Last month a photovangelist saved my life

"The difference between a rut and a grave is the depth" ~Gerald Burrill

Life has a way of breaking you down - almost in a scientific sense - to your base elements. And you suddenly find yourself a collection of pieces... to be sifted, sorted and put back together. 

When I got the opportunity to finally be shot solo by Saddi Khali, I was in pieces such as those.

It wasn't my first tryst with Saddi: in March last year, The Mr and I did a couple's shoot and it was

incredible. I thought then that I had been changed, but I really had no idea! The photos were amazingly beautiful, and to see ourselves reflected - six years of marriage, one child and, 20kgs later - as still vibrant and sexy blew my mind! I was sold. I was an evangelist for the photovangelist - telling all and sundry about the experience and recommending it to anyone that would give me the chance.

But then, I went solo. A month ago to be exact. 

I was ripe for the experience: almost 40kgs overweight, two children into it, my lifeless career hanging by a thread. I knew something had to give but I wasn't sure what, when or how.

The pre-shoot talk happened without me even noticing it. We spoke casually, catching up on events since the last shoot. I shared. He listened to me and challenged me. Little did I know I was being processed... and not in the way of something being forcibly done to me - but as though somehow something was happening within me. I was seeing myself with more clarity with every conversation. 

Saddi has an incredible gift. His special 'eye' is not limited only to the two he uses to find focus from behind the lens; it is also in the way he reads his subjects. He has an uncanny way of just knowing... of knowing things he really has no business knowing. It was as if he immediately knew all of the things that I was not saying - and he called me out on *each* and *every* single one of them.

On the day of the shoot, I was nervous - not about dis-robing, but about everything that would happen afterwards. Many will tell you that Saddi shows you the beauty that he sees in you (and that is there to begin with). That's true. But he also shows you what you are putting out into the world. When you combine a high-resolution camera and natural light, your unintentional bitch-face is hard to deny. BUT when - moments later - you see how you look when you are relaxed, when you are happy, when you are comfortable; you cannot imagine any other way to be.

It was the contrast of the two that changed my life. I cannot begin to describe how it feels to see yourself as more than beautiful... stunning, gorgeous, a true work-of-art. Not in an egotistic or delusional way, but simply because the proof is right there in front of you, on the display screen of this man's camera. Exhibit A. Irrefutable, undeniable, real.

You have no choice but to see yourself differently. To believe differently of yourself. To expect different things from yourself. You simply have no choice. 

That is what the Saddi Khali experience did for me. I could not, in good conscience, bear witness to the overwhelming beauty that is me in my natural state (... and believe me, I was overwhelmed) and then go home and continue to be anything less. 

I realised that the pursed lips and terrified eyes I had been walking around with are neither beautiful nor natural. They are not the me that is meant to be. 

And when you know what you can be as well as what you are not - the next step is a no-brainer. You want to be that beauty all the time. You want to be comfortable, you want to be real. And so you reevaluate the fakeness in you, the wackness in you. The pursed lips and terrified eyes of your spirit; you want them gone.

It's been just about a month now and, since my shoot, life has opened up as if it's been waiting for me all along. I've opened up too. It feels like the universe is conspiring to affirm my potential for greatness at every available turn.

And my soul faces every moment with a smile that spreads right from my lips to my eyes - no more pursing, no more terror... just open.

What a difference a day makes

“There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self.” ~Aldous Huxley

Hard to believe it's July already... and even harder to believe July's almost over. Little Tyke will have been in Z for exactly eight months tomorrow. I dare not even try and imagine the changes that have happened in *his* life since then, so I'll just focus on the changes in mine.

For years now, I've been yearning for more fulfillment in my professional life, yet to even try to make that happen for myself without a fool-proof plan seemed selfish at best. The fact my current job was not even showing me the simple courtesy of paying my bills wasn't helping. I was in a place where everything was about money, making ends meet; just month-to-month to month stuff. Depressing as hell. The goal became to simply get a job that paid me better, forget about a job that actually made me feel better.

Of course, that went against everything I stood for. Every fibre of my being rebelled against that paradigm and the agonising conformity of it all. But, I was a mother; a wife; part of a team - so I needed to do what I needed to do. For the team. I had accepted it. I was ready for it. I was going to do it.

