I am between temptation and duty!
After soothing rain on the roof all night, morning brings the sun - gushing in through the windows, sprawling temptingly on the carpet, dazzling me with seductive whispers:
“Come! Let me loosen your bones, warm your skin... give you the Cheshire Cat’s smile!”
I want to ignore the computer, take off my clothes and lie in blissful worship, but duty calls.
I put Cesaria on at full volume, linger over coffee, clean my mop, hang washing, but the inner doorbell rings insistently: report, article, costing sheet!
I’m alone in the house – it’s been a while. I knew the idea of using the time to work was an illusion I would find hard to take seriously. I have been quick-stepping with time, duty and deadlines while making every effort to twirl a social, make a meal or two, cuddle everyone and enjoy the moment. Suddenly the moment is open and here I stand between two realities: opportunity to work and opportunity to play…
So why the diddley-whatsit am I debating with myself?
I shall do both! I’m not bliss dragon for nothing, you know!
:)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
funny bunnies
Chomping chocolates and enjoying a morning hot drink together, the kids and I were discussing the Easter Sunday theme of returning to life.
Easy for ex-farm kids to see the connection with chicks, baby rabbits and the blossoming of spring in the Northern Hemisphere (in spite of our distinctly autumnal chill), but they didn’t see what it had to do with Jesus and were generally pretty vague on the bible story.
Time for enlightenment.
I took the opportunity to explain the resurrection story, how it mirrors earth’s resurrection after winter and that, over time, the symbols of the two celebrations became linked. I told them the whole historical story from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. They ate their chocolates thoughfully.
In an attempt to engage them, I completed the enlightenment project with a comment about how Jesus apparently lived for a further forty days and then ascended. I explained how I thought someone had seen him leave in a visionary chariot. The kids turn to each other knowingly:
“Must have struck a deal,” says Boy Joy,
“Yeah” replies Girl Wonder with cool certainty.
She turns to me matter of factly and, with the patience of someone-who-knows, explained:
“You see, when he was dead he struck a deal . He said: give me some more time, I’ll do some more teaching.”
Then off they scampered to wonderland – unfazed by spirit transcending biology and other such miracles, secure in their assurance that anything is possible.
Gotta love ‘em! :)
Easy for ex-farm kids to see the connection with chicks, baby rabbits and the blossoming of spring in the Northern Hemisphere (in spite of our distinctly autumnal chill), but they didn’t see what it had to do with Jesus and were generally pretty vague on the bible story.
Time for enlightenment.
I took the opportunity to explain the resurrection story, how it mirrors earth’s resurrection after winter and that, over time, the symbols of the two celebrations became linked. I told them the whole historical story from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. They ate their chocolates thoughfully.
In an attempt to engage them, I completed the enlightenment project with a comment about how Jesus apparently lived for a further forty days and then ascended. I explained how I thought someone had seen him leave in a visionary chariot. The kids turn to each other knowingly:
“Must have struck a deal,” says Boy Joy,
“Yeah” replies Girl Wonder with cool certainty.
She turns to me matter of factly and, with the patience of someone-who-knows, explained:
“You see, when he was dead he struck a deal . He said: give me some more time, I’ll do some more teaching.”
Then off they scampered to wonderland – unfazed by spirit transcending biology and other such miracles, secure in their assurance that anything is possible.
Gotta love ‘em! :)
Friday, April 22, 2011
Admin - comments
I love your emails and comments and have long had complaints that you cannot add them to the blog. I have taken advice and changed a few settings. Feel free to try again and we shall see if this tweaking makes blog comments possible.
Click on 'comments' below (where it says how many comments there are); choose how you wish to send it - through a gmail account, anon etc; add your words of wisdom and press send.
If no luck, keep emailing!
Click on 'comments' below (where it says how many comments there are); choose how you wish to send it - through a gmail account, anon etc; add your words of wisdom and press send.
If no luck, keep emailing!
Monday, April 18, 2011
The culture of wildness
Last week I was in Madikwe Game Reserve, covering the sensory-rich experience of Jaci’s Tree Lodge with my comrade in nomadic indulgence, photographer Gorgeous Goddess.
I don’t know if it was the bumpy game drives, but it has re-awakened a lustful sensibility within and I am charmed, once again, by the power of being in wild space. I feel driven to share some gushy ode to dusty roads and scrubby bush.
We journeyed through pylons draping electric cable elegantly over sunflower fields, and a chameleon mountain with the road for her tongue, which swallowed us whole. But once we hit bush, it all paled. I fell in love (again and again!) with the pure sensation of African mama and her quest to tame humanity’s juvenile ego by showing us infinite grace.
I watched this great mother express her personal preferences. I saw humans responding to her timing, her ways. I felt my body open and my mind relax as I listened to elephants grazing loudly on the other side of the river. The stylish décor disappeared into the back-ground of riverine forest, the sand road and hum of bush insects soothed me like the sensuous bed linen.
I felt sooooo grateful for the lack of gung-ho hunting lodge bravado!
I had a lesson with the wild dogs – those pert, kinetic hunters that have graced the hall of fame for their near extinct-ness. We were doing extreme-experience of the lodge-style-game-drive as we hurtled through bush in our own private Land Cruiser. Although I would have liked time for quiet connection, walkie-talkies were buzzing static like vultures with a rasping cough, and we were off to find the dogs that were attempting a sunset kill.
Perhaps disturbed by the Cruisers that did a pretend-hush version of pulling to a stop right near them, the wild dogs missed the impala. But their alertness never altered. With a flash of irritation, they included us as clumsy partners on the chase, ran close as they passed us, eyes focussed, ears up, coats magnificent and continued on their wild way. I so admired their style!
As I witnessed their grace and our gaucheness I realised: perhaps it is we who are wild? Perhaps we seek the quiet grace of unspoiled nature as the culture that can teach us how to be civilised?
What bliss if nature's culture could tame our wildness...
I don’t know if it was the bumpy game drives, but it has re-awakened a lustful sensibility within and I am charmed, once again, by the power of being in wild space. I feel driven to share some gushy ode to dusty roads and scrubby bush.
We journeyed through pylons draping electric cable elegantly over sunflower fields, and a chameleon mountain with the road for her tongue, which swallowed us whole. But once we hit bush, it all paled. I fell in love (again and again!) with the pure sensation of African mama and her quest to tame humanity’s juvenile ego by showing us infinite grace.
I watched this great mother express her personal preferences. I saw humans responding to her timing, her ways. I felt my body open and my mind relax as I listened to elephants grazing loudly on the other side of the river. The stylish décor disappeared into the back-ground of riverine forest, the sand road and hum of bush insects soothed me like the sensuous bed linen.
I felt sooooo grateful for the lack of gung-ho hunting lodge bravado!
I had a lesson with the wild dogs – those pert, kinetic hunters that have graced the hall of fame for their near extinct-ness. We were doing extreme-experience of the lodge-style-game-drive as we hurtled through bush in our own private Land Cruiser. Although I would have liked time for quiet connection, walkie-talkies were buzzing static like vultures with a rasping cough, and we were off to find the dogs that were attempting a sunset kill.
Perhaps disturbed by the Cruisers that did a pretend-hush version of pulling to a stop right near them, the wild dogs missed the impala. But their alertness never altered. With a flash of irritation, they included us as clumsy partners on the chase, ran close as they passed us, eyes focussed, ears up, coats magnificent and continued on their wild way. I so admired their style!
As I witnessed their grace and our gaucheness I realised: perhaps it is we who are wild? Perhaps we seek the quiet grace of unspoiled nature as the culture that can teach us how to be civilised?
What bliss if nature's culture could tame our wildness...
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