Just Not Like The Others

Getting it Together...

2013-04-27T16:37:00.000+02:00

So my birthday has come and gone and I am glad to report, no ecstatic would be a better word, that I am not the same person I was last year.

Last year if you remember correctly, I hit the ‘I am growing old and will soon die’ blues and it hit hard.

So hard in fact, that I wrote a number of blogs about this topic as well as ones about depression.

What I have learnt, as there is always a lesson, is that:

1. Thank God people change.

2. Unless you make a stand against all that you are rallying up against, as Einstein put it, you are an idiot for expecting your non action to make a difference. So I made some changes.

So my misery brought me many tears but also some astounding insights and lessons.

This year I have faced my birthday with joy and have been surrounded by love and the people that really matter.

I have lost 10 kilograms as I have become physical and not only employed a personal trainer but upped my sporadic visits to the gym to every day. Unless there is a drama, I am working or I am ill.

Not because I have to. But because I want to.

I have discovered that being physical, doing water aerobics, Tai Chi and the circuit has made me more aware of my body. In a way that I had forgotten since childhood.

We are meant to move, dance, and be physical. But my body remembered and has thanked me for it every day since the beginning of the year. I have actually relished the feeling of my muscles feeling tender or laughing and feeling my stomach muscles say ‘ouch!’

The biggest lesson is that I have to do what I love or I will not sustain it. Also getting out of bed in the dark, in winter and in the cold and rain has been a supreme act of will.

I will never become that person again.

I will ensure that the small meaningful changes I started to put into practise last year will ensure a solid foundation for health, not only now, but as I do grow older.

The fact that I have been doing Tai Chi, twice a week for almost a year is miraculous. For me.

But doing what you love and what makes you feel strong, healthy and full of life, is how we are meant to feel and be.

As for the habits of a lifetime and the knowledge that I can revert back to them as quickly as you can say ‘pass the chocolate brownies, please’?

One step at a time. One class at a time.

One bite at a time.

I am loving who I am growing into, and know that at last this is where I am meant to be.

Happy in my skin.

At peace with my changing body.

In love with my life.

Happy Birthday 2013

2013-04-16T10:27:00.001+02:00

On the eve of my birthday I am feeling so grateful.

Grateful for overcoming a really intense, lesson laden past year. Grateful to have 'gotten' some of the lessons, to have met and made new friends along the way.

For a deeper love and understanding not only for those in my life, but for myself.
And I am excited my outer transformation, which reflects my inner changes.

Here is to a beautiful new year, I am ready!

Image thanks to http://dailydoitgirl.tumblr.com/

A Ring for All Seasons...

2013-04-09T09:00:00.000+02:00

Getting Married...'coz We can.

2013-04-04T09:00:00.000+02:00

As a young girl I had a scrap book that I filled with images that I painstakingly cut out of magazines of beautiful ladies dressed as brides. And of course ideas and tips for brides maids, flowers, and the wedding itself.

But mostly my focus was on the dress that I was one day going to wear.

Fast forward as one does to adulthood and as I look back, I am acutely aware that for me marriage meant the wedding dress.

At no point have I ever been concerned about the day after the wedding or very much else. My ‘happy ever after’ was dependent on that dress, that’s for sure.

Now that Special K has ‘put a ring on it’, I am reminded once more of a) my love of all things white and puffy, and b) my reluctance to go through with it.

Backtrack a bit so that I can give you some history.

I have in fact been engaged before. Well, to be 100% honest and in the spirit of disclosure, five times in fact. Not including, ahem, this time. (I have the scrap books filled with wedding paraphernalia to prove it…)

And no, I have never actually gotten married.

And no, I have also never kept the rings. I should have, as Zsa Zsa Gabor once said when asked about the many times she had been engaged, and if she gave the rings back. Her answer? "Of course dahlink, but first, you take out all the diamonds.”

In my favour, this time, I have one very clever Kookie on my side, who knows that I balk at the slightest provocation and have been known to run for the hills before any mention of tuille, icing or gift registry.

No, this lady aint called ‘Special K‘ for nothing.

There has been no mention of weddings, receptions, parties, or even honeymoons. Instead there has been a casual mention in passing of a surprise elopement and a ‘visit’ to Venice. It appears she knows me well and in this knowing, has understood my only fault.

Yes, the one that pretends to ‘like my space’ and who ‘craves freedom’ and also needs to ‘be alone’. My ‘Gaboresqueness’ is but a triviality to be accepted and ignored!

I love this about her.

Her casual acceptance of my darkest fears, her ability to put my torments underfoot and show me the minute scale of my demons.

Her unconditional love.

In this month and a bit of all the hoo-ha of the Americans trying to figure out who can marry and who can’t.

I am genuinely glad that I can.

I am starting to understand that marriage is not a heterosexual right but a human one.

And in understanding that and honoring it, I am blessed to be able to have the choice of a gown, a party, a bridesmaid and a piece of paper that makes my reality, my relationship, valid in the eyes of not only the government but also valid in my community, or any community I find myself in.

The validity of my relationship is no less important because there is a penis missing in the equation.

The strength of my love is no less real because we are both women.

The commitment we have made is as binding, as serious and as deep as any I know.

Our blessing is that we can show it, we can share it and we can get married if that is our choice.

And why should it not be?

As for my phobia of actually stepping on to that red carpet to the strains of ‘here comes the bride...’?

Because NOTHING is normal about this relationship or engagement, I have a feeling that the next time we discuss this; it will be from the back of a Venetian gondola with the sound of sweet Opera wafting on the breeze....

International Women's Day Tribute..

2013-03-09T08:30:00.000+02:00

In honour of International Women’s Day, I thought it only apt to pay tribute to the women in my life, past and present that have inspired, impressed, inflamed and amused me.

This is my homage…

In no particular order:

1. Yo-Landi Vi££er – From ‘Die Antwoord” for her sheer guts and cuter than cute hot pants.

2. Vita Sackville West – my first real Lesbian crush. Known for her magnificent gardens and her book, ‘Orlando’ and her scandalous affair with Violet Trefusis and Virginia Woolf.

3. Eartha Kitt- for her smouldering voice that moved a young teen to aching distraction.

4. Dorothy Surrenders- fabulous writer/blogger/social commentator who continues to inspire me almost daily. Follow her on http://dorothysurrenders.blogspot.com/

5. Ellen DeGeneres- the first ‘open’ and honest Lesbian to hit the media in modern times. Her relationship and marriage to Portia de Rossi is an inspiration to gay and straight couples alike. Not only is she gorgeous, she is screamingly funny.

6. Oprah- Inspired beyond measure. What she has done for the world’s collective soul will send her straight to Heaven. Plus she shared her cover with Ellen. Need I say more..?

7. My Mother. For the love, patience and humour she blessed me with. For the lessons I learnt about death and dying, her fist shaking courage, the way she rocked ‘wearing’ no hair, but mostly her grace in the face of that unyielding foe, Cancer.

8. My ‘Mentor/Tormentor, Melanie. Friend, business partner, the mother of my God child, at times enemy but mostly the most honest and unflinching teacher I have ever had. To her I owe a lifetimes gratitude.

Big M, does not like photo's , horses are her favourite and she would approve of this beautiful pic to represent her.

9. The ‘Recreation Centre Ladies’; Miss Merle, Miss Helena, Miss Marion. Each one of these Misses was in fact a Mrs, and have left an indelible mark on my life.

10. And last but not least.. my greatest love. Special K, you have rocked my world, broken my heart, stepped in and let ‘Little Miss Fix It’ do her magic to mend it, grown bunches of beet root and strings of beans for me, acted as peacemaker, smoothed my ruffled feathers, complimented and loved me at my most fat, been my staunchest supporter, documented my life, one click at a time, been the inspiration for my poetry and life. Without you none of this has meaning.

There are of course many, many more wonderful and inspired women out there who have touched my heart. Past and present.

I say Thank You, to every woman who has crossed my path, who has brought gifts of learning, love, friendship and even pain.

Without your presence, no matter how brief or fleeting, I would not be the woman I am today.

Thank you.

Lesbian Bed Death; fact or fiction?

