October, I filmed myself at home, singing a few covers, and posted the videos on Facebook. 

• On 8 October, I sang a few originals at the launch of Willy Mathys's book, entitled "Tjerel Tjind, Wat Praat Jy Als?"  What I love about performing in different contexts, is that I often get to meet new people, including artists. This time, I met Didi Didlof, a lovely violinist, and we hit it off immediately, even managing to jam a bit after the formalities.

                                                               Didi and I

• Last night, I sang three originals at a fundraiser for a community outreach programme run by my friends, Shaun and Nicole Brown. Again, I was delighted to have the opportunity to listen to other musicians and enjoy their artistry: Trevor Parker, Jason Benson and the band Ambience: Sheldon Erasmus, Belinda, and Wayne Smith.

                   L-R: Shaun, Sheldon, me, Belinda, Jason, Wayne, Trevor and Nicky.

(The house is so quiet, I can hear the water dripping, as the freezer defrosts.)

I have another significant change happening in my life, in under two weeks' time, but I'll write about that in my next post. It's a BIG, life-changing event, which will set off other changes, over the next couple of months. 

And life - with all its endings and new beginnings - goes on. 

A New Adventure

In my last post, I said that, by the next time I blogged, my life will have changed. Well, it certainly has!

My Day Job

I HAVE A DAY JOB!!! On 23 August, I went for an interview at a nearby school, and a few days later, I started a 5-week substitute teaching post.

I can’t believe I’ve already completed 10 of the 24 days of this contract. I have learned something every day. Of course, schools require a lot of structure, to run smoothly, so learning all the rules has been one of my main priorities. This school, less than 3km from where I live, is very well run, with a proud history of high-quality education and involvement in the anti-apartheid struggle, so it’s a real privilege to be teaching there. The staff have been welcoming, the admin side impressive, and I’ve decided that I will enjoy every day of this adventure, for as long as it lasts.

This part of the school year is all about exams, invigilating, marking, and reports. In my first week, I had lesson time with all my classes, but exams started in the second week, so I’ve been invigilating. An art to be mastered, indeed – you’re not allowed to read, write, or do anything other than the required admin, watch the students, and ensure that there are no irregularities. So, no - I can’t crochet! 😀   

While updating my CV, I realised just how many times I’d ventured down a path that I would never have considered before, or that others tried to discourage me from. It meant being the new person at a school or company, and learning a whole set of new skills. It also meant a whole set of new colleagues, some of whom became friends. But most of all, because I’ve said Yes to those exciting opportunities, I’ve lived a very interesting life.

There’s something funny (to me) about being the new person. People make assumptions, based on my appearance, and they often misread me. I find it funny, because when they learn new things about me, they’re surprised, meanwhile I’ve known them all along. Anyway, that point is neither here nor there. I’m new, the dynamics are familiar, and I know how to conduct myself in a professional context. And because life has taught me that “people are people”, I have no illusions. I don’t do pedestals anymore. 

Today is my last day of being 61. Tomorrow, 10 September, is my 62^nd birthday. How do I feel? My overwhelming feeling is one of gratitude. I’m grateful for many, many things. I’ve had a challenging year, employment-wise, with the college not paying us from January to June this year. This, of course, threw my finances into chaos, but since last month, I’ve felt that unmistakable energy of my world turning right-side-up again. I am extremely grateful to be emerging from this difficult phase. (The official steps to get the college to pay us are gaining momentum.) 

I’m grateful for my family, especially my children, who, in their special ways, helped me get through this tough time. I’m grateful to my friends, who’ve kept me laughing, crafting, making music and looking forward to gatherings. I’m grateful to my handful of close friends, who’ve been a phone call away when I’ve needed to pour my heart out. I want to be there for them in the same way, when that time comes.  

I’m grateful for this 5-week teaching stint, which ends on 30 September. While there are no guarantees, as I would be one of many applicants, it could turn into a renewed contract for the 4^th term. Signing that contract would give me more peace of mind than I’ve had in a while. Right now, I’m focussing on my current responsibilities, and being level-headed about the way forward. 

My Music World

I am very happy that the music adventure I’ve had for the past year – my concert series called Solo Sessions – has not only brought me so much joy, but has taught me so much, and shown me that, sometimes, when you step out of your comfort zone, magic happens. (My cousin, Tracy, once told me: Make your own magic!)

The bottom line is, with all the ups and downs of the past year, I have absolutely NO regrets about putting on this concert series. I’ve done eleven concerts so far, with a project budget of ZERO!! At a time of my life when money was scarce, I bravely engaged with venue owners and managers, negotiating mutually beneficial business models. While I got a few negative responses, most of the owners I approached were very keen to give my concept a chance.

My worst experience was with the owner of an art gallery in Muizenberg: we emailed, we chatted on the phone, I visited the place, we got along well, and we came to an agreement on the important things: where I’d hold the concert, the sound, the ticket price and split, the refreshments, and the publicity. When I got home, I sent her an email detailing our agreement. And then, on the day that the poster (which she insisted her team would do, but which never materialised) was meant to go public, she ghosted me! She simply stopped taking my calls and replying to my WhatsApps and emails. At first, I was really worried – I thought she’d been in an accident, or something, and I kept trying to contact her. Eventually, I had to accept that she had just been one of those weird people you hear about and hope never to encounter. Did I let that deter me? Not at all! It was an unpleasant experience, she’d wasted my time completely, but the vision I had for the concert series was much bigger than any single unscrupulous person. It reminded me that not all women in positions of power use their power to assist other women. To this day, I don’t know what happened, she did not take any of the opportunities to explain herself, so I am not interested in ever working with her. 