But the universe, as I was to later find out, had something else in store for me.

Anyway, once - with the help (i.e. persistent 'advice') of The Mr - I got over my paralysing sense of loyalty to my 'boss', I started looking. I wrote her a letter explaining it all... How I was struggling financially, how I had a passion for interior design and how I, basically, didn't know what the Fuck I was doing! (The phrase, 'You ain't gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell up outta here' comes to mind). I'd had it. I didn't say it in as many words, but I had had it!

The search started off with gusto. I knew I wanted to go into online & digital marketing. I was so interested in it, I knew I could do it and I'd be great at it. All I needed was to get my foot in the door. But eventually, the hours and hours of research; a multitude of CV drafts, applications, customised cover-letters and fruitless follow-ups had me spent. I broadened the search to include even the same brain-dead mundanity I had been doing for the past six years. Still nothing. Enthusiasm waned and soon enough my old friend, self-pity, came back for an extended visit.

It was The Mr (bless his soul) who kept things going... sending my CV out, speaking to his friends, acquaintances and any recruitment agents he'd found along the way. Then, finally, it happened. A breakthrough. The Mr made the hook-up and I sealed the deal with the interview. I started working there almost as quickly as the opportunity came about. And it's been beautiful!

It's a small start-up and the position is just part-time and only a supplement to my current salary, but it also happens to have placed my foot squarely in the exact door I wanted. The best part is my 'new boss' has so much passion and vision. It's infectious. I feel valued; like I'm a part of something.  So now, even though the end-of-the-month still comes with the same old worries, somehow everything has changed. The money doesn't even really matter because for the first time in a long time I'm loving what I do.

The biggest lesson? It's actually made me a better mother; a better wife; a better part of the team. All because it's made me a better ME!

...full circle...

The Present is a Point just passed.  ~David Russell

I read today that time is like the wind - it lifts the light and leaves the heavy.

I've come full circle... back to the point from which I started. And yet there's been so much in between - so much that I could have never predicted I'd be back to facing the prospect of my son living away from me. I could have never guessed that I'd be trying (again) to start over with The Mr. I could never have imagined I'd be back here again.

For no other reason than that there's been so much in between...

And now that I'm standing on the other side, all I know is that I've always known it - everything that I needed to know I already knew. Maybe there is something to be said for being dragged through hellfire. Maybe we really do need to come face-to-face with everything we never thought we'd survive just so we know that we can. Maybe that's the push we need to stop surviving and start living. I pray only that is what it is for me, because if I ever had to re-live the past 3 months again... then I just wouldn't know anything anymore.

But the best thing about coming full circle, is that coming to the beginning means you've finally reached the end. And, even better, reaching the end means another beginning. Onward. I am blessed to be given a chance to do it again and I pray that I for as long as I am able, I will always chose to do it again, and do it better with each turn.

Fair is fair

It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.  ~Earl Warren

Sometimes I just want to run away. It gets too much. I feel like I hate my life; like I could have done so much better. But now it's too late. I'm stuck. Trapped.

I hate it when those days come around.

I hate feeling like I want to run away from my husband; from my child. They don't deserve it. And it's definitely not because of them that I feel that way. I saw it in The Mr's eyes today. He had seen it in me. The last time that happened, was also the first time I'd ever heard him even hint at 'forever' not actually happening for us. It scares me, because it controls me. When it takes hold, it's this overwhelming destructive force - laying waste to everything in its wake.

I'm watching him pace around the house as I write this. Tension hovering between us. I still feel the feelings, but I've come far enough to at least recognise them now. I at least know enough stop it. I can not; will not make my family casualties of the internal battle that rages in my own mind.

It's just not fair.

Getting there is in remembering why you went

Some things have to be believed to be seen.  

~Ralph Hodgson

From this episode forward, the role previously played by 'Hubby' will be played by 'The Mr'. (It was recently pointed out to me that hubby is one of the least sexy things a lady can say to describe her guy)

The Mr and I have really been working hard at this partnership thing. We're both very aware of our triggers and respective neuroses and are starting to become acquainted with each others' too.

