A helicopter is hovering over a nearby area - probably the main road a kilometre or so from here, where things tend to happen more readily than in the suburbs. We're pretty close to a light aircraft airport, and often have small planes come past low over the hill we're on. Cape Town airport is half an hour's drive away, so jet planes are regulars as they take off or land. Old double-winged aircraft and Spitfires practice their show-stoppers over our valley before annual air shows.
Up until a few moments ago I didn't know why the sound of something in the sky makes me just a little bit scared. Thoughts of "are they coming for us", "under attack?" and similar non-sensical junk pops into my head un-asked-for. Strange.
Or not. I've just figured it out. I grew up during the war years in what was then Rhodesia. First years in a rural primary school were punctuated by "terr alarms" - the school siren rung loud and long, indicating we need to get into the classrooms, on the floor under the windows (can't be seen by terrorists there), or into a doorway/passage safe from mortar fire. As a 6 year old, sometimes the sound of the siren would terrify me so that I couldn't even move, and would have to be pulled along by a friend into the classroom. We were fortunately never attacked, not while I was there at least. But nevertheless, that's what school was like for me then.
Before school, we lived in Umtali (now Mutari), on the border with Mozambique. We missed all the excitement - the year before and the year after we were there the town was bombed out - but we did get our fair share of running for the bomb shelter (the mechanic's pit in the garage, covered over with corrugated zinc sheeting) and seeing/hearing bombs fly from just over the mountain. Walks in the hills would yield treasure-troves of spent magazines or individual bullets, and if you were lucky you'd find a still-live one.
In Gwelo (Gweru now), we lived near the airforce base, up on the only decent hill in town. At night we could watch the bombers circle. Again, bushwalks yielded bullets and other interesting war paraphanalia.
Trips to grandparents in South Africa were done in armed convoy to the border, surrounded by bristling armoured vehicles.
Our final stop-over was Harare, where we saw in Independence and the first years of Mugabe's rule. Peace, but still those memories of war lingered - in everyone's minds. Families we knew had lost loved ones during the war, and the scars are still there.
Is it any wonder that a low-flying fighter jet, practising its turns for an upcoming air show, makes me want to dive under the desk? That a hovering helicopter turns my insides to jelly? That I wonder where my child is, and if he's safe, if a small plane circles this area just a little too long?
Seems not. It's just a carry-over from the past.
At last night's school function, I ran into a few folk I haven't seen in a while. One of them was chatting to the garden lady (Sheila) I spoke to regarding "alternative" church a few weeks ago.
Well, I'd barely said "hi" when Sheila said, "I have someone else here for your church! Tell Margaret what you're thinking about." Very briefly I said something about church as a gathering around a meal every week instead of attending a building, but then time ran out and we had to get inside.
Thinking about it, there are at least 5 people interested in this gathering idea - and where 2 or 3 are gathered...well, you know how it goes!
So - we've got the people. But now what?
I've tried subtlely to siphon information off of those who have started house churches, informal gatherings and such, as to how we actually get going, but have basically drawn a blank - it "just happens". Yeah, but HOW? How do you get a conversation going that leads you into this informal gathering thing? What do you say to get people to meet together for the first time? How do you know who to invite, and why? Do we let them all rant for a few months, or do we start off as a social meal and hope it doesn't deteriorate into just a friendly outing instead of intentional being together to learn and grow?
So I'm a bit stuck on this one.
Later, as I waited for the school programme to start, it struck me that perhaps I'm here (as opposed to already in Australia) "for such a time as this". There are suddenly so many folk being drawn out of institutional structure, but now that they're drawn out, they're not sure why they have been or where to next. I have some ideas though! :) And perhaps I'm meant to be a catalyst for change in their (and my) lives. A magent to draw all these folk together - most of them don't know of the others, so feel very isolated and alone.
But again - how, is the big thing. Something I have to think hard about.
I guess we could be seen as an "emerging" group. The thing is, "emerging" is often seen as younger folk, disgruntled with an old system and getting out for something new and generationally-relevant. Whereas THIS particular group is very much out of that norm. Half of them are over 60! And that, to me, is very cool. It's not just a young person's thing - it's something that can meet needs from the youngest to the oldest, provided we can find a way to make it happen.
Yesterday's "Quest for Community" post? Well, "before you call I will answer" seems applicable, suddenly.
Now all we need to do is answer the How.
On Friday I scraped a few bucks together, told my son we were aiming for the cheap menu items, and headed down to our favourite family restaurant, the Spur at the mall.
We're regulars there on Fridays and paydays. I've eaten there since I was in high school - we'd order a large plate of chips and a drink each, and share the chips among however many we were, as "poor students".
My son has eaten there since he could chew solid food - his first taste of ice-cream was at the same Spur. When they put in a games area, he was in heaven!
Well, we ate frugally, and enjoyed our meal as usual, then requested the bill so we could rush off to the rest of the shopping.
However, our waiter (or "waitron" as they're called these days) came back to say, "The manager says the bill has been taken care of"!!!! Wow - am still blown away by that one a few days later!
It could be that we've qualified for our thousandth meal free, or that we're such regular customers that we've earned it, but I like to think that the manager did this out of the goodness of his heart - and for that I thank him!
So, all hail the Spur, and manager Brad. Long may they continue to feed our faces.
On the way back from the mall on Friday afternoon, we noticed this - an aeroplane of some sort circling behind our mountain, but leaving a trail that looked like a halo from our angle. It was actually above a distant mountain range, and as soon as we got a bit closer it was hidden by our lump of rock.
Oh for a zoom and a decent-resolution camera.... :) But it was pretty cool. Wonder how many other people on the road noticed it?
(the dot on the 2nd pic is dirt on the windscreen...)
So my son and I have been "stay at home Christians" for a couple of months now. Which basically means that we haven't been to church, unless things like a family visit or school chior appearance required it of us.
We've done OK, I think. We try to get in our own God-time, but it's been slacking off a bit in the past 2 months. Most days we just sit - me trying to get some reading in, and my son left to his own devices. Which at times bores him out of his skull. Other days I get up the inspiration to do something creative - like send him out to capture God in nature with the digital camera, then take a turn doing it myself. Back home we upload the pics and share where we saw God and why.
Yet... there's that community thing missing. We've been at home alone so long that we find ourselves VERY alone. Lonely. And although I can't bear to set foot in any one of the many churches around, I hear them singing and carrying on and a part of me wants in. I want the experience, but just don't want those particular people! I want to belong somewhere, or a part of me does.
It sounds strange, I know. And it's almost enough to get me back into pew-warming, but not quite.
There's still that part of me that won't tolerate mere pew-warming, t that refuses to take the easier road just because it is easier. That wants more than the church smiles and one hour each week of friendship.
My soul grates against artificiality, but the real stuff is tantalizingly out of reach. Perhaps my own fault, for refusing to settle for less.
You see, I have this image in my head of a long trestle table, covered in white cloth and set in a field of grass under huge trees. It's filled to the brim with family and friends, gathered around a simple yet hearty meal that lasts for hours and hours. The kids run through the grass when they've had their fill, and wander back when their stomachs need a top-up. There's a tyre swing over there, and a creek at the bottom of the field. Everyone is perched on a motly assortment of old chairs - each to his favourite one. Perhaps this is what the Great Feast in heaven looks like, but my image of it is right here on earth. Picture a country wedding celebration in Tuscany, and you might be close.
And with that image in my head, I cannot settle for anything less than a family-like experience. I'm tired of saying I'm OK, when I'm not, just because the asker is in a hurry. I'm fed up with the rushed pace of life that makes 2-minute post-church connections the only community you'll ever get. I dislike sitting behind a sea of heads facing forward, people I'll never know, who will never know me.
This weekend I really wanted to jump in the car and spend time with my family - hours and hours of just hanging out and being together. Unfortunately, everyone has a life and their schedule doesn't allow sudden family-urges.
But I want that - oh, how I want that. And if family isn't always available, surely community-family could be, should be?
I don't have a big circle of friends. I've always been a bit of a loner, and am not quite sure how to connect with others, even now. I was never part of the "in" crowd, I was always on the edge, a bit too quiet, too arty, too...whatever, to be included in the beautiful, sporty group. Those fingerprints from my growing years still mark my adulthood - and leave me on the outside of many groups. Although I get along with just about everyone, it's hard for me to pinpoint any friends I could just drop in on, or call up at 2 in the morning with an emergency. Then there's my dodgy car that may not make it there or back to visit anyone....
And because of this, I find myself on the outside of whatever community seems available. Whether the informal campus one, the church ones, the town one, the family afar one, or any others. Some of them seem so superficial - but perhaps once I'm "in" they wouldn't be. I dunno....
So I sit, unmoving, wishing and hoping that one day I'll be a part of something that feels warm and fuzzy. Stuck between the here (life in a rush, people on a schedule, hello's in passing, cars that jerk to a stop) and the maybe. Big chasm between, no apparent bridge.
I can see my son suffering in this. He's at the age where a few good male role models are desperately needed. His uncles he sees maybe once a month. That's all. Grandad over the sea, dad unknown (well, known about, but never met). Being part of a close community would be just wonderful for him. It would give him adults other than his not-always-there mom to model and learn from. Surrogate brothers and sisters to get along with (social skills!), and uncles/aunts grandparents aplenty. Or so I would hope.
I'm just rambling on here, I know (this post has been written over about 3 hours, so may seem more than a little disjointed). Most of you have left off reading at the header already. But this is something very big in my life that I'm struggling with, longing for, and unsure of how to find. What better place than a blog to try and work through it? Even if the questions are still there after I hit "publish post"...
This morning, it seems everyone does!
I arrived to a huge hoo-hah over a couple of students who turned up at a government office and verbally abused the lady responsible for renewing their visas... which I had to smooth over with her, though the students are currently deep in the brown stuff!
At the same time, many of our international students leave this week, but are still awaiting visa renewals - so that needs sorting out. We're trying to contact those sitting at home today to get their passports asap.
Then there are the various departments on my back for this and that, and other departments going at me about website updates. And yet I still have a rather large colour brochure and 100+ page yearbook to design, check, and get to the printer.
Today my son's school has their annual awards evening - a prelude to the end of classes and the school year on Wednesday. I'm expected to be there, but also drop by the school to examine all class work and chat with the teacher today.
At this point I'd like nothing better than to lock my office and go home - but that is unfortunately not an option.
Feeling a bit like I've been attacked by a gang of hyenas! :)
(image from here)
God's creation speaks deeply to me through the trust of birds and beasts as I sit and ponder Him. Every week one particular turtle dove joins me outside, settling down to sleep on a nearby fence pole while I read and think in the garden. It trusts me enough not to need to keep one eye open. It knows I won't harm it.