My Trudy Routines

Starting an on-site job, after operating from home, means “something’s gotta give”. While I’ve managed to stick to my daily routines of meditating, journalling and most of my health regimens, I haven’t kept up my dancing. This can be remedied, of course, with a bit of added discipline. My goal, from Monday, is to set my alarm for 30 minutes earlier, to include a dance workout before leaving for school. Dancing makes me happy, I have a dancing goal for the year, and there’s no reason I can’t achieve it. The one thing I have to do, to achieve this morning routine, is get to sleep at a decent hour at night. Hmmmmm! 

All day, there's been a fierce wind blowing - the kind that precedes a heavy storm - and all I want to do is curl up in bed and feel comfy and cosy. I brought marking home, and I need to do another stint tonight. 

As I settle down for the evening, I am grateful to have had a whole day to catch up with things around the house, as well as with myself. Being around a lot of people requires a certain kind of energy, which I have to get used to again. My latest college job, which ended in June, was three days of teaching per week, so quite different to full-time teaching. But I am, and always have been, adaptable. 

Thank you, universe, for this exciting new beginning. The wheel has indeed started to turn. 

                                  Sky pic, taken at school, at the end of my first week. 
   

 

August's shifting energies

It's a Friday morning, it's miserable weather outside, and I am under the covers, enjoying what's probably my last free weekday morning in a while. In a few days, my life will change. Right now, I'm sitting with two possible employment opportunities, and am waiting on written offers.  Considering the long drawn-out situation I'm still dealing with, of unpaid salaries for six months, as a result of not having signed a contract, you can understand my caution. Details to follow. 

By the next time I blog, I will have re-entered the world of full-time employment. Neither of them is long-term, but for at least one month, I will be actively engaged in shifting energies that will, in one way or another, impact on what happens next in my life. I've learnt that, before things can flow, they have to start. And that's what I'm focussing on - starting.  

A few months ago, in an interview, I was offered the job - a full-time teaching post at a high school a few kilometres from home. Later, while I was processing the offer, weighing up the pros and cons, I got a verbal offer for a completely different job, at a higher salary. I turned down the first, and the second one did not materialise. While I understood the ever-changing dynamics, it was a strange set of emotions to navigate. The nett result was that I remained unemployed. I decided to be philosophical about it; I believed that, in time, I would understand why that was not meant to be. 

I have a busy weekend ahead, and I'll write more about it when I can. Suffice it to say that my life has very few dull moments - even my quiet moments aren't dull. I'm an avid crocheter, and have been part of a craft club for the past 9 months, so I'm always working on at least one item. The craft club, called Knit and Natter (KAN), meets once a month; we teach beginners (and constantly upskill ourselves), and we knit and crochet for ourselves and for charity. Every three months, we donate items to an organisation. I generally don't seek out groups, in my personal life, because I have enough interesting ideas that work for me, and I don't want to waste my discretionary time putting up with problematic group dynamics that sometimes emerge. I seek harmony in every part of my life, so doing things on my own is easier. Life is as complicated as we make it, right?

But this group is lovely, I derive a lot of joy from hanging out with like-minded people, I've learnt a lot since we started, and I absolutely love the flow of making things and donating them to people who need them. Kindness is important to me - not only was I raised in a community that valued kindness, but whenever I've struggled, at different times of my life, I have been the recipient of immense kindness; so whenever I can, I pay it forward. It's a healthy and important energy flow, for me.    

            My first attempt at crocheting a corner-to-corner blanket. Thoroughly enjoying it!

SHORT REFLECTION ON SOLO SESSION 11

I did my 11th Solo Session on Saturday, 12 August. In one of the cute and colourful spaces at The wave Café, with an adjacent balcony overlooking Cape Town's iconic Long Street, I sang my songs and told my stories to an audience of about 20 people, who sat at little tables, sipping drinks bought at the venue's bar.

   The space at The Wave Café where I did Solo Session 11, in my intimate concert series. 

I wore a new pair of jeans (I love jeans), a black silk shirt (I love shirts) and a colourful wrap (of my mom's!) worn as a turban. I sat on a barstool made of metal, and thanks to the combination of my silk shirt and the slippery metal seat, I ended all my songs looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa! 

In the audience were a friend from primary school, a friend from high school, a friend from teacher training college (on holiday from abroad), quite a few friends I'd met in my adult life, and a few people I'd never met before. They responded warmly to my songs, which created a beautiful, reciprocal atmosphere. I always feel spent after my shows, but in a really pleasant way - the way you feel when you've expended energy doing what you love. 

                 Part of the fantastic audience at Solo Session 11 - people from different parts of my life. 

