Remembering pain and growth

I started teaching in 1983, at the age of 21. Having specialised in Junior Primary, my first class was a Sub A (now called Grade 1) class. In my class that year was a little boy who was much younger than his brothers. I’d see the brothers occasionally when they dropped him or fetched him. One day the little boy invited me to a party at his house, on behalf of one of his brothers. By then I’d met the parents, so I knew the family. I went to the party, connected with one of the brother’s friends, and ended up dating him – my first serious boyfriend. It was only much later that I discovered the brother had been interested in me, and only fifteen months later that I realised I’d been dating what today is called a “player” – and this only when it became clear that he was cheating on me. We were young, and I suppose people do stupid things like that when they’re young. Anyway, at the time I was devastated. 

   

Another memory that resurfaced recently was of another relationship, basically my second serious relationship, which occupied a total of eight years of my life. This time it was with a much older man, and it was tempestuous, fraught with all the angst and self-doubt that go with the power imbalance inherent in a big-age-gap relationship. It was characterised by the yoyo pattern of manipulation, suspicion, terrible arguments and the flipside, lavish gifts with tearful and apologetic promises, and my response, every time - increasingly diluted forgiveness. (I didn’t even know that such a thing as emotional abuse existed, but that’s what it was, and that’s how that individual made his way through life, wreaking havoc in the lives and on the psyches of people close to him.) This relationship included two engagements and a three-year split.

At that time, I had a dream guitar, a solid-body, nylon-string, acoustic-electric guitar. I think it was a Yamaha. I earmarked my annual bonus for this purchase, but he convinced me to buy something else I wanted, and insisted on buying the guitar for me.

Less than a week after getting the guitar, we had another awful argument, and I decided I’d finally had enough. I said I wanted out, because I couldn’t stand living that way. As he was leaving, he asked for the ring, which I remember throwing at him. He then asked for ‘his’ guitar. I was completely shocked! I couldn’t believe that something I’d wanted so badly, that was supposedly given with so much ‘love’, could be part of such ugliness. I think it was the first time I’d personally encountered that extent of manipulation. (Sadly, not the last.) What I do remember is that feeling of absolute betrayal, and of a solid door closing a chapter of my life for good. There would be no further reconciliation ever again. I pushed the guitar towards him with so much force, that he fell back against the glass door, and in that moment I thought, Oh fuck, what if the glass breaks? 

It didn’t. And neither did I.

Sometimes the things we think will break us are actually the very experiences that remind us who we are, and give us the strength to carry on.  

But the learning process seems to be endless. In more recent years, I had an eight-and-a-half-year relationship with someone. Not without its flaws, it was definitely a life-altering experience for me, and one I don’t regret, despite its acrimonious end. I’d been growing increasingly restless in the relationship, as it was apparent that it was lop-sided, with my wanting it to move towards more permanence, and his preferring the noncommittal, see-you-when-I-see-you style we had slipped into. I said I needed a break, and, seven weeks into the break (during which we had gone out a few times), I was informed that he had started seeing someone else. I’m probably really naïve, because I was once again shocked and deeply disappointed! How could someone you’d spent almost a decade with just start a new relationship and not tell you?! How immature! I am an adult, and a strong woman – I would not have fallen apart! He, of all people, should have known that about me. 

It occurred to me that the only other time I’d experienced that particular type of betrayal was with Mr Player, 27 years earlier! I realised that I’d actually been shielded from that kind of pain for 27 years. 

But it didn’t make it any easier.

What it did provide, despite the heartache, was – FINALLY - a conclusion to yet another relationship where I had not actually honoured myself, a complex relationship I had struggled to extricate myself from. (What was a real eye-opener was how many people told me, after the break-up, that they’d always wondered what the hell I was doing, wasting my time with someone like him!)

And now, almost five years later, I sincerely believe that I definitely make healthier choices and decisions. I know myself much better, and I honour myself, in all my relationships, both personal and professional, and both platonic and romantic.  

Maybe this is what it means to be an adult. Who knows, hey? I’m still trying to figure it out.  

Documentary film on my mom, May Abrahamse

On Saturday 30 April, I went along to Artscape Theatre Complex, to watch a documentary film on the music career of my mother, May Abrahamse, one of the leading sopranos of the Eoan Group. It was shown at the Suidoosterfees, an annual arts festival held in Cape Town's city centre. To my delight, the screenings (Saturday and Sunday) were free to the public.

