Friday, September 08, 2017
Thursday, September 07, 2017
I argued with my clay today.
No amount of reasoning, prentend-patience or threatening would budge it. The clay just refused to co-operate eventually leading to the fingers randomly falling off the hand I was trying to sculpt. Like any reasonable person I cussed, got a bit red in the face and tried to start again.
After two months away from the studio and away from sculpting it was unquenchable frustration trying to “get back into it”. Even as I returned from a cool-off walk-about around the studio and as hard as I tried the fingers refused to cooperate. The palm steadily became more and more misshapen and the wrist was a mess. I could not believe that two months away from the studio could mess with my connection with the clay so profoundly. And I sulked. I sulked like a two year old.
So after much mumbling and grumpy snorting and huffing I stepped away from my work-space and changed track. After all, sculpture (and particularly ceramic sculpture) isn’t just all about the clay right? Once the clay is hardened and dried it’s bisque-fired which means it’s ready for colour. After the mountain (ok ok molehill) of colour tests I’d done over some 3 months I felt sufficiently prepared to venture towards *actually* finishing a few pieces. (Up until now, I hadn’t finished any work due to the pending colour tests and experiments.)
Anyway, I tackled some of my bisqueware armed with an arsenal of oxides, carbonates and stains. And I must admit, I had fun. I knew what I wanted and how I could best achieve it. I knew the concentration of colour and where to ease up and where to let rip. And I had sufficient faith in the unpredictablity of the final firing process to know that even though the final product is a surprise, it’ll be an “expected” surprise.
And to my delight, the profound sense of dissatisfaction that pervaded my entire being while trying to sculpt the hand dissipated. Swooshing on the colour with my paintbrush, wiping off the residue to reveal the stain - it all proved so deeply satisfying. I fell in love with clay again. I fell in love with the hollow scrape as the bisqueware hits the concrete surface and the way it thirstily sucks up any water dropped on its surface. I love the way the oxide stains the ware leaving you with a sense of anticipation to see what the final colour emerges as from the firing. And most importantly, I fell in love with my ability to fall in love again.
I got home to a WhatsApp from Steph. “Sorry you were dealt a shitty hand today.” So’kay about the hand… I found the heart. :)
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Denial is a powerful thing.
Last night I was at dinner with a someone - lets call him Bob.
Bob is an IT something something who is in SA from foreign shores to figure out whether returning to the land of his birth (SA) is a wise or otherwise idea. Bob is anxious about the pseudo-diversity here - though he doesn’t say it in as many words. He is currently living in a global metropolis that is well connected to the world, so he is concerned about the isolation and a lack-of-connectedness. But Bob isn’t the subject of this story even though dinner with him may be the inspiration.
After deciding on a rather snazzy restaurant (in one of Gauteng’s premier art-malls), we were served by a black usher and proceeded to our table - menus and all (yes, I said black - bear with me on this one). We were then introduced to our black waiter who took our drinks order and so on and so forth. Later on into the meal, the black Maître de, doing his rounds, stopped over at our table to make a bit of small talk and do his customer-service thing. This is where it gets interesting.
A little while after the Maître de left and our table was cleared, the manager (or owner?) stopped at our table to further ensure that we were happy. I later passed him twice on my way to and from the ladies and recall seeing him when we walked in. I was convinced he was wearing foundation (yes, like make-up) and his hair - obviously long - was in a neat Steven Seagalesque tie-back. I bet you didn’t notice that I’d not assigned the manager a race. That’s because I couldn’t pin point it. The whole night through, it bugged me to no end that I couldn’t identify whether the man was Indian, coloured, black or… or…? I had this burning need to unpuzzle this puzzle, going to the extent of trying to get his name, mustering an excuse to strike up conversation. Perhaps his accent would give it away? Could he have a name badge?
As it happened, the opportunity to talk never arose because he had left the premises by the time our dinner was done. Later, and I mean a good few days later, I wondered why would his race matter so much? Why was it so important that I classify him?
It would be an understatement to say I’ve been a passionate race-denier. Even when confronted with blatant racism (read: “hey you coolie”), I refuse to give it the head-space it grandstands for. Why then was this man’s race such an issue for me? Why was it so important I was able to assign him a “colour” or worse - a box?
Perhaps it all began a few weeks ago when I had read this article (http://www.sapeople.com/2016/12/31/racist-coloured-south-african-traveller/). In all fairness the title got me going before I even began reading. Not even halfway through I began rolling my eyes and gesticulating wildly, “foul!” I cried while contemplating how un-racist we are (and by extention, how wrong the author was). I was self-righteously up-in-arms about the race-card pulled “yet” again. “But we HAVE grown, we’ve come so far”. I couldn’t bear another “South Africans are so racist” commentary.