Early each morning a female bullbull stops by for her bird bath. She jumps right in, even if I'm a mere metre away from her. She knows I'm not dangerous.
The tiny fieldmouse who lives in the daisy bush comes out for seed near me, unafraid of even my quicker movements.
But many of our animal and bird neighbours on this planet are scared of those whom God put in charge of their wellbeing. They fly or flee when we come near, scared that we might harm them. Many of us will.
I can't wait for the day that the lion and lamb lie down together. I look forward to sharing a lasting trust with my fellow creatures, learning from their ways and restoring that relationship we used to have with the animals given to our care.
(Photo taken at Butterfly World - which houses about 10 different varieties of butterflies, and allows one to wander among them - this seethrough-winged butterfly is perched on my son's none-too-clean toes. It was one of a cloud of butterflies used to human presence, and thus trusting of the people who stopped by. Wild ones won't do that as easily....)
(via a news email)
London - A hotel is offering any couple called Mary and Joseph a free night's stay over the Christmas period.
Travelodge bosses say they are trying to make up for the hotel industry not having any rooms left on Christmas Eve, all those years ago.
Sandy Leckie Manager at Covent Garden Travelodge said: "We are more than happy to welcome any Mary and Joseph couples into our hotel; it's definitely more comfortable than a stable. I just hope they don't bring their donkey!"
To claim their free night's stay, Mary and Joseph couples have to prove their identity. - Ananova.com
You know that kinda tickly jumpy feeling you get inside when you think of something that almost scares you or makes you nervous? I've got that, every time I consider what the near future may hold.
I'm talking visa issues.
If the guy in my dad's church pulls off getting our visa approved (and it could be in the next few weeks, or early next year), life will change very quickly and in very big ways. And it scares me. I've just gotten used to the idea that I can settle here permanently, actually start saving cash next year instead of living near our credit limit just to survive and eat each month, and get a business going while living near enough to family that we can see each other regularly. And all that can change in just about an instant!
I do have to admit I've been getting almost fed-up with work these days. I get these times when I want out, want change - but can't quite picture what that would be like. It's an OK-ish rut I'm in here, especially considering my constant internet access and being left alone to do my own thing. Heck, I don't even have an official job description! We've never gotten around to drawing one up, in spite of the fact that I've been at it for 2 years already. I can basically create my own job, do what I see fit, and no-one bothers me. My office falls under so many others that everyone just about leaves me alone to get on with it. Nice.
It's also pretty comfy living where I do. It's quite safe - my son runs around the campus or stays home alone during the holidays, with no problems. If he goes to friends he doesn't bother locking the door, and all our stuff is still there when he gets home (maybe thanks to a couple of barky dogs in residence). It's almost like living on a farm, except that friends and things are just down the road. Not every kid gets to grow up like this.
I know where my cash is coming from, and how much it is each month. I know what expenses I have and I know what to plan for in the future.
And it could all change.
I would have to find a new job, work my way up from the bottom, be a stranger and a foreigner, be expected to turn up each week at my dad's church (they want me to lead worship there, but it's not a good idea at this point in my journey! I don't even know if I'd be able to attend at the moment), be under scrutiny by my parents as I raise my son, have to make new friends and find new schools and learn my way around a place that's only snapshots in my head right now. Because I'd have to sell everything I possess just to afford our tickets and moving the piano and a few packing boxes, I would once again have to start a household, a life, from scratch. I thought I'd finished struggling already, but it would all begin again.
I know there might be many positives to moving. My son misses his grandparents desperately, and having my dad there as a "father figure" in this critical stage of development would be ideal. It would be fun to explore a new country and learn how to live there, to have a clean slate to start friendships and a new life from, and a chance to fulfil a few dreams I can't here.
But when I think that we might have to move, the negatives crowd in and overwhelm me. I know we could give it a try and return here if it doesn't work out after a few years, but it's still terrifying. Paralysing, almost.
Which is why I have to focus on leaving this in the hands of God, the Australian government and the guy who is pleading our case. If He wants it to work out, I'm sure He'll give me strength to do what I have to, to make a success of a new life. If He DOESN'T want it to work out, then I guess I'll know about it pretty soon.
You know that saying, "If you worry, you die - if you don't worry, you still die - so why worry?"
Time to put it into practice! :)
The dark cloud of "don't want to be there" descended on me as a walked down the hill to work this morning. A carry over from yesterday's sucky day and 2 weeks of solid under-pressure hard work. It tends to happen around this time of year, the busiest time for me while others are slowing down bit by bit. The college empties out after graduation next weekend, leaving peace and quiet for those of us who stay on to keep the wheels turning.
I'm trying to blow that dark cloud away today. I've got some calming music from the Dreamcatcher album playing, drowning out stress-inducing noises. I plan to leave early (with permission) to go climb under my car and fix the alternator, add water & oil and try get the bonnet opening cable fixed before we head to town today. I'm focusing on doing work I enjoy as far as possible while here - creative stuff, learning curve stuff (I taught myself how to use CorelDraw in half an hour to produce a brochure on Tuesday... Flash is next!).
All in the hope that I can stay sane today.
I can't believe it's Friday already. It seems like the last one was just yesterday, but a whole week has gone in the meantime. I don't know where!
This weekend I'm really looking forward to my Sabbath rest. We have no plans to do anything other than just Be for the day - and I'll be getting an afternoon nap in too, unlike last week. It's not going to be the warmest of days, but I will be spending most of it outdoors in my yard or somewhere on the mountain slopes. I won't be reading or meditating on anything heavy, nor will I be entertaining anyone (which tends to send me into frantic activity of cleaning and cooking and making sure guests are well cared for). It's just going to be me, my son and the dogs, spending time together in rest and stillness.
If I can make it through the morning....
It's been a completely sucky day. I got cr**pd on by a student, had to moan at a department head and have been up to the eyeballs in urgent work.
Thankfully it's payday - and that means I'm now taking my afternoon off, eating lunch at our favourite family restaurant and spending a few hours wandering the mall. The way the day's gone, I aim to come home with an entire bar of dark choc just for me and eat it in secret.
TGI-a-F!
Up to a few minutes ago the slope of lawn outside my office was dotted with bright, happy dandelion flowers, nodding gently in the breeze and adding a welcome splash of colour. Birds swooped in to peck at invisible insects between their stems, chattering in fowl-talk about the treasures they found.
And then garden services arrived.....
Was wondering the other day, what if countries decided not to require so much red tape for someone to move in or out of their borders? What if they opened them up and let people be where they wanted to be?
This, surprisingly, has nothing to do with my move to Australia, but rather to do with a recent media item on refugees and "illegals" in South Africa, who have fled their homeland to try and make a living here, even though it's a very tough thing to do. They face years of attempting to get something, anything, out of our Department of Home Affairs, and spend that time working illegally, living illegally, and hoping they won't be sent back to the country they've fled.
Last week's NavyNCIS dealt with a similar issue, a guy who had lived in the USA for many years, never obtained permanent residence, and was sent back to a country he didn't know with no family or support to sink or swim.
A hundred or more years back, moving continents was as simple as packing up your sea chest, buying a one-way ticket, braving the seas in a small boat and then settling in the land of your choice. That's how many of our ancestors arrived where they did, and it worked then (if you ignore them kicking out the locals etc. of course).
Not so nowadays. You first have to apply for visas and passports and documents and such before you even plan your travels, and they're generally stamped with a time limit.
But what if we just opened up our borders?
Some would say "the economy would collapse", but in many cases it's the illegals who work the hardest, trying to either earn their keep or make a success of their new lives. We might see major migrations of people from war-torn and drought-riddled areas, but that may give those areas a chance to recover peace, economy or ecology. Allowing people to live in your country legally, work and contribute, may boost the economy and enable them to either live in peace and safety permanently, or one day return to their original country with more to offer.
Sure, the Nigerian drug lords might move in, but they're around anyway! Crime? - perhaps allowing for people to work without restrictions would cut that, as much crime is committed in desperation.
I guess there are a number of other issues such as voting rights etc that would be stumbling blocks to the government, but I wonder what could really be so bad about relaxing the restrictions on people-movement. The world certainly wouldn't come to an end! It might even become a better place....
Or it could just be that I'm REALLY naive! :)
(Painting above is "Migration" by Malaquias Montoya)
I could do with a few hour's extra sleep today. I stayed up to watch the 3-hour Survivor finale last night, which ended after 11 (WAY past my bedtime!). My son did too. (He's off sick today after throwing up early this morning - has had a bad throat/chest all week)
Amber and Rob - weird... She didn't look terribly excited at either the million or the engagement, but perhaps that's how she is. I'm just glad Rob didn't win (though he's got his hands on the money via matrimony anyway), and that Rupert got a nice fat cheque. He deserved it, he's super!
I enjoyed seeing the "best of" clips. I've only watched the last 2 runs of Survivor, so picked up stuff I hadn't caught before. And who knew Jeff was a ordained minister? That's plain freaky! :)
Next week one of my favourite reality shows starts up again - Amazing Race. Looking forward to that one. I'm not really one for reality TV of the back-stabbing, using and abusing variety. Rather give me something like Eco-Challenge, where the contestants have to work hard for their prize.
But we'll probably be glued to our TVs again when the next Survivor arrives (wonder if they'll run into any cannibals) ...sigh... addicts all are we.
PS One fun thing last night was a series of ads, specifically made for this last episode, putting 2 "cartoon characters" into a South African version of "Saliva" on a traffic island, and giving them tasks such as crossing the busy road for a mielie (maize ready-cooked, sold by the side of the road), or making it around the entire island alive in a taxi (notorious for bad driving, unroadworthiness and numerous accidents). They finally voted Jeff off the traffic island... :)
My upstairs neighbours were at it again when I left for work this morning. Yelling at each other. It's become a regular thing lately, first thing in the morning - it used to just be on weekends.
My parents have never fought like that. I can't remember them fighting at all in fact! Mom DID lock herself in the bathroom once long ago when my dad had been teasing her a bit too much, but that's about it. We were never shouted at as kids either, and to this day I find it hard to fight with someone verbally. I'd rather just shut up.
Perhaps other marriages are different. Maybe shouting at your spouse is normal and natural. To me it seems very disrespectful though. I don't think I could take that at all! I'd probably walk away if my spouse started yelling in my face, and tell him to talk to me with respect when he's calmed down - which, if he hasn't grown up in the type of family I have, might make things worse, come to think of it...