Commissioned by KykNet (Afrikaans television channel) in +- 2012, it was directed by documentary filmmaker, Lisba Vosloo. She was also the director of the 2013 Afrikaans doccie, entitled "Eoan 80 - Ode Aan Die Opera-era", telling the story of the Eoan Group, in its 80th year. Also commissioned by KykNet, it told the Eoan story tastefully, the skill and thoroughness of the filmmaker ensuring that all the important elements were addressed, including the contentious political space occupied by this cultural organisation, which was established specifically for "Coloured" people.

On Saturday, my heart was almost bursting with pride, as the rather small venue filled to capacity, and then needed extra chairs to be brought in. But what made my heart soar was the fact that sitting next to me was my sister, Wendy, and next to her was my mom, aged 85. I have to admit, in the years that the film was being made, I prayed my mom would be alive to see it. What a privilege to be sitting there with her, watching the film which told her life story the way it did. And to be sitting next to Wendy, my only sibling and the other person who knew and loved my mom the way I did.

Her story could have been presented as a list of dates and events, but it wasn't. Lisba is indeed an exceptional biographer. Her attention to detail is phenomenal. The end product - of about four years of research, of filming (by cameraman Mark Degenaar), of interviewing, of going back to the drawing board and adding more aspects, of scouting and filming at new locations relevant to my mom's life - was such a beautiful and moving tribute, that almost everyone present had to wipe away tears, when the lights went on. 

(Added, later: the four years included Lisba's work on the first Eoan doccie.)

The fact that the soundtrack of the film was made up of different recordings of my mom, over the years, from her 20s well into her 50s, made a huge impact on everyone. She was truly a world-class opera singer, whose career was severely restricted by the racist apartheid system in South Africa. 

Lisba managed to fit in so much detail, so many special moments, so many photos, all with so much sensitivity and respect, that it was hard for me to decide what was more profound - having watched a film on my mother's life, or having watched a piece of art by someone so gifted in her field. Needless to say, the combination of the two is what makes me, even today, three days later, feel my heart skip a beat at the memory of the experience.

I plan to write a lot more about this, but right now I'm using my lunch break to get these thoughts out. Before I go, I have to say a few more things. Firstly, in the room with us, besides my mom's grandchildren, were quite a few of my cousins, from both my parents' sides, and it was wonderful to have shared that first viewing with them. Secondly, the narrator was my friend of 40 years, actress Sandi Schultz, who's known my mom for as long as she's known me. How magical to listen to her velvety voice  tell the story of my mother's life!

And, finally, what made the whole experience so poignant was the fact that my mom, who turns 86 on 6 May, has Alzheimer's Disease. After the show, when we all went for drinks, feeling warm and fuzzy after our shared experience, she kept asking why we were there. Every time we told her, she was surprised. She was diagnosed with Amnestic Syndrome in 2012, and with Alzheimer's, a year later.  Even though she had been quiet and attentive throughout the film, even catching some of the humour (I love the way Lisba managed to keep it real by including bits of humour, such a big part of who my mom's always been), she had no recollection of having watched the film, as soon as it was over. We're used to it now. 

And FINALLY finally - my strongest personal response to the movie was realising just how much my mom had changed, as a result of the Alzheimer's. In the film, there was archival footage of interviews with her, and there was my mom, strong and outspoken, speaking with conviction and passion, her body upright, like a dancer. It took my breath away. I realised that that person was no longer with us. I realised that we'd said goodbye, without having said goodbye. Speaking to my children afterwards, I realised that they didn't even know that person.

I realised how much I missed that person - my mom.

I went back, the next day, to watch the film again, and to see that person again - my mom, May Abrahamse.  

   My mom & I at Radio Kaap se Punt, in 2014, where I had the honour of interviewing her live on air.

Average

Many years ago, possibly when I was studying Statistics, as part of Psychology, I became aware of how misleading stats could be, especially averages, and of how they were often used to push particular agendas – most notably in politics, or basically any situation where manipulation or coercion were at play.

One encounters this when reading information about countries, in anything from a newspaper article to a travel brochure. One of the misleading uses of stats is average income. In South Africa, we have a small minority of people who earn an outrageous amount of money, a growing middle-income group, but a vast majority who earn very little. When the stats are given as an average, we could easily be duped into believing that every working South African earns a decent income. In fact, the inequalities seem to be growing.   

Well, I have a perfect example in my own life, right now - my dancing stats. I started dancing 363 days ago, and have danced 136 times. That gives you an average of one workout every 2,6 days – really good, right? Averages, however, don’t give the full picture – they take the figures, add them, divide by the number of figures, and come up with a figure.  