Much to my horror, I came to the end of the article with an enormous question mark hovering 2cm above my head. He (Razeel Daniels) may have a point. The millisecond I gave Razeel Daniels the benefit of the doubt I pushed shoved it out with a self-righteous huff. And then at dinner with sweet Bob, I realised that we had actually not come so far after all.
I have a bone to pick with Razeel Daniels. And everyone else who agrees with him. Perhaps my trepidation comes from a sense of indignation. That good 'ol self-righteousness rearing its head again. But I can’t help asking if I am really a racist? Is the definition of a racist simply that of someone who sees skin colour?
One of my mum’s favourite “when you were little” stories is of a car-ride home from school when I asked her what colour coloureds were. I’ve always seen myself as “that” kid - the one who didn’t see any difference between a black or white friend. The woman who gave the middle-finger to even thinking about race.
This whole debacle has made me angry I’ll tell ya. ‘Cause this is the thing right? It seems to me that while South Africa - and certainly those generations that haven’t experienced institutionalised Apartheid or are too young to remember it (yours truly included) - proudly strut their beyond-race status, the magic wand dispelling the atrocities of the past and erasing it from our psyche didn’t seem to quite do its job. And so we’re left in a sort of mental-emotional twilight-zone. A nation of racist race-deniers. Gosh, even typing that makes my skin crawl.
So it’s back to the proverbial drawing board. Back to the place where I ask myself the hard questions. Back to that uncomfortable space where I unlearn the stuff I didn’t even realise I’d learnt.
Boy oh boy. Come to think of it, Apartheid really did the doozy on us.
Sunday, April 02, 2017
Dear Not-so-dear President Zuma,
You forget Mr President that we are the children of freedom fighters and lovers of democracy.
Our blood, fortified by our forefather’s legacies makes us strong, resilient and fiercely protective of this thing called Our Freedom.
Mr President,
You lay waste to our country.
You strip it of its resources. You rape our women and pillage our fields.
You, like crude black oil, suffocate our children. Stealing food from their mouths, roofs from over their heads.
Your henchmen hunt down our men. You and your ancestors are stained with the blood of those who have died under your rule.
You sink a fetid sink.
Our children have no respect for you. Our elders have lost faith.
But the shock Mr President, in all of this - the shock - you remain our President. Our Mr President. You remain at the helm of our ship and we are left in exasperation asking “Why?”, “but how!?” - arms flailing, bodies sagging.
I can just hear that ominous laugh. That hollow “he he he” - an omen of awful things to come.
See the thing is Mr President, that you underestimate us. The Guptas underestimate us too. You *think* you can win this game. You *think* that even if you “lose” you would have won. But you forget Mr President that freedom is in our blood. And the further you lay waste the country, the further you quash our freedoms the harder and stronger we will fight back.
You forget Mr President that we made a promise to protect that freedom as unborn children in our mothers wombs. When we heard the wailing for the dead, when we smelt the smoke in the air from the burning.
You forget Mr President that we are a nation of freedom fighters. Our blood fortified by the sacrifices of our forebears.
You forget Mr President who you are dealing with.
Saturday, January 14, 2017
I think birthdays are pretty darned awesome. And enormous. I think birthdays are pretty darned awesome and enormous. And not in a celebrate-your-pants-off kinda way. I think birthdays are awesome and enormous for your insides. Birthdays are a chance at rebirth, a chance to grasp a poignant moment in time and make it make a difference.
What better way to effect a positive, life-affirming, growth-inspiring life change than the day of your birth. Imagine the possibilites when each birthday becomes a rebirth, a chance to celebrate a year of re-life every single year? Imagine that’s a new you for every year of the rest of your life.
It’s like a youth cocktail, all wrapped up neatly with a bow and presented to you on your special day. Sprinkles or no. Cherry optional. And the best part is that you can chose to sip it or plug it as you please.
Can you hear it? The sweet sound of beckoning possibility. Alive with the electricity of “The Moment”.
Adieu.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Peanuts!
My fingers are in non-stop mode and if it wasn’t for the limb I seem to be missing my head would actually be screwed on while attempting some smidgen of intelligent thought. What possessed me to think that I could possibly mole myself away and write over Christmas (and New Year?) is beyond me. I must have been on crack. ‘But onwards’ they shout! And march on we will. I’m more determined than ever to hand in now. I’ve just bloody come too darned far.
One of the biggest motivators to get my handing-in ass into gear has been the birth of my mentor’s baby girl. Since the little one’s been born, I’ve had this need (this real, insatiable need) to visit mum and baby in Cape Town. After years and years (and years and years) of trying she has given birth to a beautiful bundle of joy. Alas, fate is cruel and the little one has a hole in her heart and is refusing to eat. I want to be with my mentor so badly I could start walking to CT. This last leg of my masters has really exhausted my pocket and well, reality is reality – I can’t get to CT on a honeyed smile and a bit of cleavage. Feeling the need to burn plastic and get on a plane to be with my dearest friend has been a kick in the backside to get moving with this thing – hand it in and get working. Hell, if it’s a job as a janitor in an NGO I’m there like a bear. Yogi hankers for a foot in the door.
