A few hours before New Year, 2023

Ever since I can remember, I've had an obsession with counting things. Really irrelevant things, sometimes. More than that, I can't resist calculating averages, over different time periods. Like when I had to wash baby clothes by hand, I'd count the number of items, so I knew the average number of  clothing items I washed by hand, in a given week or month. Even now, if I have to wait anywhere, and I don't have a book with me, I start counting random things, like window panes, or the number of people with visible tattoos. 

When I compare the number of blog posts I did in 2021 (29) with the number in 2022 (this is no. 15), it would be easy for me to feel like I've failed, in some way. But I don't. Even though numbers float around in my brain all the time, I've stopped being so hard on myself in terms of expecting everything to have increased each year. In 2011, I did an astounding 71 blog posts (almost 6 a month!), and in 2020, only 11. There's no way I could say that, if I could achieve 71 in 2011, then I should've been able to equal or improve on it every year after that; each year has its own set of circumstances, and it's silly  to think that numbers tell the whole story. 

This year, I've experienced some of my lowest lows and my highest highs. It's been a rollercoaster ride, but with more private tears than public screams. No single year exists in isolation, so 2022 was very much a consequence of 2021 (lockdown & retrenchment), as well as of 2020 (lockdown, with immense work-related frustration and stress). The best part about one year flowing into the next is that new ideas and lessons learnt can be applied in subsequent years. And that's how I feel as I type this post, just 3 and a half hours before the start of 2023. 

About half an hour ago, there was an unbelievably loud bang outside, which could have been a gunshot, but was most probably a huge firecracker.  It shocked me so, that I was trembling for long afterwards. I was scared there'd be more, but I was also really worried about people's pets and how much they suffer when that happens. In South Africa, it's illegal to set off fireworks in residential areas, but you'll always find idiots who do it anyway.  

My lowest low, this year, was being unemployed for a few months, employed part-time for a few months, and the resulting financial crisis I was flung into. One of my biggest goals for next year is to increase and stabilise my income, so that I can sort things out and feel like I like to feel again. 

My highest high was finally finding the courage to change direction in my music life, and starting my Solo Sessions. I'm a bit distracted right now, so I'll probably blog again in the next few days. I have so much to write, including about how magical Solo Session 5 was! 

I have a few thoughts about 2023, and I won't share them all here, but some of the things I want to consciously do are to worry less (I worry a lot - about everything!), to trust myself more, and to play to my strengths.  I also want to go back to mentally pressing the Pause button when I feel awkward about committing to something someone suggests. Not everything needs an immediate response. 

I also feel that, as my children grow into their adult lives, I need to focus on making sure my own life is full and interesting, so that, when I find myself living alone, there won't be too much of a void. These transitions are a natural part of life, and parents do their children a disservice by clinging to them long after they've expressed a readiness to live independently. 

Whatever the new year may bring, I want to be at peace with the choices I make. I also need to remind myself that life's too short to play small when you are bursting with ideas. I am 61 years old, and I want to live an interesting life, following my heart and avoiding whatever does not spark joy. I think we should live our lives, while we can.

Happy New Year. May 2023 be a good year for us all.   

    

Showing up for myself

A week ago, on Saturday, 10 December, I did my fourth Solo Session. To everyone else, it may seem like just another gig, but to me it was so much more. 

I was reading through some notes I'd made in January this year, in which I'd brainstormed the year ahead. Somewhere I'd written, under my music goals: "originals?" Shifting my focus to my original compositions had been on my mind for a long time. For many reasons, I had seen my gig life as performances of cover versions, and - for a couple of years - relegated my originals to an annual concert with one of my duo partners. When I was given one year in which to raise funds for my daughter to go to Thailand, in Grade 10, I did a five-concert series focussing on my original work. I performed with different people, in different venues, and we featured some younger artists, as well. I will always be grateful to everyone for their assistance. That was a very interesting and exciting year. We started in August 2013 and the trip was in June 2014. In a blog post, dated 8 July 2014, I wrote about the 5 fundraising concerts.

Anyway, the many reasons I kept side-lining my own music, in favour of covers, is linked to both the local music scene, as well as my personal journey, as a highly sensitive person, raised to put everyone else's needs before my own, and easily put off pursuing a different path when it seems it will cause certain people who are important to me to stop liking/loving me. There - I've said it! Fear of rejection. I can't get any more vulnerable than that. 