2013-01-30T08:00:00.000+02:00

What is it about ones lover going away for a few days that makes ones blood boil and heart beat faster when they are making their way back to your waiting arms and lips?

I love those rare occasions when my GF leaves home for distant shores and I am ‘single’ for a few nights.

I love the space and the ease at which I find myself again. But before long I start to pine and ache and long for her in all the ‘right’ places.

That being said, our reunions are always joyful and very, very fulfilling.

Which leaves me to ponder the obvious?

Lesbian bed death, fact or fable?

‘B.B.A.L’(before becoming a lesbian) I had never heard the term ‘Lesbian bed death’, I was more familiar with ‘the seven year itch,’ which implies that after seven years or so, one tends to look outside the boundaries of ones established relationship to more greener pastures. ‘A.B.A.L’ (after becoming a lesbian) I learnt that the term ‘Lesbian bed death’ was coined by University of Washington sociologist Pepper Schwartz in her 1983 book called ‘American Couples.’

Schwartz states that more than any other type of couple, lesbians in committed relationships, have the least amount of sexual intimacy. Compared to other couples, 47% of lesbian couples in long term relationships had sex once a month or less. If we do the comparison, only 15% of heterosexual couples report these findings.

Shocking statistics.

Then again how does one capture the essence of female sexuality in such generic terms? Especially when there are so many ways in which to be intimate? The archaic perception of penis and vagina defining sexual intimacy is outdated and certainly not central to lesbian sexuality.

Our sexual complexity has led to criticism being cast on Schwartz’s findings, in recent years, for the very reason that our sexual behaviour has been interpreted too narrowly.

According to lesbian feminist, Marilyn Frye, ‘Schwartz’s comparisons are not accurate, she states. ‘What 85% of long term, married couple’s do more than once a month, takes on average less than eight minutes to do. What we, as lesbians do on average, we do less frequently, but it takes us more than eight minutes to do. Maybe about 30 minutes, at least..’ Frye concludes.

Many lesbians shudder at the very mention of Lesbian bed death, citing their disbelief that it even exists.

This confirms the findings of Masters and Johnson’s 1979 study on lesbian sexual practises. They conclude that lesbian sexual behaviour focusses more on sexual satisfaction, than their heterosexual counterparts.

Lesbians focus more on full body contact, rather than on genital focussed contact. There is less preoccupation or anxiety surrounding orgasm.

More assertiveness and much more communication about sexual needs. Much longer sexual encounters and much higher levels of satisfaction.

Unfortunately many internet sites have profited by the unhappiness of many a lesbian couple believing in the ‘hype’ of lesbian bed death. Advice offered to ‘cure’ lesbian bed death, range from ‘watching porn together to abstaining from having sex for a month, to mention but a few.

The reality is that we get used to each other, no matter what gender or sexual preference we prescribe to.

Comfort brings with it many good things, one of them being familiarity. It is up to us to navigate our way through the natural ‘up’s and down’s’ of our relationship’s journey.

And if there was so much truth to the notion of ‘lesbian bed death’, why is there not more documentation, with more stats and facts?

Surely the more astute pharmaceutical companies would have jumped in by now to fill the gap, so to speak, and provide the female equivalent of Viagra, for lesbians?

No, the good news is that in one of the latest surveys, ‘The 1995 Advocate Survey of Lesbian Sexuality and Relationships,’ shows that lesbian women, in America, had more enjoyable sex than most heterosexual American women.’

Which certainly brings a smile to my face.

Now you tell me, why has this survey not received more media attention than its 1985 counterpart..?

Indeed, sexual drought is a possibility in any lesbian relationship. Or in any other.

The secret is to stay connected, communicate and above all make time to be alone.

Date night is a plus in anyone’s diary and should be scheduled in on a weekly basis!

The glue that holds your relationship together is that which sets you apart from merely being friends.

So, grab that pencil and diary and schedule some much needed ‘getting down time’ with your gal, and let’s put a stop to all those silly ‘lesbian bed death’ rumours collectively.

Origionally published in Alice Magazine visit Alice at www.alicemagazine.co.za

'Time For Rings"

2013-01-23T08:00:00.000+02:00

When Special K said on our fifth anniversary that ‘it was time for rings’ my heart skipped a beat.

Not that engagement is new for us. She asked me within months of our blossoming relationship, and I said no.

Then I asked her, one passion filled and hedonistic stop over at a B&B in Cape Town, only to retract my offer in the morning.

And more recently (roughly two years ago) she returned home after a business trip with a gargantuan ‘ring’ for me, once again proclaiming her love.

She knows me so well.

After slipping her ‘time to get rings’ statement casually into a conversation she just as smoothly moved on to some arbitrary subject about the vegetable garden needing to be watered, and briskly got on with her chores. Leaving me to ponder, once again my wildly beating heart and its cause.

I am no stranger to the search for the ‘perfect’ engagement ring. One which is meant to symbolise the deep love and commitment that the institution of marriage invokes. However, the search for the ultimate ring has in fact symbolised the deeper search for meaning that had always evaded me and left me cold and for the most part single.

Hence the fact that I have always been a bridesmaid, never a bride. I just could never commit, believing that I was about to give up more than I was willing to part with.

And I believed the stakes were just too high.

Until now.

Five years of so much living, loving, highs and lows has started to change my point of view.

When I wrote my first blog in August 2008 called ‘What I know for sure’ http://justnotliketheothers.blogspot.com/2010/08/what-i-know-for-sure.html , I had NO idea of the road our lives would take and the extreme joy and gut-wrenching heartache we would have to endure together, and at times on our own.

Our journey has been one of many lessons learnt..

But what I know for sure five years down the line is this:

1. Great love and great achievement requires GREAT RISK. And that is true. Without stepping out of your comfort zone, you will never truly experience life.

2. Relationships change as do people. The high flying, hitting the wall running early days evolves into a deep and real slow burn that sustains way more than you can imagine.

3. Sexual intimacy is vital as it defines your status as a couple. But this can mean different things to different people. You have to find your comfort zone together.

4. Talk, talk and talk some more. The love of your life is never going to ‘get’ you if you don’t share the real you. Warts and all. Vulnerability, honesty and respect shape the fabric of your relationship profoundly.

5. Hang out together as often as possible. This is an absurd statement in the ‘honeymoon stage’ as all you want to be is together, alone preferably naked. But as you change and grow there is danger in changing and growing apart.

6. Make eye contact and lip contact daily. The small little touches that usually go unnoticed are the little bits of glue keeping you on the right track.

Perhaps for me, my luck is not luck at all in finding the perfect ring. But in finding the perfect person. And that I know for sure.

MindShift

2013-01-03T16:13:00.000+02:00

‘Relationship as a Transformative Path

Never before have intimate relationships called on us to face ourselves and each other with so much honesty and awareness. Maintaining an alive connection with an intimate partner today challenges us to free ourselves from old habits and blind spots, and to develop the full range of our powers, sensitivities, and depths as human beings. In former times, if people wanted to explore the deeper mysteries of life, they would often enter the seclusion of a monastery or hermitage. For many of us today, however, intimate relationships have become the new wilderness that brings us face to face with all our gods and demons.

Most people in our society share a peculiar belief: We imagine that we should be able to establish a rich and satisfying relationship with someone we love even if we have never learned to relate to ourselves in a rich, satisfying way. We imagine that a successful relationship largely depends on finding the right person and doing the right things. We often don't see that how we relate to another is an expression of how we relate to ourselves, that our outer relationships are but an extension of our inner life, that we can only be as open and present with another as we are with ourselves.

The increasingly precarious state of our planet and its inhabitants is calling on us to wake up, revaluate how we are living, and align ourselves with a larger, sacred vision of human life. In these times when our world and our very humanity are increasingly at risk, we need a new kind of grounded spirituality that addresses the challenges of ordinary living and that can transform the quality of life on this planet through being fully embodied in the here-and-now. Fortunately, we have a powerful vehicle close at hand for developing this kind of wisdom - our intimate relations with those we love.’ By John Welwood

This was posted on my Facebook Timeline today by a friend that lives thousands of miles away from me.