My life has been consumed with my thesis recently. Why, this evening I passed up an opportunity to watch the pantomime with my bhai (brother’s) kiddios in favour of burrowing away in my room – not to mention the constant harp harp at the back of my mind successfully preventing me from engaging with my world in any sort of meaningful manner. That being said – the writing is flowing baby! As much as I’m finding it difficult to navigate being at home and writing up, it’s been equally wonderful sitting down at my comp – the words just flow. What a blooming pleasure! Over the past year I’ve had the good fortune to meet a number of people who have been so very influential in supporting me mentally through my journey and I’m seeing (like literally seeing) their advice ‘happening’. It’s a blessing to have these angels touch my life. I’ve met some at my parent’s health store, some in social settings and others in the field. At the moment I let go, an an angel drifted into my life to part the clouds – how can I ever be grateful enough for this divine presence?
I spent a week at the end of November in Grahamstown taking stock and plotting the trajectory for the final leg of my journey and my – was it a trip! Not only was I missing a limb again (although that experience was lemon and herb to this peri-peri), it was a whirlwind experience which really set my course of action straight for me. It’s amazing how much focus I managed to gain by simply meeting face to face and communicating. If my masters has taught me anything – it’s the importance – the value – the necessity – the sheer enormity (!) of communication. Part of this is letting go the fear. In my case, this would be letting go the fear of sounding like a dim-wit. It’s quite liberating I must say. Splaying yourself out, cringing at the thought of the ‘worst-case-scenario’ and then finally realising it’s not half as bad as you’d imagined it to be. After a few sessions in the tea room talking about my research and how much I’ve learnt, Robin is convinced that I’m in the ‘wrong’ profession – that I’m wasted on anthropology. According to the eldest Anthropod, I should be in stand-up. ;)
And so my friends it is on that note I bid you good night. May your dreams take you to your hearts desires and may your spirit work its magic to bring them to life.
Adieu…
Monday, November 14, 2011
Life has me on a roller-coaster and I must admit, for all the bloody reflexive introspective re-evaluating reality-checking crap that I consistently find myself doing (possibly the only consistent thing in my life at the moment) I still find time to put out a mat on the front lawn and sip a cup of ice tea as the sun goes down. I am pleased to say I have almost but mastered the art of smelling the roses. This weekend Ashish and I watched 'In Time' - a futuristic movie about time becoming the new currency and I really must admit, it hit a few sore spots. It's one thing taking a moment to sip a glass of ice tea as the sun goes down and it's a complete other to be the master of your time. As crazy as life has been over the past few months, I feel blessed to have the sense of mind to know that things can be different (read: calmer) and I have a say in that change. And so phase two begins. Bring on the calm.
I'm also well-chaffed to share with you that on the 11th of the 11th at 7something in the morning I became a Masi (aunt) for the second time. :) *yogi takes a bow. You may hold your applause now. The chatti (naming ceremony) is on Wednesday and I'm itching to see the little one - not to mention my cousin the new old mom. ;)
This whole time issue really has me going. On one end there is the constant need (necessity!) to deliver and on the other there is a strong inclination towards maintaining the organic'ness of life. I rate, it's far too often that we're sucked into involving ourselves in activities and tasks that sap us of life-force - which is (to add insult to injury) hardly appreciated at all. It's not that there is this burning desire to ensure that with every task you volunteer your liver for you get a complimentary mint and a 'Thank You' card, but just ever so simply - is it really essential to world peace that you exhaust yourself to a pithy? *ahem. I talk to myself now. *blush.
God and yogi willing, my next post will be a blah blah woohaa about reaching the end of my thesis writing. By then I hope to be super organised, super cool and super relaxed.
Adieu dear friends...
Thursday, April 28, 2011
and so the journey continues…
to grahamstown they say! as my quest to complete my masters continues i find myself being continually drawn to new experiences. there seems to be a never-ending cycle of new happenings that repeatedly remind me of the precious lessons learnt at lonavala – the most precious of which – WAIT AND WATCH!
and can the girl be patient already? yoh!
admin-wise, i have a new supervisor, a revamped project (continuing from the ‘old’ but with a fresh, more focused outlook) and second wind to ‘whack it’. i’ve declared 2011 as the ‘year of yogi’ and focus is the name of the game along with loads and loads of patience. boy, it’s not an easy lesson to learn and getting back on the tread-mill after yonks of laziness is well… a challenge. but i have faith! these lazy bones have loads of vooma in them and as the days pass and the more exposure i gain to the literature, i begin to see the links between what’s cutting ‘on the ground’ and the theory. my research aims to understand the search for the sacred within social context and already i see fireworks! i can’t wait to get started.