One of my friends, Gail van Breda, filmed the whole show on her phone, so I have lots of video clips I want to share. Thanks to Gail for that really kind gesture!! One of the audience members live-streamed part of the concert, so her friends were all watching! I've just realised the show was almost 2 weeks ago! I need to make time to edit the videos and share them. Oh, I'm on Instagram now, so that's where I'll share them. (@guitartrudy)  

At one stage, I thought of having my 12th Solo Session close to my birthday (10 September), but with full-time job stuff arising, and my desire to give 100% of myself to whatever I do, I decided to shift my next one to October. I'll think about it, though. With the seasons changing, and our warmer weather imminent, this is also the time that the music season opens, with people hiring musicians for events. In fact, in the next six days, I have two paid gigs. Thank you, universe!! 

I definitely want to do Solo Session 12 in 2023, though, in line with my preferred timeline for this concert series.  

I have an interesting day ahead, so I'll get up now, and make a start. I SOOOOO enjoyed this lazy Friday morning.

I am filled with gratitude for all the wonderful energy shifts I've experienced this month. May they continue to grow, and result in the manifestation of my current goals.   

And life goes on... ⚘

One missing piece

The past week was really good! It's important for me to acknowledge that and stop myself from thinking that, if my life isn't going at 100% capacity, it sucks. It doesn't, actually. I have many things for which to be thankful, and even happy. There's a quotation that comes to mind, which makes me smile and fills me with hope: "And the moon said to me - my darling daughter, you do not have to be whole in order to shine." (Nichole McElhaney)

 If I were to draw a pie chart of my life, right now, and colour in all the slices that were fine, I'd see just one blank slice - finances. (I need to get paid my outstanding salary from my previous job [ongoing labour dispute] and find a new job.) It just happens to be a part of life that affects practically every other part. I have, however, put effort into fighting the depression I felt myself slipping into. To forge ahead with all the other areas of my life, while feeling immense frustration, sadness and even anger about one area, required me to resort to compartmentalisation, which I have had to do, at various stages of my adult life. 

This week, I achieved consistency in a few routines related to self-care. I'm a great planner, and a good starter, but I often run out of steam. This past week, I hit my Monday-to-Friday morning routines 100%: morning meditation, a dance workout, a shower, Breakfast Club, and breakfast. At night, after my shower, I journalled, did Mind Power, and, just before falling asleep, a sleep-time meditation. 

For me, the consistency of even one routine - the simple act of dancing daily (for only 30 - 40 minutes) - made a huge difference. Life reminded me that daily exercise has a positive effect on everything I do. I stretch at the start and end of the workout, using exercises I learnt when I trained with Fitness Granted, with the owner, Grant Cyster, as our trainer. I fully intend to go back to him when I can afford it again. I used to love the one-hour full-body workouts we'd do, which also included running and boxing. Most of the time, we trained outdoors, which was absolutely wonderful. When I'd lie on my yoga mat and do my exercises while looking at the sky, nothing seemed impossible.   

I've realised that I'm more likely to succeed at my goals when I cluster them in a sequence that has a good flow. This past week's mornings flowed beautifully, and I look forward to repeating that in the coming week.  

So what's Breakfast Club? It's a free, daily Zoom check-in with like-minded people, which is part of my son's business called Flourish Anyway. We share our goals for the week/day and update each other on our progress, as well as challenges. We share ideas and tips for goal achievement, and receive guidance from Nick. It's open to the public, and lasts about 20 - 30 minutes. Not everyone attends every day (it's a Monday-to-Friday thing), but I found it so helpful, and I learnt so much, that I pitched up every day.  

Here are some of the things I learnt last week:

1. For me to have a productive day, I need to plan in detail the night before. (Familiar lesson: If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.)

2. Time blocking works. It helps me stay focussed and limit distractions. For example, I set a timer for an hour, in which time I'll focus on one goal, AND... not go onto social media!

3. Awareness of dopamine levels, how they peak and dip throughout the day, and the importance of scheduling activities with that in mind. 

4. I have a tendency to plan too many tasks for one day, and need to pace myself more realistically.   

And then, after my fairly successful five days, I sang at a memorial event for anti-apartheid activist, Blanche La Guma, on Saturday. It was at the District Six Homecoming Centre. I accompanied the communal singing of two protest songs, and sang one of my own songs: In the Shade of Table Mountain. I felt privileged to be part of the gathering, where tribute was paid to a remarkable woman. Trumpeter Darren English played two pieces, as well. It was an absolute treat to hear him, after so many years.  

And today I pitched up for Wolf Pack. So - it's been a good week for showing up and being held accountable. So many other details I haven't written about, but this post was more about sharing my new routines and how I've actually managed to stick to them. 

And now, I will plan my new week in broad strokes, plan tomorrow with time blocking, then journal, meditate, and slip into a much-welcomed deep and satisfying sleep.

In so many ways, I am  extremely fortunate.

I believe I will find a job soon - a job I enjoy, which allows me to help others, which affords me a learning and growing experience, and pays me a sustainable salary. Yes - I believe that's possible. Let's see what the new week holds. 