Little did she know that everything I have recently gone through, from my ‘midlife crisis’ to my rock bottom depression is to be found as the cornerstone to what she posted.

What a funny year 2012 turned out to be.

For me it was a year of blame and recriminations with everyone else being the persecutor and lil’ole me being the victim. And how did that work for me, you ask?

Not too good.

The reality is, is that I did not want to take ownership of my life or the multitude of changes that comes with growing up or getting older.

My rose tinted glasses had gotten cracked along the way and I was hell bent on wearing them anyway, with the result that everything I looked at became distorted and broken.

And nothing and no one could make me happy. How could they when they were up against the most formidable opponent of them all. My own self destructive inner dialogue/ego/victim mentality.

As my blogs from last year attest, I became more and more caught up with my own propaganda and the reality of my life became one-sided and disjointed.

The change that was sorely needed came on Christmas day. And spiralled on for a week to finally come to a head on the cusp of 2013.

Sometimes we get so caught up in our own heads that the real world and the inhabitants of our lives get left on the side-lines. Our inner and outer worlds become so conflicting, that eventually something has to give.

I am not minimising my experiences of last year or saying that my sadness and depression were not real.

What I AM saying is that a whole lot of misery could have been averted had I practised honesty and communicated with the one on whom all the blame was being levelled.

The first day of 2013 has probably been my happiest in a very long time. Not because I did anything more special than stay at home with the person I love most in this world. And talk.

Opening the doors of communication is sometimes not the easiest thing to do. But once you overcome your fear and real, and meaningful discourse takes place, anything is possible.

Forgiveness. Acceptance. Understanding.

So as I move into a radical mind shift I do so happily, knowing that perhaps the Honeymoon is over, but like cooking, real love should be approached with reckless abandon or not at all.

River Deep or Mountain High

2012-12-29T08:00:00.000+02:00

Here it is. The End of the Year, perhaps even the end of the world as we know it.

But that remains to be seen, so until then I shall continue with my train of thought.

Looking back over the blogs that I tend to write in November/December they share the same starting point and that is an overview of the year that is nearly over and a summary of all that I have experienced, learnt and loved.

This year has been no different. Except perhaps that I have gone deeper into the chasm of joylessness and discomfort.

But I have also come to realise that as Diana Cooper so succinctly put it in her book called ‘A little light on the spiritual laws’, and more recently my readings of the work by Marianne Williamson, in particular ‘The return to love’ is that what is happening on the inside will start to reflect on the outside.

So as you can imagine my sadness and joylessness has eventually taken me down.

And at some point one reaches rock bottom. Which I did a few weeks ago.

No, I was not suicidal or manic. Just overcome by a build-up of too much sadness, heartache, adrenalin and stress that I had swallowed and internalised for far too long, and which, I had hoped would simply go away.

But it never does.

In some people all of the above manifests as illness eventually, in some people substance abuse takes over to numb the obvious.

For me, I have gone grey, ballooned and am filled with a permeating lethargy that has sapped whatever humour was lurking right out of me. This in itself has added to my woes. Ironic, isn’t it?

So what do you do when you hit the bottom of the pond?

You start to gasp for air.

And you realise that if you don’t move, you will surely die and in that moment of absolute clarity you choose the direction you need to take to change your course. And hopefully your life.

Which brings me back to this moment. Sitting here, looking back over the last twelve months I am amazed at all my accomplishments.

In no specific order;

1. I have won a photographic competition and in so doing am now the owner of a really great camera!

2. I have sold my first prints.

3. I have come fourth in a national photographic competition.

4. I have had articles published in magazines and various websites.

5. My blog has had over 75000 hits.

6. I have done two photographic workshops.

7. I have made two photographic books.

8. I have celebrated two special anniversaries. One with my girlfriend (four years) and one at my restaurant (ten years)

9. My Dad turned 90 and is a perpetual source of amusement and irritation.

10. I did a Transcendental meditation course.

11. I was asked to photograph M.C.Q.P. and loved every second!

12. Started doing Tai Chi and have found something that makes my soul sing.

Looking at my list it is obvious that a lot of what has fed my soul is photography.

New friendships have blossomed on Facebook with incredibly talented photographers from around the world. I am so inspired by the ever changing world around me that it is a valuable tool in my healing.

Please forgive my slow drowning over the last year. Unfortunately I looked down into the ‘Swamps of despair’ and was sucked in by my own misery.

I cannot say what will change or shift for me. I guess like everyone who lives and breathes, we intrinsically know what we must do in order to shift the balance.

But fear holds us back.

It has become harder and harder for me to write as I feel such a sell out as I am not ‘happy’ or ‘chatty’ or writing about the world ‘out there’ but am so caught up with the world ‘ in here ‘and it must be getting tired and boring. It is for me!

I have some resolutions for 2013. Last year I decided not to have any.

But this year I want to change my focus. My direction. Me.

So I do have some thoughts.

I want to learn stuff this year. Especially (obviously) more about taking pictures, but also about dealing with things like stress, depression, diet.

I shall not say the word DIET without great trepidation, but it will be something I will be changing. I know so much about it and yet I am living the opposite in every regard.

My days of crazy hedonism are perhaps a thing of the past, and my days of blissful happiness are perhaps just on the horizon.

Either way, it is up to me to make that change and choose where I am going to be for the next 365 days.

Sinking or swimming........

River deep, or mountain high. The choice is mine.

The first print I sold.

P.s Thank you to everyone who has read my blog and especially a big thank you to those who voted for it. #manythanks xx

Original Sin

2012-11-05T13:49:00.002+02:00

Deepak Chopra in his book based on the Karma Sutra, wrote, that the first sin was not sex, it was in fact shame.

When I read this I was profoundly intrigued as I had an insight in that instant, that awakened me to the truth of this statement and how it applied in my life.

For as long as I can remember I have felt guilty or ashamed.

I cannot say that my family were overtly religious or that we attended church except for the perfunctory visit on Christmas day. And only because it was a quaint little chapel, overlooking the azure blue ocean on our annual Christmas holiday. And not because of any real religious reason.

Religion was of course a vital and integral part of my conservative Afrikaans schooling. Right from grade one to grade ten.

And conservative was an understatement.

Being an all-girl school, we were not even allowed to wear trousers!! The fact that we had the most intense physical initiation in our first week of high school, where we had to get up-close and personal with the grade twelve boys from our brother school across the road, made little impact on any one. Except me.

My first boyfriend had a devout Anglican mother and had spent many Sunday mornings doing what all good Anglican choir boys do; passing the time surreptitiously ogling the female members of the congregation.

When we got together and I was introduced to his church, I loved the incense wafting antiquity of it all. As well as the personal blessings and the promise of hope.

But sex was a guilt ridden nightmare.

I loved every second, but hated myself for being so ‘weak’ and suffered hours in torturous contemplation. My ‘sinful’ nature and how I was going to change became a priority.

I often looked at those around me who seemed to float effortlessly through their lives, without any thought to what seemed so obvious to my hyper vigilant nature.

Where was their shame, or guilt, or fear? When I had been lavished with these characteristics in abundance?

Fast forward to having a baby out of wedlock and then horror of horrors, I fell in love with a woman.

If you could have been a fly on the wall of my brain, you would have been caught up in a tsunami of questions, condemnations, reprisals and eventually a fog of numbness as I could not move forward with all those nooses around my neck.

Five years prior I had become a ‘Happy Clapper’ had been baptised in the sea and was living a great life. Almost sin free.

Because I was single, and sex was not an issue.

No longer did I trawl the internet ‘researching’ porn sites; that was all behind me now and a life of weightless, shame free joy was mine.

Until Special K walked in and sent my little boat akimbo!

The fact that I lost friends and went through hell has been well documented and does not form part of this epistle.

It is the meat of my spiritual bones that is calling for nourishment now, and I am caught between that that I have been ‘fed’ my whole life and that which I instinctively feel, no longer applies.

If there was no Heaven or Hell, I would not be driven by this nameless fear. This shameful guilt.

My distress about ‘sinning’ and upsetting the powers that be would be laughed at and I could live my life in such a way that all living creatures, people and life would be celebrated and respected.