I got to thinking... of the many, many, epiphanies I've had (of which only a *few* are included in this blog - trust me), this is the one I've most believed, affirmed, held on to and fought for. I don't know... I'm feeling a little bit of pride here, I have to say. Inside, I'm all like "I've finally found something I finally effing know for sure!" It's proof that this life has not gotten the better of me and I do have a solid core.

I never stopped trying to make it better. That doesn't mean there haven't been times when it got worse. We'd slip into our comfort zones, step back into our roles - but eventually I'd snap out of it and drag him with me. The best part is, he did the same. I was strong when he couldn't be and when I was weak, he wasn't.

That's what it's supposed to be, right? We had a long discussion this weekend about roles and how we assume them, what informs them. His upbringing was textbook, classic. Mother, Father - homemaker, provider. My story is a touch unconventional in comparison to that. I knew only of two individuals, living and doing everything separately - including parenting me - almost a duality of being.

I think I realise now that my child-like mind decided a long time ago what my adult reasoning is finally starting to believe: marriage = one whole. If it's made up of two parts, then they must be equal halves. They just have to be. That's what my own experience, that of friends, and that of my parents' friends has shown me. It's the only way it will work. I'm proud to know it's a belief I've had for that long and a belief that I still hold on to. I'm starting to think there could actually be a real person in here somewhere. *fingers crossed*

Good to know, but far from being the final destination. There's work yet to be done. I mean, this is me we're taking about and self-indulgence is a known vice of mine. It too often leads me over-step the halfway line - seeing myself as bigger than the marriage. I usually check myself on that, but my response-times are not so hot.

The system still has a few kinks in it too. We still use our trusted mutual ritual of bottling up and exploding, but the explosions are getting more frequent and less intense. They used to be blood-letting sessions, now they're just emotional conversations.

Slowly, slowly.

The quiet after the storm

God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken,
And yet so profound, so loud, and so far,
It fills you, it thrills you with measures unbroken,
And as soft, and as fair, and as far as a star.
~Joaquin Miller

And now... silence.

Everything I shouted from the roof tops, the dark secrets I let spill from my lips. It all lays there in a tangled mess, and it seems almost as if it has done nothing but stun us into complete silence. Not that we aren't dealing with it. We are. Steadily, working through all that needs to be fixed, and doing it together. But there is an unmistakable air of things unsaid.

It's a tension that wafts in between us at times, like a shifting fog. Never staying for long, but it hovers thick and heavy while it's there. It's interesting, because in a way it's also kind of a good thing. One thing we came to agree on during the long heart-to-heart (that I needed so badly a month ago) was that to be better to each other, we also had to be better to ourselves. Part of the silence that now prevails is just the two of us, each taking the time to look inside so we can better see what it is we are projecting to the outside - to each other.

I see that now. For the past two weeks, I've been looking at it very differently (and to my detriment). I realise that I had been acting like a small child, who opens one eye and peeks up from his morning prayers to check what the other kids are doing. I did my 'work' and when I was ready, I peeped up at him and got frustrated that his head was still bowed.

I huffed and puffed (in my own head, of course) about how he had retreated from me after he had said we'd do it together. All the time, I never stopped to think that perhaps I needed to just take him at his word and rather try keeping my own head down for a little longer and checking if I didn't still have stuff I needed to refine.

There's a road that we committed to when we had that talk - a road that we promised to travel together. For me to doubt the sincerity of his promise now would serve no purpose, especially when - in actual fact, his actions have shown only that he fully understands what I told him and that he knows what he needs to do.

I said before that all those titles were too big for me to hold on my own. I've told him that. He understood. So time to stop complaining. He's my full partner now, like I asked . It's ok if, every now and then, he just chooses to be a silent one.

Sick of Me (Happy New Year)

Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not.  ~Henri Frederic Amiel

It's been a minute. Kinda scary actually. So much has been done, said, forgotten. To reflect on it all now, in hindsight, would be all too revealing. And the truth, as we all know, is often-times the bitterest pill of them all.

But, it's a new year. Fresh starts, clean pages and all that. So reflect we must.

