It was a tough week. In fact, I don’t have much to say except that the Wits Art Museum is rad, Zaki Ibrahim is also rad and luckily my mom thinks I’m the raddest.
My new specs continue to me feel a little ill. Chocolate covered raisins are stemming feelings of missing and Sunday evening trepidation. And watching The Hunger Games last night still has me reaching for a teddy bear and glass of warm milk.
It’s almost time for another long weekend in South Africa.
Here is my anthem:
- The friends I have are some of the best people in the world
- Unexpected things happen when you take your power back
- Even more unexpected things happen when you say ‘yes!’ to people, to events, to life
- A long distance call can save a Sunday
- I love women. It’s a pity men make my bones melt
- Men are mostly stupid (throw rocks at them)
- Even if you’ve known someone for years and years you can still miss each other when it comes to explaining matters of the heart
- It’s never really about the sex
- And it’s never fun not getting what you really, really want
- Forthright. Honest. Authentic. Tell someone you love them (and put aside your expectations)
- Magic sometimes happens at rock bottom
It wasn’t the best weekend I’ve ever had; but it was jam-packed with emotion, conclusions, disappointment and some truth-telling.
I’m very keen on long weekends. I look forward to them for months. And then I get a Friday and a Monday off and I sink into putty-like depression. It’s the being thrown right out of routine that does it I think. And perhaps the sugar overload. And red wine drinking.
Easter was spent on a lovely farm in Dullstroom, eating, drinking and talking myself into a state of shut-down.
On the plus side, the pomegranate rice dish I made was delicious and had meat-eaters queuing up for seconds.
Now just to get back into my work week. I think I need an evening ashtanga practice and this:
Looks delectable right? Find the recipe here.
I’ve outdone myself this year. And now my body is outdone. A couple of months with Olivier, travelling Ashtanga teacher, and I feel like I need a long moment on my bed. Ahimsa may need to be reevaluated.
My week/weekend (despite lack of sleep) was a very cool one. Here’s a recap:
- There’s such a thing as too much yoga
- Teaching kids makes me happy (although I’m still feeling stressed about being “fun enough”)
- It’s almost time for my 30th birthday and although I’m feeling freaked out about aging, I’m also relieved that this year has been one where so many things have come together (and apart) for me. Finally I’m able to balance happiness and sadness, and feel deep-down that my days are filled with the ‘right’ things and people
- The desire to leave SA is still strong, but I’ve come to realise that I enjoy the depth of relationships I have when I’m at home – I’m not really a skipping along the surface kind of person
- There’s a tension in the air at the moment – not necessarily a bad one, just a stretched feeling, as though everyone is being pushed into discomfort. Without a doubt this year people are having to deal with their shit
- Coldplay push my melancholy button in just the right way
We're at Coldplay!
- A musician on stage is an irresistible aphrodisiac
- Everyday I become more aware of the many layered nature of yoga – the benefits are immediate, but the deeper layers of the practice take years to reveal themselves, possibly because it takes years to become aware of the subtleties
- Once is a mistake, twice is a choice
- Next year is the year I buy a horse
My blog has been severely neglected in the last few weeks – a life in hyperdrive! Two weeks ago I was in Mozambique for a week’s yoga retreat with Ekam. It was simply awesome. Here’s what I learnt:
- Tofo hasn’t changed that much in 8 years (which is great, considering the influx of tourists and the nasty neglectful attitude of most humans)
- Flying to Inhambane is a wonderful experience – 3 hours later and you’re there
- I life running a little backpackers in Mozambique is a truly appealing thought
- Beer in Mozambique is delicious (after a day on the beach especially)
- There are amazing people in the world
- Matapa (a spinach/coconut milk mix) is delectable
- South Africans have some entertaining things to say
- Heartbreak and its effects cannot be underrated
- I can sometimes be a little reckless and attach too much meaning to coincidence and connection
- I’m a flirt (this one I’m still grappling with)
- Sustained concentration during practice is a tough one for me (don’t even get me started on meditation)
- Judgmental, egotistical attitudes pervade the more enlightened and those living fearfully in a box
- Backbends remain my much loved nemesis (“heart open, heart open!”)