Oh, and I've finally joined Instagram! (@guitartrudy)  

      Inside the incredible District Six Homecoming Centre, before it filled up, on Saturday. (22/07/23) 

Reflecting on Solo Sessions 9 and 10

When I started my solo concert series, in September 2022, I had a clear vision of what I wanted to achieve - singing my original songs to small, listening audiences, in interesting spaces around Cape Town, conducive to story-telling. A concept I'd been toying with for years, it became inexorable after the Covid-induced lockdown. For me, it was about fundamental shifts I'd felt throughout lockdown, it was about losing people dear to me, but it was also about turning 60. It hit me, like never before, that I had many more years behind me than ahead, and that I owed it to myself to spend as much time as possible doing what had meaning to me and what made me happy. Performing my original songs to appreciative audiences ticked both boxes, so I decided to put my perfectionism aside, and take the leap. These words, heard somewhere, kept echoing in my mind: "If not now, then when? If not me (singing my songs), then who?"   

SOLO SESSION 9: SAT 24 JUNE 2023

My 9th Solo Session, like my 5th one, was not the full programme, but a shortened version, to fit into a unique gathering. This time, I was at a church fundraiser, as the hired artist. Business-wise, the onus was not on me to sell all the tickets, although I did advertise in my networks, as well. Going into an event knowing I'd earn a certain amount gave me peace of mind, unlike most of my other sessions, where what I earned depended on ticket sales and what my overheads were. To my delight, the venue was filled, and I split my performance into two sets, as agreed - one of originals, with narration in between, and one of covers. The audience enjoyed the music so much, that some even took to the floor to dance. When I realised what a music-loving crowd (+- 80 people) it was, I played well-known songs in my second set, to which they sang along. All in all, it was a very satisfying event. I congratulate the organisers on coming up with the concept, and on its success. The meal was unassuming, simply delicious, and enjoyed by all. As often happens in community events, many of the organisers had donated their own resources. I was reminded of how special the personal touch was, when I opened my gift bag and found not only an envelope with my fee, but a thank-you card, a slab of chocolate and two scarves - every item greatly appreciated!! 

I met lovely people at the event, and bumped into a few acquaintances, as well. It was an afternoon well spent, and an unforgettable time connecting with people who, for different reasons, touched my heart. Well done to the organising team at the Uniting Reformed Church, in St Athan's Road, Gleemoor, for a truly memorable and heart-warming afternoon.  

SOLO SESSION 10: SAT 8 JULY 2023

Five days ago, I did Solo Session 10. This time, I was back at Café Societi, at the Homecoming Centre, in District Six, where I had done my 3rd session in this series (22 Oct 2022).

Pre-paid ticket sales were low, and a few people who said they'd pay at the door, let me know closer to the day that they weren't coming. If you're performing to 100 people, and a few say they can't come after all, it's neither here nor there, but if you have a total audience size of 30, and you'd go ahead even if 10 pitched, when 4 cancel the day before, it's significant. I was faced with the choice of cancelling, because of low ticket sales, or continuing, because of the possibility of walk-ins. For reasons that extend way beyond this one event, I decided to go ahead. I had advertised extensively - particularly on social media, through my email network, on radio stations, in gig guides, on LinkedIn and in all of Cape Town's community newspapers. The venue itself had been advertising my event on its foyer screen since May. There was so much potential for people to pop in on the day. However, that did not happen. Besides the (fewer than 10) pre-paid tickets, only ONE person pitched up and paid on the day. With that ONE person as a paid audience member, I did my show. Others who took in the show were the staff (about 5 people) and other performers rehearsing at the venue, who walked through the foyer and stayed for a few songs. Was it my most exciting moment, as a performer? No! Do I regret going ahead? Definitely not!   

Doing my one-hour solo concert is about so much more than that one hour. Doing all the behind-the -scenes work - in essence, the project management and marketing - takes a lot of time, energy and effort. Because this is a labour of love, I do it with my whole heart. I hope that my show is received with people's whole hearts, and I hope that I get the size of audience that enables me to cover my overheads and earn something for myself, as well. Spending so much time advertising, and working regular rehearsals into my schedule are a huge investment in my project. I invest myself. People understand pure business principles, where money is invested, so they understand that investors have expectations, or desired outcomes. It's the same when you invest yourself. But the truth, for me, is: my biggest expectations are of myself. I ask myself, after each event: Did I do my best? Did I show up for Trudy? Did I show up for my audience? Did I honour my purpose for doing these concerts?  Yes, I have had to postpone two of them, already, both linked to vocal issues, after a bout of flu. But this time was different - I was ready, I was prepared, and I had brought everything that I expected of myself; the only thing I needed (from the universe) was an audience.  

The one person who turned up for my concert was a woman who had taken guitar lessons with me in 2019. We stopped because my schedule did not allow me to teach on Saturdays any longer, and she was extremely disappointed. For years, we had simply lost contact, but after seeing my ad in a community newspaper, she decided to attend, to listen to me performing for the first time. When I saw her, I immediately knew that, even if no-one else arrived, I would happily do the show for her. From my heart.

And I did. And I'm glad I did.

Another very compelling thing for me, about this event, was the venue. For me to perform in that space, right IN District Six, a place that has such significance to me and my family, as well as to many others to whom I'm connected, is more profound than I can explain. Believe me, performing in spaces like that one, the District Six Museum, The Slave Lodge, The Castle.... all of those spaces have stories in their walls, and I love singing my songs, adding my stories to those spaces.   

