The Year of the (parad)Ox

Written 27 January 2012

It’s going to be another blisteringly hot day in Cape Town. I’ve just spent an hour in the garden, and I’m sipping a mug of green tea, wallowing in the afterglow of that connection with nature - so simple, yet so profound. Even if you do just an hour every second day, you build up a relationship with your garden, and it becomes a soulful thing, whenever you do connect. I’m more connected to my garden than ever, and this time it’s partly linked to that phenomenon of something taking on more meaning when you stand to lose it: if I don’t sort out my financial situation within the next few months, I have to leave this house. I’ve lived here for 15 years, the longest I’ve ever lived in one house. This is my home. This is my peaceful place. This is my children’s peaceful place.

When I look at the garden, no matter what the weather, I always feel good! It’s still a work in progress, but that’s what makes it so satisfying. In fact, a garden is undeniably one of the greatest life teachers we have.

In the book, “Women Who Run With The Wolves” (my constant companion), the writer (Clarissa Pinkola Estes) recommends that people take up gardening, even if just on a small scale, because of the lessons that nature teaches us. One of the themes throughout her book is what she calls the “Life/Death/Life” cycle, and she says that, when you work with plants, and you do so over time - over seasons and years - you have the best possible exposure to this cycle, and you learn to see and yield to it in other parts of your life.

This month, I’ve learnt that, when you put good plants into the ground, even if they lie dormant for a while (usually due to seasonal cycles), they will resurface when the time is right, and they’ll blossom and bring beauty into your life. I’ve also learnt that you can use an empty container to nurture soil over time, and use it to nourish other plants, when necessary. And finally, I’ve learnt that you can cut little slips off existing plants that are thriving, plant them in empty pots or patches, and with careful love and attention, they’ll take root and flourish – you don’t have to spend money buying new plants. I suppose the theme is the same throughout – with time, love and patience, you can turn what was once barren into something thriving.

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Last night I did my first (but definitely not last!) concert at a new venue in Cape Town, called iBuyambo. I worked with my good friend, guitarist Keith Tabisher. This was the first time I’d done a concert of my originals with Keith; we also did five of his beautiful instrumental compositions. Despite some frustrations – namely, technology (aargh!) and a fairly small audience – we got through the two sets, and people seemed to enjoy the music. It’s often hard to tell.

Sometimes, I get such conflicting feedback from audience members (friends whose honesty I can rely on), that I find it best to simply come right back to basics: to trust my instincts, make the choices that feel right for me, and move forward with conviction. I am 50 years old - this is not the time of my life to be making decisions about my art based on the subjectivity of others. I value and respect their comments, because they give me an idea as to how the audience perceives what’s happening on stage. But when it comes to the subjectivity of how I feel on stage when I do certain things, I have to be true to myself.

I made a lot of mistakes on stage, last night, and while I’d like to blame everything under the sun, I choose to take responsibility for them, to learn from the experience, and to be more aware, the next time, of the dynamics that distract me.

You know how, in little things we do every day, we each know exactly how we like things done - whether it’s the way an egg is fried or a bed is made? Well, it’s exactly the same for me as a performer – I know the set of factors I need, in order to feel satisfied. Last night’s delay with the setting up of the sound caused us to start more than 30 minutes late, which is not ok. It’s not ok for the audience, and it’s not ok for the artists. But, these things happen. That’s what being professional is all about – when things aren’t perfect, you shouldn’t be thrown too much off your centre; you still have to give your performance your best shot, because that’s what you’re there for, and that’s what people have come to listen to.

Tonight, I’ll be doing one set on my own, at The Taxi (online radio station). They’ve started regular Friday night performances, called “Taxi Nights”. I feel very privileged to be on the programme, and I’m looking forward to it immensely. I’ll be doing only originals (why not?! J) and I think it will be easier than last night, because I spend a lot of time practising on my own, so solo performances feel more natural and comfortable, now. When I work with other musicians, there are two things that happen: firstly, they bring extra dimensions to my songs, because the accompaniment is fuller, and they also lengthen the songs, because we slot in instrumental solos; and secondly, I have to be a lot more alert, because I’m not the only one generating the sound, and I have to stick to what’s on the page and not go off on a tangent, adding an extra chorus, or changing the ending, as the mood takes me. Then, again, that doesn’t bother every guitarist I work with. Some people are more “in the moment” than others. Different strokes, etc. In the end, my performance life is enriched by every person I work with. I’m privileged to have the options I do, privileged to know – and have worked with - so many great musicians.

What was nice, was being asked to come back and do another show, in a couple of weeks, so I suppose that was a vote of confidence. It was also reassuring that, even though we took the gig on the (risky) basis of splitting the door takings with the owner, we walked away with an acceptable amount each - relatively speaking! ;-)

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Still without enough of an income to get me through the month without borrowing, I’m the biggest paradOx I know: I have all kinds of pressing financial concerns, and yet I have a deep-seated feeling of peace and tranquility, some kind of knowledge outside the realm of logic, that reassures me that everything is as it’s meant to be, and that this current poverty cycle will soon end. My marketing and other efforts I put into sorting out my situation will soon bear fruit.

I look forward, with great anticipation, to having both this inner peace AND enough money to live with dignity. Oh, how I do!

Oh, one more thing: I have a refreshing new drink that gets me through my sugar cravings and cools me down on hot days. As a family, we’ve been drinking green tea for just over a year, and we all love it. We also drink a lot of water, each one getting through at least 1,5litres a day, but this latest addition is thirst-quenchingly yummy:

in a ratio of 2:1:3 (or whichever proportions make you smile): chilled green tea, berry juice, and water. Serve chilled. If you have fresh mint or lemon, add one or both of them. But don’t buy the ready-made iced tea – make your own.

Mmmmmm……