(are you feeling me on the patience thing?)
on the 27th of this month (wednesday) we celebrated freedom day in south africa (ironically my parent’s wedding anniversary too!) and the only thing on my mind was the plight of freedom seekers in the middle east (i use the term ‘seekers’ on purpose and not fighters – is freedom a thing that you flight for or is it something you seek out?) i shed tears of pure joy watching egyptians in tahrir square erupt in elation at the news of former president hosni mubarak’s resignation. what a thing to behold! can you imagine what drives a person to risk everything – everything – for the sake of freedom? as a south african (indeed as a young south african) i feel privileged to live in a country that has emerged from the horrors of an oppressive regime relatively unscathed. it breaks my heart to see our leaders wallow in past achievements – riding on the merit of their predecessors. this freedom our fathers have worked so hard to achieve will lay to waste should we perpetually refuse to engage with what it means to be free. yes, politically, we have the freedom to elect our own government and have equal say in the governing of our country. but what of the freedom to make choices of our own based on our own inclinations and not what economics (for example) force us to? here i look specifically to the poor and destitute of our country. having no option but to accept the low-level of healthcare in the public health system many end up as victims of their circumstance – trapped in a system that allows for very little if any breathing space with regards to their own health. they have no freedom to chose the way in which they are treated, the place or the time. in a capitalist economy, and in this specific instance – money truly can buy time!
anyway, i digress from my point. my point simply is that i believe that we (as members of a ‘free’ nation) are obligated to ourselves and the nation – indeed humankind – to begin to think about this whole thing called freedom and what it is to be free. i certainly don’t expect the average bloke on the street to start discussing foucault’s theories of freedom at the weekly poker game, but what i am saying is that i think the more we are aware of it – the more open we make ourselves to the idea of freedom, the closer we come to achieving it. if the door is open, surely at some point someone will walk in?
and there i stop. i must apologise for my almost ‘over-emotionalness’ but since mauritius – this whole notion of freedom has been getting me going… and what better place than a blog to let rip. ;)
adieu dearest ones…
Sunday, January 09, 2011
i’ve been out travelling again, sue me. :)
having refreshed my travel weary mind with loads of great sleep on my super awesome bed – i am bright eyed and bushy-tailed ready to tell the tales of my exciting travels in the motherland. india never fails to bring me to new experiences and this time – was no different! from the moment i landed, to the very last glimpses of mumbai through the itty-bitty windows of the airplane, i found myself gawping in amazement – at everything! this whole trip was as if i’d been in india for the first time.
i kid you not dear friends. i felt like a japanese tourist floating through the streets of mumbai with my camera glued to one hand and the other nervously clutching my hand-bag (a nasty side-effect from an unfortunate encounter with a wanna-be pick-pocketer). i gawp wide-eyed at the vegetable seller and the mounds of ruby red tomatoes piled up in front of him, at the spice-walla with heaps and heaps of red hot chillies forming explosive mountains in neat rows ahead of me, at the bangle vendor squatting on the floor selling colourful glass bangles bound together with string in flower-like patterns, at the chai-walla who serves me chai in a rather questionable looking glass (but i just close my eyes and sniff-up the aromatic beauty of the chai). yoh, the list goes on.
my reasons for going – twofold. the first being darshan’s wedding (darshan and i did a house-to-house student exchange with rotary in 2003) and the second, ayurvedic panchakarma treatment at a centre in lonvala. both were valuable and insightful experiences. darshan’s wedding was a window into another world for me. it was anthropology ‘in action’ – happening live. of all the wedding events and ‘happeningings’ my favourite was the baraat (the bridegroom’s procession to the wedding-hall). i danced like a wild-thing and pummeled all my excitement and happiness in that one hour through dance and laughter.
lonavala was a different kind of outlet (oh the pun, the pun!) basically, panchakarma treatment is cleansing the body of accumulated toxins through 5 different methods. although not all methods are employed simultaneously. sometimes, not even all 5 methods are used – which in my case was… thank god! (for more info go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panchakarma) so basically, there’s loads of purging, loads and loads and loads of purging – physically and mentally. however, i think the most valuable for me was the mental purging. in all fairness, there’s loads of gunk still flapping around, but my approach to the mental gunk has changed… drastically! i feel more mental equilibrium and balanced in my problem-solving approaches. lonavala has taught me that as much of a hero i think i am, there ain’t no way i’m climbing everest in one gainormous leap – it’s all baby steps honey. i feel refreshed, revitalized, recharged – ready and steady to face the year.