Women in my faith would be revered and adored as the life giving ‘mothers’ of the world. These daughters of nations would be cherished.

Love would be encouraged and fear would be off historical significance as it would no longer exist.

But that is the stuff of ‘Never-Neverland’ and the real world is knocking on the door of my every day.

I have no answers and I have no life jacket to travail these waters of uncertainly.

I am not alone in my quest for inner peace and fulfilment. Since time immemorial man has questioned, and we have been fed on a Diet of Lies to quieten us.

The astute thing to do is to not open ones mouth so willingly. Or to swallow so gullibly. And to question everything.

The world as we know it IS changing. That is a certainty.

Where we go to from here is anyone’s guess. But I think that the whole concept of sin and shame is one we as humans will drag along with us, if we do not change our precepts of faith, religion and belief.

And it starts with the concept that we are inherently good. That war turns even the most saintly into a monster and that if given a chance; we would all choose to be loved, rather than feared.

Perhaps I am being naïve.

But it is a place that I need to start from, as it is the place where I will let my shame go.

Will you meet me there?

Sock it TO YA!

2012-10-03T12:09:00.002+02:00

Ahem, so following on from last week's disclosure about my newly found interest in South African music and how well that is going for me, it is time to disclose the second of my new obsessions.

This young lady is not only a phenomenally talented musician (this singer/ rapper plays the piano, writes and performs her own music) but she is also a Princess!

Latoya Buthelezi, has exploded onto the music scene as a fresh, intelligent and talented young woman from Empangeni in Durban. Her great-grandmother was Princess Magogo, the traditional Zulu composer and mother of IFP leader Mangosuthu Buthelezi.

One would think that as a member, no matter how distant, of the royal family her life would be indulged and easy. This has not been the case. Toya has not gone without her share of loss and heartache. At a young age she was put into a catholic boarding school. This was where she learnt to read music and started to play the piano. Writing her own music (as only secular music was allowed) was her means of coping with her circumstances and a means of channelling her feelings.

Playing gigs in Durban and eventually going solo her street cred gained momentum and it was not long after that Sony records showed up knocking on her door.

Her mix of jazz, electro, hip hop, pop, with bass elements coming through from her jazz background, her style is as unique as it is catchy. So too is its commercial viability.

Visually this lady is already setting trends and Reebok has taken her under their wing to be a brand ambassador. Described as ‘Afropolitain’ with her trademark thick rimmed glasses and braided Mohawk, she certainly has broken the mould. Combining retro elements with sneakers and some funky jewelery, this lady has her own unique style and is a natural trend setter.

I just love her look and her sound.

Don't you just love a story about about a princess, a convent, hip hop and success?

I do.

Dynamite called Yo-Landi Vi$$er

2012-09-22T09:30:00.000+02:00

Ok, so I have a mini crush.

Suddenly from not having any interest in South African music, I have developed a weird obsession with not one, but two South African performers.

The first is Yo-Landi Visser (Yo-Landi Vi$$er, born Anri Du Toit)Singer/rapper for the rap-rave band known as Die Antwoord.

Not only is she visually unusual (understatement) but she has this little voice that sings about the most bizarre topics wrapped up in the cutest little body.

Admittedly I have unusual taste. Love her or hate her, they have certainly put SA on the map with their unusual 'zef style'.ZEF' being an Afrikaans term, loosely translated means 'kitch' or common.

I love her white hair and haircut (she says her Mom cuts it), her prepubescent sexuality and her darkness.

See for yourself...

I will let you kn ow about my second obsession, once you have gotten over my first!

x

Shaking Off The Black Dog: 5 tips to ease depression

2012-09-04T13:31:00.000+02:00

As with everything in life, what goes up must come down and visa versa.

My recent downward spiral was as intense as it was short lived and because I have made it part of my life’s work, I looked for the trigger to circumvent that particular button being pushed again.

What I have learnt from my years of living with melancholy/the blues/depression; is that a bout is usually triggered by an event or a verbal interaction in the present, that brings up issues from the past that are not (quite )resolved yet.

The proverbial onion skin of life, the layers upon layers that make us who we are.

People around you who do not experience depression, often make nonsensical statements such as ‘shake it off.’ ‘Just get on with it’ or my favourite, ‘what have you got to be depressed about…?’

Those in the know will understand that there are times that the mere act of breathing takes effort as does getting out of bed, brushing your teeth or going to work. Add children in to the mix and your depleted reserves are soon taxed to the max.

What I have also come to realise, as per my first line, is that one cannot stay on the pond floor for very long. At some point a chink of sunlight is going to touch your face and you are going to find something to make your heart re -awaken.

Here are a few ideas to help you shake off the black dog of depression, which have helped me:

1. Get enough sleep. SERIOUSLY. Lack of sleep can cause similar symptoms as depression (lack of energy, irritability and fatigue)Most of us require at least 8-10 hours of sleep per night and due to our stimuli driven obsessions, go to bed far too late!

2. You are what you eat.. Eating junk food, having too much refined sugars or drinking too much alcohol is going to make you feel worse. Carbohydrates will give you a temporary ‘high’ and make you feel better for a little while, then your sugar levels will bottom out and you will feel even worse than before. Change your food and you will change your life. Add in more raw foods, food with lots of colour- think berries, veggies etc. Adding better foods to your diet will impact on your life positively, over time.

3. Get off the couch and get moving. I have found that doing Tai Chi has made me a happier person. Find something physical that makes you happy. Remember when you were a kid and riding your bike around the neighbourhood with the wind in your hair, made you feel so alive and joy filled? Well, try to find that thing that will inspire you to get out of bed in the dark, in the dead of winter, just for the pleasure of doing it. When you find it, nothing will stop you.

4. Catch some rays! We do not get enough sunlight on our skin. Vitamin D is needed to boost the immune system, helps with bone health and increases brain functioning to name but a few of the suns’ benefits. Also just being outside, in nature, will go a long way to helping you lift your mood. Do remember to respect the sun and not get burned!

5. Nurture yourself. Allow yourself to have the occasional (indulgent) ‘down’ day without feeling guilty. I put the indulgent in inverted commas, as depression is not something we allow or not, it happens without our approval. But instead of always feeling like you must ‘overcome’ it ASAP, sometimes the gentler alternative is allowing yourself the space to sleep the whole day or immerse yourself in fragrant bathwater up to your ears, or listening to evocative music that makes you cry even more. Those days of allowing yourself to just ‘be’ in the moment are as important to your heart and soul as the days when you take up your weapons and fight off the negativity like the true warrior that you are.

Taking my own advice and getting some sun on my face, in nature, doing what I love, taking pictures...

Ophelia Dreaming

2012-08-27T15:03:00.000+02:00

Today I am feeling melancholic.

Sinking into the blues is like walking through water and it gets harder the faster you try to go.

So I am slowing down and trying to stay afloat of what lies beneath the surface, so that I may, by virtue of my inbuilt will to overcome, stay buoyant.

I cannot always be happy. I know this.

I cannot always control what happens to me or how other people behave or treat me or the world.

But what I do know is I can choose how I respond and behave. How I allow people/actions/behaviour/the world to affect me is a choice.

And generally I am strong, I cope, I take it on the jaw and live to see another day. I shake my fist at injustice and I try to do the next right thing or make a difference.

But just for today I am going to do what Sylvia Plath did when she was bitten by the black dog. She ran a bath and submerged herself in it.

Up to her ears, with just her nose sticking out. Listening to the beat of her heart, her steady in and out breath and the the subtle distortions of her life, under water.

I shall submerge myself, metaphorically in poetry and wallow, letting the words wash over my body warmly.

Bringing comfort and healing, washing away the debris of my discontent in fragrant verse.

Tomorrow I will emerge, washed clean, ready to fight another day.

Tangled Tree, a Wine for all Seasons

2012-08-06T17:00:00.002+02:00

Meet my newest favourite wine!

I am always on the lookout for a wooded Chardonnay that has more to it than just overpowering wood and not much else..

Well, here it is!

And what's more there is a story behind it.

I quote verbatim from their website:

‘If trees could speak, what stories they could tell!

