Where there's life...

Almost halfway through my 60s, with some dreams achieved and many more not (yet), I find myself wondering how much longer I have on his earth, and - more worryingly - what those years will be like. I think that old people worry about three main things - health, money, and family.    

By the time your health problems start, it's generally too late to reverse them, and all you have are regrets. I should've .... I shouldn't've.... I suppose the same could be said about money problems, and, to a certain extent, family problems too. 

But there's this saying, "Where there's life, there's hope", attributed to Cicero (106 - 43 BC), that has been one of my guiding stars throughout my adult life. When my father died, in Dec 2005, I became acutely aware that he no longer had any opportunities, but that I still did. At that time, I was 44, I was working in the TEFL industry, it was three years since my divorce, and I was in a new relationship. Three months after my dad died, one of my younger cousins, Judy, died. She was the first one of my maternal cousins to die, and one of the younger lot, so it hit us hard. I had never felt the finality of death so strongly. That was 20 years ago, and the rest of the cousins (14) are still around. With Judy's death, I was once again filled with thoughts of how I could live my life to the fullest, given that there were no guarantees I'd live to see old age. 

And here I am - 64 years old, and thinking about life and death. When I was 23, I entered into a relationship with someone 15 years my senior. Eight years later, I got out. Interestingly enough - or proof of how successfully manipulated I was? - we'd split up many times, including for as long as three years.  Now that I understand life better, I understand that that relationship was doomed from the start. The important thing is that I got out. I gave myself a new beginning. I landed on my feet, and entered a new chapter. 

Less than a year later, I met someone completely different, and we got married about eighteen months later. Happy at first, had two children, but the incompatibility became clear early on. After about seven and a half years of marriage, the divorce was finalised. We'd both tried, in our own ways, but it was a lost cause. Once we'd gone through a few different therapists as a couple, I could no longer ignore how severely unhappy I was, I knew I had a very hard road ahead of me. I got divorced and requested zero alimony,  in accordance with my belief system: I don't believe a man should provide financially for his ex-wife after a divorce, if she can work. I do believe that he should co-provide for his children,  though. Most importantly, I got out. This time, the stakes were higher - I was older, and two innocent children's lives were seriously impacted. But I believed in giving myself a chance to be happy. I believed I could land on my feet. 

Two years later, I met a completely different type of man, fell hopelessly in love, and felt I'd found the person I wanted to be with forever. But no relationship is without its issues: after eight and a half years, I discovered infidelity, knew I could never forgive that level of disrespect, and we split. I felt almost ridiculous, having my heart broken at age 50, but that's life - the script for each of us is unique.  With my self-awareness at an all-time high, I got out. It hurt profoundly, but I did what was right for me.

There was a parallel in my working life - I left my first teaching post after fourteen years, and have spent the last thirty years doing different things that made sense to me. This entailed mostly teaching - in and outside of the state education system - but also a five-and-a-half-year stint in the corporate sector, working in Corporate Social Investment, as (amongst other things) a liaison person between the company and its funding beneficiaries. Every job I've had has added to my knowledge, my skill set and my world view. My frame of reference is so wide, that I get bored easily when in an environment where narrow-mindedness is the order of the day.  Because I've worked in situations where my natural problem-solving ability and other leadership skills were given the space to thrive, it drives me crazy when I have to defer to people with less life experience and no clue as to how to lead. 

So what's the point? I'm trying to remind myself that I have a solid track record of not stagnating, and of believing so strongly in myself, that I have reinvented myself a few times, and found that there's always a better, brighter chapter ahead. I just need the courage to turn the page. 

For some people, success meant staying, no matter what. For me, it's always meant not accepting what no longer feels right, and granting myself a new beginning, no matter how uncomfortable the transition feels. Yes, in many ways it is definitely more complicated the older you get. 

But complicated's not the same as impossible, is it?     

Four days from the first anniversary of my mother's death, I'm more introspective than usual. I feel like I need to stop allowing fear of the unknown to keep me from making brave choices. My mother showed me unconditional love, and was always proud of me. I need to live my life with her in mind. The one thing I should not do is give up hope.           

Where there's life, there's hope. 

                                     A budding rose in our school's garden - April 2026

Two Profiles (Written 14 Feb '26)

Background music, as I start typing this post: Clair de Lune, by Claude Debussy, one of the most beautiful pieces of music, and one I often listen to on repeat, because it's complete - it doesn't need other pieces of music for context, meaning, or identity. In a way I can't describe, it completes me.  

When I switch on my laptop, I am faced with pics of my two profiles - my personal one, which I've had for as long as I've had this laptop (about 8 years), and my school one. I purposefully don't have my school one on my phone, because it saves me from 24/7 reachability. It's too much. I've noticed an expectation from people, in different parts of my life, that I will always be reading texts and emails. I don't even have email notifications on my phone - I'll see your email when I check my emails. It's all too intrusive. You can't ever fully relax, because you might be contacted. The worst is when people video call you without prior arrangement. That call will never be answered by me - that is the ultimate intrusion on my personal time and space. I have a right to time out from others. Living alone makes this even more important. I enjoy and look forward to time away from people.  The longer I live alone, the more right it feels for me. Also, I believe that late-night calls are for close people, or for emergencies. If you're not in my close circle, unless it's urgent, call me the next day. 

On Facebook, I also have two profiles - one is my personal one, which I've had since 2009, and the other is my musician page, which I started in 2013. I spend a lot of time on my personal one (which my students tell me is an old-person's platform), but hardly go onto my muso one when I'm not musically active. Actually, I think I'll change that. Not doing gigs because my day job depletes me doesn't mean I'm no longer a musician. I still listen to and enjoy music, and occasionally play and sing on my own at home. And I enjoy seeing what other musicians are doing, especially in Cape Town. When I see my Facebook memories from a few years back, I'm shocked by how much my life has changed since re-entering full-time public-sector teaching. I honestly don't know how anyone manages to maintain hobbies (let alone relationships!) while being a full-time teacher. The little time that you're not at school, you spend doing your domestic chores, and squeezing in a bit of time to relax and recover.  

We're raised to believe that our jobs support our personal lives, but, while they earn us the resources from which to live, it's actually the other way around - the time I spend managing my personal life is so that my day job runs smoothly. I try to keep my flatlet uncluttered so that I can come home and do my schoolwork in an organised space. (I really need an extra room - just saying!) I cook for a few days at a time, on Sundays, so that I can use my evenings doing schoolwork, without having to prepare meals. A lot of what I routinely do is aimed at ensuring that I function optimally in my job. I live the way I do because of the job I have. I earn just what I need to survive. In months where I have additional expenses, like renewing my car license, I have to give up one of my other personal budget items - usually, my haircut. 

But I constantly reflect and re-evaluate my choices. Wherever possible, I come up with inexpensive ways to infuse meaning into my life. My weekly walking habit is one example. Even though I drive 24km to get to my preferred walking space (it's complicated for South African women wanting to exercise outdoors), I decided that it was worth it. I can't quantify the significance of this habit in my life. The truth is, I would love to walk 5km every day, preferably on the beach, but for now I'm doing what works for my busy life. I aim to increase the frequency, staring with a mid-week walk, but since I decided that, my school programme hasn't given me the space to start. I suspect that when it finally does, we'll have hit our colder weather (already starting). I'll simply haul out my warmer clothes and layer up. If I could start and sustain (for 16 weeks so far) a weekly walking routine, I can definitely notch it up to twice a week.

              Sea Point Promenade, on 15 March '26. I took a late afternoon walk, for a change.  

All I know is that walking makes me very, very happy, and I want to do as much of it as possible. Maybe by next spring, I'll feel like signing up for one of those public walks. I can already feel my crowd-phobic side shouting Noooooooo!! I'll see.   