I dunno though. Maybe yelling is good for you. Gets all that stuff out instead of letting it seethe inside for a while and turn you bitter. It's just not me.
'Tis the season once again, and the local road guys are gearing up for the usual festive-season carnage on South African roads. The news last night stated that 12,000 road deaths occur in our country every year. Yes, TWELVE THOUSAND!
A few years ago I was nearly a statistic. The car at right is what I was in. It was around 11 at night, and I was on my way home from an alumnus function in Cape Town. My only exit from the function was into a road that had a blind-rise bridge on one side and a blind corner on the other. Needless to say, I was pretty cautious trying to get out into the road, and even pulled back to let one guy turn into my road. When I was sure it was safe, not a car in sight, I pulled out.
Unfortunately, a drunk guy in a new BMW (4,000km on the clock) had chosen that night to speed. He came around the blind corner extremely fast, and too late for me to pull back - I was already across his lane and turning into mine. He slammed straight into the side of me, aiming for my hip and hitting it directly. I don't remember the impact, only thinking "oh boy, here comes an accident" as his lights approached.
My seat was pushed right over the gearstick by the impact, the dashboard bent into a rainbow shape. My seatbelt held, but somehow a shoe came off. I was knocked out for a few minutes and didn't see a lady who came over the blind-rise bridge and nearly added to the accident! She had a cellphone with her and I managed to call my dad, still stuck fast in the car, when I came to.
He didn't know how serious the accident was, or that I called him while trapped, only that I was going to be taken to a nearby hospital, and he would come see me the next day. I was lucky in that a friend was just down the road. He was able to manage the accident scene until the ambulance turned up, fighting off two tow-trucks who wanted to tow the car with me still in it to their respective places of business (vultures!).
It took a while to get me out. The door wouldn't budge or bend, so they moved me over the seat and through the back passenger door on a back-board. Something inside me had broken in the process, they weren't sure what, so I was fitted with a neck brace and moved carefully.
When they discovered a child seat in the back, they panicked. There was no sign of the child! But in one of my more lucid moments I managed to tell them he was safe at home with my parents.
However, the staff at the hospital were not as careful or considerate. I had to twist this way and that for them to get an x-ray with a static machine - if my lower back had been broken it may have permanently severed those nerves!
The x-rays showed a badly-cracked pelvis, but the broken "tailbone" only showed months later at a doctor's re-examination. I was made to move while nurses changed bedding, telling me to suck it up because I had nothing broken, but all the time being in awful pain.
I was moved to a hospital nearer to home the next day - again the night staff were a nightmare, but the day staff were great. It took months for me to recover, and still today there's a twinge in my pelvis at times. I find it hard to sit on the ground (at picnics and beaches) or on hard surfaces. I've lost my absolutely supple lower back that used to do backbends right over without bending the knees.
And no, the drunk driver was never charged. At that time it was not compulsory to take a breathalyzer test at the scene - you could do it 2 days later at the police station. No statement was taken from me, all that was written down was the few words "he was going VERY fast!" that I uttered as they tried to get me out the car.
Thankfully, I was not a statistic.
I could have been two years ago when nearly wiped out on a blind rise by a 4x4 towing a caravan and headed home to Gauteng, but avoided that one by the skin of my teeth.
I was lucky. I still am. Many are not.
If you are planning to drive anywhere this festive season, do so responsibly, sober, with care for others. Please, before there are more statistics.
This week could be one that takes it out of me completely. I spent a good deal of yesterday in deadline mode, trying to complete some rather complicated yet creative work within the alloted hours of the day.
At times I have an urge to close my office door, but I cannot - there are too many people who need to connect during the day. I find it frustrating having to constantly stop, help, then regather my thoughts to push on with the project I'm completing.
Yet there are full stops during the day, and a few comma's too.
I had a call from a good friend I hadn't heard from in many months, who has had a lot of intense stuff going on in her life. I've finally convinced my son that I will be taking a "me, myself and I" day next week, spending time on my own to gather my soul into one place (with thankfully an unexpected day's leave suddenly due!). I spent time outdoors watering my ever-sprouting veggie garden, watching birds and talking to dogs.
It's those little punctuation marks in the day that make the difference between coping and caving. I'm using them to the fullest, milking them for all they're worth.
I'm blessed to work in a semi-rural environment. This college campus was built on a farm industry and still has a lot of blank land. Right next to my office building is a herb garden strewn with roses and good-smelling things. I can take a quick break to stroll the pathways. If you're quiet, you often get to see a little fieldmouse or lizard in the greenery.
I'm listening to Eden's Bridge in my one-person office. I can glance out the window and watch one of a pair of eagles soar. Those are punctuation points in my day.
In spite of the noise of cleaners and copiers, in spite of voices and vehicles, there is still calm if you look for it.
Kevin Sites, the reporter who filmed the now infamous mosque shooting in Fallujah, has posted his story from that day on his blog here. It's worth a read, if only to acknowledge the inner anguish of a reporter responsible for showing the world both sides of the story.
"Church Candles, Incense may damage lungs".
And you thought you'd revive those ancient candle-lighting/incense things at this week's gathering? Hmmm....
It's raining and I left my umbrella at home. I plan to walk home barefoot through all the puddles at lunchtime. Rain is just fun water falling from the sky, and not something to huddle-run through.
Ever have one of those periods of time where your thoughts never really seem to reach a conclusion? One of those "must think more about this" or "I'd like to go deeper into this" times?
I seem to be doing that constantly these days! I read something and want to be able to sit and let it penetrate, or investigate it further, but before I know it my mind's rushed on to other things. I start to plan something like a sewing or woodwork project, but just as I'm going to formulate a on-paper plan, it evaporates like mist in the sun and I'm onto the next subject.
It may just be a result of the rushed life I lead, of having too much to do in the hours I'm allotted, of having my fingers in too many flavours of pie instead of sticking to just one. It seems I'm constantly on a schedule, pushing ahead to something I have to do in the future, and not letting this minute, this moment be lived completely.
It's been hard for me to let thoughts and ideas just flow until they reach wherever they're going - and that's perhaps why I've found art and imagination and creation hard to do in recent years. I get a half-formed picture in my head, but it never gets time to develop into what it really can be before it's crushed.
Half-formed thoughts don't make for good blogging either. I wonder if my rambling here is even worth it most days. It's random stuff, nothing profound or perhaps even worth reading, except to me. Now and then a spark of inspiration glows so strongly that it refuses to die until it's a full-bodied fire. But that's pretty rare.
I'm trying to take the time to think, to let my head ramble on until there's a full-stop. It's hard to do - I'm constantly bombarded by information and images and new ideas that threaten to overtake what's mine.
I may need to give up blogging and reading blogs for a while for this to really work...and yet often I find my thoughts echoed and taken to another level by someone wiser than myself, who can clearly express the stuff turning over in their head.
So here I remain, caught between the half-formed and those who form things better than I do, longing for the brain-space to let ideas expand until they become passions. Perhaps my mind needs a good defragment! :)
I know, I know - you're probably getting pretty tired of hearing about my Roots, but bear with me for one more post (and I'll try not to say too much more in the future).
Yet again I caught up with the British "Songs of Praise" programme over the weekend, where they interviewed a guy who runs a Celtic retreat and makes Cumbrian harps (suddenly I want to learn to play the harp!).
I've longed for a time/place of retreat for ages, but it's almost impossible for me as a single parent with no family/friends/babysitters nearby to take time off and go away on my lonesome for a few days. Just wouldn't work, which is why I take mini-retreats in solitude and silence wherever I can find them - for a few minutes outside in the garden, during my bathtime, while walking the mountain. That's about all I'm likely to find right now, so it's Quality instead of Quantity time, I'm afraid!
But "retreat" can also be a lifestyle. For years I've drawn on an inner pool of calm in times of stress, a pool that I take time out to refill when I can, one that drought can't get at, but which can be emptied by too much rushing and not enough sitting.
And although I don't know too much about it, there is a stirring in my heart when I hear talk of Celtic spiritual practices and lifestyle.
It's those Roots again - my DNA programmed toward hints of my ancestry.
This week, when time allows, I'm going to try learn more about my Celtic roots, especially in the area of living spiritually. (I have this urge to build a standing-stones place and celebrate seasons, but that's a whole different story! :) I could have had a Druid or two in the family a long time ago for all I know.) I want to investigate what it is that draws my soul toward this, and if it may be a way for me to get out of a place of desolation and learn to truly Be in a better and more real way.
I know many who have rediscovered the old practices and ways of learning, praying, living that the Celts did. I find the prayers and practices beautiful, those that I know about at least.
So this week is research week - once I've finished off the gigantic to-do list waiting for me this Monday morning.
My sister-in-law has a birthday tomorrow, and we're all off to the nature reserve for a 30-strong picnic! I'm in charge of 2 trays of choc brownies, one of which I'm going to try something new with..if they give me permission! :)
Trouble is, after 2 weeks of hot and dry weather, there's a cold front moving in - and rain is expected in the evening tomorrow. In the Cape that could mean rain from morning to evening, or rain in the morning, or rain here and there throughout the day, or no rain at all. One never knows. But we're hoping for the final one - no rain, at least while we're sitting on the grass and munching goodies.
Next job is to find her a small gift this afternoon - I gave her a gift subscription to a great magazine a while back as an early present, but would like to give her something small tomorrow too. Gives us all the more reason to wonder the entire mall this afternoon, searching in all our favourite shops! :)
Tomorrow I also get to see my nephew again for the first time in a month ahd a half - cool! I really love being an aunt.
But I've also suddenly realized my birthday is a mere few weeks away, and I've planned absolutely nothing to celebrate it. I'm still not sure if I should, but have learnt (from my son's parties) that the more people you have around the more gifts you get! :) Yeah, sounds bad, but who doesn't love getting things. Last year I ended up with loads of lovely goodies. This year I'm suddenly short on regular friends, so am not sure if I should invite those I haven't seen in a while, or just do nothing. We'll see.
Can't believe the year's nearly gone already!
It's one of those on-again, off-again things - yet again!
As many of you know, a while back I applied for migration to Australia, but they refused thanks to not accepting my proof of skills in Afrikaans - the only thing keeping us back.
Well, a guy in my dad's church (with connections!) has taken up my cause and has been lobbying his local government officials to let me in. This morning I had to send him all the correspondence I have with them, and my CV, so he can take things further.
Just when I thought I was all settled in my life here, was getting things going and finally starting to LIVE instead of just survive - yet again there's a chance we may move.
It's scary stuff. And I'm really tired of living in limbo. I've done it for too many years, struggled for too many years, and I know what I'm in for if we move, or if we stay.