i’m reading eat pray love at the moment and feeling like i’m reading my biography. there is so much about the way gilbert feels and writes that echos me to me. what a joy! :) there’s so much comfort to be found in knowing that i’m not the only crack-pot floating the universe in search of meaningful experiences. however, i have to admit it’s not all roses and periwinkles. i do find the book rather self-indulgent and i’m really not sure if it’s going to go on my ‘re-read’ list. there are moments i’m inclined to abandon the book halfway, but in anticipation of the bali-kand (kand meaning chapter in sanskrit) of the book, i hang in there… waiting to love ;)
with all my warmest, heartfelt best wishes for 2011 i bid you adieu till next time…
Sunday, October 03, 2010
And boy, did ‘things’ happen! The universe sure takes this whole ‘school of life’ thing seriously!
Mauritius – the scenic island plonk in the middle of the Indian ocean was the chosen site for my life-learning this time around. Honestly, there is little to be said about Mauritius that hasn’t been said already. It’s the perfect combination of sea and surf – mountain and beach. Every sunset, every crashing wave, every rainbow (of which there are many!) – each a moment to cherish. I won’t bore you with a superlative overload on the beauty of the Island, but yes – it is everything it’s made out to be… and more.
The ‘and more’ comes loaded. Mauritius was not only a place to conduct interesting fieldwork, but a place of great learning and growing. As the organisational hurdles around me grew and seemed almost impossible to pass I grew increasingly aware of my ability to cope and manage the situation. When the seemingly impossible happens, it takes just a split-second to change your perspective on it… and in that moment – you become free.
Bounding, boundary-less through the vast expanse of the universe you discover yourself, your untapped energy becomes a source of inspiration to those around you. Your breath, slowly in slowly out, bringing with each exhale and every inhale a new life. Infusing every moment with the ‘something’ we all seek the, challenge draws you closer to yourself, acquainting you with the eternity that is ‘You’ – You become one, You are one.
The relationships I established, the lessons I learnt, indeed, each one of my experiences will be a part of me forever. But what remains to me the most important ‘take-away’ of all has been the acceptance of ‘universal play’ – the fact that no matter how well you may plan, the universe has a plan of its own! I relish in this play (even though it may be contrary to mine), I find joy in life’s twists and turns and no matter how many times my world is turned upside down – I return to myself, to rest, to calm, to peace, to happiness.
I begin the new path refreshed and washed clean of the muck of the past, holding those experiences which draw me closer close to my heart. None shall touch.
Adieu…
Monday, April 19, 2010
i’m using windows live writer to write and publish this post and i can’t tell you how excited i am about it! i’m back in the study game and all engines firing and ready to go. it’s incredible how fast time is flying by and as the deadlines draw closer i find myself more and more eager to rise to the challenge.
well… since my last post – i’ve been accepted to read for my masters at rhodes (i’m back!) and it’s been nothing short of a blessing. i’m home for a while now, just until the nitty gritties of my fieldwork are sorted out and then… i’m off to… mauritius! this whole experience – this opportunity has been like a gift from above! i’m being supervised by prof rose boswell (an expert in her field) and have the wonderful opportunity of working for the mauritian truth and justice commission. let me not give the full plot away! i’ll definitely keep you posted as ‘things’ develop!
on the ‘personal’ side of life… well… life carries on. there’s no doubt that it’s been a rollercoaster ride, but the adage – time heals all wounds seems more than apt. the universe constantly reminds me what’s important and necessary – it’s like a 24/7 lesson in learning to prioritise!
i’m going to leave it at that for now… i’ve an enormous pile of reading i need to wade through and my tummy’s trying to tell me something…
adieu!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
On the work front I’m ready to pull my eye-balls out. DEAD. That’s all. I’m going to have to change this mind-set fast or I’ll be in trouble. I’ve been late for work every day this week (and most of last too) and it’s not only because of traffic, I just can’t get out of the house in the morning and find myself procrastinating at every turn. Oof. The new year might bring a contract-renewal if the funds become available, but if I don’t find a way around the bordom – I’ve got one tough task on my hands till the end of Nov. That being said, the Uni atmosphere is electric. Some time ago, I had an argument with Ba and I just couldn’t focus on my work. I took a walk around campus (oo – remind me to tell you about the Jacaranda trees!), I did a bit of stretching - nothing doing. And then, in an epiphany, I went to the library and walked through the isles. That’s all. Just walked. I can’t tell you how soothing that was. Yeah – nerd – I know!! But this is just between you and me right?