Playing now on my Classical Piano playlist: When The Clouds Cleared, by Alexander Motovilov.  

Saturdays have definitely become my catch-up-with-sleep days. I listen to my body. It's a way of honouring myself. I wake up without an alarm, usually after a good, long sleep, I have a leisurely breakfast, I journal or blog, and if it feels right, I go back to bed and have my chapter two sleep. I love the pure indulgence of it - the delicious antithesis of my week days. 

On playlist: Spark, by Asti Fajriani

Remember my 2026 'motto'? It's "I show up for myself every single day, in good times and in bad." I think I'll drop the second part. "Every single day" says it all.  I love how, when I reflect on each day, I see how I've managed to show up for myself, despite the feeling that I'm living the Plan B version of my life. I'll keep doing so. Even when we do small things for ourselves, we're showing ourselves love and care, which nourish our souls and keep us going.

       Alphen Trail, on 8 March '26. There was a huge event in Sea Point, so I walked closer to home. 

Some of the ways in which I show up for myself:

* I take myself on a tranquil walk once a week.

* I start each day with lemon water.

* I eat only what I love (vegetarian since 1 Nov. 2025).

* I drink water throughout the day.

* I have set morning and evening routines.

* I avoid people who make me feel stressed.

* I journal regularly.

* I set my own standards, regardless of watered-down expectations.

* I play my guitar.

* I crochet.

* I've resumed my reading habit.  

* I watch documentaries about other countries. 

* I listen to music as much as I can. 

* I remember who I am, and that I add value wherever I am. 

* I take photos of nature in all its beauty.

* I smile. A lot. 

     

      Sea Point, on 1 March '26. I had such fun, jumping in and out of the spray from the wild waves.
   

 

Have I Lost You?

 As usual, I have a number of topics I feel like writing about. Today, however, I am compelled to write  about just one.

Yesterday, just over a month after suffering a stroke, Dr. Diana Ferrus passed away. She had been hospitalised for a while, and was moved to a rehabiltation centre for further treatment. On Facebook, I followed the regular updates by her family, and believed she was recovering well. The news of her passing, yesterday, came as an awful shock. 

I think I met Diana in about 2010. I can't remember the details, but it was at an event where we both performed - she, her poetry, and me, my music.  I loved her work. I realised that, even though reading them was a profound experience, her poems were best enjoyed by watching her live performances. I know many people who are wordsmiths, who have impressive vocabularies, and who can make the dullest subject sound interesting, but Diana's gift with words was on another level. She had the ability to use just a few words, in a few lines, to say something deeply moving and thought-provoking. 

I love the way she wrote about everyday experiences and lifted them to something special. I love the way she tapped into different human experiences, often of things foreign to us, and made them real to all of us. Her Afrikaans poem about her father's jacket, "Die Jas", comes to mind. As does her poem about how enslaved people who died on ships were just flung into the ocean: "My naam is Februarie".

I'm finding it hard to write, because I'm still dealing with the shock and sorrow of Diana no longer being around. It still feels unreal. 

Diana was a riveting storyteller, and, whether it was about her childhood, her father's incarceration as a WW11 POW, or an incident that had happened to her the previous day,  she kept her audience captivated. Amidst her seriousness, her sense of humour crept through, and she'd have us in stitches. 

I loved listening to Diana. In conversations with a small group of friends, I always wanted to shush everybody when she was speaking, because she carried such gravitas, like a sense of nobility. She was knowledgeable, and she felt injustices deeply, as evidenced by her poems. When she spoke, I never wanted her to stop, because it was like being addressed by an All-Knowing One, A Wise One. 

And it wasn't just the content of  her speech - she had a really beautiful voice, like rich, dark, liquid chocolate. I loved it when she broke into song, in the middle of her poems.   

I could see, in recent years, that she was growing tired. Her post-retirement performance life was busy, and she sometimes mentioned in her Facebook posts that she needed to rest. What broke my heart was her references to how people took performers for granted.  

One of my points of creative collaboration was when she asked me to sing some of my originals at her book launch, in about 2011. A memorable creative intersection was in 2014, when I put music to one of her older poems, called "Have I Lost You?" I am so glad I got to perform it one night when she was in the audience.  

Diana, I cannot believe you're gone. The world is a lot less magical without you.  

     L-R: Diana Ferrus, Errol Dyers, Me, and my cousin, Derek Ronnie. (2014) Photo: Gregory Frantz 

   

Written on 7 Jan 2026

In an hour's time, I start getting ready for a brunch date with a friend. I've been wanting to blog for SO long, and it feels like now's a good time. If I don't finish in time (I take a long time to edit my writing and find photos), I'll finish later. 

It's the last few days of our month-long summer holiday, with the new school year starting on Monday 12 Jan. I am happy to have had my teaching contract renewed for another year. No job is perfect, but this is where life has placed me, for now, and I  am grateful for this opportunity to make an impact at a school so rich in history and aligned with my political views. 

If you're not South African, you might find that statement strange. What do political views have to do with one's workplace? Almost 32 years into our post-apartheid democracy, there are still many issues to be addressed. Living in South Africa and pretending all our current problems are unrelated to apartheid, but solely the result of bad governance by the ANC, is both naive and incorrect. I would not survive in a context where the past was conveniently forgotten, to appease the historically privileged. 

But that's not what I want to write about today.    

Interestingly, I find that the state of my health is playing a more central role in my life choices. I had a medical check up a few days ago, and while my blood pressure had stabilised, my heart rate was still a problem. I've now been put on a tablet to address that. 

Some changes I've made, in recent months, include weekly walks in nature (my ultimate goal is daily walks), switching to a plant-based diet, cutting out most of the sweet treats I used to love, starting my day with a glass of lemon water, and generally pacing myself better. My guiding principle for living as stress-free a life as possible (a key element of blood pressure and heart health) is knowing myself. The next step is honouring myself, because life has shown me that it's possible to know yourself and still self-sabotage, as you live the way you were raised to, which is to consider everyone else's needs but your own. Finding the balance is important. Difficult, but important.   

Of course, a lot of this is much easier when you're on a four-week break from work. Once I'm back, the likelihood of slipping into patterns that don't serve me is strong, and that's the challenge I'll face next week.  I do think, though, that in the 28 months that I've been in this job, I've sorted out quite a bit. The difficulty for me is that I am prone to being a workaholic, and living alone simply exacerbates it. When you live with someone else, there's a sane (ideally) person around you, reminding you that there's more to life than work. When you're on your own, it's easy to come home, have a snack, then launch into schoolwork for the next few hours, until your stiff neck makes you realise it's almost midnight, and you should probably shower and get to bed. That's the harmful and life-shortening pattern I plan to break. Or, in modern-speak, disrupt.

I fully appreciate that living alone has pros and cons. I love living alone, but it means I always have to go somewhere for any social interaction. It sounds silly, but it's the truth. When you live with even one other person, you have a built-in little society inside your home. 

Going to work every day also provides social interaction - sometimes too much! - which I really do value. During last year, I got to know my colleagues better, and forged bonds with people who had similar life values and approaches to education.  So yes, having a job is about so much more than earning a salary - and teaching is like a few jobs rolled into one.  

(I didn't  finish this on the day I wrote it, but I'll post it as is. )

Ok - time to get ready.    

Carpe diem

There's something SO weird about how I live my life - there are two things that I absolutely love that I just keep putting off: playing my guitar, and blogging. I don't understand it at all. 

There's so much to write about, but I'll mention just a few. It's past 11pm, and I'm really tired. 