I left it in the hands of Him Upstairs a long time ago. It's still there. I'm not going to stress over this - but I have received news that my case is now being handled by another agent, and they're going to take a fresh look at it, to be processed in a few weeks. Whoah...!
I'm not sure if I should ask for prayer on this one, of if there's already a plan in motion one way or the other that prayer won't change. Just keep me in your thoughts, OK?
I've been woken up every morning for the past 2 weeks at 5:30 by one of my dogs, who comes in and literally tries to whine the covers off of me with nose-thrusting and high-pitched "get up" squealing. I usually let them out (to go chase the inevitable guinea-fowl eating bird food on the lawn), leave the door open and return to bed until my alarm goes off at 6:20.
But this morning was one morning too many.
"OK, Lord, I get it - I'm up!" He must be waking me up every morning for a reason.
This morning I dressed and took the dogs for a quick walk along the mountain contours. Tried to get the boy to join us, but he didn't want to. Yeah, I know it's probably not "safe" to go on my own, but my dogs can get vicious if someone tries to grab me, and there are enough other folk and their dogs out walking that if I fall and break something, someone will be along soon to help.
At 5:30 it's light, and by 6 the sun is up and making the forest glow. There's a great view from the mountain slopes over False Bay, and in the cool of the morning all the birds are out and about. It was a great way to start the day!
Because I was up so early, I had time to do the dishes, and eat watermelon in the sun, and have a large breakfast (amazing how hungry you get after some early exercise - now I know how farmers get those gigantic farmer's breakfasts down...), and potter around the garden a bit.
This may, just maybe, become a regular thing. For my wobbly bits sake it needs to... :)
Was reading the Bible last night, just before bed, and a thought struck me - they usually do around that hour:
If we should read the Bible as narrative instead of follow it "religiously", does it matter what translation we use? Does it matter if it's not strictly accurate, or is expanded, or is written in the vernacular?
"Internet junkies, take heart: Microsoft chairman Bill Gates receives four million emails daily - most of them spam - and is probably the most "spammed" person in the world."
- from here.
I used to be a real tomboy. I've got the scars to prove it - all over the place!
There's one on my knee. I fell while running across a rough-tar road in Umtali (Mutari as it is now). Blood abounded, but now all that's left is a white mark on my knee.
There's another between my thumb and index finger on my right hand - I was carving away at a piece of soapstone when the chisel slipped and gouged into my hand. I still have the stone I was carving into a pendant.
There are a few round ones on my legs - leftovers from a plague of boils after a climate change from Zimbabwe to South Africa. At one time I had 42 of the painful things all over my thighs and torso.
There's one on the side of my knee. I tried to step off a moving train as it pulled to a stop at the station, stepped off with the wrong foot and landed in a heap - in front of an entire carriage full of nice young men. Horribly embarrassing! :) When I touch that scar I feel it centimetres away thanks to some interesting nerve damage in the area.
There's one on the back of my right hand - burnt against the stove while removing a tray of brownies a few years ago.
There is a different kind of scar on my stomach - a single stretch mark from bearing my son.
Each of these has their story, their memory - and most of the memories are good.
But I bear interior scars too, and they are often still painful. Scars from words flung at me that tore into my heart. Scars from rejection. Scars from failed relationships. Scars from bad experiences with church. Scars from lessons learnt growing up. You can't see them, and yet they too have stories and memories attached. Sometimes a nerve in them is touched and the pain is back - dulled a little with time, but still there.
These kinds of scars are very hard to get over. There's no bandage to apply, nothing to staunch the flow of blood when they're accidently re-opened. No stitches will pull their edges together and no soothing ointment can be applied.
Yet I do bear some of them with pride. They are battle-scars, indicators of my learning and growing and maturing. They may still hurt, but they've helped to form the person I am today. Even if they hurt.
Earlier this week I pondered my British/Viking/Himalayan roots, and how there seems to be a genetic personality that underlies what I enjoy.
Yes, those are my roots, but for over a hundred years, my roots have also plunged deep into African soil. My ancestors arrived with the 1820 settlers, and have basically not left the continent since.
My father's family was raised in Rhodesia (southern & northern, as the work decreed). Mom's family hung around Southern Africa.
Once you've lived in Africa, even just for a short while, the dust settles into your feet and you can't shake it. Forever your soul beats with its rythms and basks in its heat (unless you're in the Cape where your soul is more likely to shiver in the cold and be blown away by the south-easter wind....).
When I think of leaving this continent to wander as a stranger on another, it feels like I'd be leaving home. Home always has its problems and family members don't get along sometimes, but it's still home.
Growing up in Zimbabwe, the sound of cicadas and the dust-seared heat between thorn trees still sits on me like a familiar blanket, one well-worn and loved. Devil-thorns may prick at my soles as I wander this land, but its contours are as familiar to me as the ridges on my fingertips.
Those African roots are found in the way I talk (mixing Afrikaans and English with words from other home languages, all in the same sentance). They're found in the landscapes I seek out when my mind needs a holiday. They're found in my love of vast spaces and wild things.
I may have been "transplanted" here from a European heritage long ago, but this is where my roots have their nourishment.
It being Spring in this part of the world, I've been attempting to spring-clean. My computer.
A while back I discovered that something was creating multiple pop-ups of the worst stuff you could imagine, much of which our SurfControl programme blocked, but quite a bit of which came through anyway. It was really, really irritating to have to constantly close windows and pop-ups when browsing, and it slowed down my "computer experience" considerably.
Talking to our computer guy, I found out it was likely a result of spyware, and not the fault of the pages I visited. So off I went on a mission to find this spyware and get rid of it!
One programme searched my hard-drive and found all sorts of things, but then directed me to websites to get rid of them. I ended up with 24 pages of "things to delete" in various directories and registries. What a mission!
Until yesterday. I downloaded a nifty little thing called Spybot Search & Destroy. The licence agreement alone was worth reading for it's humour! :) And once installed, it quickly scanned things, listed the nasties, and then deleted them one by one. Awesome! (The programme also has a blind-users feature, so has really been created for everyone)
I now have a little "resident" that will alert me to anything trying to install and request further action. Very, very cool. And nothing has popped up unexpectedly since.
I almost have this urge to send the creator of the programme a big box of chocolates! But all he asks for in his licence agreement is prayer for him and his special lady. So, prayer it is.
Putting yourself in another's shoes can be hard on the soul. Since my post yesterday on Fallujah/Sudan, graphic images on the news and deeply disturbing reports all over the internet about these and so many other situations, I've felt my inner being dragged down into the dark and cold of a place without hope.
I'm lucky in that this place exists only in my head - I'm not living it. In fact I'm living a peaceful dream compared to many! I can afford to take delight in sudden rain after days of heat, in a small vocal bird singing joyfully in the birdbath at lunchtime, in the scent of moist earth seeping through my office window. If I want to go outside I can do so in safety, I have food in my cupboards and in my belly, and my health is pretty good. I can even afford to carry excess fat, having had more than enough to eat in recent months and years. I'm not starving, or thirsty, or cowering in fear.
And yet today my soul seeks beauty to balance the ugliness. I want to grab images of peace and serenity and let them soak deep into me - listen to wind and birdsong and let it banish the echoes of sorrow. I want to sit and bask in the shadow of my mountains, feel the cool green grass between my toes.
In the last few hours of this day, I'm going to refocus on the good and the lovely. Wash my hands of the grime and the ash. Throw off the soul-dragging hurt for others less fortunate than myself.
No, I will not forget them.
But for my soul's sake, it's time to immerse myself in the lovely.
YBLOG ZA (Mike Golby - who has more clear opinions on things than I ever dare to voice!) posted a link to a freelance reporter's blog - they guy "running with the Marines" in Fallujah.
Want to know what's really going on? Kevin Sites is there, and reporting.
Want to hear the entire new U2 album? You can - here! Legally!
via BrokenMasterpieces
Just wanted to put some blogs "out there" that I've been reading/exploring recently:
Thin Spaces - Darren writes of his journey in God's calling, and recently of an amazing spritual retreat.
fattyowl - John is a cool dude from Perth with a wacky sense of humour.
It's Not A Place - Glenn's exploring the church as something other than a place.
Kitch'n'Zinc - Brian "used to be a chef, but he's OK now". Great commentary from Cape Town on food stuff, with some good recipes and food hints thrown in too.
MilkFusion - Chris ponders simple church, and a while back linked to the scariest thing I've ever seen, which I didn't dare post on my blog for fear of causing multiple heart attacks around the world.
So I Go - the ongoing story of Jesus on a Harley, and one person's encounter with Him.
Sonrie - Josue is an SDA pastor of Spanish heritage, serving in the USA, and full of the joy of life!
Tagebusch - Kendra and her husband are in the process of adopting a Korean baby. It's not easy!
Stop by a few of these if you have time!
The past few days have given us a taste of what summer might have in store. Temperatures have hovered around 30C in the day, and 20C at night. In the breathless heat one tosses and turns in the dark, hoping the electric fan going full-blast will move enough air to cool the entire house.
Dogs wander around restlessly all night, panting and unable to find a cool, comfortable place - either on the bed or under the desk. Birds awaken early to eat and drink before the sunlight appears and they are left open-beaked in scraps of shade.
And then this morning, very early, repreive came in the form of high grey clouds rushing over from the north. Too high for rain, but they cover the sun in a cool blanket.
We stood outside in our pyjamas and breathed in quenching moist air.
Which way to turn? So many voices call out "this is the way"!
Voices for emerging and organic church, voices for institutional and denominational church. Voices pro-war and anti-war. Voices for big business and voices for local small business. Voices for a return to ancient traditions, voices for a change to something completely new. Voices saying go, voices saying stay. Voices urging work, voices urging leisure. Voices shouting environment, and voices shouting development. Voices saying be more conservative, and voices saying be more open-minded.
Voices that call loudly, and sound right, and leave you torn between two paths.
Too many voices.
Local media recently carried the story of baby Ryan. He was found barely alive, 2 days old, dumped into a drain. The lady who found him took him to the hospital where they managed to save his life and get him back to good health. He has now been put in foster care. (Just in, an update - the woman who "found" the baby was his mother, who dumped him in the first place!)
Stories like these make me weep. Especially since becoming a mom (prior to which I didn't much care for kids).
Who in their right mind throws a baby away?
We've all heard of the dumpster babies, the abandoned ones, the children who live on the streets rather than face what's at "home". There's an organization in Johannesburg that has a "baby post-box" - a special, safe, heated place for people to place an unwanted baby, instead of throwing it away. An alarm rings inside if an infant is placed in the box, so the folk in charge can go get it immediately, no questions asked, and take care of it.