In my song, Delighted, I sing: "Was raised to be polite / Be nice and sweet, don't fight / When people walked all over me / I'd smile with all my might / Held me back for long / Cos I couldn't see / That I was not being me."

It's been a long and convoluted road, for me. All kinds of messages come our way, even when they're not addressed directly to us. If you hear your family/friends speak disparagingly about a certain type of behaviour, you get the message that you shouldn't do that. If you hear people you care about laughing at choices made by others, you know you'd risk ridicule, yourself, if you took those same choices. And because we tend to seek harmony at all costs, we adapt our behaviour, and even our goals, to stay IN the circle of acceptance, and not find ourselves adrift in the wilderness.  

But that works for only a short while, right? At some point, when certain patterns become clear, you start to think, "Fuck it, they're going to disapprove of me, regardless of whether I try to be authentic IN the circle, or live my truth and take a different path to the one everyone expects me to take."  

And that journey, in my broader life, was naturally echoed in my music life. Raised to put others first, without a healthy balance, I felt selfish for wanting to perform my own songs. Hearing disapproving comments from people close to me, including romantic partners, I curbed my desire to share my own compositions, and packaged them neatly into occasional performances - and even then, always accompanied by a more accomplished musician. Why? Two reasons - they definitely enhanced the sound of the songs (and I learnt a lot from all my music partners), AND I was scared that, on my own,  performing my songs wouldn't be good enough. In other words, I was shit scared. 

And then lockdown happened and we couldn't do public gigs. I went from doing at least one gig per week, to doing nothing. I sang in about six online concerts, during lockdown, always doing originals, and then in 2021, I sang two live gigs at the end of the year (Nov & Dec). That was after stopping live gigs in March 2020! During lockdown, I thought about what life would be like if I could never gig again. In fact, I'd started to think that that part of my life was over, and it made me really miserable. Also in that time, in Sept 2021, I turned 60, and I started thinking about how quickly life had passed, and about what I wanted to do before leaving this realm. It became crystal clear to me that I needed to stop trying to be any version of myself other than the one I was comfortable being. It was time for me to stop overthinking it, and to focus, unapologetically, on my own songs. It makes no sense to spend decades creating something and then to be afraid, especially in a world full of knock-offs, to expose your creations. In a braver headspace than usual, I decided to not just expose them, but to celebrate them.  

I also knew that the type of performance experience I wanted was different to what I had been doing before, and that it would be a huge risk. I was scared, but I knew I had to at least give it a try. I'm still scared, and the truth is that, a few days before each of the four Solo Sessions, I've considered cancelling the show because of low bookings. But Cape Town audiences are very interesting. The day before, you can have two tickets booked, and on the day, you'll have 22 people in your audience. Only 22? Well, my goal is 30. And, at this stage of my life, I'd rather sing to 22 people who are there specifically to listen to me and my songs than to 80 people talking and laughing loudly in a restaurant, where they might as well have a CD playing.  

Summary of my 4 Solo Sessions:

1. Sunday, 4 September, at Surplus Books, in Woodstock. So much went wrong, that day, but I'd made a start, and I was more convinced than ever that that was what I wanted to do. Many lessons learnt. I loved the quirkiness of singing in a bookshop, and I'd love to do so again. I wish the people who came to that show could come to one of my shows in 2023, because my first one was my worst one! 😀 

2. Sunday, 2 October, at Athenaeum, in Newlands. A very different vibe, in that building - but again, I enjoyed the experience. Like the bookshop, it was also an interesting space, conducive to storytelling.  

3. Saturday 22 October, at Café Societi, in the Homecoming Centre, in District Six. What a cool space! I would love to go back there. That whole building is filled with history and stories, and I feel some kind of magic there.   

4. Saturday, 10 December, in the foyer of the hall at Harold Cressy High School, in District Six. I liked the feeling of occupying a bare space, not intended for performance, and singing there. It was an extremely fulfilling experience, because I felt the audience (very responsive) throughout the hour, and of course it was surreal singing at my old high school, after 43 years!  