Towards the end of August, our school had a Wellness programme for the staff, and I was shocked to discover that my blood pressure was really high. Accustomed to having normal readings, I was quite alarmed. About a week later, I checked it again at a local pharmacy, and it was roughly the same. Then I had an experience one night, where I thought I was having a heart attack. The next day, I went to the doctor, who found my BP was still high, and that my heart rate was also elevated. I had a few tests, and nothing was apparent regarding the heart rate, but I was put on a tablet to bring down the BP. I also had to buy a monitor, to do daily readings. I'm just finishing my tenth week of that. This is all very new to me.  The BP is a lot better, mostly within the normal range, but the heart rate is still alarming.  

Thinking about my health and what could've contributed to my concerning readings, I'm convinced my job is at the heart of it (no pun intended). When I'm not at school, I sit for hours, doing schoolwork. And I know I've been comfort eating since I started living in this flatlet. So it's the stress of my job, my sedentary lifestyle, and my undisciplined eating. There's probably some hormonal stuff, as well as genetics,  and not forgetting ageing. 

So, as part of improving my health, I've become more mindful. I'm consciously trying not to stress as much at work (NOT easy), and I'm proud to say that I've started a weekly routine of taking a walk in nature. Every Sunday morning, for the past 5 weeks, I've done so. I would love to do it daily, but right now that's not possible.  

I'm also working on having better boundaries (linked to stress levels), and - another BIG thing in my life - getting enough sleep.  I've been doing the too-little-sleep thing for so many years, it's a real struggle to get to bed at a healthy time.  

Needless to say, I've become very aware of my mortality, and am trying to live my life with a healthy sense of carpe diem. Maybe my heart's beating so fast for a reason.

I had to take a big decision, recently, on a matter of principle, and even that was about wanting to live without ambiguity, and staying true to my values. 

I have two more days before my November exam marks are due, which means HOURS and HOURS of marking, both tomorrow and Monday. There's so much about our education system I just don't understand. Our school was denied permission to start our final exams on the same date that  neighbouring schools started theirs; as a result, we are really pressed for time, regarding submission of marks. With a fairly large contingent of our staff involved in marking matric exams, our window of time between the end of exams and the date they report to the marking centre is painfully small. This kind of man-made pressure is something I will never understand. It feels arbitrary and avoidable. So we're killing ourselves, trying to meet the deadline, and then when the others leave for external marking, a day or two later, we have way too many days to clean classroom cupboards.

I've been involved in a project called Quilting for Palestine, along with lots of other women. We knitted and crocheted squares in the colours of the Palestinian flag, and are now in the process of sewing them together. Next Saturday, on International Palestine Solidarity Day, we'll be showing the huge blanket in public.  It's been a deeply moving experience, so far, and I think next Saturday is going to feel a lot more so.         

I think I should end off now. This hasn't been an award-winning post, but maybe that's my problem - I don't want to do lukewarm, so I end up not doing anything.

Ok, I promise I will play my guitar and blog more frequently.

And life, while we have it, goes on.    