There are children found in long-drop toilets - babies who have been born to a young mother who took a "toilet break" in the middle of her final high school exams, to go give birth. Young girls too terrified and overwhelmed to do anything else than leave the baby where it emerged from its safe and warm world into the harshest one a child should never have to face.
Morning news reported South Africa has horribly high rates of rape and wife-beating. That a woman or child is raped once every minute. For many this is the life they know - that of terror and pain and never-ending hell.
But the children - oh the children! Who in their right mind does such damage to a little one, to one who should be living with wide-eyed wonder and joy, playing without a care - not dumped or abandoned or neglected or abused.
I used to wish, when I read of an abandoned baby, that whoever had thrown it away would rather come drop it at my doorstep. I would surely give it the love and life they couldn't, cherish it as a heaven-granted treasure. Of course no-one ever has. I used to pray that God would somehow let me take on all the abandoned kids one day in heaven, give them a parent. Of course we're not even sure if that's how heaven works. But I used to pray anyway.
Too often the malignant evil in society shows up in how we treat our children. No respect for the God-given creations around us translates into no respect for the human blessings He bestows. They, like the planet we live on, the air we breathe, the throw-away society we support, are disposable, a possession, ours to do with as we wish with no consideration for how our actions ripple into the future.
So my heart bleeds as child after child is forced to face a harsh reality they don't deserve, feel emotions they should never feel, and hurt like they never should.
Oh Lord, help us save the children!
The last episode of Joan of Arcadia aired here on Sunday night. Right near the end something her mom said struck me:
"In your life you get periods of Consolation, and periods of Desolation. Consolation is when life goes smoothly, God is near and you know where you're headed. Desolation is a time of emptiness, when God draws away and you don't know what the future will hold." (briefly summarized)
Her dad asks how long Desolation lasts. She says "as long as it takes".
-----------
Sometimes it feels like I've been in a place of Desolation for a very, very long time. I can remember those times of Consolation - like the good old days, full of golden light and warm happiness. I'd like them back, but there's nothing I can do to get there on my own.
My only consolation (scuse the pun) is that Desolation isn't forever, unless you make it so yourself and turn away from the Light.
And that's what gives me hope.
While waiting for my usual magazine programme on TV this weekend, I happend to browse through to the end of a very charismatic church service on another channel.
You know - the part when people are healed of diseases, fall down by being breathed on, or start shaking uncontrollably.
Now, I grew up in a really conservative church environment, where moving during a song might be construed as "inappropriate" - even if you were just scratching an itch! :) So this kind of thing is not at all what I'm used to. I'm still rather skeptical and suspicious, and as such watch these goings-on as an "outside observer".
As the healings and casting-outs were happening, the camera panned the audience (packed) and the overflow outside (packed), focusing in on a few faces here and there. Most were rapt with attention, watching expectantly as events up front unfolded.
Thousands of people all waiting.
I wondered what they expected, why they came. Did they want to feel an overpowering spirit move deep inside them? Were they searching for some proof in their souls that God was there? Did they bring someone, hoping to find healing? Were they there for the "show", to see a real live miracle? Were they there because they genuinely belived, or because this was a Big Name in Faith Healing circles? What did they think they would get out of being there?
On another channel a leader in a traditional African religion was speaking about how he incorporated both the ancestors and God in his baptism. A white woman had gone through the "system" and was being baptized in a stream, along with a few black women. As they were dipped into the water they started to shake, cry out. They crawled out of the stream, up in the mud and threw a "demon come out!" fit on the dry grass. The pastor, left in the river, started to shake uncontrollably, his eyes rolled back to white, and he went into a trance.
Again, something I'm not used to, and as such a bit suspicious of...
They interviewed the white woman afterwards, who said she felt "something strong" happening, her demons were cast out at baptism, and now she feels more connected to the black than the white culture. She's heading toward leadership within that tradition.
I wonder what she went into that seeking - something deeply spiritual, or something else? Was she prepared for what she would find? Did she expect to fall down and grovel in the mud at baptism?
I wonder...
Was watching the news a night or so back, and they had a quick report on progress in Fallujah.
They had a few seconds shot of a US soldier saying they were going systematically from building to building, making each street a "kill zone". My mind heard it and moved on.
And then stopped.
A "KILL ZONE"???? Why didn't that immediately bother the heck out of me? These guys are systematically going door-to-door and killing. Other humans. Their own species. And no-one bats and eyelid.
Yesterday I was randomly blog-browsing and found someone who HAS batted an eyelid. Killing bugs him, just as it bugs me. I don't feel so alone anymore.
I'm sure there are many who feel this complete and utter annihilation of a city is justified. Many want all the terrorists dead, no matter what it takes. But I can't help but feel for the side-effects. An entire city wiped out? Come on! What about the other residents? The ones whose homes are demolished or gutted or have unplanned views through massive holes in the walls? What about the children fleeing in terror at the arrival of these scary men bristling with weapons?
What's left when they leave? Nothing? A ghost town of crumbling buildings and destroyed lives?
Yes, I'm aware of the home-made prison cells, of the emaciated men and corpes they found. Yes, I'm sure they're terrified of the terrorists and wish to eliminate them before being eliminated themselves (you have only to watch any post-9/11 American programme such as NavyNCIS, Sue Thomas FBEye or CSI to learn that Americans are scared/suspicious of anything that comes from the Middle-East and have only one enemy - Bin Laden - with apologies in advance to any American who may now be seething at me, but that's the impression the rest of us get).
But still....
We've become so mind-numbed by the images that flicker on our screens, lulled into acceptance of atrocious acts by leaders who say "it's all for the best, go back to sleep now", hardened by too, too many pictures of nations destroyed, kids maimed, thousands abused and hurt and left to fend for themselves (Sudan's only one of these). New images of more war, more violence, leave us cold. It's just a picture on a screen - it's as real as the movies.
Sometimes the newsreader will say "the images in this next report may be disturbing to sensitive viewers" - yet strangely I'm not disturbed. Shouldn't we ALL be sensitive viewers? Shouldn't these things bug the heck out of us, reduce us to tears, shred our hearts?
Shouldn't we care?
::update::
And then there was this.
I'm a regular inhabitant of a local shop that sells discounted magazines and books nearby. Every Friday I check in to see if there's something new and cheap - to add to an ever-growing collection of home and garden magazines, otherwise known a "wish books".
One of the ones I always look for is the UK Country Living magazine. I'd love to subscribe, but it costs nearly a thousand bucks with our meagre currency! So I stick to the leftover outdated ones, at 10 bucks each - by the time summer rolls around here, we get the summer issues from there. I've found that I tend to gravitate toward the UK versions of magazines, instead of the ones from the USA or elsewhere.
Perhaps it has something to do with my roots.
My ancestors came from England. My gran is of Irish descent - Ireland is still one of the countries I'd LOVE to visit! They were all either sea-faring men or tillers of the soil. One ancestor (going by the surname Burgoyne) managed to somehow lose the battle of Saratoga...! My grandparents on mom's side still farm. My uncle on dad's side does too. Most of the relatives are more comfortable in the country than cities, and their careers reflect this, from mining dynamite expert to top botanist.
Further back, my ancestors were Vikings, and even further back, we're descended from a tribe in the Himalayas (another place I'd love to see!).
All of these have filtered down through the centuries to create who I am today - a lover of soil and nature, a seeker of adventure and high mountains, a soul who feels drawn to ancient forests and the English countryside (though I can do without the weather there).
When I'm paging through the latest Country Living treasure, all too often I find my soul longing for some of the places that are portrayed. I love the mix of old and new furnishings, the sense of history in flagstoned kitchen and ancient Aga, the jumble of meadow mixed plants in gardens, the tactile wools and silks and cottons, the worn wooden floors. I suspect that it has something to do with my roots.
This weekend I picked up the British "Songs of Praise" programme while randomly browsing the box during breakfast. There was something there that appealed to me too, that spoke to my very fibre. It was broadcast from Scarborough, and I felt as if I knew that place in my bones.
The Viking in me loves the lochs and mountains of Norway and Sweden - they feel like home. The Himalayan in me finds a soul-home in mountains that kiss the skies and valleys that plunge into dark shadow.
The farming stock in me yearns for earth under my nails and delights in the daily growth of my veggie garden. Late yesterday afternoon my son and I sat quietly on our verandah, watching bullbulls in the bird bath throwing up delights of spray, starlings arguing over telephone-line space, and examining new spiderwebs on his cactus collection. Roots - they show themselves regularly.
The only roots that don't pop up in me are the seafaring ones. Perhaps my ancestors had more than enough of the waves and the "woman in each port" (can you imagine what my family tree looks like?!), prefering after generations to settle in Cornwall and get on with working the land. Great-Great-Grandfather Green had a castle there, and there is a Bain-Bridge spanning a small stream in one village. Or maybe the seafaring stuff skipped me and went to my brothers, who love to surf.
I've always enjoyed delving into the past to see what produced me, what patterns emerge and how family resemblance cuts across continents and generations. I love the stories the old folk tell - ones I want to capture before they're forever lost.
Roots. Deeply rooted. Even if I'm not always aware of them.
I suspect I'm not the only one with an over-active imagination when it comes to imagining the worst-case scenario. This weekend it happened again.
I got a call late Saturday afternoon from a collegue, alerting me to the fact that while I was away a request had been made that infringed on "my" territory. Not much detail, but that's all it took for my mind to go into top bad-reaction gear.
I spent much of the weekend plotting out a plan to deal with it, even thought of resigning that part of my territory (if he can do it better, let him!), imagining the worst of the people who had done the stepping.
This morning I was on edge, stroppy with my poor son (who forgot the sunblock and is badly burnt after a day in the pool), anxious to get here and moan at a few people. I wasn't looking forward to the day (including the catering I'm doing later this afternoon).
Got here, did one moan, met with another person, and of course it wasn't quite as bad as it seemed. The problem may, in fact, disappear completely due to lack of finances! Unfortunately in the meantime I may have gotten a person or two's days off to not a good start by telling them what was going on. One staff member came past and asked what was up - everyone was so on edge (not only with this problem, but many more) that you could cut the air with a knife!
It may have something to do with the final push toward exams and year-end here, everyone running around like chickens without heads, or it could just be the Monday blues.
I'm just glad that my imagination's fears weren't realized. (And if, by some chance, they later are - well, I've thought it through so thoroughly that I have a plan!:) )
I'm back, the exam went well (except that I couldn't for the life of me remember what a "piconet" is...), the weekend was good, I have a few things to blog about - but first I have to sort out a few Very Big Problems at work and stamps out some Raging Fires that lit themselves as soon as I locked the office door on Wednesday afternoon.