By the time December hit, I was utterly exhausted. What a f*&#!ng year! I'm not afraid to say, I'm glad it's over. A cyber friend of mine asked an open question last month on Twitter. "How did you find 2009? Good, bad or ugly?" My response: "2009 was faultless. Me in 2009? Bad." And that is the heart of it. I was at the edge of some weird precipice last year (and I probably still am, considering 'last year' was a mere 8 days ago). Face-to-face with myself as a mother, as a wife, a career-woman, a friend, a whole person - for real and for the first time. The new me. And I didn't handle meeting her very well.

My blog-post history speaks for itself. Epiphanies and falls. That's the story of 2009 for me. So tedious. So much so that I don't even have the energy to fill in the gaps since my last post. Apart from Little Tyke coming back, everything that's happened since is just more of the same really. I will not even try to recount or even summarise the past few months' events.

Even to make a resolution for 2010 seems pointless - I know all I need to know and all I need to do. I've learnt and failed at it all already. So consistency is the way forward. It's the only way. If this is to truly be a new year, I must do new things.

I'm frankly sick of myself. Sick of knowing what to expect. Sick of expecting too little. I'm sick of seeing different sides of the same person pulling in different directions. Sick of losing control when I know I hold all the control. Sick of knowing better without doing better. Just sick of it!

Tonight, after work, I'm going to speak to Hubby. I'm sick of it. I'm laying it all down for him... every failing, every frustration. I want him to see me. I want to force myself to be seen. I'm sick of it. No more hiding from myself, no more running from the world. A few months ago, I would have been terrified. Perish the thought of being exposed - the horror, if anyone should see that I really haven't gotten it all together - not one bit. But now? Now, I'm just sick of it. I'm not ok. I don't want to pretend that I'm ok anymore. Wife, mother, career-woman, financial manager, head-cook, housekeeper, organiser and general household manager is too big a title for me to take on any more.

I'm sick of it. I want to do it. I wish to God I could do it, but I can't. I just won't anymore. It's destroying me and because of that, I will start destroying everything around me. I'm sick of it!

So that's how my new year will begin... with simply getting rid of the old shit. No resolutions, no future plans. Just a blank slate and a clear conscience. I figure it can only get better from here.

Moving forward by starting again

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on". ~Carl Sandburg

Little Tyke’s absence is turning out to be quite an exercise. Not unexpected but it dawned on me last night that, in the 5 weeks that he’s been gone, I’ve also taken quite a journey of my own. I’ve been through a number of phases that until recently I had just thought of as the natural female emotions that would ensue in a situation such as this. The inevitable surface ripples of the displacement caused by his departure.

So far, I’ve been able to identify two phases for sure and I’m pretty damn certain of a third on the horizon:

Guilty positivity: I’m tempted to divide this into two. Although these ‘sub-phases’ happened in very quick succession, almost blending into each other; they were distinctly different. Different enough, for me to just go with my gut on this and separate the two. Why not?

a) Near-indifference: I say ‘near’ because I was ACUTELY aware of the fact that my son was going to be away from me, from his home, for the longest time ever and that that was a HUGE deal. It made me extremely nervous and I had a sinking suspicion that sadness would, inevitably, not be too far behind. Nonetheless, I was a bit numb to it and secretly glad for the breather.

b) Renewal: The ‘glad for the breather’ part of me morphed into a sense of expectancy and anticipation of all the things I could accomplish without Little Tyke here. Not in a bad way, but kinda like “here’s an opportunity to dedicate myself to putting in the work that’ll build him a Mummy he can be proud of”.

The two affected each other because I, a) had it in my mind that I should be feeling something that I wasn’t, and b) when I did finally start feeling something it wasn’t what (I thought) I should have been feeling. Hence the ‘guilt’.

Definite negativity: This week I was really on the business end of this one; close to being expelled from it and shot out, only to land in an exhausted heap - far, far away from where I started. The past 6days have been a ‘snot en trane’ [snot and tears] fest of note! I feel completely lifeless without him. It was like I finally realised that I had been lying to myself for a month. How could I have ever thought that life would be possible, let alone enjoyable, without him. It all started gradually enough - a small pang, then a general malaise. It just grew and grew until, at the worst of it, I was crying myself to sleep. I missed him unendurably and nothing, noone, could make it better. Fullstop! – Or at least until today.