Oudtshoorn and Paternoster

And today, on 22 November, I'm finally posting something that's been sitting in my draft folder for months. It ends a bit abruptly, but I have no idea what else I wanted to write, back then.  Anyway, here goes.

~~~~~~

What do Oudtshoorn and Paternoster have in common? They were both visited by ME this year! :-) 

This year has been different in a number of ways, including that I've gone away for a few days in both school holidays, thus far. In the March holiday, along with three colleagues, I accompanied 38 high school kids to the 29th annual Klein Karoo Nasionale Kunstefees (KKNK). This trip, which included two long bus rides of about seven hours each, plus multiple short trips within Oudtshoorn, was made possible by the organisers of the KKNK, in partnership with the WCED. The participating schools were all Arts Focus schools, from previously disadvantaged communities. 

How did I get involved? One of our teachers (Drama) was unable to make it, so I was approached. I fall into that demographic of teachers with no dependants, so I'm occasionally asked to do things like this that may be inconvenient or difficult for people with families.  Sometimes it's really cool, like the KKNK one. 

We were accommodated in a school hostel, where we had most of our meals. With eight schools, and roughly 40 kids and 4 teachers per school, as well as officials from the Education Dept, we were about 400 in total. Female teachers and students stayed in one building, and male teachers and students in another.  Breakfast was punctually at 07h00, and within an hour, the first activity of the day commenced. Sometimes this was a workshop or rehearsal at the school, and sometimes it was hopping onto our bus (comfy, with an excellent driver), to attend a show at the festival. 

We saw theatre performances, ballet and modern dance, live music at the big 'feesterrein' (festival grounds), as well as art exhibitions and other fascinating things on display at the festival. Most things were in Afrikaans, and some of our kids struggled to follow some of the dialogue in the theatrical pieces. 

I could go on and on, but I'm timing myself for this post, because of my looming To Do list. School starts in two days, so I'm in planning mode. 

What were the highlights for me, besides feasting my eyes, for hours, on the different landscapes and mountain passes that fed my soul? (Yes, I enjoyed the bus rides!) Well, I really enjoyed being around the schoolkids and watching them shine in their different art forms - Visual Art, Drama, Dance and Music. I enjoyed walking around the town to the different art exhibitions, where I saw some incredible art (that we were not allowed to photograph, in most cases). I loved the show by Cape Ballet Africa, and I was moved to tears by the opera singing of Lynelle Kenned, who sang 'O Mio Babbino Caro' - an aria from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi - which my mother used to sing. But the highlight of my KKNK experience was the theatre piece 'Laaitie mettie biscuits', written and directed by Christo Davids. The cast of four kept us riveted for the entire performance. I actually don't know when last theatre has affected me that way. To the writer (who was there, in the audience), the cast, and everyone else involved in the production: Bravissimo! I would love to watch this production again. I highly recommend it as a piece of South African theatrical excellence. 

We left school on the morning of Monday 31 March, and returned on the evening of Thursday 3 April. Given that it was just a short school holiday, when we started the new term, on Tuesday 8 April, I felt like I needed a holiday. Having said  as much, I am very happy that I went, and happy that it sparked in me a desire to travel to more towns in the Western Cape. 

In this school holiday (we return to school in two days' time), my daughter treated me to a holiday in a seaside town called Paternoster. Cape Town has the luxury of two coastlines, with different oceans (Atlantic and Indian), and Paternoster is on the West Coast. Roughly two hours' drive from Cape Town, it is a fishing town that seems to derive quite a bit of its income from the tourism industry.  My daughter found a beautiful house, with all the creature comforts, where we stayed for three nights. The best part was spending time with my daughter, and the second best part was living 100m from the sea! We walked on the beach every day, and woke up and fell asleep to the sound of he sea. My idea of heaven on earth! 

On our way to Paternoster, we spent about two hours at !Kwah Ttu, the San Heritage Centre. It was impressive, to say the least, and I learnt a lot. I'd like to go back again sometime. 

On our way back, we stopped in Langebaan. another coastal favourite, where we attempted to walk on the beach but just managed to take a few photos, because it was so cold and windy. We did manage to find a little restaurant where we enjoyed our final holiday meal, and visit my former hairdresser, Roz, at her salon. (Now that I know how relatively close Langebaan is,.......) 

 

Profound goodbyes

I'm always astounded at how much time I let pass between blog posts. As I've written many times before, I think about blogging all the time. There's so much of life that I want to put down in writing, but I just don't. As I've also written many times before, it's in my daily journalling that I express my raw feelings about life and its beauty and strangeness.

Since I last wrote, four people in my circle have passed away: in March, it was Harriet Enus, the mom of my dear friend, Anton (whom I met at age six, in Durban). In June, it was a friend, Trevor Roberts, who died a few months after being diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. Trevor was also a friend I'd met in Durban, at age six. In July, it was Margaret Schultz, the mom of another dear friend, Sandi. My thoughts are with those families, as they grieve for their loved ones.  

The fourth one, the one that changed my world fundamentally, was on 5 May, when my mom died, the day before her 95th birthday. 

I could probably spend many years blogging about my mom and what she meant to me, and I hope to put as much as possible in writing, over time. At this stage, two and a half months after her passing, my thoughts turn to her every day. A friend asked recently how I was coping, and I replied that I thought about her in categories.  I think about my mom as she was during my childhood, when she was my whole world. I think about her during my teenage years, when I'd started making choices that conflicted with my upbringing  - like joining different churches, and getting baptised in a 'born-again' church. I think about her when I was a young adult, teaching, living on my own, my life filled with the drama of tempestuous relationships. I think about her when I was married and became a mom, how her love for her children automatically spilled over to her grandchildren. (My sister had her two children in the 1980s, and I had mine in the 1990s.)   

I think about my mother in her senior years, before she was struck down by Alzheimer's.  She was independent, taking public transport to Claremont on pension day, taking herself for a modest meal at Wimpy (sometimes taking a grandchild along), kept putting on and performing in concerts in her early 80s, and was a solid source of love and support for her family. No-one in my life has ever loved and supported me that much. She was unique to me. She loved us unconditionally. 

When she became ill (diagnosed with Amnestic Syndrome in 2012, and Alzheimer's Disease, a year later), and needed to live in a place where she could be cared for 24/7, I had to be honest that I was not by the means - financially and emotionally - to take on that responsibility. My sister opened her home to my mom, which is where she lived for the next thirteen years, until her death, at home. My sister cared for her, with love, humour, and the expertise gained from her nursing career, and involved her in family events. I am acutely aware of what a huge undertaking that was and will always be grateful for that immense outpouring of love over all those years. It takes a kind of superhero to do such prolonged caregiving. 

For the first seven years of my mother's illness, she spent every second weekend with me. During the Covid lockdown, she couldn't leave the house, and that lack of relief placed a huge burden on my sister. Around that same time, I was having online therapy sessions to deal with some long-standing issues, and one of the outcomes was that I needed to reduce the frequency of my weekends with my mom, in order to take better care of myself. When lockdown was over, I then had my mom with me one weekend a month. It meant a lot to me to be able to spend that time with her, while it saddened me to watch her condition worsening over time. 

One year ago, when I downsized my living space, in order to cope financially (and work away the debt incurred by College of Cape Town not paying my salary for 6 months), I moved into an affordable place just big enough for one person. I budgeted to spend our monthly weekends together at suitable Airbnbs, which I thought we could turn into little adventures. At that time, my sister informed me that our mom's condition was such that it was no longer advisable for her to sleep out of the house.   

I think about my mother when, despite having Alzheimer's, she could still sight-read, and play the  piano. I think about her sense of humour that was evident until about a month before she died. I think about how, in that last month of her life, she lost her ability to walk, and all the ramifications of that loss. I think about how she could no longer swallow properly, and my sister had to feed her soft things like soup, yoghurt, and Ensure. 

I think about the Sunday night my sister messaged me to say that Mom wasn't doing well, and that she had had the priest around to anoint her.  I realised that things were very serious, and went there the next day, to spend time with my mom and my sister. From the morning, already, Mom was displaying the death rattle, which was unnerving to hear. I won't go into any of the details of that day (although I think about them a lot), except to say that she died at 22h15 that night. 

There were quite a few things related to what happens after someone dies that made me feel alienated, but that's personal stuff I have to process over time. 

Mom died on Monday 5 May, her funeral was on Friday 9 May, and her ashes were interred on Sunday 29 June.  

And now, life goes on. But differently. I could never be my mother - she was unique, anyway - but I think both her children and her four grandchildren bear elements of her, which is a beautiful legacy. I will honour her by living as authentically as I can, opening myself to life and its energies, being loving and supportive to the people I hold dear, and always having music in my life.  