This blog space not yet for sale....
Yes, I know it's mid-week, but this is where my blogging for the week ends as I go off to write my exam, so here's an early wish for peace and refreshment this Sabbath.
Are girls allowed to drool over cars? If so, I want one of these - a Bugatti Veyron, worth a mere 8 million of our bucks (1 million Euros).
Anyone care to loan me a sugar-daddy for Christmas???? I just KNOW I'd look good in that!
The glass guys have a good thing going! Not only are they friendly, efficient and quick, but they go the extra mile (vacuuming all that glass I couldn't get to, washing ALL my windows etc) - AND they have a deal with the next-door coffee shop. While you wait, you're entitled to one free soft drink or coffee! Nice...
So, while I waited, I plonked my substantial behind onto a seat in the wonderful little courtyard at the back of the coffee shop. You'd never say it's right on a busy main road. It's been enclosed and paved with stone and tiny plant, there are little birds that stop by, hanging out on the birdfeeder, in the trees or along the water feature. From the road, you'd never know this little haven existed - but now I know, and I'll be back.
With a bit of extra time to spare, I headed down the road to Cheese With Charles, a small boutique cheese shop that doesn't seem to get many customers. They stock locally-produced cheeses in amazing varieties, with home-made jams and stuff too. I sucked up my frugal tendancies and bought a minute slice of Goat Gouda - at R110 per kilo a tiny slice is all I'm willing to go for. It's got a wonderfully creamy smooth taste, slightly cheddary, and is very white. Get me a goat or so, and I'll make my own! I was, in a past life, a cheesemaker, and I don't think I've lost my touch.
The window was done pretty quickly, but I wasn't going to head back to work for 10 mintues before lunchtime, so I made a quick stop at the fish & chips shop for "slap chips" ("slup" as in "sloppy", also known as nice thick french-fries, South African style) for lunch, and another in-and-out stop at the fabric shop. My sis-in-law has ordered cerise throw-cushions for Christmas, which I need to find fabric for.
Got home a few minutes early - enough time to hang out in the garden, deadhead a few roses, pull a few weeds and enjoy the view before the child arrived home from school.
I quite enjoy shopping for windows!
(but the garden services guys owe me R350 - the excess that insurance doesn't cover)
While the garden services lady was here (apologizing), she mentioned how nice and tanned I look. I told her it's all thanks to church, and then got to explain how I spend my "church" time out on my lawn, filling my eyes with nature and my heart with refreshment.
She has left the same group I did a few years ago, she also feels that angst and frustration if asked to return, and is still feeling guilty about not being there (I'm past that, thankfully!). She's not the only one. A lot of people have just quietly drifted away, and are not sure what to do next.
The church group has recently been on at me to get back there, to start leading out in various things again, or to meet up with them here and there. I just can't - not now. There are too many memories that press down on me with that group, making it physically hard to even enter the building or sit down with my old cell group.
And it's the same story with the garden lady (we call her "Tannie Blommetjie", or aunty flower, roughly translated). It's the same story with many, many others.
I mentioned to her my thoughts of starting a home "church" group that meets weekly around a meal, just to pray and be together. She says if it happens she'll be there with bells on! And so will others, I suspect.
I'd love to dive in and gather these lost and wandering folk into a collective group of lost and wandering seeking folk, but the time is not right yet. I have a very empty spiritual tank (seems to have a leak somewhere) that's taking a very long time to fill up to a level where I can share with others. It may take a while still.
But conversation, talking about where we're at and what our souls crave, is a beginning point - one to work from. We're talking. We'll see if we get walking one of these days.
I'm living in the future today, well aware that I have a few very specific time limits and deadlines to meet. Things like dropping off 7 nicely-decorated and delicious cakes at a certain time, getting my car down to the glass guys at a certain time (garden services has just come by to apologize...), getting home for lunch at a certain time, making sure I finish quite a few things before I go off on study/exam leave for the rest of the week. There's this constant inner push to "go, go, go!", leaving me no time to just Be.
I used to thrive on days like this, but perhaps I'm getting old. I'm not into rushing around on a work-related adrenalin high anymore, and would much prefer to do things at whatever pace my body feels like at that specific moment. I used to thrive on stress, but now it wears me out.
It may also have something to do with my urge in recent years to try and simplify my life - to get rid of the non-essentials and leave me more time/energy for the stuff I truly enjoy.
Simplifying, initially, is pretty hard work! It's not enough just to stop doing something, but it sometimes takes effort to put a simpler routine or way of doing something into effect. It takes a while for it to become a lifestyle too.
I'm looking forward to the end of this week, when deadlines are not so pressing, when studies and exams are out of the way, when orders are filled and delivered, and I can take time out just to Be once more.
I usually try to catch a news update while downing breakfast each morning, but this morning when I tuned in, there was no news - only reality TV!
The team were broadcasting from the Kruger National Park, and showing a live rhino darting for relocation (beamed to the whole of Africa via SABC Africa's channel). The helicopter had managed to get the animal very close to where they were before darting it, and as it was checked, injected, blood taken etc the anchor was able to find out exactly what was going on and why, live.
Another helicopter hovered nearby, with a live feed of events from the air. It was a pretty quick process - the rhino was darted, checked and loaded within 15 minutes.
Now THAT'S good reality TV! So much better than back-stabbing survivors, weirdo fear factors and bruised & bleeding eco-adventurers.
What a continent!
My son has just phoned to say I'd better come home quickly! This is what I found when I got there:
Garden services had been by, and although they're barred from touching anything INSIDE my fenced yard (they mow down tender plants like you wouldn't believe...), they usually do the outside bits - and this time the guy managed to throw up a stone, which then broke my car window. Great. 660 bucks worth of damage...
Needless to say I'm pretty peeved. But it seems they'll have to pay any excess after insurance has (hopefully) covered the rest. We'll see....
What a lovely end to the day! :)
Blogging ain't happening here easily this week. It's one of those too much to do and not much to think about ones.
I spent 4 1/2 hours baking last night, filling a huge order for 7 large slab cakes (I can only bake 2 at a time), due to be iced tonight. That's what happens when you both have a full-time day job and are trying to get another career/business off the ground. Bribery has gotten my son to help - he gets a small share of the profits, seeing he's always going on about needing cash. He'll get to be creative (under guidance) tonight with the toppings.
Work is a bit of a rush, thanks to Thurs/Fri off this week for study and exam leave. Colleagues are irritable - the academic year is drawing to a close and there's a lot to get done, with little hope of a bonus thanks to dodgy finances this year.
So it's nose to grindstone, both here and at home this week. Back to better blogging another day.
Taken while walking the mountain slopes this weekend. What a superb back yard to have! :)
Or perhaps I just need some time out on my own.
It's been about 2 years since I went out on my own, without the kid attached. The last time was supposedly for a "blind" date - made more blind by the fact that the guy didn't turn up. You'd think I would have taken the gap and gone to do something interesting, but I'm at that stage where all my friends are either married with kids or married with kids. I couldn't think of anyone I could call up to say "hey, let's do something", anyone that might be available, and I sure as heck wasn't about to hang out on my own in some bar or something. So I went home and watched TV with my dogs. Geez, I'm interesting... :)
This weekend I started wearing thin. I was hoping for some alone time on Sabbath, but didn't get it. Did get a long walk with dogs and kid up the mountain, but no alone time. Actually, I lie - I did get 2 hours almost-uninterrupted afternoon nap, and totally conked out for the entire time! By late afternoon though I was cranky, not into another night in front of the box, sitting home alone with the kid, and tired of hearing "I'm bored!". For lack of something better to do we went to eat out.
I was supposed to go Christmas-shopping alone on Sunday - no luck, the kid insisted on coming with. I thought we could make it work, BUT not only did we irritate each other ("why can't I have my present now?", "I'm tired", etc.), but I got no actual Christmas shopping done! Next time...
I still need some alone time. Very soon.
It would be easier if there were a husband to tell "take over, I'm going out" - but there isn't, and for that I'm generally thankful. It would be easier if my babysitter hadn't moved 40 minutes' drive away. It would be easier if family lived closer. But there you have it, I'm stuck in a rut, left to cope solo.
Pity party? You bet!
It's one of those days at work where I don't want to be bothered - and one where everyone is bothering me. My need to get out and be on my own is spilling over into office hours in a big way. I nearly followed my boss's example of disappearing for a few hours, but suffer from an over-inflated sense of duty, so have stuck it out - for now.
I'm looking for solutions - trying to figure out how to get at least one day/night a year to myself. Yet I know that when I'm on my own I'll be wondering how the kid is doing. Great. It's a bit of a vicious circle, this parenting thing.
I guess I do have a bit of a holiday coming up this week - a day's study leave and a day's exam leave - though that can hardly count as "holiday"! Next time off is around Christmas. Gotta make the most of that when it arrives.
In the meantime it feels like my tolerance tank is running toward empty, my nerves are on edge and I'm likely to snap at innocent bystanders. Not a good thing when I'm supposed to be the first point of contact for potential students!
OK, rant over. Back to work, or an appearance thereof.
(...and there goes my boss, leaving for the rest of the day, shortly after lunchtime. Lucky bugger.)
I was baptized at age 14 or so, and as was customary, was required to repeat a baptisimal vow, a copy of which I was given after the service.
I've just found a link to those vows on the net, and in re-reading them I realize there are a couple of things that I actually don't agree to now, that I probably did agree to then.
Does this constitute breaking a vow? A vow made as a 14-year-old who may not have known better, or whose path has headed in an unexpected direction since?
When do vows become "obsolete"? DO they ever? If not, I'm in trouble! :)
Got a lot of half-formed potential blog posts drifting around this blonde brain, but nothing's managed to make it to the surface. Sorry if you came here seeking something profound...!
I'll be back when the cockroach's cork touches the shore.
Day by day, dear Lord,
of thee three things I pray
to see thee more clearly
love thee more dearly
follow thee more nearly
day by day
It's going to be really hard to resist the "spending" temptation this weekend. Sure, I have the usual week's groceries to go buy, but we'll also be exploring the new section of mall (it's HUGE now!), another just-built shop area, and stopping by a part we don't usually visit to get some equipment for my business.
On top of that, I'm doing all my Christmas shopping on Sunday...
Lord, grant me the brains to realize my credit limit is not limitless
To buy only what is needed and not everything my eye desires
And the wisdom to know the difference
- the shopper's prayer... :)
I had a long chat with my little brother this week about starting up my business. You see, I've got a huge order for next week, and wasn't sure how to charge for labour. Well I learnt a lot from that brother - not only about pricing, but how to get my products out there, how to determine my market and a whole lot more.
