Friday, November 16, 2012

Rays of love plunging

The light came through the window,
Straight from the sun above,
And so inside my little room
There plunged the rays of Love.

In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the Nameless makes
A Name for one like me.
I have been fortunate to have had a few days at home to rest, we have had the Islamic New Year, 1434. Things at work are busy and chaotic, and my trusty Pajero Ollie seems to be on his last legs with me and I have had a few bouts of migraine headache.

I have been able to spend some time with a new neighbour and went for a lovely walk by the sea at sunset. The beach was busy, but the atmosphere was relaxed and the fading light glistened softly on the wet sand. As we got back to the car, the sliver of the crescent moon, called ''Hilal'' in Arabic, was bright and prominent.

I had the realisation that sometimes it is only in the darkness, that you appreciate the presence and beauty of the Light, the fireflies on the way.

This song by Leonard Cohen has been another firefly on my recent and ongoing journey through the mist. I listen to it every morning as I get ready after my shower. This week was Diwali, the festival of Lights. I have been thinking a lot about the nature of Light and how our work is to illuminate every facet of ourselves. I read once we are all like perfect diamonds, and our experiences and pain and disappointment in the world, cause us to become all grey and dirty and dusty. We lose our lustre in this world if we are not careful.
How do we maintain the lustre? We nurture ourselves gently and keep polishing softly, trusting the inner Light. Even if we cannot see the road, and cannot comprehend the way, and even if we feel lost, we all have the inner homing beacon that draws us back and keeps us on track.  

Be gentle with yourselves friends, and live in the knowledge of your inner precious diamond.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Through the mist with fire flies


Sometimes as one wanders through the grey glistening mist, it is fine to just let it be and not examine it too closely. I live my life in a very sensory way, and am often very out of myself, perceiving people and personalities and  being hyper aware of the subtle hues of colors and gently vibrating energies all around. Living life very close to my skin, and taking it in completely.
 In recent months the process has been more of a journey inside, and not so easy to describe or to map, so I have let it be.
It always comes back to this somehow, that we are human BEings and not human DOings, and sometimes it is good to just allow everything and everyone to be what they are, including yourself. Mmmm, quite uncomfortable at times, I am sure you all know. Especially for the control freak in me... surrender doesn't come easily. But Surrender with a capital "S" is what the journey within requires.
I was blessed to have many fireflies that crossed my path and accompanied me a little way through the sometimes quite daunting swirling damp white-out, and this is one.
I was walking at an South African market in Johannesburg recently, and was drawn to see a palm reader who stood at one of the stalls. He said many things and gave me the best hug I have had in years, but here is something for you today. The lighthouse doesn't jump around the coastline looking for ships or boats to save; it stays completely stable on its rock in the knowledge of the strength of its own light and foundation, and knows that the vessels that need help will see that light.
I am so tired of trying ''to please'' and ''to be useful''. I think it is a wonderful piece of baggage to throw off with abandonment!
Here is a piece by Paulo Coelho I recently discovered:
Ask a flower in the field: ‘Do you feel useful? After all, you do nothing but produce the same flowers over and over?’
And the flower will answer: ‘I am beautiful, and beauty is my reason for living.’
Ask the river: ‘Do you feel useful, given that all you do is to keep flowing in the same direction?’
And the river will answer: ‘I’m not trying to be useful; I’m trying to be a river.’
Don’t try to be useful. Try to be yourself: that is enough, and that makes all the difference.
Walk neither faster nor slower than your own soul... Because it is your soul that will teach you the usefulness of each step you take.
So, dearest fellow travellers, just be where you are and true to yourself and that is more than enough.
Hester Clark: Your soul knows what is best for you and it WILL tell you.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

On banana bread and being with yourself

"Now that I've found you, I'll call off the search"   ..Katie Melua

I'm sitting in my kitchen thinking about tomorrow and the days and weeks to come.The oven is preheating as I am just about to make lovely banana bread for myself. 

 I'm also thinking of Einstein who said, I never think of the future as it comes quickly enough! I feel a bit like a dog that has been chasing a car for the last 7 months. Now I have finally caught it and I feel slightly bewildered. 
  
Tomorrow is my last day in the office before a long summer break. It is also the last day in that specific building, a beautiful campus next to the ocean I have been working in for the last three and a half years.

The ''car'' I have caught is TIME. It feels as though I have been rushing forever, for years, always taking short breaks and always leaving home. I also usually work most of the summer. So, this year I have given myself a big gift. Space and time at home. And also two lovely breaks! Those I will tell you about soon.