The beautiful Jacaranda blossoms are almost all but gone. Pretoria is bathed in the most luxurious shade of purple and the ground is covered in a velvety carpet of purple blossoms. It’s really a sight to behold. As I come up the crest on Rigel Ave I get a picturesque view of the Union Buildings (our Administrative Hot-house) framed in an unmistakeable shade of purple. Everyday I curse myself for forgetting my camera at home, and the one day I do remember, it happens to be the cloudiest days. I have an idea - lets ditch the camera, let me paint a picture for you. Now close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Feel the rough, dark bark of the Jacaranda tree against your palms. Now tilt your head towards the heavens and open your eyes. Against the lucid blue of the sky, you see millions of purple bell-shaped flowers fluttering in the wind. Some of them gently floating down, falling onto your cheeks and in your hair. The dark, black bark of the tree is sturdy and its long fingers extend out dripping with hundreds of blossoms like thick, sweet honey oozing from every pore. All around you, the sounds of spring brighten the air and the scent of lush green grass teases your nostrils playfully. Today, nature smiles with you…
Friday, October 09, 2009
I’ve just returned from the airport after a fairly emotional farewell to a dear friend. Laxi finally received his visa and landed in South Africa on the 17th of September. It was a wonderful visit and I can only bow with thanks and gratitude to the universe for manifesting this long-long-overdue dream. Aside from the regular touristy stuff, L was just happy to get out of the little village of Mysore and into some ‘westernised society’. BRING ON THE PASTA!! Unfortunately, he missed his flight to Abidjan on the 2nd of October and so had to re-book for the next flight… Friday the 9th of October! In the meanwhile, any traveller’s worst nightmare happened. He fell sick. With a fever of over 40 for almost 3 days, I made a judgement call and on Monday, dragged his bum to hospital. He stayed in hospital for 2 days! Can you believe it! Apparently, an acute infection had taken over his system and decided to go AWOL at the most inappropriate time. But it has to have a happy ending – somewhat, and so, today, Friday the 9th of October, I tearfully bid an almost-ok Laxi good-bye. Not easy. I could see that he was not 100% ok, and yet I still let him go. What else to do in that situation? I think when you’re that ill, the best medicine is your family. I've never felt so inadequate in my life.
That being said, I feel incredibly peaceful and ok with how things have turned out. I am so blessed to have so many people who love me and support me that I have no choice but to succeed!! Laxi’s visit has taught me to balance the voice of reason and the song my heart sings. It’s an ongoing lesson and one that I will learn to learn! Step by step, moment by moment. But it’s a lesson that has given me the gift of my family. I can’t begin to explain how close we (Ba, Bapu and myself) have become. Our relationship has just mach 3’ed to a new level.
Aaah. Deep breath.
This weekend, I’ve managed to involve myself – however stupidly, in a Diwali show for the Gujerati School in Benoni. It’s not so much the helping out that I’m kicking myself about – it’s the dancing. I’m dancing in the finale with a few other ladies. I just don’t know what possessed me to agree! Aside from the time to attend practice sessions, I just don’t have the energy to pull this one off. And that too, while Laxi was here – and sick! Saturday is going to be an amazing test of my um… dance aptitude!!
That’s it from me for now…
Adieu…
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
WOW!!
Four words: Daksha Seth Dance Company
Forgive me, for the moment my entire vocabulary will only consist of the finite words the feeble use to describe the infinite. After a LOOOOOOOONG time, I’ve walked out of the dance theater feeling fantastic. Usually, the scene plays out thus: yogi books tickets for dance show (enthusiastically); yogi (enthusiastically) prepares to watch dance show – diarised (check), camera (check), me (check); (enthusiastically) yogi waddles off to watch dance show; yogi watches dance show (enraptured); yogi leaves dance show wowing at the art-work but crestfallen, blue and thwacking herself madly (wif her shoe) for leaving dance. Not this time! Not at all. Isha Sharvani is nothing short of out of this world in her dance. She literally has the audience eating out the palm of her hand and boy, does she know it. The one thing about a good dancer (apart from rehearse rehearse rehearse) is that elusive juju. Oozing with this mystic energy, the dancer draws the viewer (or rather – the participant observer) into the dancer’s world of passion, fun and ecstasy. Isha Sharvani SO has the juju. She’s loving what she does and there’s no stopping her. From the moment she puts her toe on stage, she’s oozing confidance and all eyes have no choice but to superglue themselves to her plastacine (sp?) body.
Ok, I could go on forever. In short – look out for the Daksha Seth Dance Company. They’re performing again tomorrow night at 8pm at Dance Factory in Newtown (Jozi).
I can’t leave out Shobhaa De from this post! Also as part of the festival, the literature fest ‘Words on Water’ saw Shobhaa De coming to S.A and dialoguing on a panel on Saturday. What a friggin treat yaar! Not only did I get to meet the fantastically fabulous, famous and infamous De, but I had a chance to chat with her too and really – what more could I ask for? Imagine sharing space with your muse. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and let yourself float… it’s something like that…
*pause…
Eargh, ok, I’m getting all soppy on you. Apologies. Good news, L has his visa and is (hopefully) getting his bums to S.A. If there’s anything else I can cross (fingers, toes, hair, legs, arms… can you cross your eyes?) please let me know – I need all the luck I can get. Shamrock anyone?