But there is one thing that we definitely differ on. I'm starting my business with a layer of underlying ethics like these:
* Wherever possible, ingredients and products are locally-sourced, natural or organic.
* Only recycled paper will be used for packaging, and a deposit returned for any packaging handed back for re-use or recycling.
* 10% of sales will go to charity - which one to be determined on a monthly basis, as needs arise.
* If I need help to create packaging (such as gift baskets) or fill orders, I will try to involve those who could do with work as much as possible - local unemployed folk for example.
* Any imports will be free-trade, organic, or environmentally responsible.
Whereas my brother's business is cash-flow based. Which is probably why his turnover is gigantic and he can afford things I can't even dream of.
I don't know that there's a right or a wrong to the different ways we approach our businesses. Mine is a result of years of learning, of a passion for good change and making a difference. His is a result of his really good business sense and filling a market gap effectively.
His business may make a lot more money in the end. But I'll feel happier with mine knowing it's built on these ethics.
At the end of watching both Navy NCIS and CSI last night, I started to suspect I might maybe have a thing for older men.
Not older as in my ex-sugar-daddy (Frans "Vloog" Theron, aged around 60 now I think) (long story!), or older as in the 82-year-old guy who proposed after I met him at Christmas lunch in Australia (and who is now 90!) - but older as in distinguishedly-greying, mature but not turning sour, sorta 40-something. Like the two guys who head up the investigative teams in these programmes. (I also have a thing for that kind of programme, but that's a whole other story...)
Which of course got me worried. WHY do I like these guys? What's so attractive about them? Am I nuts????
After some hurried soul-searching I've come to the conclusion that it's because they are old enough to know what they want, aren't just out for a "skirt", are settled and comfortable with the lives they have (well, the lives they portray on the box anyway), and are out of the stages that seem to affect men younger than they are and drive us women to insanity. Sure, there are some lovely other young guys on these programmes - that I don't deny! - but the older guys stand out as being different.
So there you have it. My secret obsession with slightly-older men. Shudder...
Lionfish asked over the weekend what I do with my weekly Sabbath, so here goes with the promised post!
My Sabbath activities (or lack of them) are deeply rooted in what I believe about the Sabbath and the 10 commandments, but that's fodder for an entirely different post. A quick "summary" though is that I believe those 10 commandments to be relevent from creation until this planet ends (perhaps beyond), and as such they form the basis for my values and way of life - including keeping a weekly Sabbath, on the 7th day (Saturday), from sunset Friday to sunset Saturday. For me, "keep it holy" means a focus shift from things of this world, the hassles of every-day existence, toward the God who cares for and rules it all. (Just as the other 9 matter - not killing, keeping marriage sacred, respect for God and His name, etc. - so does this one, in my opinion) Sabbath confirms/celebrates I am God-created and reminds me of the eternal rest to come.
So - on to what I actually do.
Friday night is a special "talk night" for my son and I. When the sun hits the horizon, the TV goes off, the candles go on, and we spend time together. We'll draw a bit, talk a bit, listen to some of our favourite music, discuss the week or stuff that's on our minds, and usually end up in bed around 10. Often I find myself exhausted after the week's exertions, so an earlier night is a good thing if we can manage it.
Sabbath morning is sleep-in time. When we still were regulars at church on a Sabbath, it involved getting up and getting dressed in our church clothes, then rushing off to church. But we're on a church break and learning curve, so have made Sabbath truly a day of rest - including bunking any church activities! :) (Even while attending and being involved in another church that met on Sunday, Sabbath was still a spritual day of rest for me - if you're involved in doing church, you'll know why you might need another day off for a Sabbath!)
However, having said that, we do spend some family God-time together - talking over something spiritual, or taking a nature walk to see what surprises He has in store for us, heading up the mountain with the dogs, or down to the beach to enjoy nature. I don't shop on the Sabbath (we get Friday afternoon off, so I do my shopping etc then), but I will haul out the cash if we need to pay to get into the nature reserve, or stop for something to drink on our "travels". Hey, I'm not COMPLETELY legalistic about what to do and what not to do! :) But I do try to avoid "doing my business" on the Sabbath - doing things that I could just as easily do on another day and that may make me lose my God-focus or rest experience.
I try to spend some time during the morning in solitude and silence (usaully the time when my son is in the bath). During the week I print out things to read, to challenge my thinking, to inspire, and this silent alone time is when I do so. If it's a good day, you'll find me out on my lawn in the sun - see last week's post on what happens when "church" goes overtime.... :) - if it's bad weather, I'm in a quiet place indoors.
Sabbath is also an opportunity to get together over an extended meal with family and friends. My nearest family is a half-hour's drive from here, and Sabbath gives us the time to make the effort to get together without other schedule pressures. I guess the Sabbath midday meal is somewhat like your traditional "Sunday lunch" with all the trimmings - we tend to bring out the special stuff, make food that is rather more fancy than what we'd do in the week etc. Generally over-eat too....
Sabbath afternoon is a great time for a nap, if we're not being sociable (and especially after aforementioned food!). After all, Sabbath is a "day of rest!". :) It's a time for my body to catch up with my soul and be refreshed.
Often my son and I will watch a nature or similar video - my mother has taped LOADS of cool stuff for us, like the BBC documentaries and some Aussie programmes, and every now and then I get an urge to worship in my lounge along with one of my Hillsong videos. If there's a nature programme on TV we might watch that too. But we do try to switch off the media completely and give our minds a break from bombardment for this one day a week.
Late afternoon, as the sun sinks toward the west, you might find us outside watching creation wind down toward night. We're nature nuts, both of us, and love looking for the little things around us. We'll close the Sabbath hours the same way we open them - with a short time in prayer.
I've been thinking along the lines of getting involved in community service on a Sabbath in the near future. Joining others in helping folk who need it, or cleaning up a stream or field, or hanging out at an old age home with some lonely ancients, or working on a community garden in the squatter camps (informal settlements). For now though, Sabbath is giving me space to get my inner life back on track, to re-find a passion for service and God so that I will be able to truly give with a whole heart later on.
I can't do without my weekly Sabbath. It's like taking a deep breath of fresh country air after months in the grime of a city. At the end of it my soul is refreshed, my body ready to tackle the stressors of the new week. I've learnt and made connections with God and others, I've found a new aspect in my ongoing spiritual journey, or I've just had time to stop and Be for a while.
It truly is a blessing!
My collegue has been off with a hurt ankle (fell of a step at gym on Monday night) for the past 2 days. She's back.
And it's only now that I've noticed just how much noise is generated from that office. The clique gathers there for half an hour in the morning, talking loudly, laughing, carrying on as if there's no tomorrow. Certain equally-loud students pop in constantly (how does she ever get any work done?), as do a couple extra-loud staff members.
I don't know why noise is bothering me so much lately. Maybe it's because I've had a lot of "thinking" work to do - figuring things out, working through problems etc. And thinking work does not need background noise.
It might just be that I'm more tired than usual - haven't slept well, been plagued by strange dreams (last night it was the new section of mall that we'll get to see open tomorrow, and having to stop to help a cyclist who's back wheel had come off thanks to a broken bolt). The dogs have been getting up extra-early in the new daylight, whining for me to join them if I show any small sign of moving. It's been warm at night, so I've spent time outside watching satellites and shooting stars, or staying up listening to barn owls and frogs, or reading.
My soul has been craving serenity (yes, I'm still seeking it!), quiet, solitude - another reason why you won't find me at church right now. That craving seems to spill over into all aspects of my life - home, work, being out and about. I seek the quiet places, the still parts, the small sounds. Not the big, ear-busting ones, or the constant background chatter.
So today's noise level has got me irritable. Turned up my own music to try drown it, but that only creates more noise. Ah well. I guess this is part of the live and let live thing, the compromise with others thing. We're not all the same.
I'm REALLY not one for astrology and star signs and such, but just for the heck of it did a free "report" online to see what it would spew out. Got this:
Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others
You are a gentle, sensitive person with a deep understanding of people and a very tolerant, accepting, nonjudgmental approach towards life. In a noisy, competitive atmosphere you are often receding and withdrawn for you are not an aggressive, forceful person, and you intensely dislike conflict. In fact you tend to be somewhat passive, to wait, watch, observe, feel and know much - but to act little. Letting things resolve or work themselves out in their own way, rather than directing or forcing your will upon them, is often your way of dealing with problems.
Scarily enough, that's basically true!
Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation
You are a gambler and an adventurer at heart, one who loves to take risks, to discover and explore new worlds, and to take the untried path rather than the safe, reliable one. You are an independent soul, freedom-loving, and often very restless. You need a lifestyle that provides opportunities for travel, movement, change, and meeting new people. A steady routine which offers much in the way of security but little in the way of space and freedom is odious to you
And even more scarily - that is too!
Either these things are specifically generalized (make sense of that one if you will!) or they really do have something to do with when and where I was born.
I remain sceptical...
Just checking in on USA election results, and it's CLOSE!
So - wondering this: if it's so close, instead of taking a result to the courts, would these two guys ever consider SHARING the presidency? Ruling with both parties together, at the same time, without one being more important than the other?
Would they even THINK about that, or are the differences too big?
South Africa did a bit of power-sharing, and that turned out OK. Would it work elsewhere?
-----------
My American mega-boss (the college president) is rushing past my window, home to check on the results over lunchtime... Apparently if he were allowed to vote (not possible here it seems), he and his wife would have cancelled out each other's votes. One for Bush, one for Kerry.
Following the trail of breadcrumbs yesterday, I spent some time over at MissingLink - the Jo'bloggers "work" site. Half-way through, I found myself thinking "this looks like a totally FUN place to work!"
Hold on - FUN and WORK in the same sentance? You betcha! What other company keeps an online record of their tattoos, or pulls off stomach-slides on corporate boardroom tables - and posts the pics!
Well, this morning I set out to find out if there were any others out there.
A while back Oprah featured the best company to work for, so that's where I started. Her vote (and the vote of a good few others) was for SAS Institute. Their philosophy is that happy employees create satisfied customers. They offer "two on-site childcare centers, an eldercare information and referral program, an employee health care center, wellness programs, a 77,000 square-foot recreation and fitness facility, and many other work-life programs."
Sounds good - but is it FUN? Maybe, maybe not. It's nice to be pampered, to have your needs met, to be given the freedom and time to enjoy all those perks. But it may not be FUN as such.