Thoughtful positivity: This one is really all just riding on a hunch. It hasn’t gotten there yet, but I really feel like it’s going to be the next step. It may even turn out to be a part (a) for this phase *fingers crossed*. I think the very contemplative nature of this one just might push me into “Definite positivity” – which would be (b).

My last post was all about what being a mother has done for me. And like I said, the positives far outweigh the negatives. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about today… ‘thinking’ being the operative word. I wasn’t clouded by my heavy emotion on this one. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do now that I really truly realize how much I love this little person.

Recent events in the news like the death of little Vanilla Nurse, the Caster Semenya issue, Derrion Alberts in the US, and the Roman Polanski debacle have all had me thinking of how I’d feel if it was my child on the receiving end of all these events. I’ve been thinking about how vulnerable he really is and the fact that, with the world being what it is today, me and Hubby are all that the little guy has really got.

It all got me thinking that unlike Vanilla, Caster, Derrion and Mr Polanski’s victim, Little Tyke hasn’t yet lost anything. He may be far away from me, but when he returns he will still be intact and we’ll be here to take him into our arms and be blessed enough to go on to help him navigate his way through the world. It’s been quite a revelation and so my perspective is slowly beginning to shift. Of course, I still want him back – like today – but I also recognize now so many things that make me look at this time apart as a way to bring me something to look forward to.

I’m looking forward to holding my little boy with a new tightness and looking at him with fresh eyes. A true and resonant acknowledgement of my role in his life and his role in mine. I’m looking forward to using everything that I’ve learned during this time about being a mother to be a better one for him.

When 'what if' is

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

The truth is, Little Tyke was not planned. Motherhood for me has been a tough road - very rewarding, but tough all the same. There were times that I even dared to wonder what my life would have been like if he wasn't around.

For the longest time after he was born, I felt completely and totally overwhelmed and a little oppressed. I felt as if my life had been taken away. Hubby and I had only been together as a couple for two years when he was born. It sounds like long enough but, we got married when I was three months pregnant - which means that, at a time when most people are only just 'coming down' from the euphoria of their honeymoon, I was a bloated, swollen-feet-having, back-pain-suffering grinch.

And then after he was born, my milk just wouldn't come in. In-between the cracked nipples and guilt over not being able to perform the most basic of motherly duties - I had to go on antibiotics because my ceasar wound became infected. I got thrush (and passed it on to Little Tyke) and so had to stop breastfeeding: after that cleared up, he refused to take the breast anymore. Then there were the endless months of colic...! Oh god, the colic. That almost broke me.

At the same time, I was trying so hard to run the new home that I had created with my new husband. But I was just so tired all the time. I still wanted to be the desirable (and agile) little nymph that I had been while we were dating. But I just couldn't lose that baby weight and I seemed to gain even more as the months wore on. I missed the nights out that we used to have - the partying and the romantic dinners. But we had noone to watch Little Tyke while we were out.

I felt like a shadow of my former self and it was at those times that I would ask myself what life would be like without him. I would never admit that to anyone and even when the thought reared its ugly head in my own mind, I would quickly shove it back down and chastise myself for hours. It wasn't natural to think that way and I was an apalling mother for even entertaining such a thought - in any form. But the fact was my life had changed irrevocably and I felt that it hadn't really been by choice, so inevitably when the hard moments came so did those ugly thoughts.

Fast forward to today. Little Tyke has been in Z for over a month now and I'm finally faced with the reality of my once fanciful (albeit shameful) 'what if's. The truthful answer is that life would be hollow. There would be no daily reminder of my alive-ness. Nothing to keep me connected to life itself.

Being a parent gives you a VIP pass to life's backstage. You literally witness and experience its very beginning. The moment that you realise that this brand new little person is about to embark on a journey that you have already travelled and have taken for granted all your life, a sense of purpose immediately starts searching for expression within you.

Suddenly the ills of the world, the ills within yourself become a permanent part of your peripheral vision. You are consciously, subconsciously and sometimes unconsciously aware of the fact that you are responsible for guiding this little life through all the perils that you have faced and (more terrifying) the perils that are yet to come and that you know nothing about.