- Timing, timing, timing
- Joy is the middle point between comfort and discomfort
- Choosing the unavailable is sometimes a way of keeping vulnerability at bay
- Men who love dogs and kids are a potent sex appeal cocktail
- Yoga has altered my body image drastically (for the better) but I can still feel incredibly awkward in my skin (there’s a disconnect between internal feeling and external appearance)
- Talking a big talk is easy
It was quite a weekend. Here goes:
- Once again I am reminded about how much I love my friends. They make me laugh until my face hurts. And they think I’m funny. Score.
- Teaching yoga really is awesome. I love seeing people experience what I feel, and watching them connecting with their own bodies.
- Internal dialogues. Phew. I made this decision over the weekend: you can choose to be fucked up about something, or not. I’m choosing not.
- Things change. I know that’s not terribly profound, but sometimes I don’t think we really get it. You can’t live in nostalgia and think the present reality will feel the same as it did in the past. It really doesn’t. And sometimes that’s so very sad, and you really miss how things used to feel and be between you and someone else; but maybe the changes also help you to move on.
- You’ve really got to be pretty damn bloody certain when you marry someone that they satisfy you on all the levels you need to be satisfied on – make sure the big, important boxes are checked. Otherwise you have a recipe for disaster.
- No matter how good things feel between you and someone else, sometimes it just doesn’t work out. This is a tough one for the stubborn romantic in me, but I just keep repeating: Never make someone your priority when you are their option. True story.
- Sex can just be sex; and then it’s a purely physical process and about satisfying biological needs. Great sex is about connecting, energy swapping, making oneself vulnerable, sharing, and of course orgasm … and then all the closeness that comes after. I think the great sex is what we are addicted to – the rush of hormones, the thrill of connecting with someone, the affirmation of reciprocated desire, the elevation beyond biological to the place where you think someone might just get you.
I had a weekend that involved a lot of wine. Now, I like wine – I love trying new wines, be they white or red, and tasting the subtle flavours of each new glass – and I love the comfort of a glass of an old favourite. But I’m beginning to think that I like being drunk less and less. And maybe wine is a particular kind of drunk; where whiskey may be a more polite kind of inebriated, wine is a frayed around the edges kind of drunk that quickly goes from giggly to foot-in-mouth and overly acidic.
When I woke up yesterday (with a big thirst on me and a post-party depression that only a severe hangover can induce), I began to think that maybe it’s time to put aside drinking to excess. Perhaps it’s the amount of yoga I’ve been doing, or a month of teacher training, but I can see why yogis don’t drink. It’s the lack of control I don’t like – control of my speech, control of my limbs, control of my memory. I hate feeling like I’ve had a meaningful conversation with someone, but being unable to remember quite what was said … and if what I said was something I would say sober. It’s also the way my body feels the next day (dire) and the fact that I feel like I’ve poisoned myself a bit.
It’s that moderation thing I guess – I don’t really want to be drinking sparkling water at a party; it just isn’t the same, and not from a peer-pressure point of view, but rather from a wavelength and stamina one. Let’s face it – alcohol is fun. I think I just might enjoy it more if I took to heart the glass of booze, glass of water imbibing pattern!
Monday reading here: my winter wish list.
I went to Randlords on Saturday night … I love the place. It puts Jo’burg (and its luminescence) into perspective, and I always leave thinking how much I love the city centre; its aliveness, its humanity, its breathing buildings, its architecture. I suddenly feel like we live in a proper city, like London or New York – there’s that swift optimism that the suburban set will begin to venture back into the CBD, injecting it with vigour and facilitating a cosmopolitan street culture.
Email communication between my mother and someone from the law practice down the road:
I walk pass your premises on a regular basis – are you aware that you have a family of very large rats residing on your property? They are quite unafraid and are often out on the driveway or the grass. They seem to live in the holes that go from the verge under the wall into the garden. I’m a bunny-hugger and don’t like killing any animal, and I would hate to have them poisoned because of owls, etc. Perhaps you need to get some large cats?
Yes we know about the rats – we are rat-huggers and encourage free range rats to enjoy our garden. Please don’t tell anyone else! We are letting heron and other birds of prey, as well as genet from the river, keep their numbers in check. If you know of any prey birds please pass this on. I would ask you not to encourage any cats though, as I have two live staffies.
So on the weekends I see said rats out on the driveway, enjoying the sun, playing chess with jaunty berets, nonchalant as you like. I wonder if they are aware that they are ‘prey’? It’s going to take a very self-assured owl, I can tell you!