                        Mom, a few years ago, playing the piano she bought in Durban, +- 1970

Dreams and dreams

Today is the final day of a three-day-long weekend, and the final day before the last week of the first school term.  I am about to spend my third consecutive day marking. I could spend this entire post complaining, analysing, coming up with suggestions for how the system could be improved, but there's something futile about it. Isn't that just an awful feeling? Having so much to say, so many ideas that are implementable, but feeling a sense of  overwhelming futility?

I had the strangest dream, last night. Sometimes I remember my dreams in detail, and at other times, I wake up knowing I've had a busy dream, but not recalling a thing.  I was in a plane with a friend - a normal passenger plane that seats hundreds of people. It's someone I seldom see, but whom I saw a few days ago, Oh, in fact it's her birthday today! We were seated next to each other, and I decided I wanted to relax on the roof of the plane. Yes. I took my relaxing things with me, climbed some stairs, and went to lie down on a deck on the top of the aeroplane - outside. Nothing wrong with that, right? :-) I was awoken by a phone call from my daughter, who was angry that I hadn't wished her for her birthday. I felt the plane start to descend, so I told her I had to get back inside because it had started its descent. I went back inside, and the dream continued for quite long after that, with me inevitably looking for something I'd misplaced, and everyone realising that a woman seated one row from us was the wife of Jonah Lomu, the late great All Blacks rugby superstar. Random, Trudes!!! I don't even like rugby!    

So, before I launch into the serious stuff of the day, what can I write about?

A different kind of dream. A dream of a lifestyle completely different to the one I have. In this dream,  I live so close to the ocean, that part of my daily routine is a leisurely walk on the beach. I walk in the shallow water, and I feel an incredible sense of oneness with nature. The sensation of the water and sand on my skin, and the sounds of the waves and the seagulls, as well as the fresh smell of the ocean, fill my soul with such deep peace and joy, that I feel like a child again. I have always loved the sea, and it still feels like my place of innocence and joy, before life showed me the things I wasn't raised to expect.

I remember, in my childhood, being given the nickname "Water" (in Afrikaans - spelt the same as in English), because wherever we went, I was always the first to get into the water, and was happiest when I could stay there for most of the outing.  I watch my daughter in the sea, now, and know that she's the same. Water is her element. Interesting - she's a fire sign and I'm an earth sign. I suppose both need water for something or the other.  Come to think of it, my son swims practically every day, so I suppose it's in all of us, that love for water. And their dad was a competitive swimmer, at high school. So they get it from both of us. Yup.

I have to fight through the layers of adult awareness to remember the sheer delight of my experiences in the sea. They continued into my adult life, actually. In my twenties, I hung out with a group of  lifesavers, where the ocean and the beach were what life was all about. Oh, they also swam competitively (a very competitive bunch, come to think of it), and played water polo as well. I spent a lot of time at the beach back then. My car was always full of sand, but I remember the good feeling of having spent a day swimming in the sea and relaxing on the sand - that luxurious tiredness, the eyes stinging from the salt, the skin warm from the sun, and the pleasurable sensation of a soft t-shirt touching your skin before you drove home. Oh, and the hunger!!! The sea gives one such an appetite!

I also enjoyed the beach for just soaking up the sun. My cousin, Tracy, and I loved going to Saunders Rock, in Sea Point, to just lie in the sun! We'd read, talk, or just lie on our towels in silence, lathered in sunblock (or was it suntan lotion, at the time?), working on our tans. I don't think we were even aware of the benefits of the sun, nor of the possible dangers of over-exposure. We were just enjoying ourselves. I even got into the habit of timing myself, spending equal amounts of time lying on my tummy and on my back. :-)          

But, back to my dream. (Can you imagine how I struggle to meditate without a guided soundtrack?!) I would complete my walk, then go back to my cosy, comfortable cottage, which has all the creature comforts - including wifi - and proceed with the rest of my day.  After my shower, I'd have a tasty breakfast, while watching the sea. Then I'd switch on my laptop, and do some work. My work entails writing, proofreading and editing. I get paid by individuals and companies, but I also allocate time to doing pro bono work for NPOs. Besides that, I spend time creating crocheted and knitted items, which I sell. I do my creative stuff at a pace that suits me. I also sell recordings of my original songs, performing only when all the elements appeal to me. 

Another of my passions I obviously pursue is my love for radio. I have a weekly programme on radio, where I interview interesting people, and play music in between the chatting. Just like I did in 2014. I love being back on radio. 

One of my main activities, in my cosy cottage by the sea, where I inhale fresh air, allow myself to be be mesmerised and humbled by the sunrises and sunsets, and live life at my own pace, is writing. Did I mention that I am a published author, in my dream? Yes, I am. Most people don't know that my love for writing often supercedes my love for making music. I can go for days without playing my guitar, but not without writing. My widely-read books take me to interesting places, where I engage with school children and adults, discussing topics I've explored.   

(I have just deleted an entire paragraph, which I can't seem to retrieve!) 

 At the end of the day, just before sunset, I take another walk on the beach. I reflect on my day and allow nature to inspire me. 

I come back, enjoy my supper while watching the sunset, then have another shower - ooh, or a leisurely bath, because my cosy cottage by the sea will of course have a bath - before settling down to do whatever pleases me.    

The paragraph I deleted had something about scheduling time with family and friends, and enjoying hanging out with them, sometimes going to new places and having new experiences - all without feeling pressured or rushed. I think that's what I'm yearning for. Not just autonomy, but a slower, less frenzied, pace of life that feels manageable, but also varied and enjoyable. I have to have something to look forward to. 

I'm 63 and a half years old. How feasible is my dream? I think I should simply start introducing bits of it at a time, like one creates a granny-square blanket. In the end, after quite a bit of chaos - and doubt - it all comes together beautifully. I think that's a great metaphor. Maybe that's why I felt compelled to write today. I seldom know where the writing will take me. I quite like that feeling. 

                            2024 - assembling squares of a blanket made with my cousin, Theresa.

I owe it to myself

I moved into my flatlet (my "tiny house") in the middle of last year. It was one of the biggest changes I'd voluntarily undertaken in a long time.  I must admit, I find change exciting, and I get restless when things stay the same for too long. Not that they do, because, within the apparent sameness, there's a lot of volatility. After I'd settled in, I thought I'd embark on a big new adventure every six months, but life kept me so busy and distracted, that I think I'm probably looking at a new adventure every 12 months.  

So what's the big 'adventure' I want this year? Well, I'll keep the details private for now. Working on it. I tend to procrastinate, but when my restlessness reaches boiling point, I spring into action, somewhat impatient to arrive at my new destination. We'll see.   

I caught part of a video, recently, where Jane Fonda (US actress, with a long history of  human rights activism) was interviewed. She said that, as she got older (she's 87), she decided that, to experience life fully, she would go about her life more intentionally. It really resonated with me. You know what I hate? I hate looking back at a period of time, and feeling like all I've actually focussed on is survival. I hate that! And I won't feel guilty for wanting more. There has to be more to life.  

There's so much more I could be filling my life with, so much I could be creating, so many songs I could be learning, writing, or singing, but here I am, plodding through day after day of what's expected of me, thinking and saying what's expected of me, and wondering when I'll find the time to do what makes my soul soar - what I expect of myself.  

I know, having been through this many times before, that restlessness is a necessary precursor to change. My life, starting from my childhood, has been a developing story with many, quite distinct, chapters.  It's time to work on a suitable ending for this one, and write the next.  Nature does it all the time - as the seasons change, different trees take their turns to bear their unique fruits.  

   I took this pic of the guava tree outside my kitchen on 2 March. 

Yes - I'll write that new chapter intentionally. 

I owe it to myself.    

Reflecting on Week 1 of the new school year

It's the first weekend of the first school term, and I have two whole days to myself.

Ever since I can remember, I've been aware of myself operating on two planes - doing, and observing. Because we live and work within communities, our smooth functioning is closely linked to the people within those communities. I can honestly say that all the structure and smooth functioning that I experienced at school this week was a result of the efficiency of others there. I am deeply grateful to be teaching at a school with such a high level of structure. I firmly believe that, in any context, the leadership sets the tone for others to follow. I noticed this last year, already - the level of preparation of  senior management had a knock-on effect on the rest of the staff. Similarly, I believe that, in the classroom, the teacher sets the tone for what happens there and how it happens. Yes, we're dealing with about 35 different personalities in every class we teach, but we, as teachers, determine the atmosphere in our classes. 

Last year, I was so aware of myself as new at the school, learning as I went along, that I wasn't as on top of things as I prefer to be. It was a year of intense learning. I feel a lot more settled, after teaching there for a full school year, and I have a better grasp of how much of myself I can put into my job. I think last year also taught me how little time there was to get through the syllabus. It comes right back to what I wrote in a previous post - I learnt to pace myself. And I will continue to learn. The day I stop learning is the day life stops being interesting. 