You find new joy in the seemingly mundane things that now cause the face of your child to light up ... coming home, giving hugs, taking a drive, eating ice-lollies. You suddenly realise that you have a reason to smile every single day. And for me, that is the one that blows my mind. A reason to smile every single day? Even when you don't particularly feel like you have anything to smile about, all it takes is a funny word or a wierd laugh from your little one and suddenly a smile will creep up on you, simultaneously warming your heart as it spreads across your face.

There are facets and dimensions of life that become clear to you when you have a child. You begin to live outside of yourself and, if you're like me, it is for the very first time in your life. I've said before that I reckon I'm pretty selfish, but when Little Tyke needed to eat or had to have a nappy change it was him that came first - every time and without even a second thought. It may seem elementary but it's really not. It's a truly remarkable feat of nature; to give and give and give without an expectation of even an iota of reciprocation.

He became my joy, my purpose, my reason, my life.

And now, I miss him unendurably. Every phone call is guaranteed to end in tears (my tears). I miss hearing him say "Mummy". I am even willing to hear it called out repeatedly for up to 10minutes at a time (like he loves to do) if it means I'll have my baby back with me.

What is life like without him? It's really not life at all - not my life anyway. As much as I had wanted to look at this time apart as an opportunity to catch up on all sorts of stuff - including catching up with a me a thought I had lost, I realise now that a life without my son is impossible. This is my life now and how much more rich and fulfilling a life it is. I have gained more from being a mother than anything I could ever have thought I had lost.

Maybe I needed this time to really think about it and even this blog to try and put it into words. In a way, I'm kind of glad I did.

So... can I get my baby back now?

Have you got your sandwiches ready?

Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him. ~Albert Schweitzer

Saturday, 18 July 2009 was the inaugural Mandela Day. The cause was celebrated all over the world and the point was to 'make an imprint' by dedicating 67 minutes of your time on that day to basically spreading good vibes by helping someone or making some sort of contribution to making the world better. The time would be spent in honour of continuing Nelson Mandela's legacy and remembering the 67 years he spent as a leader, trying to make his country and the world a better place.

I've spoken a few times here about giving of myself and how much I felt I should do that more. When I heard about Mandela Day, I thought this was my opportunity to stop talking about it and BE about it. My idea: to drive the streets of my city with packed sandwiches and give them out to needy people as we came across them. Pretty simple and straight-forward, right?

Anyway, Hubby and I started off at about 12:20 or so and the 67 minutes started ticking. I had it all worked out in my head... we'd get to the city centre and at every traffic light there'd be the usual three or four guys either begging or selling stuff; we'd stop at the red lights and hand out our lovely festively-packaged sandwiches with smiles and salutations all round while we gleefuly shouted "Happy Mandela Day!" as we pulled off, hooting... lol.

But it was not to be...

The experience of Mandela Day was a really big eye-opener for me. I am still amazed at how we agonized about the selection of our beneficiaries. As soon as we got into town, we realised we had no system or real plan. And a lot of questions that we were only now asking ourselves, 20 minutes into our 67!

Would we give to beggars? We decided that maybe we shouldn't because they really weren't desrving. Everyone knows they make a lot of money for doing nothing but standing around looking disshevelled and miserable. But, 30minutes in, we hadn't seen anyone that was deserving so we pulled up at a red light and sure enough, there was this kid... begging.

He couldn't have been older than about 16 or 17, so we decided 'why not' and gave him a sarmy. "Happy Mandela Day!", we said smiling. The kid nodded his head and walked on to the next car... no smile. no thank you. nothing! We were like WTF?!? and I looked back at him in the rearview mirror. The sandwich was gone! I have no idea were he put it, but he stood there, between the two lanes of cars, empty-handed and making sickly little gestures between his stomach and his mouth as he emplored our fellow motorists to pity him with some food.

WoW! I was stunned, but I had to think about what I really expected to happen. Well, I guess I have already answered that question quite early in this blog post. Could I really describe what 'needy' means? I mean, just because that kid was on the hustle and he needed to keep up the appearance of sheer destitution to get any more food, did that mean he didn't need the sandwich? Or maybe he needed something else that I could have given.