                 Solo Session 4, at Cressy.  Photo: Vincent Hendricks 

I am proud of myself for having made a start on this project. It's an indefinite concert series, because it's all I want to do, for as long as I can. I am working hard behind the scenes to improve the production side of things, as well as the quality of the music itself. I love having artistic freedom and control, but I am collaborating with people who can help me level up in as many ways as possible. 

I  thought about hiring a manager, but right now, that's not viable. I will continue to do all the work myself, outsourcing here and there. What I do need, though, is an assistant - someone capable, with good energy, who thinks out of the box, and who is mature and flexible enough to know when to follow instructions (because I put a lot of thought into everything I do) and when to make suggestions (because there's always something for me to learn). The person needs to like my music, because he/she will be around it a lot.            

Thank you, Universe. In the most important way, I showed up for myself, this year. This was a year fraught with instability on the job front, with resulting financial insecurity, and I could so easily have let that dampen my enthusiasm for this new music venture. But I didn't, and I'm proud of myself. I'm giving myself a BIG pat on the back, because I forged ahead, despite my fears and all those voices in my head from my past, saying, "What makes you think you're special enough to do this?" And "You're dreaming if you think people will come and listen to YOU as a soloist!" And "There are so many other musicians who are much better than you." (I know!!!! And I'm not trying to be them! I'm being myself!) 

I know it will take a while, but those voices are getting softer all the time, as I step into my power, as a creator of original music and lyrics, as a storyteller through songs, and as someone who's spent the past 44 years playing guitar and writing songs. I know I have a lot to offer. This original concert series was always going to happen - it was just a matter of time. And now that I've started, and I'm seeing what works and what doesn't, I am super excited about 2023 and all the cool spaces I'll be occupying, as well as all the cool audiences with whom I'll be sharing my songs and stories.   

Thank you, Universe. 

Breaking a Pattern of People Pleasing

When I was a child, I'd often hear my mom say, "Wisdom comes with age". I accepted it as a given because that's what you do, as a child. When I got older, however, and started questioning almost everything I'd been told (and sorting out what I would retain or discard - a never-ending journey, it turns out), I had to be honest that I knew quite a few older people who were not wise. I also knew many young people who were. It's funny how we say, in those cases, that she's "wise beyond her years", based on that same world view espoused by my mom. I'm not saying that it's completely baseless - just that it's not always true.  

What I have noticed, as I've continued to live self-reflectively, consciously discarding habits that no longer make sense and adopting ones that do, is that I occasionally catch myself in mid-response,  identify what's happening, and deliberately make a healthier choice. Being able to identify situations when you're likely to slip into default mode, is a good start. 

It occurred to me that you put yourself under a lot of pressure, when you're a people pleaser. It's such an unfortunate interpretation of kindness. It's like kindness on steroids, with you merely emptying your tanks, leaving nothing for yourself. And yet many of us were raised that way. We learn it as children, it's drummed into us at school, and by the time we enter into adult relationships, that inability to draw clear boundaries and to meet our own needs without feeling guilty is firmly entrenched. And we keep doing it - servicing others' needs, at the expense of our own. There's immense  pressure on girls, in particular, and we all grow into women who can't distinguish between a life characterised by reciprocated acts of kindness and one in which you're being taken advantage of.     

It all comes down to a topic I frequently write about - boundaries. During lockdown, I had a few online sessions with a really good psychologist (whom I met in person, as soon as lockdown was lifted), who taught me to "press the pause button", if I felt I was about to respond in a way that no longer felt right for me. It was something I had to practise - not responding immediately. Sometimes, it's better to say, "Let me get back to you", and to give yourself some time to think it through, before responding. Especially if you recognise a line of conversation or a feeling that you associate with previous situations that disrespected your boundaries. Manipulation can be very subtle, and for some people it's an  unconscious, habitual way of communicating. It's particularly hard to spot when it comes from someone you love; for me, it's hard to spot when it's said in a gentle voice, because we always think of manipulators as loud and monstrous. Most of the time, they're just people who want to achieve a certain outcome with the least possible effort, and they know exactly who to pick on to achieve it. It happens in the workplace, in marriages, between friends, between parents and children - in fact, wherever people are, that's where manipulation lives and breathes. Sometimes it's as inconsequential as getting a small task done, but at other times,  it could give rise to the most unconscionable, life-altering set of circumstances.     