As usual, the day was not without some magic, which arrived in a most surprising way. My cousin, who had assisted me at some of my shows, had to attend to something urgent, and was no longer available that day. At first I thought I'd do everything alone, but later I posted an appeal for help, on Facebook. Elise Fernandez, a friend I hadn't seen for many years, responded, and ended up making a huge difference to the event. I'd needed help with "door duty", but with there being very little need for that role, she basically sprang into action in another role: amidst all the disappointment, as well as the icy Cape Town winter weather, there she was, an accomplished documentary film maker, happily launching into photographer and videographer mode, without any hesitation. How cool?!

                            Elise Fernandez and I, at Café Societi, at Solo Session 10, on 8 July 2023 

This has been on my mind, since last Saturday's concert: There's an anecdote about a little boy standing on the beach, throwing starfish far out to sea, one by one, after they've washed ashore. A man walks up to him and asks why he keeps doing that, as the sea will just keep washing them up. He tells the boy that he won't make much of a difference. The boy throws the next starfish into the sea and says, "It made a difference to that one."  

(https://eventsforchange.wordpress.com/2011/06/05/the-starfish-story-one-step-towards-changing-the-world/)            

Winter woes, wishes and wonderings

I don't understand how someone who loves writing as much as I do, can blog so seldom. The thing is, I journal extensively, every day, so I suppose I sate my appetite for writing in that way. Also, it's a lot easier to whip out my journal and pen, than to get the laptop ready for writing. And there's something about writing by hand that feels incredibly meaningful. Our area's inexplicable few months of no loadshedding came to an abrupt end on Sunday night, taking me completely by surprise, so typing on a laptop is even more encumbered, with power outages lasting up to four hours, sometimes reaching a total of ten hours within a 24-hour period.    

In the final days of my current part-time job, teaching matric English to adults, I'm preparing my students for their final exam paper, which they write on 9 June. While revising the different types of essays, I realised that my love for writing was essentially a love for reflective writing, more than any other type. Sometimes I venture into an argumentative style, and sometimes discursive, but my default mode is reflective - I see my blog as a type of fragmented memoir, written over many years. It's like Plan B, in case I don't get to write an actual book. I think the contents of this blog could easily make a book. 

Yesterday, I had a very interesting conversation with my son. He's always been a planner of note, thinking things through carefully, and has always spoken about caring for me in my old age. As he, at age 28, tweaks plans for his own life, he wanted to check in with me about how I saw my future. We've had iterations of this conversation many times, so it was not unusual or surprising. What I liked was that he wanted to know my preferences, with the view towards assisting me in ways that suited me. I'm proud of him for having this conversation while I'm still full of energy, relatively healthy, and with all my mental faculties in place. This is the time to have those discussions. Putting them in writing is the next, more formal step. I remember trying to have this conversation with my mom and my sister, years before  my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and let's just say that only one of us was ready for it. It was at a time when my mom was moving into a granny flat, on her own, and I said we should talk about what we would do one day when she wasn't able to live on her own anymore. I was accused of being "morbid", and the conversation simply did not happen. Not then, and not ever. In my naivete, I was surprised that planning for something as natural as ageing - which is the happier alternative, let's face it - was a taboo subject. That was one of the many times that I was shamed for thinking ahead, gaslighted for mentioning something that made perfect sense to me, but that my two closest people were so afraid to confront, that they refused to acknowledge that it merited a calm discussion.

Maybe had we had the discussion then, things would've been different now. But we didn't, and we let life bulldoze us into last-minute, emotional decision making. I made a mental note to do it differently with my own ageing process, and to have those conversations with my children. Anticipating reduced independence and capacity, in one's latter years, is not morbid. It's healthy to do so. We plan for everything else, so why not for ageing and dying? I've discussed my funeral arrangements with my daughter many times, so she knows my wishes. We're all going to die sometime - making arrangements is not morbid. It makes things easier when that time comes, because important decisions will already have been made. 

I've had flu, for a few days. Well, I haven't been to a doctor (no money), but it feels like flu. This time, with laryngitis. I spent three days at home, taking meds we already had, and resting. And not talking. I went back to teach yesterday, and planned to rest my voice until my next class, on Saturday. Unfortunately, that did not happen, so my throat is very sore, once again. My main concern is that I have my next Solo Session in 8 days' time, and I'm worried that I won't be in good voice by then. Postponing a show is such a schlep.  But sometimes unavoidable. 

Winter is indeed here, and I feel like life just gets that much harder, this time of year. It's the humbling season - many more hours of darkness, and it's cold, wet and gloomy. My bedroom is the coldest in the house, with no North-facing windows and my North wall constantly damp, as the rain seeps through, year after year. I watch the damp patches make different shapes, as the rainy season sets in. Loadshedding in winter is particularly depressing. With sunrise so much later and sunset so much earlier, daylight hours are much fewer, so one's need for artificial lighting and heating is greater. 

