Spoon of the day #4

Today has been a good day. Spemt some time in the garden and got burnt to a crisp – ths African sun does not play around!

Had a cool shower and put some after sun cream on – hoping for the best…

Now l’m watching Lord of the Rings again. Cool movies, better books, but to each his own.

The thing that strikes me about this story is how pervading darkness can be. How easily it conquers everything.

These days, in our reality, the darkness, for me at least, seems to be in the search for power and money. The lengths people go to to get as much money as possible as quickly as possible. They don’t care about anything but the almighty buck and in the process they lose everything that money can’t buy, but which is the most important things.

Greed can make you forget what’s really important. Your soul becomes shrivelled and the only beauty you see is what you can buy.

Not that you don’t need money. You do. But you can balance your peace and needs without losing sight of what will, when all is said and done, make life worth living.

Your dog wagging his tail when you get home. Your child’s laughter. Your partner’s loving welcome. The sight of a new bloom or the bright green leaves on the trees in spring. The smell of a rose. Which all brings me back to my main premise of what makes a life.

It’s not what you have that makes a life. Not where you live or what work you do. Not lavish holidays or sex or food. These things may look worthwhile, but when you cut to the bone, you will see that it’s all just dust in the wind.

Happiness is not something to be bought. Happiness is something you work for every day by finding the little things. It’s always the little things that staves off the darkness the best.

If you have had a hard day, find something small to be thankful for. Something small that brightened a moment and hold fast to that through the darkness.

I wish you the joy of the little things tonight.

Spoon of the day #3

I’ve been thinking about this today.

Had yet another altercation with my son. And I was thinking, how can l try and help anybody if I can’t even get my own child to hear what I have to say?

He’s been struggling lately – resentful of so many things and nothing I say can help him. Probably something to do with the fact that I’m his mother and no child listens to their parents. I know I did not…

Of course, the movie I’m watching is not helping – Dirty Dancing. Patrick Swayze is no more. The simple days of my youth is no more. I will probably never dance again. So many things are ending and I don’t think I’m ready for it to end yet.

Can I do anything about it? Nope. Not a single thing.

How then, do I get out of bed every morning?

Good question. I just do. And when I do, I have enough strength to face the day with all it’s problems. In my case, the Lord provides what I need. A pillar for my back, a hand in mine.

I will attempt to share my peace with you. I can only do it with words though. You still have to do all the hard work.

What was good about today? Nice coffee? No traffic? Good meal? For me it was a lovely cup of coffee with condensed milk. And of course the memories I found while watching Dirty Dancing.

Every day contains something good – if you can find it. But you need to look for it.

I hope you can find something that was good. And if you can’t, think of the fact that you woke up today, another day filled with grace.

Spoon of the day #2

This blog is not your average motivational deal.

They might work for a bit, but like everything else, it only lasts while you’re reading or watching it. Then life happens again and you’re right back where you started.

What I’m trying to do today and the days to come, is to help you understand that you are not the only one that’s struggling with life and the things that happens to us all.

While my life is relatively standard, all things given, I’ve had my share of problems and troubles. I do not have all the wisdom in the world, and I have not struggled with everything that there is to struggle with. But I hold fast to one thing: there is always something worth living for.

Trying to find that something is really what it’s all about. What I’m trying to help you find.

As I type this, I’m watching Avengers Endgame. A story about endings and beginnings and loss and sacrifice – life, basically.

Only a movie, I know.

And it is one of the ways I stay OK. A little thing that brightens my day.

That is the spoon of the day. Look out for the little things that could possibly add a bright spark to your day. It’s not easy. You have to work at it. You have to actively search for the little bright bits in your world.

Yes. This sounds like all the other sayings out there. It sounds as trite as everything else.

But trying to stay upright is not easy. I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy. If it was, would it really be worth it?

Try it for one day. Then a week. Then a month. Once you actively start looking for them, they will eventually become easier to see. But you have to work at it, every single second of every day.

And you’ll see, every day the little bright bits will become easier to see.