Fischer-Price claims "it's fun to work here!" (though trying to access their site was NOT fun - I couldn't get it). I guess spending your day playing with kids and their toys can be fun - if you're barely out of your kid years yourself. But if you don't particularly get along with kids, or never enjoyed playing with Fischer-Price goodies, it may not be as fun as they claim.
Then there's Hotel Monaco Chicago, where it's fun to be a guest (and receive a goldfish in a bowl on registering, to keep you company - because they're pet-friendly, and if you didn't bring a pet you can borrow one of theirs...), but it may not be fun to work there. It could take a lot of effort to "Explore your inner child, every day. Help our guests find theirs," "Take our guests and employees on an odyssey of WOW," "Embrace your discomfort zone," and "Laugh uncontrollably. The guests will join you." I think I may go nuts having to do all that. Or perhaps already be nuts to work there.
Of course if you work for a non-fun corporation, you could always add "bits of fun". Some folk may not be amused though.
A friend works at a company that holds theme days. Every Friday they all dress up according to the week's theme, are served theme-related foods, everything is decorated around the theme etc. Quite fun, but the rest of the week ain't.
Trawling the net I found lots of "how to's" for introducing fun into the workplace, or for special fun events, but very few truly fun places to work at.
Is it possible to run a fun company? I think so, but they are few and far between.
You can find a couple in Ireland, apparently....
Perhaps it has something to do with management and leadership style. The Big Boss at the Top and Supportive Underlings model doesn't sound much fun. You're more likely to be chained to your post to produce or else than you are to have fun doing it. Putting on a suit and tie doesn't sound like fun either... But have a "facilitator" instead of a manager - may work a bit better!
Perhaps it has something to do with hiring folk fresh out of the local mental institution. The more quirky characters you have around, the more fun you'll have. But, on a recent trip to Primi Piatti for lunch, I discovered having people around who are permanently nuts (as in the waiters at this particular brand of restaurant) can get a bit irritating. Actually, a LOT irritating.
Many times you'll find more fun in creative jobs (advertising for example) than in the getting-down-to-big-business ones. I guess those who have careers in the arty/creative field are generally more likely to be open to fun at work? However, I know of one big company that thinks working for them is fun.
Perhaps it's a work mind-set change - seeing work as more than just a job you do to bring in cash so that you can afford to eat and live. Rather seeing work as a vocation, a calling, a passion - using your God-given skills and the things you love to live while you work, and not just exist.
Perhaps it's the chance to work somewhere different (employee exchange), and still keep your job.
Perhaps it has something to do with your company being mostly young people, instead of those nearing retirement, or those who should have already retired but cling to their job with all they have.
Perhaps it has something to do with the extra-curricular. It's not just a job that you turn up at and work on from 8 to 5, then drag your feet home again. There are other things going on, things you WANT to get involved in - whether in working hours or outside of them. Makes a few more connections between employees than if you all turn up (on time!) to sit in your little cubicles, work franctically, then go home again.
Perhaps a large part of it has something to do with social responsibility. The MissingLink guys pick a charity and do good things for it, many other companies find ways to give back to those around them - raising funds for a cause, or going out into the community and contributing. I've seen companies send out a team of runners for a competition, or a team of volleyball players, or a team of just about anything. Internal team building, external "doing what matters". Good stuff. Doesn't only build up the company's image, but builds up the folk who get involved.
Perhaps a fun workplace is something different for each of us.
Personally, I'd love a creative workplace that allows me time to discover and think before having to complete tasks, that doesn't chain me to a desk for set hours but allows me the freedom to work where I best can, when I best can, that fosters a sense of togetherness among staff, that isn't afraid to be wacky, or to get involved with important issues.
But that's just me.
::update::
If you're in South Africa, tonight's 3-talk (5:30, SABC3) is going to be looking at weird jobs. That could be fun! :)
Got a late night last night (well, late for me, anyway). "Whose Line is it Anyway?" is back on the box! And it's one of my favourites.
Thank goodness for the small telly in my bedroom. My son was alredy asleep when I got into bed, but kept the volume low just in case. Well, reasonably low. But laughter in a pillow is still audible, and there was much of it last night.
There's nothing like a good laugh - whether it's a big old belly laugh, a tears-and-breathless one, a good giggle, or a loud-and-hearty one. Sometimes it's just a word or a look that sets it off. On a programme like this, it's a smile-a-minute!
Sure, there are some pretty shady references, and poor Drew often comes off second-best as the punchline, but it's loads of fun. I'm constantly amazed at the creativity that comes out - especially Wayne's musical stuff.
Seems Tuesday nights will be a regular late one from now on.
This virus attacks small bloggers, who get 50 or less hits a day (including their own multiple visits to check if anyone's commented or visited, which completely messes up their stats!).
It's symptoms are a remarkable amount of abandoned and unfinished posts in the "drafts" folder, a gob-smacked lack of decent things to say and a foggy head. Side effects may also show as a feeling of inadequacy on reading other people's blogs, and unfinished sentanc
Method of infection is a link to your blog by a big-blogger (other than the shameless leaving of your name in their comments in the hope someone will check you out), such as this. Alternate infection may be a result of a huge mega-blogger such as this stopping by and leaving a comment.
There are no known cures for this virus. The effects may last for hours, days, weeks or (shudder) months. Worst case scenario is abandonment of the blog entirely, also known as dead-blogging.
The best way to avoid infection is never say anything anyone might want to link to, and never leave a comment at a mega-blogger's site.
I dreamt I met the Jo'bloggers, and they were just as weird (weird in a "good" way) in person as they are online. Their offices were zany, and they were nuts!
I dreamt that I had to catch a flight back to Cape Town, but everything was conspiring against me. The airport had no clear directions - you never knew if you were in the "coming" or "going" section. There were strange people from my past in the waiting areas or hanging out at the check-in points. Everything was industrial-steel grey with pink accents and shiny metal floors.
It was raining. The automatic doors weren't. My parents were trying to track me down.
It was dark outside and I couldn't find my plane. I couldn't even figure out if it WAS the airport, or if I were still stuck in some strange part of the Jo'blogger's offices.
Weird, weird, weird!
I wonder where dreams like this come from. Science says your mind goes into overdrive while your body shuts down in sleep, sorting through all the info taken in during the day, filing it or solving it or reconciling it. I know that I've woken up with a difficult problem solved clear as day before, which is very cool. (At least it's proof that my brain is actually working...)
I can't make head or tail out of where THIS info would have come from though, or why it needed sorting!
Often, when a whiff of a dream is remembered, I can trace its origins back to a moment in the previous day - a thought, or a glimpse, a fear, a worry, or a memory triggered. Sometimes when I'm bored and having to wait (like in a bank queue), I'll replay my thoughts from where they are now, trying to link them as far back as they'll go and see what I first started thinking about. I'm strange like that.
But some dreams - well they come out of left field and smack you upside the head without giving a single clue as to where they've come from.
Reading a bit of Wendell Berry, I came across this quote:
"I HAVE HAD WITH MY friend Wes Jackson a number of useful conversations about the necessity of getting out of movements — even movements that have seemed necessary and dear to us — when they have lapsed into self-righteousness and self-betrayal, as movements seem almost invariably to do. People in movements too readily learn to deny to others the rights and privileges they demand for themselves. They too easily become unable to mean their own language, as when a “peace movement” becomes violent. They often become too specialized, as if finally they cannot help taking refuge in the pinhole vision of the institutional intellectuals. They almost always fail to be radical enough, dealing finally in effects rather than causes. Or they deal with single issues or single solutions, as if to assure themselves that they will not be radical enough."
Which is why, in my humble opinion, the emerging church should not be a movement, but a lifestyle change.
Diets don't work, but permanent lifestyle adjustments do.
Adjusting the form of the church doesn't work, but reworking the purpose, refocusing the mission, living the talk and truly integrating God's purposes into every aspect of our existence, do.
Random thoughts...
With my assignment (and basically the course, other than the exam) out the way, Monday didn't seem terribly blue today. It's a beautiful almost-summer day outside, it's been a good weekend full of great food and places/spaces and weather. Other than a "piet-my-vrou" (red chested cuckoo) waking up at 5 this morning to shout, before it even got light, and my son's awakening at 5:30 on a SUNDAY morning to ask if he could watch TV, it's been a good start to the week.
I actually have time this morning to properly read all the blogs I like to stop by on a daily basis. Sure, there's work to do too, but suddenly it seems as if all that pressure is off, that I can do things in-depth instead of rushing from one barely-done job to another.
I almost feel like it's Friday! or something...
I really did have a good weekend. Some highlights:
* Unexpected church attendance, as I went to support my son's school choir at their praise-service appearance. And discovered two distinctly-divided congregations attempting their first bi-annual together service of celebration. Although I still felt like I didn't belong, I sat up alone in a corner of the balcony and enjoyed it.
* Trip to the strawberry farm late afternoon, coming home with 2kg of still-warm strawberries, a packet of mixed-dried-fruit-squares, some interesting new cheeses to try and a bottle of citrus-flavoured water. Nearly tried out an offered tiny sample of "Hot Sex" liqueur (ginger, ginseng, cream, vodka...all sorts of strange things!), but resisted the temptation.
* FINALLY got the bonnet of the car open after a good few weeks. Dad and brother slammed it shut, and so it stuck. After much levering, breaking of the plastic grill, bending of metal - I got underneath in good morning light to find a mere lever that needed moving to one side. The bonnet promptly popped open, we checked the oil & water, found that the last idiot mechanic hadn't tightened a bolt (now missing) on the alternator, closed the bonnet - and now it won't open again! :) Will be taking it to have the cable replaced later in the week, but it's OK for now.
* Trip to the big fruit and veg shop to stock up on such great stuff as watermelon, basil pesto, nectarines, MORE interesting cheese, jam tomatoes, wonderful olives etc.
* Results of various food-related trips was a delicious "snacky supper" - chips with guacamole, salsa, bits of the interesting cheeses, peppadews stuffed with feta, olives, veggie bits and pickles. Amazingly filling, incredibly yummy.
* A chance to sit and read Wendell Berry's thoughts on so many issues - and wonder why everyone can't see things this way, and make the changes this planet so desperately needs.
* Re-watch of Return of the King. Still an awesome movie, and still makes me want to find a sword and stand up for all that is good and right in the world. Eowyn - my heroine! Considered making and wearing a few of those lovely elven robes/dresses for work, but likely to get kicked out or sent home to change... :)
There are swallows darting past my office windows this morning. Starlings are swooping on red-tipped wings to their nests and back. White-eyes scrounge among the grass below the road. A slight breeze moves the leaves of the big gum tree.
Amazing how all these together can produce a soul steeped in peace.
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