That question still forming in my subconscious, we moved into the next neighbourhood. (Now, the South African socio-economic dynamic is so definitive, vivid and palpable that I hope anyone unfamiliar to the country will still follow). Picture an old white neighbourhood with a small mall-type centre and across the road a smaller centre with the old Portuguese-owned take away, post office, habedashery, dry cleaner, little Italian restaurant, etc... Of course, at lunchtime on a Saturday, there is bound to be an assortment of black people sitting scattered across the tiny lawns and their railings... on break from work or looking for work.

We pull into the parking lot and think this is the perfect spot, there's gotta be someone needy here who's not a beggar. And that, my friends, I learned is one of the hardest things you could ever try and do! How do you assess 'need' by just looking at someone? There were so many people there... big mama's talking loud with their friends, domestics with the white babies they've been charged with caring for for the day, men in blue overalls asleep in the sun, the shopping centre security guard, the car guards... And every single one of them, I was sure, needed someone to perform some random act of kindness for them at that moment, but all I had was sandwiches.

All I had was sandwiches.

We drove around, and up & down, and debated... Picking people out and then gultily picking reasons why they weren't the ones. "These sandwiches are pretty rudimentary, so we've gotta give it to someone who won't judge - who's really just, like, starving"; "He looks pretty well-dressed and clean. Won't we come across as arrogant and as thinking that we're better than him?"; "He's obviously got a job, I'm sure he's got money for lunch"; "What if they think we're trying to poison them"; "I can't do it. You go. If you go, they'll be more receptive"; "But I feel so awkward... no, no, I can't. You go".

And so it went until we had been sitting in the parking lot of another centre in the area for about 10 minutes, watching the man who was sweeping up leaves on the sidewalks (not to mention having changed parking spots twice while doing it! lol). Sounds utterly pathetic, I know. Anyway, Hubby just decided to go for it and after a couple of "What do I say"s and "what if"s, he took the sandwich and went off to give it to the guy. Apparently he just gave him a funny look and then thanked him. He watched Hubby walk away for a while before he finally took a sniff of the sandwhich, peeked inside it, and then took a bite.

The first one was the hardest (the beggar doesn't count). We (or I, rather) quickly eased into it and went on to give away all our sandwiches, but one. I changed tack by losing "Happy Mandela Day" and rather explaining what Mandela Day was and why I was giving sandwiches, which elicited much better reactions. The whole experience was thoroughly rewarding. I'm still all about LOVE and I'm so going to make a habit of giving. But, it was also a lesson...

I had this idea that our 67 minutes was going to be a walk-over, but it turned out to be (a mostly agonising) 2 and half hours! I learned that everyone has a story. I learned that all it takes is a little time to get to know someone's story & you would be surprised to learn how much you really can give with what little you've got. We had it in our heads that 'needy' people are out there, like this other sub-species of human with easily identifiable markings. But we are needy too - all of us. Whether you have a roof over your head or live under a newspaper. We all need something, that someone close-by can give. We all need something that someone else has a lot of, like love or a helping hand, or time, or friendship, or even sandwiches. Yes, even sandwiches.

Like the one guy we gave a sandwich to by the train station. He was clearly employed in some sort of hard-labour, but he hadn't eaten all day and he needed that sandwich. Even though all I had was a sandwich... the lesson was, all he needed was a sandwich!

And as we drove off and I saw him bow his head in a silent prayer, it all started to hit home. Of all the sandwiches we gave that day, I only saw that reaction once - but just that one guy... just that one sandwich made it all worth it.

A lesson in love... what I've learned from MJ's life and death

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence. ~Eric Fromm

I've been trawling the web a bit and there's so much on about Michael Jackson's memorial yesterday. I got a sense that a lot of the (online) media was just looking for any little tiny bit of controversy to attach to it all, and I found myself thinking, "Damn! Even in death, they just won't give the man any peace!"


I think for the most part it failed though (at least for right now, in the immediate aftermath). I stood in front of my TV last night, as I caught the last 30 min of the event and I felt something that surprised me. I remember the tears welling up, the moment they started singing "Heal the World". I was stunned by the way that entire crowd of 50 000 people stood there in reverent silence - albeit for just a second - after the song came to an end. I could feel the hearts of literally millions of people around the world as we collectively said goodbye to the greatest entertainer of all time.