The truth is that, since I started my new job, 58 days ago, I have danced only 13 times, which gives us an average of one workout every 4,5 days. The truth within that truth is that it included a 7-day break, just because I was so busy and exhausted.

In effect, as I suspected would happen, I had lost my momentum for a few weeks.  It would have been the easiest thing to give up, and to say I just don’t have time for dancing anymore. But that was never an option. I promised myself, 363 days ago, that I would dance for as long as my body was able to. More than anything, dancing makes me happy. Deliriously happy. My spirit soars, I can’t stop smiling, and I feel invincible, when I dance. I feel whole, and it’s a wonderful feeling. Not many things in life make one feel that way, especially in one’s adult years. When you find something that makes you feel that way, you have to make more time for it, and invite it to help you live your best life.   

My life has undergone two major changes, in the past few months: I bought an almost-new car, and I changed my job. How are they related to my dancing? They were both goals I set during my dancing challenge. I used the mental focus and the energy that dancing gave me to set and pursue those goals. The fact that I achieved them shows me that dancing is something I definitely need to keep in my life. And now, as I approach 30 April, which will bring me to the end of my FIRST YEAR of dancing, I am more excited than ever about it, and have decided to take it a lot more seriously. Part of that entails continuing to pair my dancing goals with my other goals. My most creative and productive times of my life have always been when I was involved in some kind of regular exercise. Fit mind in a fit body.

Two other aspects of my life need to be more aligned with my dancing goals, both of which have been life-long challenges for me: eating healthily, and getting enough sleep.

Now that I’m working in such a stimulating, progressive, creative environment, I feel more empowered than ever before; I’m more confident about coming up with ideas and setting goals, and I love the space I’m given to be innovative, and to take an idea from a thought right through to fruition. I’ve always operated with an irrepressible optimism, but life has sent me many- and I mean MANY - people and situations that have sapped my energy and made me lose some of my sparkle. Fortunately, that irrepressibility (some call it stubbornness) is exactly what has given me the patience to work towards my goals, sometimes over years, and to believe (often in the face of severe challenges and criticism, and signs that could easily be interpreted as proof that I’m delusional) that I’ll achieve them. J

Someone asked me, the other day, how my guitar playing was, and my immediate answer was, “Average”. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Even though it was probably accurate, it sounded pathetic, and I will never ever describe anything about myself again with that word.

And so, as I complete my 9^th week in my new job, I am determined to keep reinventing myself, to keep re-evaluating everything I say and do, and keep being open to what life sends my way. Soon, I will write a detailed post about the exciting projects I’m busy with.

I’ve set another major goal, which I aim to achieve before winter 2017. I have no doubt, given all of the above, that I’ll achieve it.   

  

Watch this space. ;-)

Word for the day

Last week, I started a new practice, actually a bit of a mind game, to help myself get through my days with a greater sense of focus, authenticity, personal power and inner peace. It's called "Word for the day". While the title may not be unique, my application of it may be a little different to what you've encountered before.

And here's how it works:

On waking, I ask the universe to send me a word. It's hard to explain, especially to cynics, but I don't choose the word - it seems to choose me. Within seconds, a single word becomes crystal clear in my mind. I accept it as my word for the day, and as something that I will allow to manifest and guide me in any way. 

What happens is that the word somehow enters my conscious mind whenever I'm not busy concentrating on something else. I spend a minute contemplating it, considering its relevance in my life, and then I go back to what I was doing - but with a lot more focus, as well as confidence. 

What's happened on most days is that I've had a situation where I've needed to make a decision, and each time the word has offered me the perfect direction/solution. It's also something I could easily spend my whole lunch break contemplating. As a loner and a word nerd, this suits me perfectly.

My word for today was "discipline". As soon as I realised it, I tried to change it to something easier, like "peace", but it wouldn't go away - it stayed there, like an unwelcome visitor who's too thick-skinned to pick up on any of the cues that you'd like him to leave. During the day, however, I understood fully why it was the perfect word for today.

Other words that have presented themselves to me, since I started, are: success, health, balance, life, and music.

I like this game. I think I'll play it for a while. Maybe it will evolve. Hmmm....

Oh, and on the topic of thinking, check out my alter-ego, Garfield. :-)

Living instinctively

A book I’ve been reading, re-reading and dipping into for years, is “Women Who Run With The Wolves”, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. I’ve blogged about it before.