And you will be the better for it.

Let me know if you manage it. And if it works.

Spoon of the day #1

On the 27th of December, I sent a good morning message to a friend of mine. Something I try to do at least once a day to various people.

On this specific day I received a message back almost immediately. Not to say good morning or anything, but a message saying that the friend in question is alive no more. He decided to call it quits on Christmas evening. Did not want a memorial service or a funeral, just a cremation and the ashes to be sent to his mom.

He’s been depressed for years. I knew this. Spoke to him about him on occasion. I just thought that he would deal with life the way l do – suck it up and move on. He did not. Had a set-back earlier in the year and I think it was the last straw. Did not call, or reach out. Just internalised everything and could not see a way out.

Death is part of life. We will all die some day. It’s a given. But there’s something about suicide that does not sit well. It goes against everything.

There’s no problem big enough to take your own life. Nothing too unsolvable.

Which brings me to the purpose of this post.

I saw a video the other day that explained the analogy of the spoon. For each day we get a finite amount of spoons. Each thing that happens to you uses up a a spoon. For most of us the allocated spoons are sufficient. For people like my friend, it was not.

Me, I don’t get spoons. Every morning when l put my feet on the ground, there’s a bowl of strength given to me by the Good Lord. But l know not everybody believes like I do, so I’ll stick to the analogy of the spoon.

Let me give you today’s spoon.

In every country in the world, there are places you can go to for help. No problem is insurmountable. You are not alone. Never. Even if you think you are. And the one thing that sticks in my mind is what happens to the people you leave behind. They always wonder if they could have done something, changed your mind somehow. I know people like this. They never get over it. They would do anything to help you. Let them. Please.

What I’m trying to say is the following: If you feel that you have reached the end of your usefullness, the end of your tether, reach out. I guarantee that you will find a hand somewhere. Even if it’s only mine. Reach out. I’ll be there.

Freedom

Do we realise how precious it really is?

Good day good people. Been a while since I posted, thought I’d take it up again. Too many thoughts in my head, nobody to listen to them.

I’m working through the Marvel movies while I have a bit of time to waste, and something the mad German scientist said struck a chord.

He said that Hydra was of the opinion that people are not capable of handling their freedom and, as such, said freedom should be taken from them. But when that was tried, people balked. They would not willingly give up their freedom.

So, a different strategy was decided upon. One where people would willingly give up their freedom in order to feel safe.

Fast forward to reality and we live in a world of surveillance. It’s not a conspiracy theory. We are being watched every day of our lives. Some of it comes from the government, some we do ourselves. Every post on any platform becomes public property, there for all to see – why else post anything online if not to be seen and heard?

Are we then already giving up our freedom?

The gps on your phone tracks you 24/7, ostensibly to notify help if you are in an accident, but it can be used by nefarious characters just as easily.

You save your data on the cloud to keep it safe, but nothing is really safe anymore – data on the cloud is just as hackable as your home server.

You send messages on groups using whatsapp with your number there for all to see and use, and they do. These crypto people drive me nuts!

Back to freedom.

How free are we really?

I think I’m a bit more free in certain instances where I live than maybe people in the States or China because, well things don’t quite work as well in Africa as it does in other places, but still. My freedoms have been curtailed to a degree thanks to the colour of my skin, and I’ve been bullied on a whatsapp group – not something that I liked all that much.

So I hide in my house. Work there, craft there, entertain there – my freedom gone. I’m very careful of what I post on the platforms I frequent, almost never speak to people, mainly because I apparently don’t know how to…

Am I giving up my freedom fo be safe? And if I don’t, what will happen to me?

Something to think about…

Meh

How to describe that word?

It’s an overwhelming feeling of antipathy. Have much to do, don’t feel like doing it. Have people to talk to, can’t be bothered. Shows to watch, meh.

I think many people suffer from meh-ness at least once a month. Some more, some less, but there will always be days like this.
For me, it’s not a common thing – life usually has at least something that’s worth doing, but when meh strikes, boy oh boy!