I'm teaching two subjects, across four grades. I have supportive colleagues, so I have no doubt it's going to be a good year. This time of the year, our school does athletics, so from next week that will form part of every day. It's a short burst for most of us, because, from February, we're no longer involved. That's when our sports specialists train the top athletes for the inter-school event and beyond. 

I love having my own classroom!  After just three days of teaching, I can feel the distinct advantages. The walking around, last year, entailed a layer of stress I no longer have. Now, between classes, I just put one file, one textbook and set of notes away, and take out the next. I clean the board, wait IN MY ROOM for the children to arrive, let them in, and teach.  I love it! And I have a beautiful view from my upstairs classroom, so when I do have a few minutes, I can simply take in the view. These are blessings for which I am grateful.  

                                            View from my classroom - January 2025

As I settle in to the academic year, I'm also excited about decorating my classroom with a combination of things. Yes, it's still exciting, even 41 years after I started my teaching career. I've got some nice ideas I'll start implementing next week.   

With Week 1 of 11 behind me, I am aware that, in a job like mine, even my weekends need structure, as a lot of schoolwork is done in one's private time. In fact, I think it's time to start accepting that the concept of private time is more linked to corporate-sector work, and that teachers get very little of it during term time. Ooh, why does that feel so wrong for me?! It's a challenge I will keep working on. Balance is very important, so I need to find a way to make sure my weekends have both school prep time, as well as relaxation and personal fulfilment. It gets tricky when I have social commitments over weekends. What really stresses me is having commitments on both days of a weekend. Anyway.... this is just me writing as I think things through. In the end, I always come up with a plan, and I somehow manage to get everything done. One thing I need to guard against is getting into a pattern of having too little sleep, doing schoolwork till well after midnight. Been there, done that. It's neither healthy nor sustainable. And life's too short.  

All things considered, Week 1 was a great start.  Now for the next ten. :-)

True Peace

It's 2025. A whole new year! 

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, it's pitch dark outside, and I've got practically every window and external door open, to cool the place down. Earlier, I was posting on Facebook, and I put on a YouTube video of calming rain sounds - something I often do when I want to focus, but my mind wanders too much. I actually do it before I fall asleep sometimes. But now, the rain sounds feel intrusive, so I'll switch off the video and type in silence. I think the action of typing  calms me down enough, and focuses me. I write, therefore I am.    

I have three days left of my glorious four-week summer holiday, and I feel a huge sense of satisfaction, because I got through almost everything on my list, and I managed to do fun things that fed my soul. I also feel good, because I managed to pace myself, alternating busy/people days with being alone. Being alone fuels me. Being single means I don't need to justify that anymore - I can simply be who I am. It may sound selfish, but I think I've spent most of my life putting everyone else's needs before my own, and now it's time for me. I think a lot of women in their sixties feel this way. 

There are three more friends I was hoping to see before going back to school, and I'll probably get to see only one. The others I'll arrange to see over a weekend, once school has resumed.

It sounds like it's actually started to rain! That should cool things down nicely. 

I popped in at school today, to see the classroom I'd been allocated for the year. Last year, I didn't have a classroom, so I was a 'roaming' teacher, walking from class to class. I'm excited for the school year ahead, and want to keep learning, to add value to the kids and to the school. 

As I contemplate the year ahead, I'm more aware than ever that life can take one by surprise. You can start the year thinking you're going to achieve X, Y and Z, but  things crop up that shift your attention and energy completely. 

Here are some of the most important lessons I learnt (or re-learnt) last year:

- When someone shows you their true colours, believe what you're seeing. 

- In most situations in life, I have a choice. 

- No matter what life throws at me, there's always some way in which I can be true to myself.  I may not be able to walk away from the situation, but I can refuse to compromise my principles.     

- The cliché that's absolutely true: When you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  

- The universe will always send me kindred spirits, wherever I am. 

-The universe will always send me music, which is the magic I need every single day. (One of the music rooms at school is adjacent to the staffroom, and it's the most wonderful feeling to be sitting there during a free period, listening to the kids/teachers playing anything from classical to jazz.)  

- And lastly: the person I can rely on 100% is myself.  

This holiday has reminded me about something else, which my children also pointed out: when I'm left to my own devices, and am in control of my own time, I am capable of achieving everything I say I will. These four weeks came after  one of the most intense years I've had in a while. But more than that, the year itself came after an extensive period of struggling financially. So the four-week holiday felt like the first proper holiday I'd had in a while. 

                                                   Some of my sweet Christmas presents. 

Yes. I'm really happy that I was able to spend time with my family and some friends, and also enjoy solo time. I'm happy that I got to do things that will make 2025 easier. Rearranging my living space will impact positively on my workflow, this year. I bring a lot of schoolwork home, and my space just wasn't working for me.  This year will be different.  

To anyone reading this, I wish you a very good 2025. 

May the horrors taking place around the world come to an end, and may peace prevail. True peace.    

                              The half moon, seen from outside my flatlet, on 8 January 2025.

More 2024 reflection

It's Monday, 30 December, and today has been a rainy day. I was going to do a forest walk with a friend, but decided against it when the weather became wet and unpleasant. As a dog owner who walks her dog twice daily, she wasn't letting the weather deter her, though.

I'm just over halfway into my 4-week school holiday, and it's been a really good break, thus far. Around the "Big Days", I spent quality time with family and a few friends. I do have a list, though, so there are still a few more I plan to hang out with before the school year starts. I am not a big-group person, so seeing my friends in small gatherings is what I prefer - we get to talk and really listen, catching up with each other's lives. For teachers at public schools, school reopens on Monday 13 January, which is in two weeks' time. All I can do to quell the niggling sadness about the dwindling holiday is be true to myself, away from my job responsibilities. That means finding the right balance between alone time and seeing people. 

I bought a set of my favourite guitar strings, so I do actually need to restring my guitar. There are a few domestic chores I still want to do before returning to school, and I know I will. Getting certain tasks done during the school term is just too unrealistic. If I've learnt anything this year, it's that Time and Energy, two of my most valuable resources, have to be expended judiciously. The alternative is weeks and weeks of feeling out of sync with myself, which negatively impacts on every part of my life.

I keep coming back to trying to focus on what the biggest deals were for me, in 2024. Everytime I think there were three, then I think of a fourth, etc. 

I may have written this in my previous post, but I think the most radical changes in my life in 2024 happened on the inside. Yes, I do believe that "our inner and outer worlds are connected" (one of the Six Laws of the Mind, according to Mind Power), but I've also discovered that some of our biggest victories aren't always seen by anyone else - we're often the only ones aware of that victory.  I've also come to appreciate that some of our inner changes start to manifest outwardly only after a period of time, when circumstances elicit them.  For example, you're in a situation of conflict, and you take a bold step that you've never taken before. You know that, but the others involved don't necessarily know that you've stepped up in a big way, breaking a previous pattern. Another example is someone suggesting something which you think is unrealistic, but, for all the right reasons, you go out of your way to make it happen. To the observer, you're seen as just that type of person, but you know what it cost you, personally, to achieve that end result. 

My biggest change, this year, was a very visible one - I moved house during the June school holidays. I've written about this extensively, I think. For six months, covering two hectic school terms, I stumbled around in limited space, banging my knees, tripping over boxes, and feeling a general sense of 'disgruntledness' in my new space, knowing things couldn't go on that way. And then the December school holidays started, all external pressure was off, and I redesigned my space, making it MUCH more pleasant to be in. In the first few days of the holiday, I  got rid of things, packed others away, organised my cupboards, and gave myself another new beginning - an improvement on the one I'd given myself in June.  Maybe I'll give my life a bit of a shake-up every six months? Now there's a thought.   

Another important change in my life, this year, was paying my final installment on my car, after years and years!  That enabled me to reallocate resources, which made a big difference to the path that I'm on towards being debt-free. I achieved it before, and I'll do so again. 

While my music life took a bit of a backseat, I managed to do a coupe of performances every now and then, write a few monthly songs for my niece's baby, in the first year of his life, and be interviewed on radio recently.  Soon I'll be interviewed on someone's podcast, which I'm very excited about. She's a wonderful, vibrant loose cannon, so I have no idea what to expect! :-)  Tucked in between all the things in my life that I plan, structure and customise, that podcast is exactly what I need! Watch this space! 