Life has been unusually tough, for the past 9 months, with the anomaly being my music life. Not that putting on my concerts has not been tough. I look forward to a brighter second half of the year, and a brighter future, in general. South Africa's many problems are another layer of stress, but right now I'm focussing on my personal situation. On Monday, I have a job interview for a contract teaching post. I am extremely conflicted about it, as my passion lies in teaching adults, and this is a high school post. I may not even be what they're looking for. I'll see. All I can be is myself - I have loads of teaching experience, but I've not taught at a high school for 11 years, and I'm sure a lot has changed. I'll see. 

Following up on other leads, as well, as I cannot have another prolonged period of financial stress.   

I think I'll end with a gratitude session.

Today I am grateful that I am alive. I am grateful that, even though I have flu, I am generally healthy.  I am grateful that the students I started teaching in October 2022 are busy writing their matric exams, and that I have played a role in helping them get closer to their goals. I am grateful for how they have impacted on me. 

I am grateful for my children, and for the types of adults they have turned out to be. I am grateful that they have a strong desire to live their lives doing what's meaningful and exciting to them. I am grateful that most of my seeds fell on fertile soil. 

I am grateful for recent time spent with my mother, now 93. I am grateful that, despite living with dementia, she can still play the piano and sing. I am grateful for her life, how it's shaped mine, and the impact it's had on so many people.

I am grateful for my sister, who's been my mother's primary caregiver for the past 11 years. She ensures my mom is kept comfortable, healthy, safe and happy, with all the daily routines necessary. I'm grateful that she also makes time to do things that are meaningful and fun to her.  

I'm grateful for my friends and how they've enriched my life. The older I get, the more I appreciate the importance of friends who don't judge you, and who not only accept you as you are, but who celebrate you as you are. 

I'm grateful for my creative pursuits - music, crafting and writing - and for how they help me navigate life's stormy seas. 

And lastly, I'm grateful for everyone who has helped me through the past 9 months of financial difficulty. Achieving my goal of emerging from this crisis, and having a full-time job, would be both the end of one phase and the beginning of another, as I steadily work towards sorting out the chaos. I am grateful that the wheel has to turn, that endings are in fact beginnings, and that every challenge has taught me important lessons I needed to learn.   

I am grateful. 

       Taught myself to crochet a proper granny square, following a YouTube tutorial.  May 2023          

Bursting with capacity & restlessness

Seems like life has decided I should go through labour pains once a year! 😄 What am I talking about? 

In June 2021, the company I was working for announced its next round of retrenchments, which took me on a journey from being petrified that I'd be chosen, to volunteering to leave. After three stressful months, I left.  People don't realise just how much is involved in retrenchment, and how much grieving takes place, even when you volunteer to leave. You grieve the loss of your income, the loss of routine, stability and employee benefits, even the loss of the place in which you worked, especially if it was aesthetically pleasing. You grieve the loss of access to a diversity of people, because we're still in our silos, as South Africans, socialising with people from the same "ethnic" group, as prescribed by apartheid. But the biggest grief involves close friendships. As much as we say we'll stay in touch, we'll meet for coffee, etc. .... life has a way of adjusting, eventually, so you get used to being without certain people, and all you're left with is the odd phone call or text message. I missed colleagues when they were retrenched, in former years, but with my own retrenchment, my heart ached with missing the colleague I'd worked most closely with - Fatima. She and I worked like a well-oiled engine. We had to deal with so many challenges, but we grew to rely on each other, to think on our feet, and launch into problem-solving mode. We had each other's backs, professionally and personally. There was give and take. We complemented each other. I miss her. I wish she and I could run our own company, with that same irrepressibility and never-say-die attitude. 

Then, in August 2022, in a subsequent job, after months of dealing with a challenging working relationship that was affecting my mental health, I put in writing that, if we didn't sort out the unhealthy communication, I would leave at the end of that payment cycle. The response was that I could leave immediately. Stupidly, I had not signed a contract, so I had no recourse to UIF, etc. I had learnt yet another lesson the hard way. Losing that job catapulted my life into one of the most challenging periods I've ever experienced, and one from which I have not yet emerged.  

On Easter Sunday, this year, my mood dipped so low, that I shook with fear at where my thoughts took me. It shocked me that someone like me, who loves writing bossanovas and drawing daisies, could plunge that far into the abyss. Only one thing ensured I'm still alive today - my love for my children.

What I'm going to write about now has not been put into the public arena yet, but I need to write, and since so few people read my blog, anyway, I'll write it here - I'm going through a labour dispute. It's bizarre that you can be a person with a strong moral code - honest, hardworking, professional - and yet find yourself in the middle of something like this. The only thing that makes it somewhat bearable is that I'm one of seven people going through this together. And that's all I can say, for now. 

But... the most amazing energy has surfaced, in the midst of all of this strangeness! I am bursting with a sense of how much I have to offer! I love teaching, and I believe I'm good at it. I love writing, which is arguably my strongest skill. I love composing and performing music, which I'm relatively good at. Besides being a compulsive writer - and an unintentional proofreader - I have a wide range of work and life experience, including years of personal development, so my so-called "soft skills" are strong. Funny how easily those are dismissed, even in the way they're named, yet there is not one situation where humans do what humans do that does not require them. 