It’s the end of a very long year. I just had a major b day that was not celebrated in the least. All these things lead to meh. Why, you may ask? Well, when meh strikes, you wonder why you do all the things that you do. Run around like a headless chicken, wiping snotty noses or smelling poo nappies or having to deal with obnoxious little brats or painting yet another Christmas tree or rolling a bunch of little balls for somebody that will, in all likelihood, not appreciate a minute of the work you’ve out in.

Going to work, albeit only half-day, seems such a schlepp because, since it’s the end of the year, not much is happening. The holiday feeling is heavy in the air, people are wearing sundresses and shorts and picking up the kids earlier than usual, but I have to stick around until the last minute – because there’s always a few that pushes it to the last minute.

Painting the current Christmas tree, when not a single other person on the property has even bothered with a Christmas feeling, seems redundant. Making gits, after you’ve been told that, thanks, but I have enough little things on my dressing table, sort of takes a lot out for me – I like making things, but have ever made it for people that can’t seem to grasp the time and effort that goes into a home made gift, well, meh.

Tomorrow, things will look different. It usually does, But while meh lasts, not much gets done.

And I have to drag myself forward to the point where I can see the sun shine and think of it as a bright new day, instead of just another day to get through.

Hoping our day will turn out for the absolute best…

Violence

Why?

While I understand the feeling of giving somebody a major slap in the face for being irritating or an idiot, I don’t understand the need to hack somebody up with a machete or something.

I also can’t understand the need for one person to rape another. Watch enough Criminal Minds or Law & Order : Special Victims Unit and you see that it happens and that there are a reason for it, but understand? Probably not.

And then you have the protesters. Against whatever is happening at that point in time.

In the good old RS of A, we currently have a rape case in court. A 20 yo male raped a 7 yo girl. He’s being sent for psychiatric evaluation – something must not quite equate in his head to have done something like that – a topic for another blog; normal vs not normal.

We also have a high level of violence against women and children for whatever reason. And now we have a protest against gender violence. A student – who else? – is going to “go naked” at the court proceedings because it’s never the victims fault, regardless. While I totally agree with that statement, I can’t really see how being naked is going to change anything. She certainly feels strongly about her chosen situation, and by all means – if you feel it will change something, do it.

So, I’m sitting here, thinking. Rape has never been about sex. It has ever been about power. Power over a weaker person, power over your perceived enemy. Power over your own weak mind.

And as such, walking around naked will not bring anything to the table. It does not, in fact, face the real issue. The real issue of one person subduing another person with their fists or penis or mouth. That is the culture that you must break. The feelings of inadequacy in the tormentor that leads them to lash out at their token tormentee. The non-firing synapses in the brain of a person that feels it’s OK to rape a 7 yo, or to shoot a bunch of innocents, or burn an old person to death with a iron. The idea that a woman or a child is a possession, something to own instead of nurture and love and lift up and teach.

Therefor, I will not be joining the young lady in her naked protest – some bodies are meant to be hidden from the eyes of the world. But I will speak out when I see the situation happening, I will face the man or woman doing the hitting, and I will try to talk the other party into looking after themselves and their children.

From experience, it’s better to have a difficult abuse free life than an easy abused life – after all, you are all that you have. Men come and go, women come and go, children leave, parents die – in the end, you will only have yourself so you owe it to yourself to have a good life.