I think this year showed me how quickly a year can go by. The four school terms, roughly eleven weeks each, whizzed by like lightning. You teach for a few weeks, do a few small assessments, and then suddenly you're setting the quarterly exam. That's followed by exam time  (and invigilating, which is very hard for a busy bee like me) and my least favourite part of teaching: marking! Oh my word! I wish I could outsource that! I love teaching, I love engaging with the students, but the marking.....! Hours and hours of sitting still and marking similar responses to the same questions, over and over and over again. I have an unapologetically creative brain, which craves - and thrives on - change and newness. Marking is like the universe punishing me for all the things I've ever done wrong in my 63 years on this earth.  The only thing that gets me through marking, besides listening to music I love, and eating loads of  snacks, is the knowledge that if I just KEEP marking, it WILL come to an end! It's insane! I seriously don't understand why, in 2024, we're not marking electronically. The wheels of change move very slowly. 

This year reminded me that there's always something to learn, including about myself. 

This year taught me, all over again, the importance of friends. 

This year brought me full circle to the truth that when I rely on myself, I get things done.

This year showed me that not everyone operates with integrity, but that that's their journey; I simply need to remain anchored in truth. 

This year brought beautiful new friends into my orbit, and I cherish these friendships.  

Mostly, this year has taught me to pace myself. When I think about returning to my high school job in 2025, I feel much more prepared, because I now know what a year at school feels like, in the mid-2020s.  Some people say, especially to busy, creative and ambitious women, "You can't do/have it all". I disagree. You can. You just have to pace yourself  and work judiciously with your time and energy. Sometimes it does mean putting something you love aside, for a while. But it doesn't mean that you can't return to it once the immediate pressure's off. Occasionally it means rallying a team, to achieve things as part of a collective, which is not a bad lesson at all. 

Yep - that's what 2024 taught me, more than anything else: to pace myself.

  

Reflecting on 2024

It's 10 days before the end of the year. I've been contemplating this reflection for a while, but once again, I don't know where to start. 2024 - Woah!! Shoo! 

There are a few big things that happened, to make 2024 stand out for me, but I think the most significant parts of this year happened internally - awarenesses gained, lessons learnt, patterns broken and new practices started. Would I call it a successful year? It depends on the criteria.  

So, here goes - my immediate thoughts about 2024.

1. EMPLOYMENT

I had full-time employment for the entire year, which was a blessing after what had happened in 2023. In case you don't know my story, I was employed by College of Cape Town for the first 6 months of 2023, but was not paid for that entire period. Every month we taught (adults doing matric), submitted our time sheets, and believed the matter was being addressed.  Why did we keep on teaching? Our students had paid, and we were preparing them for their mid-year matric exams, which would have significant consequences in their lives. Also, we were working through the desired channels to try to sort it out, not knowing we'd be stonewalled and still be waiting more than a year later. The ramifications of that situation informed the choices I made in 2024 (more about that later), and I'm sad to say that that matter has not yet been resolved: seven educators are still awaiting payment of tens of thousands of rand for teaching from January to June 2023.  

I've been thinking: surely College of Cape Town has to undergo an annual financial audit, to continue to function as a legitimate entity? How do you pass such an audit if you haven't paid your staff?  

Another BIG question, to which no-one at Head Office had the decency to reply, is this: If the programme we taught was self-funding, meaning our salaries came from fees paid by the students we taught, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE MONEY THE +- 300 STUDENTS PAID? How can a college RUN a programme, and not be held ACCOUNTABLE for the rands and cents of that programme? The lack of morality shocks me. But, as long as the leadership does not have to answer for its actions, this corruption will continue. It will end, though. 

Anyway, I digress. The point was that I had full-time employment for the entire year, for which I am grateful. There is something honourable about delivering a service (in my case, teaching) and being paid for it, as per the contract. It's a dignified, honourable thing, giving you a sense of security, and enabling you to plan your life. It's an arrangement of mutual respect, and of integrity. HEAR THAT, COLLEGE OF CAPE TOWN? INTEGRITY! 

2. A FULL YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL

Being employed is one thing. Being back in the high school system is quite another!  I last taught at a high school in 2012! Looking back at the year, I can now see that I needed this year to orientate myself back into the ins and outs of high school teaching. A lot has changed, and a lot has not. The bottom line is that people are people. Teenagers who were born in the 2000s - some as recently as 2010 - are still teens, going through the same developmental stages we went through. I had the privilege of teaching English - my favourite subject - as well as Life Orientation, a subject I grew to enjoy.  

Teaching a total of ten classes, without having my own classroom, was a baptism of fire, but I survived. Proposed changes in the year ahead suggest that I will have a very different experience in 2025. Time will tell.

I am lucky to be teaching at a well-organised school, with principled, competent leadership providing the necessary structures and resources for the smooth functioning of the day-to-day activities.  The children are interesting, and I think I found a way to fit in on the staff (as one of the newbies). 

I could honestly write a book about this year at school, but the purpose of this blog post is to give a broad overview of the year. It was a challenging year, in some respects, and sometimes I doubted I would make it. I had to learn MANY lessons, in order to acclimate and pace myself.

3. FRIENDSHIPS

I am a loner, and I thrive when left to my own devices. I've always known that, but haven't always felt free to say it out loud. Now I know it's not a negative thing - it's just a personality type. But this year taught me (again) that I also have a need for good friends. In my personal life, I enjoyed my old and newish friendships, completely comfortable with the fact that my friends aren't necessarily each other's friends. It was the friendships I formed at school that were a pleasant surprise. When you see people every day, and go through various experiences (deadlines!!) with them, you're bound to form bonds. I found myself connecting with people I sat close to in the staffroom, as well as colleagues in the two departments in which I taught. But beyond that, I just found that there were really cool people at the school, most of whom encouraged and inspired me, answered my many questions, and were just nice to work with. I enjoyed doing little collaborative things with colleagues, whenever possible, because I inevitably got to know them better, which made school a really pleasant place to go to every day.  

In my personal life, friendships evolved, and I feel incredibly blessed to have a small, interesting circle of people in my life who add so much colour, texture and nuance to my sometimes-monochromatic world. 

3. MOVING HOUSE

(I'm tired, now, and losing focus. A few external distractions have pulled my attention from my writing, and I feel like the cloud of magic I need in order to write is evaporating.)

In June, I moved house - a life-altering step. My daughter had moved out in November, which left me living alone in a 3-bedroomed house. People suggested I share the space, but that was the last thing I wanted. My home is my sanctuary, and I wasn't ready to give up my privacy by sharing the house I'd lived in with my family for 27 years. I looked around for a two-bedroomed place to rent, but nothing I looked at fulfilled all my requirements. In the end, I moved into the granny flat on the same premises. It was a massive change, because my new space consisted of a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom - no lounge, and no study/spare room for my many, many things related to my teaching, my music, my crafting and my tutoring (which I still do, part-time).  I did whatever was required (sold, gave away and stored stuff), and started my new life. 

Six months later, in fact two days ago, I reorganised my space which had just not been working for me, and NOW I finally feel comfortable. I still have things in storage, and I have to deal with what comes next - do I move again soon, or should I get rid of things?  So, how does all of this this relate to what happened with College of Cape Town? In the six months that I was not paid, I ran into debt, as I was not able to honour my commitments without an income. Moving into a much smaller place freed up some income, enabling me to get on top of my debt. Yup - and this is the sanitised version of how that experience messed up our lives.  The struggle continues. 

I'm tired. I'll write soon. 

The bottom line is that, in most respects, 2024 was better than 2023, and I firmly believe that 2025 will be even better.  

And life goes on.    

                                    With my children, at Clay Café in Hout Bay, in November. 

  

A seven-day patchwork quilt

Yesterday, I didn't know how to handle the end of October heat. Then last night, it stormed, and I needed another blanket on my bed. This is Cape Town - even though I've lived here most of my life, I'm still fascinated by the sudden changes in weather. Yesterday, I planned what I would wear to a gig today, and last night I realised that Plan B might be needed. 

I say 'sudden', but the truth is we have weather forecasts that give us adequate warning. We just find ourselves believing,  despite all the evidence to the contrary, that 'the weather man' may have got it wrong this time. Weird how we still say 'the weather 'man',  despite many women working in that field. Patriarchal language patterns.  