And so, in the interest of moving forward, as an empowered woman, and in the pursuit of joy, peace, fulfillment and the feeling that I'm making a contribution to society - and because I've had enough of struggling financially and living my life at half mast, like I've got something to be ashamed of - I will use all my skills and steadily get myself to where I want to be. I have never let my age hold me back, and in fact I regard it as my greatest asset, because I have so many years of life and wisdom within me. I know myself much better than I ever have, and I will continue to let that self-knowledge guide me when it comes to what I say Yes and No to. 

I am my greatest resource. My networks are my second greatest resource. I am steadily identifying the niche that sees me applying my skills where they are most needed. One thing I'm sure about is that I will not align myself with, or surrender to the inevitability of, mediocrity, unaccountability and corruption. There are enough people with integrity in this world for me not to have to settle for the ubiquitous alternative.                    

     I photographed these trees that I pass, on my way to town. I'm inspired by their beauty and tenacity. 

Ridiculous, or sublime?

How do you vent, rant, whatever the word is, without giving specifics?! 

Right now, I'm experiencing the emotional version of having my guts lying next to me.  I'm going through something which is tearing me apart, emotionally. As much as I'd like to shout it out to the world, for public exposure, all I can do is compartmentalise, and deal with the different aspects separately. 

Oh my word! How frustrating!!!

Every now and then, I come face to face with what is known as institutionalisation. If you've spent most of your life within some type of institution, you are most likely part of this phenomenon. Many teachers, for example, went straight from school to college or university, then went to work in an educational institution. Unless you have other things in your life that expose you to different structures or disciplines, or even less formal pursuits that allow you to have fun and explore the lighter side of life, all you will know is the institutionalised life. Another  example of this is long-term prisoners who, once released, cannot function in the real world. Some even purposefully commit crimes, to be incarcerated again, because they know how to function within those painfully prescribed parameters. 

In 2006, I went back to teaching in a state school, ten years after having left that kind of job. It was slightly different, because this time it was a high school, whereas my previous teaching had been at a primary school. I had never felt more like a square peg in a round hole! My six-month post turned into 18 months, after which I returned to the TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) industry, where I worked as an Assistant Centre Manager until my retrenchment, in late 2010.     

I knew, by then, that my tolerance for certain ways of thinking and operating was limited, and that I'd struggle within rigid hierarchical structures, where flexibility and a caring form of communication were absent, even frowned upon. However, financial need forced me back into the state sector, from mid-2012 to early 2016, after which I worked in the corporate sector, in philanthropy, for five and a half years. Until I took voluntary retrenchment. Even corporate structures can be suffocating. 

But here I am, again - teaching part-time. I love teaching English to my adult students who are completing their matric. And I love teaching part-time. But... there are so many things I wish I could change. I've learnt the hard way, throughout my life, and as recently as August 2022, that, when you speak truth to power, you suffer the consequences if there's no-one or no structure powerful enough to protect you. 

I believe that the decision as to whether I speak out or go quietly into the night was made when I was in the womb.    

Who knows where I'll be in a week's time... in a month's time... in a year's time?    

Maybe teaching English in Mauritius? I've heard they accept over-60s. 

Reflecting, after Solo Session 8

It's hard for me to ease back into the everyday flow of life, after a Solo Session. I've been like this for years, even after gigs where I've done covers. I think one's brain changes lanes, so to speak, when one is immersed in one's passion, lifting one to a different spiritual plane, almost; reverting to the mundane, less inspiring part of life - which for many of us is the bigger part - takes a while.  

Even though I feel like this after all performances, there's something about doing an entire show of my original work, as a soloist, that heightens the intensity of normal pre- and post-gig emotions. The personal investment is so much higher. You're making yourself vulnerable in front of strangers, which can be terrifying. Many years ago, my then-husband told me that I shouldn't sing my songs in public, because they were "too personal". More than twenty years after our divorce, I'm more astounded by the fact that I allowed him to inform my decisions and limit my scope, than that he actually said that (and other things). In different relationships, including platonic, I've often taken a long time to see someone's unpleasantness as being all about them and not about me. As a young adult, I was completely unsuspecting in the presence of spitefulness and manipulation. I'd immediately reflect on my behaviour and what I must have done wrong, amend my behaviour to appease the other person, then be shocked when the verbal attacks didn't stop. 

Two main issues, which I wish we'd learnt about at school, come into play, in the many iterations of this phenomenon: one is a sense of self-worth, and the other is a sense of boundaries. If you have a healthy sense of your own worth, you won't easily believe someone who tells you you're useless - you'd get a sense that they were wrong, or at least that something was wrong. Similarly, with healthy boundaries and the all-important ability to articulate them (as opposed to just withdrawing), you would be able to stand up to others who put you down, and let them know when they've crossed the line with you.    

But, I digress. Or do I? 

Many of my songs were written as part of my journey towards healing - I could often write in songs what I hadn't had the courage to say when the emotional abuse was happening. In fact, the more I sing my songs, immersing myself in my own compositions, the more I lean in to the healing process. 

My set list for this Solo Session included songs I'd already done in this series, as well as others I hadn't. I enjoy the process of letting the set list come together over a few weeks. I'm basically sharing my life story, in these sessions; because the stories are told through music, I try to vary not only the rhythms and tempos, but the mood that each song evokes. This aspect of what I do is not understood by everyone. For some people, if your music is not danceable, they feel something's missing. My music's also not opera, it's not gospel, it's not heavy metal - we could spend all day saying what it's not, but that merely dilutes what it is. In fact, it undermines what it is. This was a lesson I had to learn, in my broader life - to calmly affirm who and what I was, and not to constantly apologise for what I was not. The saying "You do you!" sums it up nicely.      