Now that I am finally on the threshold of the holiday, it feels a little bit scary. The open space and time seems daunting. My life has been so super regulated and timetabled: working hours, yoga, German, the man... all nicely pencilled into my diary and ticked off methodically.

 I have so many things I want to do: I am on a mission to throw out, lighten the load, and also create some order in my surroundings. 
But most of all, I would like to spend quality time with me. And I think my biggest plan of all consists of doing nothing mostly.
Today I came home and cooked myself a scrambled egg with asparagus and parmesan, I watered parts of the garden and then sat in the pool with a cup of tea, listening to the call to prayer. It is Ramadan and life has slowed down. Things seem to happen in slow motion, and it is a good feeling if you don’t mind that for a while.
Usually, I play that song by Katie Melua when I feel so blessed to have found such a wonderful companion in my loved one. Tonight I play it for myself.
Dear friend, wishing you open spaces and time to do nothing except be with yourself.

Here’s the recipe by the way, it is one I use regularly.

Ingredients:
·         3 or 4 ripe bananas, smashed
·         1/3 cup melted butter
·         1 cup sugar (can easily reduce to 3/4 cup)
·         1 egg, beaten
·         1 teaspoon vanilla
·         1 teaspoon baking soda
·         Pinch of salt
·         1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour
 Method:
Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). With a wooden spoon, mix butter into the mashed bananas in a large mixing bowl. Mix in the sugar, egg, and vanilla. Sprinkle the baking soda and salt over the mixture and mix in. Add the flour last and mix. Pour mixture into a buttered 4x8 inch loaf pan. Bake for 1 hour. Cool on a rack. Remove from pan and slice to serve. YUM!

  

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The guesthouse

Dear friends, I'll be back soon, the potions are simmering. Until then, entertain all guests with grace.
The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

...
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


-Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Friday, June 29, 2012

A falcon, a storm or a great song

"I am circling around God, around the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,
and I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm,
or a great song."
 from "The Seeker," a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Robert Bly)


I had a beautiful girlie day yesterday with two of my favourite ladies -going to yoga and then for a luxurious masssage, followed by a yummy lunch, a dip in my pool and then just sitting outside by candle light talking about this and that, enjoying the quiet and the privacy of the garden.

I am having a lovely calm contented day, pottering around in my things and tidying up a bit. New courses starting at the university tomorrow, thinking about them. Going on a little fun shopping expedition to the mall with my girlfriend Monica later this afternoon. Shopping is not usually my thing, but Monica is a great  companion, and I am going to spoil myself a little to celebrate my promotion at work.

My home is in a state of disarray and I look forward to tackling it properly soon. I have a long "to do" list circling around my head. My body is tired and a little achy today. My loved one is in China and he is much in my thoughts. But it is a good kind of longing.

I am thinking about all the layers we live in, all the roles we play at one time, all the dimensions we frequent, and I am brought home with the thought that the process of knowing yourself is a life-long quest, and that I am in everything and everything is in me. Part of me is in the falcon, part in the storm and part in the song.

Also in the grass, the desert sand, the wind, the pixels of the letters I type, and in the heart of my lover.

Deep bow to Rilke today.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Imaginary problems


Rob Brezsny has outdone himself again with his astrology, and I thought you could all benefit from this advice. Very true words. I suffer from the affliction of "imaginary problemitis" regularly, due to my overactive, very colorful imagination. It is a good example of one of the things that brings me great joy that also has the capacity to cause unnecessary pain. Balance balance balance! Enjoy being yourselves, dear fellow travellers!
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "If I had my life to live over," said Nadine Stair at age 85, "I would perhaps have more actual problems, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones."
 I suggest you write out that quote, Capricorn, and keep it close to you for the next six months. Your task, as I see it, will be to train yourself so you can expertly distinguish actual problems from imaginary ones. Part of your work, of course, will be to get in the habit of immediately ejecting any of the imaginary kind the moment you notice them creeping up on you.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

On hanging upside down

Hallo everybody-

We have recently been watching a fantasy television series called the Game of Thrones, quite a good one, we certainly got sucked in, after being quite sceptical initially. The reason I mention this is because I had the kind of day in which I felt I had a little fire-spitting dragon on my shoulder, searing my brain with stupid unconstructive negative thoughts, and burning my eyes with the smoke. I kept throwing the little creature off, only to find him clinging on again like an angry lizard a few minutes later. 

I had a good presentation today, prepared with the help of my super trusty loved one, and although I was busy, it was a good day, things flowed well. Yet still this little monster by my ear would not let me be. Whispering doubts from the past, uncertainties from the future and generally spoiling the now.   I dressed for yoga with my eyes welling with tears, and was determined to go and do a good job of it, flinging this thing off me by swinging upside down long enough on the ropes.