I received my first copy as a gift from a high school friend, round about the late 1990s, or early in the year 2000. I know I was married at the time. I read it and was fascinated. A few years later, I read it again, and a few years later, again. I realised that it was a work of literature that not only spoke to me, but that spoke to me in a different way everytime I turned to it, depending on what was happening in my life. I think I’ve read the complete book about four or five times, and have been dipping into it, reading particular chapters, or sections, for at least 10 years.  

  

The book started out as the doctoral thesis of the writer. It’s a book about the natural woman, and how modern society has stripped her of her natural (wild) essence, intuition, and power. Estes blends Jungian psychology with her knowledge gained from living in and studying many cultures, all of which prize living naturally, as well as the role of storytelling. In this seminal book, she analyses various fairy tales, using this blended approach.

More than all of that, she writes in a way that, once I start reading, I can’t stop. And I read her work with a pencil, underlining passages that speak to me. Besides her very down-to-earth approach, she also has a poetic style of writing, rich in metaphor. Can you imagine her analyisis of a story like The Red Shoes, about not giving up your natural vibrancy, and of recognizing people who come into your life, seemingly to help you, but whose first task is to remove your red shoes? Yes – and she does this in a whole chapter! It’s one of my favourites, along with Bluebeard. One of the things that fascinate me about her book is that most of the fairy tales are stories I encountered in my childhood, and understood as a child would. Reading her analyses as an adult, as a woman, as a woman who’s had many life experiences, as a mother, as a divorced woman, as an artist, as an artist who has to practise her art in her free time, as a person who has opened her life to many new beginnings, is more profound than I can express.

When I re-read the book - or parts of it – now, I can see how I’ve allowed it to shape my way of looking at life, and of living. Having just made a huge change in my life – leaving teaching, re-entering the private sector, and doing a job I’ve never done before – I’ve felt the urge to go back to the book, to immerse myself in her magnetic writing, and to experience the wonderful sense of calm, of coming home, that I get whenever I read it.

And what did I find, precisely where my bookmark was? An analysis of the story “Sealskin, Soulskin”, about returning home after having spent some time trying really hard to be who you’re not.

I’d like to quote a section that resonates with me, as I continue to process the emotional tidal wave of my recent changes. It’s about being deeply restless for change, not necessarily knowing what you want, but trusting your instincts, and going where life leads you. I wasn’t raised to live like this – I found, over many years, that this was who I was, and how I liked to live my life. Over time, I have steadily begun to be more instinctual (natural, ‘wild’), and less invested in what others think is right for me.

“These images of going about in and through the dark carry an age-old message that says. ‘Do not fear ‘not knowing’. In various phases and periods of our lives, this is as it should be. This feature of tales and myths encourages us to follow the call, even when we’ve no idea of where to go, in what direction, or for how long. All we know is that, like the child in the tale, we must sit up, get up, and go see. So maybe we stumble around in the dark for a while trying to find what calls us, but because we have managed to not talk ourselves out of being summoned by the wild one, we invariably stumble over the sealskin. When we breathe up that soul-state, we automatically enter the feeling state of ‘This is right. I know what I need.’

For many modern women, it is not the driving about in the dark looking for the soulskin that is most fearsome. Rather it is the diving into the water, the actual return to home, and especially the actual leave taking, that are far more formidable. Though women come back into themselves, draw on the sealskin, pat it closed, and are all ready to go, it is hard to go; really, really hard to cede, to hand over whatever we’ve been so busy with, and just leave.” Clarissa Pinkola Estes

As I’ve experienced way too often in my life, the fact that leaving is so very hard is exactly what makes us stay. In the past, I have stayed in situations that had ceased to feed my soul for many years after the realization that I should leave. It’s a pattern I’m consciously breaking, as I get older.

Beauty all around.

I'm so sleepy, but I've just had a shower and washed my hair, and I need to stay up for a while, to let my hair dry, before I can go to bed. Why didn't I do this earlier? Good question. 

I won't write a long post - I just wanted to acknowledge how blessed I've been feeling, recently. 

I am lucky enough to have bought a decent (by my standards) car, about seven weeks ago, after just more than two years without a car. It was the longest time in my adult life without a car, and it happened at a stage of my life when having a car should've been a given. But things didn't work out that way. I made a decision not to rush into anything, and I methodically worked towards what I now have. When I realised I'd need a car soon (next blessing = new job), I turned to my Facebook network and asked if anyone could help me find what I wanted, within my modest budget. On 12 February, with the help of my network of experts in various fields, I drove my car home, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I am grateful to be driving myself and my family around again, to have my independence, and to be able to spontaneously decide to go wherever I like. I've even managed to go to two evening events with friends I hadn't hung out with in ages! So, yes, I'm feeling unbelievably good about being mobile again. 