This is certainly true of the botanical collection to be found in the tranquil garden at Van Loveren. Their tales would weave the chapters of a unique South African heritage – enticing chronicles of a family, of change and growth.

One of these is the anecdote of the Karee tree planted in the 1940's. Jean Retief had ordered a hardy Rhus lancea sapling from a nursery in far-off Natal. When it finally arrived by train at the tiny Klaasvoogds railway station, some local farmers recognised the tiny specimen as a Karee, a fairly common tree.

Jean however, disagreed and insisted the newcomer was what she'd ordered. To settle the dispute, her husband Hennie fetched a branch from a Karee growing by the river and planted it beside Jean's Rhus lancea. The two turned out to be identical.

Over the years the pair has grown entwined and become a symbol of enduring love, reflecting the life Jean and Hennie spent side by side on the farm.

These trees and their symbolism provided the inspiration for the Tangled Tree range of wines. The wines represent the commitment of the farmers and winemakers of Van Loveren to conservation, and the Retief family's deep respect for nature.”

You can read the rest of their story here and it is absolutely worth the visit. http://tangledtree.com

So apart from its delightful label of the bird and the entwined trees, (which is made from tree- free paper, Bagasse, a left over substance derived after sugar cane juice has been extracted), the actual bottle is made from PET, or polyethyline terephthalate, an unbreakable thermal polymer that is also up to 80% lighter than glass and is deceptively light and slightly narrower than its glass counterparts.

So it is perfect for the great outdoors and can go on picnics or hikes with the greatest of ease.

But the best part is undoubtedly the golden nectar found within. It is truly a pleasure.

The nose is an explosion of butterscotch, and crème brulee. The palate is wonderfully creamy and the rich butterscotch nose follows through in the fullness of flavour and mouth feel. It is well balanced from first tentative sip to last pleasurable swallow.

We enjoyed it with a lentil and pasta- rice dish, but it will be wonderful with salmon, cream based pasta dishes, shellfish, chicken and creamy cheeses.

So it stands to reason that not only are you doing your bit for the environment by reducing your carbon footprint, by drinking this wine… you may find it is so good; you may decide not to eat at all!!

Either way, 'cheers' to a wonderful new discovery.

Three Steps to Writing the Ultimate Dating Profile

2012-08-02T10:00:00.000+02:00

When I was a single lady I found on line dating to be a quick and relatively painless way to meet people and to bypass the usual rounds of endless small talk in order to ascertain if I wanted to pursue an interest or not.

Using the net to find a partner is not as far fetched as it once seemed and I know quite a few people who have met their life partners this way.

Having said that, there is definitely an art to writing a dating profile and here are three fail safe steps to getting the attention you want, from the hottie you like!

Step 1:

Know who you are- The ultimate pseudonym.

Your alias says a lot about you, and that is not necessarily a good thing. Names like “Psycho”, “Bubbles” or “40 something Babe” on contemplation may not get you the response you were looking for. Remember you are ultimately your best sales person, so your language, word choice and descriptive language will be what gets you noticed. Check out dating sites and see what the most popular profiles are. Are popular girls anything like you? Ask friends to describe you in 5 or less words. You may be surprised at how the outside world sees you.

Be clear AND CAREFUL with what you say. Using words such as “fun loving and vivacious = (Slapper) or “sensitive animal lover”= (Bunny cooker) are highly suggestive. As are “adventurous and “easy”. Never use “try anything once” or “curious” unless that’s what you have in mind!

Ideally you want to give a short but informative description about yourself.

Be specific.

“I am a sporty, professional, who is best described by her friends as loyal, funny and a great cook” This short description says, I know what I want, I am healthy, have good friends and have hobbies and interests.

Step2:

What do YOU want – Stating the (not so) obvious.

Do you know what you want? This is where you get to say and boy; it does not help to be vague. We all want a witty, beautiful, financially secure blond sex bomb. This is the meat and potatoes of your profile, where you can truly make an impact.

Something like “ I am interested in good conversation, someone who will pour the wine as I stir the pot, a woman who reads and loves old movies. Physically I have no ‘type’, chemistry comes in the most unexpected packages and beauty is in the eye of the beholder; so cast your eyes on me and let’s see if we can start a fire”

Get it? Perhaps a bit OTT, but you get the idea. Stand out, make an impression, and take the plunge. Make an impression, you only get one chance!

Step3:

Saving the best for last- your picture

Smile, smile, smile. Get it. Smile. Teeth sell.

No sharing the lime light with little children or furry animals. Pleeaase!

Centre stage and gorgeous. You in all your beauty. Did I mention with clothes on?

There is nothing as disheartening than thinking you have met the “one” only to meet in person and she lied. Sent a pic of herself 20 years ago, when she could still see her feet.

Keep it current. This year at least and if you can’t be honest go to gym/have a makeover/ face lift/ dental surgery until you can post a pic of who you really are.

And when your “in box” is flooded with messages and “winks” , please remember this...

It takes courage to step out and connect, especially if you have one leg, no hair or teeth..

Decline.

Politely.

Maintain your integrity, sometimes one has to look beyond the package, and remember, you are a ‘lady” after all!

For safety guidelines visit http://womansavers.com/safeonlinedating.asp

Expect the Unexpected

2012-07-27T10:00:00.000+02:00

Almost 12 years ago to the day I gave birth to a little boy, and almost a year later I wrote this account of his birth for a pregnancy and birth magazine. I am so glad that I did, as one forgets almost everything soon after!

As it is my son's birthday today I wanted to post this as a reminder of this incredible journey that we have shared together and that the best is yet to come.

Happy birthday Liam.

Love Mommy.

xxx

From the moment I saw the blue line on the pregnancy test, I had very definite ideas on how my baby was going to be brought into this world.

Being an avid reader, I devoured books and magazines on pregnancy, childbirth, breast –feeding – you name it – to get as much information as possible and to get a better understanding of what lay ahead of me. All I did know was that I wanted my baby to be welcomed gently, without harsh lights or noise.

Having gone through my pregnancy alone I felt that I wanted to share this life changing event with someone close to me, a friend who would hold my hand, give me encouragement and understand what was going on, but most importantly someone with an excellent sense of humor.

Willy, (mother of 2) went through all the highs and lows of my pregnancy with a calm assurance and practicality and did me proud as my “partner” at ante- natal classes. To the casual observer we must have seemed the odd-couple especially when we had to practice pain management techniques and I had to hang from her neck to ease the pain in my lower back. Being taller than her I practically had to kneel and I was terrified that the two of us were going to topple over. Needless to say we decided that if I had any pain she would ask for more drugs.

I also called upon a midwife to complete the sisterhood theme. Anne, my midwife was very practical in a “ jolly-hockeysticks” kind of way and felt that we needed to be aware of the risks involved in the choices I was making.

I wanted a home/water birth without all the fuss of a hospital, nurses and all the paraphernalia that goes along with that whole situation. I have always felt that birth is a natural process, one that we as women have been doing for centuries and that the emphasis for me should be on what I felt comfortable with. What I wanted was the comfort and security of my own environment and people of my own choosing at hand.

Anne’s concerns were that this was my first baby and I was over 30. She did not want to take any chances.

My concerns were financial. I was without financial assistance from my baby’s father and I needed to be very practical about my options. After much deliberation Anne and I decided that I would be at home for the first stage of labor. Second stage and birth would be at the private hospital in our area. I had arranged to utilize a special package that they had on offer – if you have your baby and leave immediately it would cut the costs considerably. I was going to have my waterbirth after all.

Five days before my due date Anne sent me off to the gynea for one last check up. The baby’s head had not fully engaged and she wanted his opinion. He very matter of factly declared that I had a triangular pelvis and the baby’s head was too big and “ we will book you in to the hospital on Thursday for a Caesar”

Shock and horror! My vision of being the epitome of an earth mother giving birth effortlessly thrown asunder. I had never considered this option and had skipped all the chapters in all the books marked “Caesar births”. Oh dear...

Luckily I had been to the last antenatal class and it had dealt with Caesar births – and I had paid attention.

