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/)