MJ has touched so many. I am not ashamed to admit that I am one of the many, but I am ashamed to accept that I didn't even realise until last night, just how much he had touched me personally and the lessons that he has really left behind for the entire world. How sad. How truly and deeply sad the story of MJ has been. This man... adored by millions, villified by many and persecuted by a few. After all is said and done, it's clear that all he ever wanted to be about was love. In that instant after the song had been sung - in those few moments of soul-amplifying silence - it all became so clear. And in that instant, that's ALL it was about. For a few beautiful moments, love was all any of us could feel.


"There will never be another Michael Jackson". I heard that phrase so many times during the course of the memorial, and while I believe it to be true, I don't want it to be so. We need another Michael Jackson in the world. We need another something to unite us, and to bring us all in unison - even for a few moments - back to that state of pure and radiating love, all across the world.


As the human race, we are heading further and further away from each other. As the world gets smaller and smaller, so our outlook becomes narrower. We withdraw deeper and deeper into ourselves. Not looking beyond our own noses, or caring beyond our own issues.


MJ had been trying to tell us for a minute that we've had it all wrong, so now that he's gone will we finally listen? I was moved so deeply yesterday. I felt inspired to do more, to be more, to give more. A valuable lesson, in light of the recent goings on in my life.


The guy has done more than touch a generation, he has touched a consciousness. Anyone who was as shaken as I was by his passing will know exactly what I mean. Once the most famous man in the world, it was his fame that was responsible for the simultaneous love, hate and judgement that has been showered upon him through the years. Did he die an unhappy man, a lonely man? I think about that and I wonder... if that's the case, then shame on the world for bringing that upon him when he has given us so much. Shame on us, when all he ever wanted to be about was love. When all he ever wanted from us was love.


Well, MJ - I hope you finally felt it. Even if it was just for an instant... some random, yet profound moment during yesterday's memorial. I hope you finally felt that love you gave reflected back to you.

R.I.P.

Easy...? Who said it would be easy? (Pt III)

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand. ~Emily Kimbrough

So now, after everything and having re-read pt 1 and pt 2 again, I realise that I'm facing the next hurdle in my journey. I have to now learn to draw the line between doing me and doing others wrong.

Things with Hubby are, well... interesting. Although the whole thing hasn't exactly been resolved, we have spoken a bit and I think he's opened up as much as he's going to on the matter. Now, it's time for me to decide my reaction. I'm tempted to be on some, "F*ck it!", but that's not me. I love him and value our marriage way too much. Plus, I realise that we both have our frustrations and we both have things that we're trying to do and to achieve.

I actually feel really tired. The tension has taken a lot out of me, and I want it to be over with already. I need to decide what I want my life to look like and what I've got to do, what I'm prepared to do, to make it so. One thing I know for sure is that I want a life with Hubby in it and I want it to be a happy one... for both of us. I think I know what he needs from me and I guess I need to decide whether I'm ready to make the trade-off, because that's what it will require - some give and take. And as much as I hate to admit it, I've been taking much more than I've given recently.

I suppose I thought that by reclaiming me - sometimes at all costs - I was empowering myself. But which is the me that I was trying to reclaim? In fact, the answer lies in that very word... REclaim, take BACK. I've been trying to hold on to an unmarried, unobligated me, but the (sad) reality of it is things done changed, and they've changed for good! There's no going back, all that's left to do is to move forward.

The disappointment is undeniable. I feel somewhat like I've failed. I thought I had it right! In a way, I think I did. My intentions were honourable, but I just didn't DO it right. And that's my first big lesson on this path... no one is an island and while you must always do it FOR yourself, you can't do it BY yourself. I wanted so bad to be right, and for him to be the immature, over-reacting one. But there is no right and no wrong - there's just us. And in the immortal words of Dr Phil, I need to decide: "Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?".

Sigh*

It's good though. It's always good when you learn something, so that's what I'm choosing to take away from this... a lesson in life.

It sure 'nuff ain't easy.