Everything is relative, I always say. You have to have been without a car, and endured the inconvenience of public transport in this city, to truly appreciate one when you get it.

My second big blessing so far, this year (of course, in addition to having all my loved ones, and all of us being in good health), was changing my job. I will always be passionate about education, music and the empowerment of previously-disadvantaged people. In a way I would never have thought possible, my new job embraces all three. I am where I want to be. I can make a difference, and I can grow as an individual. I learn so many things every single day, and I am unutterably grateful for this opportunity. The fact that the project I'm coordinating is a big band is almost unbelievable. My friends remind me that this is what I've been saying all my life, that I want my full-time job to use all my skills and experience, and to be linked to music in some way. And here I am, at age 54 - exactly there.  My gratitude knows no bounds.

With all of this wonderful energy comes a heightened awareness of nature in all its fullness. I looked out of my window this morning, and this was what greeted me: the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds, before disappearing behind a mountain. 

Later on, I was driving in Rondebosch, when I saw this spectacular vista (below) of sky and mountain, so I pulled off and took a few pics.  

     

Can you understand why I'm so moved by everything? Such beauty just floors me. I want to cancel every mundane task that awaits me at home, and stare in awe at the grandeur of nature. 

Lastly, I'm blessed to have really good people in my life, people who have stood by me and encouraged me to keep going, especially in those moments where I wondered what life was all about, and whether I actually made a difference or not.  Many people assisted me materially, especially when I was unemployed, a few years ago. Others assisted me by sharing their skills and resources with me. Others popped in with groceries or a cooked meal, when things were really tough. Some friends took me out, bought me books, put me in touch with others in their networks, and some just kept calling or sending me texts to say they were thinking of me, and sending me love. I have a list of "angels in my life", and I add to this list everytime a new person is good to me. 

And what's the greatest lesson of all? When YOU can be the friend helping someone else in need, then YOU should be doing just that. 

T

On the 2016 list: "Get a cool job"

Oh my word, where has the time gone?! I have a goal of uploading 60 posts for the year, and January was really off to a good start. But February? Haha - I have NO idea what happened there. Looks like I have some catching up to do.

Well, this has indeed started off as the YEAR OF CHANGE. On 29 Feb, I said my sad goodbyes to the staff and students at College of Cape Town, after three very interesting years. On 1 March, I started a brand new job, as a project coordinator at a huge media company. It's completely different to my previous job, but I love it! I was  ready for a change - had been extremely restless for a while - and when the offer came my way, I knew it was time to make the change. 

I'm in my third week of the new job, and it's like I'm living on a different planet! I feel like I've found my niche, like I'm no longer a square peg in a round hole. In a way I can't quite explain, I feel like my whole life has been leading me to where I am right now. I love what I do, and I want to make a success of it, especially because the project itself is so close to my heart. 

One of the most amazing things about my new job, is that I am working with an exciting young band, called the Delft Big Band, 

Formed in 2008, the band consists of young people from Delft, on the Cape Flats, who were taught to play various instruments, and eventually given performance opportunities. They have grown from being novices, to being invited to play abroad. Some of their older members (all started at high school) have become sought-after musicians, being hired for lucrative gigs on their own. Their female lead vocalist, Adelia Douw, is about to record her first solo album. She won the Voice of Jazz competition at Grand West last year, and the male lead singer, David October, came third. How cool?! 

At the helm is jazz legend, Ian Smith, who is the mastermind behind the band. His input into these young lives has been life-altering. Even more exciting, the existing members have started a ,Music Academy in Delft (at Voorbrug High School), where they now teach younger children. Isn't that amazing?! Can you see why I'm so excited?

I'll write more as I go along, but for now, I'd like to encourage you to like their Facebook page (with the word "Official" in the title), and to keep a lookout for their gigs. On Sunday 24 April, they're doing a free outdoor gig at the V&A Waterfront - 6pm. See if you can  come and listen to these awesome young musicians. I guarantee you'll be dancing! :-)  

I am very very lucky to have been given this crazy opportunity. What can I say, other than repeat what I've always said? Live your truth / Never give up / Follow your heart.  

There are two things that keep coming into my head: 
1. People are people, and 
2. Remember who you are

As life affords me this wonderful new beginning, I have to remind myself that there's a limit to redefining oneself. (Really, Trudy?!) I guess I'll have to play things by ear, and know when enough (redefining) is enough. 

For now, I'm working hard and having fun - and I can't tell which is which!

                                       View from new office - our glorious Table Mountain!