I walked into Shilpa's courtyard where the people sat waiting and noticed that 4 of the ladies were wearing different shades of pink T-shirt, very pleasing. The chrysanthemums in the flower bed were a wonderful cerise pink too. Suddenly I had the feeling they were calling me. I was drawn to sit on my haunches beside them and look closely at their beauty. You guys are going to think I am going a bit balmy with all these stories of voices, but I am sure I heard them whispering to me, "Be gentle, be gentle, be gentle". Maybe it was a message from  the fairies living under their petal canopies.
I immediately relaxed, drawn into the natural world, feeling their wonder.

The baby dragon started giving cute little snores on my shoulder, and when he fell off as I was hanging upside down in the ropes, I gentle picked him up and carried him to the car. He was after all a reminder of my humanness, my vulnerability, my fallibility, my tendency to think too much, to worry in the early morning hours, to be jealous for no reason, to entertain unnecessary drama. I am a human and he is part of me, if I treat him gently and with compassion, he will be an asset, a teacher to me. He, too, holds a certain beauty.

Be gentle with yourselves, dear companions, and accept your imperfection, it is often this very vulnerability that makes us strong to live in this world.

Hi handsome, my name is Rose.

Thanks to my dear girlfriend from Windhoek who sent me this story. I don't know who wrote it, but would love to share it with all of you here. Thanks to the author for this great inspiration.

The first day of university our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.
She said, 'Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?'
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, 'Of course you may!' and she gave me a giant squeeze..
'Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?' I asked. 
She jokingly replied, 'I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids....'
'No seriously,' I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be  taking on this challenge at her age.
'I always dreamed of having a college education and  now I'm getting one!' she told me. After class we walked to the student union building  and shared a chocolate milkshake. 

We became instant friends.Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this 'time machine' as she shared her wisdom  and experience with me.Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she  easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she revelled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up. 

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on  the floor.

Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, 'I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me!  I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.'
As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, ' We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.. 

There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy,  and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humour every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.  

We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!  

There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.  

Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets. 

The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets..' 

She concluded her speech by courageously singing  'The Rose.' 
She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those months ago. 

One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep. Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you  can possibly be. 

REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL. We make a living by what we get. We make a Life by what we give.

Dear friends, I am remembering today that if I take good care of myself and give from my abundance, I can never give too much. And what i give, comes back in ways better than my wildest dreams.





Thursday, June 21, 2012

On the solstice and stilettos

Hallo everybody! I can't believe that half this year has gone already. It is the longest day, the day of the summer solstice. Through history it has had many associations, rituals and traditions attached to it. I believe that the Scandinavians use it as an excellent excuse to party as only they can. So, it is a time to be joyful, to experience the warmth of the sun and your friends, laugh well, and bask in God's magnificence.

It is known as 'All Couples' day. So if you are in a loving liaison, it is a good time to give thanks for that love and renew the bonds of love in any way you would like- for me a lovely kiss did it! Enjoy the company of your loved one, physically or in your thoughts.

If you are single, it is an auspicious time to renew your commitment to calling your true love to you. On a higher level it is a day to focus on seeing the Creator in all things and renew your commitment to any higher power or  source of Divine Love you believe in.

I have been so wrapped up in my physical tasks, especially at work- setting exams, invigilating, marking, going to meeting and workshops- that  I have definitely been feeling a bit swamped. In these situations, I find that I allow the pressure to affect my inherent happiness. I woke up one morning with a pounding heart, my to-do list cramped into my head, running over and over like a stuck record. I had backed myself mentally into a little corner.

The usual morning fear is quite a challenge as it is, and this was really quite difficult. I just wanted to pull the blanket over my head and pretend I didn't exist. I don't know who or what it was (I certainly can't take credit for it!) but there came a soft yet clear voice through the fog,
"It is possible to be really busy and really joyful at the same time".
With the words decended peace and a huge archway opened in front of me, and I went to the shower with a smile.

That evening at work we paid tribute to our Academic Director who is leaving us to join her husband in Shanghai. She is a Swiss physicist, and is what I would describe as a workaholic in the best sense of the word. A person who is interested and committed to making a difference at every level of the organisation and who is willing to put in all the hours and energy it takes to bring her visions to fruition. She has time for each person and each issue, and has a way of cutting through the unnecessary crap with agility. No matter how many emails, no matter how many phone calls or meetings or hurdles, or even minor catastrophes, I never once heard her complain or say she was tired. As I was listening to her farewell address, I thought that this lady was certainly a role model to me. In fact, she really does live the maxim that I had been told in such unequivocal words that very morning.