On the other end… I haven’t even told you (hai hai); I have started a new j-o-b! It’s a contract position at the University of Pretoria and I have one fancy ass title: Senior Administrative Assistant (in the Department of Community Engagement). I wasn’t even sure I qualified for junior and I’m senior already! Anyhoo, the job’s going good and time will tell if the contract moves to not-contract-and-more-permanent. The plus is that it’s in Community Engagement which is right up my alley-way and definitely in the direction I see myself moving in. The plus plus is that I see anthropology being applied sooo frequently (really means a lot to me) and the plus plus plus – I get my own office. Awesome! So ya, this is where yogi finds herself. Status quo.
Talking about work, it’s 10 past 30 and I’ve a 5:30am start tomorrow. Eargh. Not as bad as driving to Jozi though. Jesus loves me.
Sweet dreams and adieu dear ones…
:yogi
Monday, August 31, 2009
laxi's visa hasn't come through yet and it's not only exhausting but incredibly frustrating. it's been over a month now and our patience is wearing dangerously thin. i constantly feel that something is blocking our path - that something is preventing the full light from shining and i have no idea what to do about it.
i guess it boils down to keeping your nose to the grind-stone and keeping the faith. in the end, in the good 'ol end, it's the universe and only the universe that's real... it's only love that's real...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
all in all i feel that this year is off to a swimming start and i just feel that it has to get better from here - it just has to. laxi hasn't had any luck with his visa yet or with gaining any headway with getting here but i guess it's all about taking challenges in your stride and facing things as they come along. it's not been easy. i haven't been the most patient person or the most co-operative, but as time passes i'm learning the art of stepping back and observing.
life's thrown me some hectic stuff ths year and despite all the up-ing and down-ing it's been a year of great growth, adventure and learning for me.
dear god, please keep me sane but insane enough to love the ups and downs.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
There is silence. Nothing but deep, lonely silence. Silence.
There is a knock at my door. Through cracks and gaps in my previously airless room I see bright light pounding its way through the darkness. My God has not abandoned me. He has sent his messengers of light – the light, to remind me of my essential nature. I feel a tingling on my tear stained cheeks as my tired eyes struggle to adjust to the returning light. My bones begin to thaw and my heart sends pulses of warmth through my body. The darkest hour of night is just before dawn and as I prepare for its coming I feel anticipation, a hope growing within me.
Everything is going to be alright. The sun will shine again. You will learn to love again and life will breathe with love again.
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The above is written by an anonymous poet and I just had to share it with you!! Isn’t it just amazing!! There is something about poetry that just transports you to a different level – that allows you to explore the passages of your own understanding and I think that the poet has quite ‘hit-the-nail-on-the-head’.
So ya, long silence – I know but what to say, it’s been nothing short of hectic. Between balancing the shop and processing my trip to India (mentally, emotionally, spiritually), I feel I’ve been hit by a bus! Working with my parents has been a challenge I’ve welcomed with open arms. I feel that for this moment and in this space it is the best thing to do now. This is good for the here and now. Being in the present and being with what is has been nothing short of wonderful. For the first time in a long time I feel fully going with the flow which is great. That being said – it’s not that I don’t have my idiot moments, and lately there’ve been a hang of a lot of those. I wish there was something I could say to make all the time I’ve been an ass better. But the truth is that at the end of the day, they’re all excuses and I only have myself to deal with. Who do I look at when I look into the mirror? And I’ve been quite a freek of late make no mistake. It’s slow learning now. The hours pass into days and the days into weeks. And between all this I’m like a junkie for India. It’s just madness I tell ya. Just madness.
So um, ya hey. Wow – haven’t been that brutally honest in a while. It comes with the wanting to indulge in a cathartic mode. I feel the need to atone for my sins and I guess my blog confessional will simply have to do.
On the bright-side, I’ve passed my learner’s license for a motorbike!! Yaya!! How exciting hey! I miss my India scooty and although I’m not keen on a scooty per se in South Africa, there’s nevertheless a half a door open.
Two things happened today. Raksha Bandan – which was lovely being around and in-person to tie rakhee albeit oh-so very late! And for the how-many’ith time, acting like a complete git-wad with Laxi. For someone who has an endless Vapi well of patience I really do know how to screw things up well and solid. I’m sorry… I really am.
Happy Raksha Bandan everyone – hope the coming year is filled with love, light and plenty of happiness!!
With all my love
:yogi
(p.s. uploaded wildcave adventure pics to my picasa web album, check it out dude!)