I've also realised how people pleasing has led to my tendency to overthink situations, because I'm so concerned with making others happy, or meeting their needs. I'll give you an example. Someone who'd been to one of my Solo Sessions is planning to attend my next one. The first thing I thought was, "I should change my set list", because I thought it would be less enjoyable for that person to hear the same songs. Which is ridiculous, because it's a particular show I'm doing in different venues, with a carefully selected list of songs, and a pre-determined narrative. And then I thought about someone else who'd come to my second session, then brought her father to my third one, because she wanted him to hear a particular song linked to his life. (It was about forced removals from District Six - "In the Shade of Table Mountain".)  All I need to do is focus on my goal and work undistractedly through the steps along the way. That's all. Don't overthink what would suit someone else better - not on this project. That's part of why it's a solo concert series.   

Also, I have previously made big changes to my plans, based on the anticipation of someone else's expectations, and then that person has been a no-show. All I do, in those instances, is deviate from my chosen path and expend energy unnecessarily.  It's not selfish to have  a goal and work towards it. I find it funny how everyone applauds people who reach their goals, but can be so judgemental while you're working towards yours.    

Another situation arose, recently, where someone asked me if I had a particular item. I didn't have the item (for a perfectly good reason), but I immediately felt I'd let the person down.  It's ridiculous! Again, I had to catch myself in mid-shame spiral and course-correct, because I was putting pressure on myself that was completely unnecessary. I'm sure you know exactly what I mean. 

There are so many instances in my life, where this has happened, and allowing myself not to feel bad about things is still part of my journey. Every now and then, someone asks if I'm religious. This is a topic I generally avoid, except in my circle of trust, in which I am not judged for my choices, because very few people even want to comprehend a life without institutionalised religion. After saying that I'm not, I often qualify it by saying that I'd been raised as an Anglican. The point is, I don't need to justify my life choices. But the environment in which I live is fraught with the energy of "be like us, or explain why you're not, and we're going to keep reminding you what our expectations are, so that you can eventually be like us". This attitude crops up in relation to the most banal things, like whether you dye your grey hair or not, as well as what an acceptable length for grey hair is. Why don't we just let someone make the choice that's right for herself? And if she wants to make a different choice after that, why don't we just respect that too? It's not that complicated. Again - interesting how this topic is usually about judging women, and not men. 

I keep thinking, whenever I'm confronted with such myopic thinking: "I'm too old for this shit!" I am amazed at how people who survived the Covid pandemic could be just as parochial as they were before. But that's where part of my naïveté lies - I expect everyone to have done a lot of soul searching and to have decided that life has to be celebrated, and that there are many versions of truth. Personally, I'd rather have a variety of people in my life with different beliefs, feeling happy and respected, than to give people a hard time by insisting that only my view was acceptable.    

In conclusion, as I proceed through this 2nd day of December, still trying to figure out how quickly this year has passed, I am grateful for lessons learnt, for those still being learnt, and for the many I've yet to learn. I'm blessed to have truly wonderful people in my life - including ones who live far away - and I count myself extremely lucky to be alive on this day, to be healthy and to have all my mental faculties. I take nothing for granted. 

As I anticipate a busy weekend, with lots of social interaction, I am at peace with this day of uninterrupted solitude. 

This day is filled with possibility.  

                   After my 2nd Solo Session, at Athenaeum. Photo: Marwhaan Lodewyk 02/10/22

    

Selecting the focal point

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A mini-reflection on 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday Somethings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

October media: Tatler article & Cape Talk Radio interview

TATLER ARTICLE, 13 OCTOBER 2022 

As promised, here's the Tatler article, which appeared ahead of my 3rd Solo Session.

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CAPE TALK RADIO INTERVIEW, 22 OCTOBER 2022

And here's the link to my interview on Cape Talk Radio, on Sat 22 October 2022, when the dynamic Sara-Jayne Makwala King chatted to me about my music life and my Solo Session later that day. 

https://www.capetalk.co.za/podcasts/481/weekend-breakfast-with-sara-jayne-makwala-king/666178/sjs-top-picks

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