After phoning Willy and booking her hand holding services and hearing her true advice, (“eat your last hot meal slowly and enjoy every bite as it will be the last hot one for a very long time”). I had a bath, shaved (by feel and a mirror as who knows what is going on down there when you are 9 months pregnant) and went to sleep with high expectations, holding my belly lovingly for the last time.

Birth day arrived chilly and dark and me feeling that I wasn’t ready for this yet. Willy arrived early, possibly more nervous that I. Bags packed, duvet on hand and camera at the ready off we set to the general hospital as the private hospital was now definitely out of my league.

At the hospital every one was brisk and efficient, my private ward consisted out of 3 beds and it felt a little better having my own linen.

Anne came by to say hallo and was just in time to stop the nurse from inserting the catheter. Advising that it was best to leave that to the theatre staff after my epidural. Next thing there was the trolley and I was being whisked off to the theatre.

I was completely at ease as I had my own medical team from the gynea, the anesthetist to the general doctor. A special touch for me was asking our G.P to assist as she was there throughout my mother’s recent illness and death. I felt it was important for her to see in the next generation. The whole team was fantastic; not at any stage did I feel things to be impersonal or insensitive. The anesthetist was truly a gifted doctor. I was understandably nervous to have a huge needle stuck into my spinal column. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and called upon all my resources to relax. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing, only my toes going into pins and needles and then nothing. As I said, this man was gifted.

Willy sat to my left and the doctors put up the green screen. My anesthetist sat to my right adjusting the drip as needed. He was also giving me a running commentary and I was asking questions such as what happens to the amniotic fluid? (It gets drained away and sounds like at the dentist) At this point he took over the photographic responsibilities as Willy was in awe of the proceedings.

“Now they are making the cut, reaching in with the forceps and there is the crown... Then from behind the screen was lifted this most awaited miracle

“It’s a boy !!”

He was wet and bloody and he opened his mouth and made a little meeueeng sound. I felt asif I had been hit in the chest with a ten-ton truck. Bam!! A bolt of absolute love hit me in the heart and has not left yet. They clamped the umbilical cord and Willy brought him to me. Wonder of wonders. There were not enough words to describe my joy. Here was love manifest. With tears in my eyes and butterflies in my tummy I welcomed my son with a kiss. After a minute or two they whisked him away for his Apgar scoring, cleaning etc with Willy in tow recording it all for me to see later.

At this point I felt positively green and the drip was adjusted as I have low blood pressure. After the doctors checked that my ovaries and everything else was in place they sewed me up and wheeled me into the recovery room.

For a few moments I was on my own and had some time for quiet reflection. A sense of peace surrounded me and I felt apart, almost as if time was suspended and I was distanced from what had just been the singularly most important experience in my life. It had not quite sunk in that my baby was in the other room, dressed and ready, waiting for his new Mommy to give him his first meal.

After I was wheeled back into my ward my son and I were reunited and he immediately fell asleep. I however kept waking to look at him – he was so beautiful. Anne arrived after 2pm to check on me and I was then quite ready to have the catheter removed and to go home. She wouldn’t hear of it and felt we needed to reevaluate my recovery later on. I wanted to brush my teeth and wash my face and without a problem lifted myself up and off the bed and walked catheter bag in hand to the loo! After tiding up and shuffling back Anne realized I meant business and that I wanted to go home.

The afternoon went by in a morphine induced haze and at 6.30 Anne reappeared as did my family and I was allowed to leave.

In at 6 am, baby at 9.30am out by 7pm. A record!

Now, one year has passed and I am still filled with a sense of wonder. I can close my eyes and relive those first few moments of Liam’s birth as if it was yesterday and the surge of emotion still rises in my heart as it did in that moment. It was not how I had planned my babies birth but sometimes the universe takes over and does what she thinks is best for you.

It took 4 minutes for my son to be borne. Without stress, pain or violence. Yes, bright lights, but familiar voices. Sharing his birth and having a fantastic support structure is vital – be it friend, husband or partner.

Afterall miracles need to be shared.

The Cove - Call to Action.

2012-07-23T09:25:00.003+02:00

If you have not heard about The Cove by now, you have probably either been in a coma or banished to outer Mongolia.

It is profoundly tragic.

Shockingly brutal and on a scale of one to 100 off the mark when it comes to us exposing ourselves as inhumane.

If this is a snapshot of humanity then I am overwhelmed by a blanket of doom for us as a species. On this planet or any other.

But we can change things. We are called to action and if we move on this then perhaps 30000 dolphins won't be bludgeoned to death this year or any other.

Perhaps if we stand up and say 'NO!" the waters will not run red this September.

By signing the petition, your participation will be noted by those who make the rules, those who are rule makers by your vote in the first place. And the time to do it is now.

Will you sit back, or will you do what needs to be done and make your mark and prove that in your chest a compassionate and loving heart still beats. Or will you continue in your somnambulism?

I hope that in 30 years time there are still fish in the sea, dolphins and other creatures that we take for granted. As it stands, our inertia will have a profound impact on future generations, and if we do not act, we will have a lot to answer for.

Make your mark here; http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/724/210/624/?cid=FB_Share

Igniting a Fire in 67 Minutes...

2012-07-19T08:44:00.000+02:00

Just a week or two ago I posted about Nelson Mandela and the world wide idea of doing something in your community with 67 minutes of your time. As a means of honouring his sacrifices and commitment to being the best that he could be, it gave us a chance to be the best that we could be too.

Being drawn to the elderly, downtrodden and homeless, the natural choice for me, and achievable, was to make some food for those in need.

We made a huge pot of soup and K and my my eleven year old were roped in to help with the transportation of afore mentioned pot, now brimming with it's nurturing goodness. And some ice cream for afters.

Getting my son involved was not unintentional. We had discussed what he would like to contribute and he had come up with walking someone's dog, or helping out at our local S.P.C.A.

But by taking him with us I wanted him to be exposed to that which he takes so for granted; parents, a home, warm bed, privacy, quiet.

All to often, being an only child, he is indulged and spoilt and has no idea that he has more than most.

Every morning and evening we give thanks for our meals and our blessings, he has an interesting concept of God, and his prayers often include fanciful thanks like ' thank you for the trees that give us air, the rain clouds that give us water and the cows that give us calcium'. Or ' please God help those poor people on the street to find a trolley and help them them to stay dry...'

Walking around their 'home', seeing their bunk beds and shared shoes and not a toy in sight, he listened as our guide told us about who these children were and how they had come to being there.

These children are between eight and eighteen, 15 in all. Not all are orphans, some have parents that are addicts, some are homeless, born on the street,whose parents are vagrants, and some are there for their own safety.

But all the children share one common link, everything they use, wear, eat, has been donated.
They are there because someone cared enough to see the need and build them a home.

Driving away after cheerful good buys I was reminded that to these children we must be a little ray of hope, a little bright spark in an other wise dreary existence filled with routine and rivalry.

But sparks soon die, as do memories, if one does nothing to ignite a fire that can do more than entertain for a few minutes or hours.

Hopefully tonight when my boy says his prayers it will be with a different knowledge and consideration. One where he has a better understanding of life, even if it is in a small way, and perhaps his heart has been opened to do more, give more, be more.

Because is that not what it is all about?

ADDENDUM:
Six of the oldest children donated THEIR time today and spent their 67 minutes at an old age home, cleaning the garden. How's that for awesome!

100 % Human

2012-07-16T10:14:00.000+02:00

If I have to be 100% honest, I would have to say that I have always held a strange fascination for women.

Watching them as I go about my day, climbing onto busses, all floaty skirts and gusts of wind, hair tumbling over eyes and smiles.

My glances mostly going unnoticed. When on the odd occasion, when instinct warned of an observer and eyes locked onto mine, I would smile in guilty acquiescence. And more often than not, my smile would be returned. And my heart would burst!

But it would be years before I locked lips with one of my own kind.

For that is still, all these years later, something that I find hard to define.

Who, or better still, what, am I?

‘Dyke’ doesn’t slip easily from my painted lips.

Nor does lesbian in its purest form, as I have a child. A daily reminder that I have lain with ‘the enemy’ and in so doing any hopes of rising in the ranks of Lesbian Hierarchy, dashed. No gold star status for me, sorry.