I read my previous post, a few minutes ago, and I'm glad I did. Something happened this week that was the equivalent of a slap in the face with a wet cloth, but when I zoom out of the particulars of that one tiny pocket of my life, all I'm left with is gratitude - deep, perspective-filled gratitude. Something no-one can take away from me. No matter what, I still have the capacity to step back from the minutiae, take a philosophical view of things, process my emotions through journalling, learn the lesson, and feel excited about life and what lies ahead, including the unknown. I think that's how I've got through the things I have. I'm irrepressible. I'm that cork that just won't sink to the bottom of the glass of water. You may press it down temporarily, but as soon as you release the pressure, it pops right up to the surface. I'm basically a child, but with 63 years of perspective.  

I know for a fact, though, that I would function more effectively, and feel less rushed, if I had a day to myself after each day. My life would consist of one day of normal life, followed by one day of me on my own, choosing to fill my hours with whatever made my soul do cartwheels of joy. Yes - I think that's my ideal. Of course, I'd like to have cartwheels of joy 24/7.... or, maybe not. Sameness of any kind soon bores me. What I would absolutely LOVE is 24/7 of choosing, though. Yes - it's the times of my life where I get to choose, and not simply follow orders, or try to convince my rainbow palette that monochrome is not that bad, that I feel my spirit glowing. Right now, the ratio of glow to no-glow is not good. But this has been my challenge for a long time. I don't even know if I want to believe in reincarnation, because the thought of coming back and struggling through another lifetime just wears me out. Maybe one life is enough, and the special assignment is to make it really count.    

This week was a seven-day patchwork quilt. On Sunday my son visited me, with lunch that he had cooked especially for us. We spent a few hours together, talking about lots of things, including my eventual retirement - at this stage, still a few years off. That was really wholesome, and I appreciated his maturity on the matter. Both my children are deep thinkers, gifted with many things, including acute perception, compassion, and the ability to communicate sensitively and appropriately. I was happy to have begun that important discussion, and I'm proud that this generation is comfortable with having the hard conversations, and approaching the less glamorous side of life with a practicality that cuts out the drama. When an older person's health changes suddenly, and you haven't prepared as a family, it can go horribly wrong, with misunderstandings and the blame game ruining relationships. 

Things at school are intense, as November exams start soon, so we're all finalising question papers and memos, and making sure all the relevant boxes are ticked.  That's the easy part. The people issues are the hard part - the part I often wish I could avoid. But this is life - unless you're a hermit, you're going to have to deal with the messiness of inter-personal relationships. If you're in a social setting, you can't avoid it. In my personal life, I have a small, carefully selected group of people with whom I sometimes spend my discretionary time. They know, and completely understand, that I often prefer solitude. They also know that when we do spend time together, it's good. We don't pressurise each other, we communicate with honesty, respect and integrity, and we know we can depend on each other 100%. I am DEEPLY grateful to have friends like them. I don't take them for granted. But that's in my personal life. Thank God I have a life outside of my job!      

On Thursday evening, I had a rehearsal with guitarist Rudy Burns, for a gig we're doing today. A 70th birthday party. Oh, wow! Playing and singing beautiful songs for hours.... let's just say it more than balanced out the unpleasant energies of the week. It reminded me who I was. Everything else becomes peripheral. After blogging, I'm going to start getting ready. I like to take my time and ease into the head and heart space of being a performer. As a child, I'd watch my mom get ready for her performances, and I loved how she'd let me play with her costume jewelry, some of which had belonged to her mother. I remember the smell of her skin lotion - Oil of Olay - as well as the hairspray. I loved watching her transformation, as she changed from Mummy to May Abrahamse, the opera singer.    

On Wednesday, after the ugly incident at work, I needed to do something physical to work through my emotions, so I washed my car! I hadn't washed it since I moved house, in June!!! It looked great, but the inside was a mess. I wasn't angry enough to be a martyr, though, so the next day I got someone to clean it for me. I now have a clean car, inside and out, and it feels good. (I couldn't find the new chamois I'd bought, on the day I washed my car, but I found it yesterday when looking for something else! )

On Friday, our Stitch Club at school (in existence since Term 2) had its final meeting for the year. We had a little party, which magically included some unexpected live music! Made my day! If I'm still at that school next year, I have some plans for the club. If not, I hope someone else keeps it going. The kids (and I) loved our weekly gatherings, where we could escape the frenzy of school life, and just quietly play with yarn, learning basic techniques, and creating little items. It was a particular highlight for me - Stitch Club. I'm super proud of the kids who turned out to be the regulars, pitching up with their good energy and their big, bright smiles, week after week.

I stayed late after school, on a few days, which impacted my evenings, but it's that time of year, as I said. On Friday, though, I came straight home, exhausted and in much need of solitude. I enjoyed a relaxing evening, which filled my tanks a bit. Yesterday was a day of housework, with schoolwork taking up my evening. I find it difficult to focus in the heat of the day, so evenings work better for me.   

Which brings me to today - the storm has abated, the sun's out, and I can see some patches of blue sky. It's not a warm day, though, and I suspect it might rain again, so I'll see what ye olde wardrobe yields. 

This afternoon, I will enjoy singing and playing my guitar, alongside one of the best guitarists I know - someone with loads of experience, a huge repertoire across genres, and a level of mastery that leaves me speechless. What a privilege to make music with him. I will appreciate the blessing of being able to add to the birthday celebration of someone who's reached the milestone of 70 years. This family has hired our duo twice before, so it's extra special; they know us, and they chose us again. It's a good feeling. I'm really excited. The demands of my day job have left me with very little time to immerse myself in music, like I used to before. But the tide seems to be turning. Next week, I have two events at which I'm doing a few items. Thank you, universe. 

I have so much to look forward to.  And yes, I sometimes end sentences with prepositions. It's how I  rebel. :-)  

                    I took this from the driveway at home, on 13 October 2024. I love moody skies. 
   

Gratitude - 26 Sept 2024

Right now, I want to write about how deeply grateful I am. Sometimes, because life often keeps one focussed on what's not going well, I need to remind myself to spend a few moments allowing feelings of gratitude to flood my being. A ritual I started, a few months ago, was setting a daily alarm for 11:11,  as a reminder to have a short gratitude session. 

It started when I realised that my attention was coincidentally being drawn to my phone at 11:11 for a few days in a row. I'd heard that it was a special number, so seeing it always made me smile. On days it didn't happen, I was really disappointed. I decided that, instead of hoping I'd see it, I would make sure I did, by setting an alarm. And this is what I do every day. Sometimes I'm teaching when it goes off. While I'm switching it off, I mentally go through  a few things I'm grateful for. I've told my students about it.    

I won't lie - at the start of this short school holiday, I was filled with the physical and psychological tension of the previous term, and feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. Bear in mind that I'm working in a system I last worked in twelve years ago. Since then, I've lectured in the college sector, worked in the corporate sector, done some research for an NPO, and taught matric English to adults. 

But here I am -  teaching at a high school once again.  

I am grateful that I have a job, and all that it makes possible. It's at a well-run school, close to where I live, it's in my field of qualification, and I'm teaching two subjects I thoroughly enjoy. I have some really cool colleagues, and I enjoy my time with the children - in both groups, I have encountered amazing people who've added something to my life, in one way or another. Unlike at some places where I've worked, this school's salary payment system is reliable, which gives me stability and peace of mind, enabling me to plan my budget and honour my commitments.   

I'm grateful for my family: my mom, my children and their partners, my sister and her family, and all my cousins and second cousins, near and far.  My children, now adults, are the most precious people in my life. I regard them as a blessing, and give thanks for them every day.  

I'm grateful for my friends - some I see often, many I don't. Some I'm in regular contact with, and others, not. I have a handful of close friends who know what's happening in my life, and who're there for me, in my corner. I love them and am very lucky to have them in my life. 

I'm grateful for my home. It's tiny, it's been my home for only three months, I couldn't fit all my things in here, but it's home. I can close my door and have the privacy and solitude I so enjoy. There's a garden outside, with trees, which gives me a sense of calm and peace.     

I'm grateful for my car, which I've had for eight years; it affords me my freedom and my independence.  

I'm grateful for so many things - being able to play a guitar and write and sing songs, being able to knit and crochet, creating all kinds of pretty and functional things. I'm extremely grateful for my health and the things it makes possible.

I'm grateful that I never give up. I'm grateful that meditation gives me a sense of perspective on my life, with the clarity and patience I need, when I need them most.  

I'm grateful that, when life sends me yet another difficult set of circumstances, I'm able to draw on my previous experiences and somehow manage to wade through the tough parts and survive.

I'm grateful that I've reached a level of maturity where I know for sure that life is not a competition, and that all I need to be is myself, regardless of who does or does not like me. I'm grateful that deep down I know I'll be okay, no matter what.  

I'm grateful for choices I've made, and for my current lifestyle, While it may be simple and frugal, without the trappings people might expect me to have,  I actually have everything I need. 

For all of the above, and so much more, I can only be absolutely and utterly grateful.