Saturday, May 16, 2009
South Africa has greeted me with cold arms but a warm warm heart, and as much as I miss my beloved India, I am glad to be home. Somehow, I feel that this is the next logical step in the scheme of things. My intution sings to me in many voices and I feel completely protected and loved by the universal flow.
mm... ya, soppy - I know, but true nonetheless! My journey to India wasn't just a physical one, just short of sounding rather cliche - it was a soul journey or rather a life journey. India is always generous with her spiritual bounty and this trip was no exception. My time at the Krishnamurthy Foundation was not only about teaching English or business development. On a deeper level, a more inter-universal level, Kashi taught me how to live. In many ways (in retrospect) I feel like the boy Santiago from Paulo Coelho's magical Alchemist - the eternal student to the universe.
so ya, I find myself back home and... and... and... to be continued!
Monday, March 02, 2009
hahaha! maddess i know! what can i say about my khwaja (love)?? over and over i am called - no, pulled to her feet and this time to the sacred and special city of varanasi in the uttar pradesh province.
thankfully, i'm not plonk in the city itself... i'm on a 300 odd acre estate on the banks (literally) of the ever blessed Gangaji (i have a crystal clear view from my door). based in rajghat, the krishnamurthy foundation has warmly invited me into its arms and i've found myself in a haze - still trying to absorb this paradise. it's truely something else.
ok, enough foofy talk. here's a bit of history, varanasi is known by 3 names: kashi, benaras and varanasi. the ancient city of kashi is said to have been on the rajghat plateux (where i am) around the varuna river. the current location of the city is a more 'recent' development relatively speaking (considering that the history of kashi dates back more than several centuries). the name varanasi comes from the varuna and assi rivers between which varanasi lies. and the ganga-varuna confluence lies plonk in the middle of the krishnamurthy foundation grounds. i'm not going to go into the layout of the campus here cause it's rather complicated, but essentially, the krishnamurthy foundation consists of; the rural centre (where i am), rajghat besant school, study centre and vasanta college.
there are a few ways to reach varanasi city from rajghat, either by boat up gangaji (my FAVOURITE thing to do), auto rickshaw (indian standard), tempo (larger than a auto - seats about 10 plus) or walk!;) i really don't know what to say about varanasi city. truth be told, i'm still trying to get my head around it. in an sms to ba and bapu i said one word to describe Varanasi city... huh? :) it's just a mixture of everything - as people here say - it is india in one glance. i think the most alluring thing about varanasi is not so much the religious pull but the blatant paradoxes that stare you in the face. swamiji mentioned in one of our 'chats' that profound truths are paradox, and i think that the allure of varanasi is in this. there is really no telling what's in store. as shayur says - it's organised chaos. the traffic is MAD - dude, believe me when i say this - mumbai bangalore... they're kabootars (pidgeons)! it's amazing that one can get from a to b. and although there are traffic police around, there's this crazy rush to move at 20km/h!! aaah, how to describe the madness, even as i'm typing this words seem inadequate. on a completely different note, the pictures of varanasi are not 'just pictures'!! the sadhu babas, the pandits, they're all real - they're all here!! i think one of the nicest things is going up the ganga early in the morning or at dusk and simply observing the various rites and rituals - even morning p's and q's!! ;) i'm not going to go into my thoughts on gangaji and pavitra etc, but it's almost enlightening watching the variety of activities that take place at the shore. there's a simple beauty in observing.
ok, my fingers are tired. this keyboard is wack and i haven't been on a comp in ages! i will try keep in touch as often as i possibly can and try get some pics up too.
with love from kashi
:yogi
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
i'm 23. i'm 20 freeking 3 years old and i still can't tell my ass from my elbow! there's a silent amusement in the fact that i still enjoy (so-called) childish pleasures. my world lights up when i see the sound vibrations in a bowl of water, when i plunge my hand(s) into a bowl of rice or mung (or any bean/grain) or when i allow my paint brush free-reign on my canvas. the truth is i'm a modern day peter-pan. or rather - peter-pamela? the thought of growing up scares the living daylights out of me and i find myself at a point in my life where it's do or die time. lets be reasonable. choosing not to grow up wouldn't be the smartest idea right now, especially since i've had a taste of the perks of grown-up-life having lived on my own for some time. and yet, i find myself cringing at the thought of marriage, work, career, children, house - home, the white picket fence - aaagh, the list goes on. inevitably, it seems that the moment work and career is settled the next (so-called) logical step is marriage and thereafter children and thereafter their marriage and thereafter retirement - and here is where i stop!!! yes, i do realize, i'm making excuses, but i also am highly aware that phobia is beyond reason.
hi. my name is yogita (chorus: hi yogita).
and i'm afraid of growing up.