So where do I fit in? Not just in the world of same sex liaisons and strap- ons, but in the world I technically left behind, because when I crossed over, I got crossed out by many.

The biggest surprise to me when I came out was who left, and who was left standing.

And it was a radical shock.

I had no idea that I would be judged so severely. That the closest of the close would balk and defect.

Leaving me stunned and reeling; as a lesbian relationship was not really what I had envisioned for my life. Surreptitious looks under blackened eyelashes was about as extreme as I was ever going to get, I thought. Flying under the radar was what I had become accustomed to, not standing in the headlights of gossip, scorn or abandonment.

And all I wanted and desperately needed was to touch base with those who knew me, ‘from before.’ So that I could figure it out and process the upheaval in a constructive and joyful way, as one does in any new relationship.

When my soon to be love of my life said ‘put your hands in my pants’, I almost fainted. But I did. Feel the fear and do it, I thought, what the heck.. And I am so glad that I did.

Because love like I have experienced with this woman, cannot be compared on any level with that that I have experienced with any other. And I have loved deeply.

Over time I have made peace with those who have hurt me. Forgiveness takes balls.

I have however not really made peace with my place or my choices, yet. My comfort zone has grown, a little. My fear of being hurt or my family being hurt because of my sexual orientation is still a reality for me. My son bearing the brunt of stigma is a certainty as we live in a small town.

But still my ‘place’ seems uncertain. And it is my insecurity that dictates my instability.

Yet for all my uncertainty, I live out. And proudly so.

I stand proud to be associated with women and men who have been beaten and bloodied in the name of love. For the right to love without fear, for the right to touch without retribution or ridicule.
So perhaps I may not be able to ‘label’ myself as easily as some, but I do in fact know my place.

I know who and what I am.

A human being, 100% committed to love.

Reposted from : http://allthingsqueer.co.za/archives/lesbian-lifestyle/268-100-human.html

Folly of Indulgence, a New Chapter.

2012-07-14T10:23:00.000+02:00

When I started this blog it was out of a deep longing to connect and to make sense out of the world as everything I knew had changed, altered beyond recognition. I needed to have something to ground me as I thought I would drown in my own sorrow.

But as is life's wont, nothing stays the same for very long and just as the world turns and changes, so do we.

For a while now I have felt a sense of disillusionment with my blog and my creative expression. I haven't wanted to get caught in the cycle of only writing when in despair and I have not wanted to be completely honest either, with where I am, and how I'm feeling. For many reasons.

Hence the sporadic updates, and threadbare posts of late.

At first my blog was partly a vehicle for retribution and reprisal. A wonderful soapbox to say what I couldn’t say face to face. I had no idea if my blog was being read and like a diary that one leaves open in the hopes that someone reads it, my blog let me express my pain/hurt/anger and rage and fulfilled the same purpose of letting me vent, without actually causing any bloodshed.

But as I started processing and healing and forgiving, I started to release my past and move on.

Thankfully.

But now almost five years down the line and three years since I have been writing, I am at a crossroads.

My blog no longer is a place of honesty for me.

I have allowed myself to be driven by my own fears and insecurities to only reveal certain aspects of my life, at certain times.

Researching blogs and what makes them popular and successful, the overriding message is ‘be passionate’, ‘be authentic’, ‘find your market and keep them entertained’. ‘Be yourself’ and write, write, write...

I know that when I first started writing, my newly acquired gay status drew many deep issues out of the woodwork for me. As did my subsequent breakup and then later make up.

I had no lack of subject matter!

But then stealthily, the Big Depression and writers block started seeping into my pores.. Permeating everything, in a smoky, dense fog. Rendering me fishlike on the shore of endless white paper, gasping for a creative shift in the weather.

Until now.

I realise that I am but one in a gazillion bloggers, typing away with an opinion, something to impart, hopefully with value. A wannabe writer.

Who would indulge such folly?

Me.

For me to reconnect with my authentic self I have to be honest and change what I am doing, re look at my motivation and reconnect with that which inspired me to write in the first place.

Write about that which makes me makes me stop and think, those things that inspire and uplift, images that I am moved by, poetry which touches the deepest part of my soul and all those other small and large things that goes into the essence of who I am, and who I am evolving into.

For why else then, would I write?

So my crossroads came today in the form of a poet, a writer and photographer who blindsided me by his passion and poetry.

His words hit me so hard that it shook me out of my self induced somnambulism and I have awoken gasping for art, poetry and life. In all its myriad forms.

So forgive my indulgence as I rediscover what makes me tick. What gives me joy. What it means to be authentic and real.

Regardless of who reads or doesn’t read, what I write.

For is that not the bloggers perogative?

And is it not the reader’s choice, to read or not to read, at the end of the day?

So here is the poem that gave me C.P.R.; the breathtaking Tyler Knott Gregson.

Tyler Knott Gregson, a most wonderful discovery.Follow him on
http://tylerknott.com/

IMAGINE A BETTER WORLD

2012-07-07T10:46:00.000+02:00

Months come and months go by and suddenly we have reached the half way mark in the year. A wonderful opportunity to assess goals and tweak those that have not been realized as yet. ..

Also July is Mandela month. The month when he was born and in South Africa we celebrate in a unique and very fitting way.

We celebrate the 18^th of July and call it ‘Mandela day.’

So what does that mean?

What is Mandela Day?

Following the success of Nelson Mandela’s 90th birthday celebrations in London’s Hyde Park in June 2008, it was decided that there could be nothing more fitting than to celebrate Mandela’s birthday each year with a day dedicated to his life’s work and that of his charitable organizations, and to ensure his legacy continues forever.

The Mandela Day campaign message is simple: Mr Mandela gave 67 years of his life fighting for the rights of humanity. All we are asking is that everyone gives 67 minutes of their time, whether it’s supporting your chosen charity or serving your local community.

Mandela Day is a call to action for individuals – for people everywhere – to take responsibility for changing the world into a better place, one small step at a time, just as Mandela did. (Sourced from http://www.mandeladay.com/static/about-mandela-day)

How do I get involved?

Whether as an individual, community, business, non-governmental organization (NGO) or a government department, all you have to do on July 18 is donate 67 minutes of your day to doing something good in any way you can.

Nelson Mandela gave 67 years of his life to the struggle for social justice. Can you spare 67 minutes of yours to support a charity or serve your local community?

See what others are doing to commemorate Mandela Day here.

67 ways to change the world

Think of others

1. Make a new friend. Get to know someone from a different cultural background. Only through mutual understanding can we rid our communities of intolerance and xenophobia.
2. Read to someone who can’t. Visit a local home for the blind and open up a new world for someone else.
3. Fix the potholes in your street or neighbourhood.
4. Help out at the local animal shelter. Dogs without homes still need a walk and a bit of love.
5. Find out from your local library if it has a story hour and offer to read during it.
6. Offer to take an elderly neighbour who can’t drive to do their shopping/chores.
7. Organise a litter cleanup day in your area.
8. Get a group of people to each knit a square and make a blanket for someone in need.
9. Volunteer at your police station or local faith-based organisation.
10. Donate your skills!
11. If you’re a builder, help build or improve someone’s home.
12. Help someone to get his/her business off the ground.
13. Build a website for someone who needs one, or for a cause you think needs the support.
14. Help someone get a job. Put together and print a CV for them, or help them with their interview skills.
15. If you’re a lawyer, do some pro bono work for a worthwhile cause or person.
16. Write to your area councillor about a problem in the area that requires attention, which you, in your personal capacity, are unable to attend to.
17. Sponsor a group of learners to go to the theatre/zoo.

Help out for good health

18. Get in touch with your local HIV organisations and find out how you can help.
19. Help out at your local hospice, as staff members often need as much support as the patients.
20. Many terminally ill people have no one to speak to. Take a little time to have a chat and bring some sunshine into their lives.
21. Talk to your friends and family about HIV.
22. Get tested for HIV and encourage your partner to do so too.
23. Take a bag full of toys to a local hospital that has a children’s ward.
24. Take younger members of your family for a walk in the park.
25. Donate some medical supplies to a local community clinic.
26. Take someone you know, who can’t afford it, to get their eyes tested or their teeth checked.
27. Bake something for a support group of your choice.
28. Start a community garden to encourage healthy eating in your community.
29. Donate a wheelchair or guide dog, to someone in need.
30. Create a food parcel and give it to someone in need.