Change

The only certain thing…
Other than Death and Taxes of course.
As lives go, I’ve not lead the most evenly spaced. It’s not been all bad, but there have been some bad times – it often feels like there have been more bad times than good.
But, all thing change. Nothing lasts forever – not the bad, and not the good either.
Last year was one of the bad times. From March, no income – not even unemployment from the Government. I suppose they though that, since I’m a whitie – that much reviled species in the Suck Heap – I don’t deserve their largess. Thank Heavens for family. If not for them, I would now have been in a squatter camp of my own somewhere with all the other members of my reviled species.
Then, one night, as I was sitting in my lounge, doors open wide to listen to the night sounds, a wind came up. It billowed the curtains and blew straight into my heart – a wind of change. I wrote about it at the time. I felt the cleansing it brought. The promise of a change, a new beginning. At the time, I felt refreshed, heartened. Of course, such feelings do not last. I mean, how much stock can you really put into a wind blowing? Regardless of what you felt when it happened. So I left it and carried on with life as best I knew how.
And then I got a call. Do you think you can look after kids? Help them with their homework in the afternoons?
Well, uhm, yeah… I probably could. I did not say what I really thought – that’s the last thing I want to do! Look after a bunch of bloody rugrats while they moan and groan and cat all spoilt…
Suffice to say, I had nothing else in the cards. Only possibles of maybe selling a house, or maybe selling long term insurance, maybe finding a job in a market that’s not on my side on either age or colour – so I took the offering as a sign of the wind and the Universe and my G-d actually delivering on a promise made. I grabbed it with both hands and now I have to eat my words.
I am at the coast. Living in a cute, albeit noisy, flat, a few plants, a few birds that I feed every day, enough to eat, place to sleep and benefactors that make me feel guilty for all they do for me. They pay me a decent salary. They gave me a car to drive with, a cleaning service once a week, and they pay for my electricity and the flat I stay in.
And the kids, you may ask? Those terrible rugratty ankle biters? Lovely boys. Well mannered for the most part, mostly prepared to listen to me, and do what I teach them. They enjoy my company as I enjoy theirs. I feel as if I’m actually doing something constructive – I play a part in these kids’ lives. I can try and make a difference to the outcome of their years. I don’t just help a company make more and more and more money to the detriment of my soul.
I help kids – and I think that’s kinda real. Sure I get paid to do it – that was, after all the reason I took the job – but it seems more than just a job. Not something I’ve ever felt in any of the many jobs I’ve had throughout my life.
I miss my house and my people and my animals – especially my animals. But this opportunity? This is something that I thank G-d for every day of my life.
I see the ocean every day – sometimes I even walk next to it. I have a bit of extra cash to do little things with – buy a cinnabon or a hobby thing, I have every morning free to do with what I like and I get to make a change in a few people’s lives.
I can’t say this will last forever. Maybe it’s just a temporary thing and I have to go back to my dreary existence.
But for now, I am blessed and content for the most part.
There are people out there that do make a change in other’s lives…

Promise

It’s been a bad one…

This year. It reached depths of despair l never thought l’d have to live through ever again. 

Jobless, yet again, but trying, trying so hard to change the outcome. Doing anything and everything l can to make myself believe l’m not as useless and worthless as the job market seems to think of me. 

It’s summer in South Africa. Dry, hot, baking summer. Glorious and draining at the same time. This evening, after a day spent sweating in my garage, getting my Christmas tree ready for display, l almost went straight for a bath after supper. 

But while having my post-prandial smoke and coffee, l decided to go outside and just experience the night. 

Just sit and feel the night settle about me. Hearing the birds snuffle in the trees, listening to the dogs breathing around me, the soft sussiration of a car passing in the road behind me. Al quiet sounds of night arriving. 

Then the wind started to blow. 

And it felt like a promise kissing my skin. A promise that, even with all the bad, there are many good things too. 

I just need to be open to receive the beauty of G-d’s creation. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=T6PaCFwq_ik

Death

Has struck again. 

And, once again, it took the better of us. 

One of my blog buddies, Sam Fenn, died yesterday. 

Of all the people l know, Sam was always ready with a laugh or a home made cupcake, ready conversation, a shoulder to cry on. 

But she never seemed to get the best of any deal. 

She’s had a raw life. 

Sam, my friend, l wish l was a better friend to you than l was. 

I don’t know what really happens when you die. But if, as l believe, there is a heaven, l hope you are there now. Safe for once. Happy. Cared for. Looked after. 

Go gently into the night, Sam. Your last journey has begun. You will forever be in my thoughts. 

https://youtu.be/dcnd55tLCv8