In one of my songs, I sing, "You looked at me disapprovingly / Your lack of comprehension / Like a solid door / Slamming in my face / You can't stop the flow / You will never know / You never did."   I then go on to sing about how I feel when I sing. It's an empowering song, and one of my personal anthems; I hope that, as I sing it, others start to feel how important it is for us, especially as women, to own what we do, and stand proudly in this world, despite all the restrictions and judgement we face. 

In another, written about the joy I felt in doing ordinary things after leaving my unhappy marriage, I sing: "The sensations are so clear / There's absolutely no fear / Mother Nature when you're near / There are no sharp edges here."

I also sang a 12-bar blues I wrote in 2017, to sing before Cape Town's version of the Sister March, which was happening all over the world, after the USA chose an unapologetic misogynist as its president. The lyrics include: "We don't stand still / We are women on the move / You can't silence us / 'Cos we've got something to say ". 

In a more light-hearted vein, I sang another 12-bar blues, this time a tongue-in-cheek song called Lucy, written after breaking up with someone who was a commitment-phobe: "Now one day Lucy asked him / What happens after this? / She asked him the next year and the next year and the next year and the next year / What happens after this? / And the man said, 'I like it like this / Nothing happens after this'." 

Also light-hearted was a samba called What's What, about how difficult it can be to know what love really is. Some of the lyrics are: "Love has given roots and wings / Sambas. bossanovas, swings / Still I don't quite seem to know what's what."

Two of the more serious songs were "In the Shade of Table Mountain", about forced removals, and "Afternoon Tea", about misogyny. Every song that goes into the set is specifically chosen, to take the audience on a journey that encompasses a wide  range of emotions.

In this concert, I sang a song I'd never sung in public before (as far as I can remember). It's called "Girl In The Mirror", and was written about 40 years ago, when I was in my early 20s. It is about a woman who observes herself changing, to fit in, and does not feel she's being authentic. I hauled it out from a pile of old, old songs, and decided to include it this time. Most of the people who came to speak to me afterwards spoke about how that song had resonated with them.  

Like I did in my 7th concert, I started with the song I sang at age 6, when my teacher made me stand on the table to sing for the School Inspectress. It was a religious song, in Afrikaans. And, like I've done for most of my solo concerts, I ended with what is arguably my most popular song, "Joe". 

There is so much more I could say, but I'd like to share two more things. Firstly, I find it extremely interesting and exciting, doing these sessions. This concert series is something that was brewing inside of me for years, but there was always something holding me back - mainly, fear. But when I did start putting it down on paper, jotting down the elements I had in mind, the particulars that felt right for me, I got more and more excited about bringing it into being.  The systematic, process-orientated side of me knew that, like every other process, things would have to be experimented with and tweaked, over time. I knew that I'd need to be patient - with the process, but especially with myself - to allow the journey to unfold as it inevitably would. I'm at peace with the decisions I've made, and I'm grateful for the help I get with publicising my events beforehand.  I still have the same budget I had for Solo Session 1: zero! All my overheads are covered by ticket sales. You have to start somewhere, if you want to follow your heart. I could've waited a few more years, until I got sponsorship, but that was not an option. When people my age started dying in big numbers, during Covid, I knew I had to seize the day and stop procrastinating. All we have is now. 

And secondly, I knew I wanted these to be intimate sessions, with about 30 people, I knew I was going against the grain, going small. I knew my income from ticket sales would be capped fairly low, with this model. But nothing could have prepared me for the absolute magic of a small, engaged audience! In fact, when I rehearse, day after day, I cannot wait to share what I'm rehearsing with my audience. I want to give them my most well-rehearsed and sincere performance, because they choose to come and be part of my journey, for that hour. And Saturday's audience once again reminded me that what I had to offer was relevant, appreciated and treasured. Even though I didn't set out to put out a message, it seems I am, based on the feedback I've been getting. I feel the energy of the audience, in these intimate settings, and it ends up being a collaboration; in fact, it closes the circle in a way I could never have anticipated.

I am so grateful to be doing what I love so much. Thank you, universe, that I stopped procrastinating, that I stopped limiting myself because of the cruel and judgemental energy from others, and that I finally trusted my instincts and gave myself the benefit of the doubt. It took me a while, but there's no stopping me now. 

My next one will be on Saturday 3 June; I will announce the venue as soon as it's secured. After that, I return to Café Societi, in District Six, for Solo Session 10, on Saturday 8 July.  I did my third session there, in October 2022. 

And now for the bigger dream: I would love to do my show in a professional space, with professional sound and lighting, without the responsibility of marketing and ticket sales, and with my full focus on the performance itself.  Ooh, and while I'm dreaming (the universe wants us to be specific, right?!) I'd also love someone to sort out my outfit and make-up! Who says you can't have dreams at age 61? And who says they can't come true? 😉

                                                     Photo at Solo Session 8, by Jenny Esau