Become an educator

31. Offer to help out at your local school.
32. Mentor a school leaver or student in your field of expertise.
33. Coach one of the extramural activities the school offers. You can also volunteer to coach an extramural activity the school doesn’t offer.
34. Offer to provide tutoring in a school subject you are good at.
35. Donate your old computer.
36. Help maintain the sports fields.
37. Fix up a classroom by replacing broken windows, doors and light bulbs.
38. Donate a bag of art supplies.
39. Teach an adult literacy class.
40. Paint classrooms and school buildings.
41. Donate your old textbooks, or any other good books, to a school library.

Help those living in poverty

42. Buy a few blankets, or grab the ones you no longer need from home and give them to someone in need.
43. Clean out your cupboard and donate the clothes you no longer wear to someone who needs them.
44. Put together food parcels for a needy family.
45. Organise a bake sale, car wash or garage sale for charity and donate the proceeds.
46. To the poorest of the poor, shoes can be a luxury. Don’t hoard them if you don’t wear them. Pass them on!
47. Volunteer at your local soup kitchen.

Care for the youth

48. Help at a local children’s home or orphanage.
49. Help the kids with their studies.
50. Organise a friendly game of soccer, or sponsor the kids to watch a game at the local stadium.
51. Coach a sports team and make new friends.
52. Donate sporting equipment to a children’s shelter.
53. Donate educational toys and books to a children’s home.
54. Paint, or repair, infrastructure at an orphanage or youth centre.
55. Mentor someone. Make time to listen to what the kids have to say and give them good advice.

Treasure the elderly

56. If you play an instrument, visit your local old-age home and spend an hour playing for the residents and staff.
57. Learn the story of someone older than you. Too often people forget that the elderly have a wealth of experience and wisdom and, more often than not, an interesting story to tell.
58. Take an elderly person grocery shopping; they will appreciate your company and assistance.
59. Take someone’s dog for a walk if they are too frail to do so themselves.
60. Mow someone’s lawn and help them to fix things around their house.

Look after your environment

61. If there are no recycling centres in your area, petition your area councillor to provide one.
62. Donate indigenous trees to beautify neighbourhoods in poorer areas.
63. Collect old newspapers from a school/community centre/hospital and take them to a recycling centre.
64. Identify open manhole covers or drains in your area and report them to the local authorities.
65. Organise the company/school/organisation that you work with to switch off all unnecessary lights and power supplies at night and on weekends.
66. Engage with people who litter and see if you can convince them of the value of clean surroundings.
67. Organise to clean up your local park, river, beach, street, town square or sports grounds with a few friends. Our children deserve to grow up in a clean and healthy environment.

I am so inspired. Reading through this list there are so many things that I can do immediately. And also some that will take a serious amount of dedication, but I know will have immeasurable results.

What say you? Are you in?

67 minutes of your time may just be the catalyst for remarkable growth, nurturing and change in someone’s life.

Or perhaps in your own.

Be the change you want to see in the world, stating on the 18 July 2012.

Let me know how it goes!

You can read more about it here http://www.mandeladay.com/ and

http://www.mandeladay.com/news/entry/july-2012-set-to-be-the-biggest-mandela-day-month-yet

I'm Lucky and I Know It!

2012-06-08T13:30:00.000+02:00

I think I am a very lucky person.

I have always won competitions, much to the disgust of my fellow green eyed (ex) friends who would purchase as many raffle tickets as their pocket money could buy, only to have me win, with my lonesome procurement.

I have won a giant teddy bear (it gets better, I was ten at the time), a mountain bike, an ‘aim and shoot camera’…

But it just got better.

All the above prizes were just random flukes. A ticket bought, a sms sent to a magazine competition, that sort of thing. It had nothing to do with talent, ability, perseverance or drive.

Until now.

A year ago I entered a photographic competition submitting pictures for the nature, pets and children’s categories.

The competition was held over a year (!) and had four categories. Pets, children, nature and action. I submitted pictures month after month, only to feel the sting of disappointment upon opening our local newspaper and observing the beaming winners. Time after time.

Then the magical day arrived when I received a phone call from the newspaper informing me of the good news. I had won the nature section of that round. I was now in the semi-finals!

The competition has run its course now and out of the 48 semi-finalists they recently chose finalists, of which I was one.

I cannot say that the prize giving was a glittering gala, star studded evening. But it held a special charm for me.

I have been told that I am very competitive (quote unquote “it is only a game of ‘Snap’ Mommy!’) But to hear your name called out as a winner has a really nice feel to it.

Yep, I won, and I like to think it had nothing to do with my O.C. D which has only really reared it’s nasty head when entering photographic competitions; I like to think that it may just have something to do with hard work, passion, perseverance and a splattering of talent.

So from now on I will be brandishing my sparkling new Canon EOS 1100d with just as much drive and determination.

Well, I will as soon as I figure out where the ‘ON’ button is…

Thank you DistrictMail, Kodak and Canon. You made my day and year.

Death To The Food Nazi

2012-05-29T12:35:00.001+02:00

If I go by what little I can see out of my office window, then I think winter is finally here.

Which is great!

Not only do I love the layered look but I love the cold and the rain.

The romantic in me finds it inspirational and the artist in me finds the cold weather her muse.

Of course there is nothing like staving off the cold like comfort food. And as you know I have been ‘slenderising’ for quite a while now.

The down side of watching every single item that I consume is a) it gets very boring and b) you turn into a food Nazi and c) you think everyone is having more fun than you are. (and they are!)

So to celebrate the change of seasons and to prove that I can lighten up without falling off the food wagon, I am going to post a recipe.

No, not oven baked oxtail in red wine, or old fashioned Malva Pudding dripping with custard.

No a simple yet delightful ‘golden oldie’ which will always remind me of my parents. Neither of whom baked but who loved ‘Crunchies’ dipped in tea at any given time of the afternoon or night.

Old Fashioned Crunchies:

Ingredients:

1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour, 1 cup coconut, 2 cups oats, mix together. 250 g butter, 1 & 1/2 Tbs Golden Syrup, 1 tsp Bicarbonate of Soda.

Method: Melt butter, bicarb and golden syrup in the microwave or stovetop for the environmentally aware. Mix dry ingredients together with butter mixture then add beaten egg. Spread mixture evenly in baking tray, bake at 160c for15 - 20 minutes until golden brown. Cut while hot and leave to cool.

Enjoy with your tea of choice, good company and rainy weather.

Thanks to Tim Bourne for the recipe.

Enough is Enough

2012-05-21T15:05:00.000+02:00

Recently I read some wonderful quotes on joy as I was looking for some inspiration.

What struck me was the thread that ran through quite a few of them and that was that joy is a choice.

A conscious decision to make upon waking, and one that needs to be purposely sought after in the small, random acts during ones day.

This lead me to thinking that I have allowed myself to forget some simple truths and this was the universes way of subtly steering me in the right direction again. And for that I am most grateful.

You see I get so caught up in my expectation of what I ‘think’ I should have, be , feel, and I am so driven in my desire to not only get things done but to achieve ‘it all’ that I have lost sight of what makes me happy.

I used to think it would be a relationship, or more money, or owning my own home.

But I was wrong.

All those things are marvellous and certainly add to one’s life in many meaningful ways.

But that is not the happy I am referring to.

I am referring to the happy, despite one’s home, relationship status or bank account.

The happy that comes from a deep inner peace that defies outer expectation or inner limitations.

The happy that comes from enough.

Having enough, being enough, loving enough.

I am enough and that should be enough.

I just forget that sometimes and transfer my ‘need’ onto others and then cannot understand why my expectations are not being met!

So from today I am going to dust off and write in my ‘Gratitude Journal’ once again as a tangible reminder of my wonderful life.

And remember that ‘joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every single day’ Henri Nouwen