Another quality of hers I admire, is her ability to wear really high-heeled stiletto shoes, and make them look really elegant and comfortable. I doubt I would ever be able to do that!

On this 21st day of June, the day of letting go of the old and taking on new energy, I am sure that my director won't mind if I share with you this quote from her memorable farewell speech:

"We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love... and then we return home"

Australian Aboriginal.


Sunday, June 17, 2012

Golden droplets on the canvas of eternity



I am sitting quietly in my purple room playing over the images of the this lovely restful long weekend in my mind. I am saying a prayerful thank you for each moment. It was so normal, nothing exciting happened at all. We went swimming in the sea in the evenings, we put my portable pool up outside, we watched television programmes of our choice and napped and cooked delicious food and surfed the net, finding answers to questions coming up in conversation. I felt as though I had a chance to catch up a little on my life.

On Wednesday in the late afternoon, we went down to the sea, to our usual place of the fishing boats resting like great hippos on the beach and the street lamps guarding us and peace descending at the call to prayer. We were quite silent, enjoying the water which is now lukewarm bath temperature. I turned my head to look at my loved one and in that moment a small wave broke against him, sending small splashes of foamy water into the air. These pearls of liquid caught the sunlight, became golden and crystalised against the sky. His chest glistened and around his head and torso these luminescent drops became a kind of halo and this moment froze in time.

This timeless spaceless image will be etched in my mind always.

Later in the weekend, we were clearing the area under the carport and moving the furniture to put up the pool, when I noticed the bell hanging down over the table. This is a camel bell from Pushkar in Rajastan, from a very different era of my life.  I hung it there to regularly wake myself up on a soul level when I am sitting in that spot.

 The sound I associate with that 'freezeframe' picture in the sea, is the crystal-clear cling of a Buddhist bell, pulling me sharply into the present. It reminds me that every mundane, seemingly-routine moment of my everyday life  is sacred; they all contain magic and ripples of blessings.

Although my senses are sometimes dulled and my intuition not switched on, and I put junk in my body and swear at the motorists, it is times like these that remind me not to take one single miracle for granted.
Dear friend, may you find the split second of quiet between your thoughts today, and know within that every moment is a gift to be cherished.






"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
~ Albert Einstein

Monday, June 11, 2012

Hairdressing out of the box

My hairdresser got pregnant and left town. Major catastrophe. I shoud be delighted for her and all that, but I can't help feeling just a bit deserted and let down. How inconsiderate of her- my ego is sulking.

 I laugh at myself writing that, because for most of my life I have really not been too bothered. I have had long brown hair which I have been happy with. Full stop. Once in the eighties I permed it and wore huge glasses. I hide those photos very safely away from everyone! Then in the nineties after a 10-day silent meditation course in Jaipur, I went to an Indian barber and had myself liberated of most of my hair as a symbol of that watershed experience. Oh, and in the previous decade it was the day my ex-husband left; the first thing I did was go to the local Lebanese barber. I had never believed the story of girls changing their hair after a break-up, but there I was, the stereo-type broken-hearted, bawling my eyes out in this really shady looking dive in the local Arab mall.

Well, this time it is far simpler. I am going grey- my friend calls it stress-highlights- at an alarming rate and am determined to look young and luscious for as long as is possible. As a matter of fact, I am determined to look desirable and luscious at 80! But that is another story. One would think that getting someone to do a simple cut and slap a bit of color on your head is simple, but, nooooo....far from it....... I have been recommended this salon, and that stylist, and every time I come away just not quite satisfied.

So I made it a matter of prayer. You would not usually think about bothering the Almighty with a matter of this miniscule caliber, but I was desperate! I was talking to Claire last week saying, "A girl just can't go around with manky hair!" It is impossible to feel good with shitty hair, no matter how much yoga or meditation you do. Claire has fantastic hair, and she told me about her lovely hairdresser, South African. Three days later one of my colleagues recommended the same girl. Clearly a sign!

Needless to say, it all worked out well, and I am sitting in front of my computer tonight with a decent hairstyle. Huge sigh and huge gratitude! The hairdresser is a girl is her late twenties, who left SA a couple of years ago. She reminded me much of myself when I got on an airplane to Taipei with a one-way ticket, 50 dollars and no job. Her opening line today was, "So, Stefani, what's your story?'' How astute of her to introduce my favourite topic in the first 5 seconds :) We did no beating around the bush; she told me about how much she had changed and how challenging it was to leave everything behind. She also said that she was not very good at planning her life, and that she was trying to do that.

It suddenly occurred to me to tell her that I have never planned my life. Life generally doesn't work too well when one plans things out too much. I am thinking of the old saying, ''you make your plans and the devil laughs''. I would have missed a lot of life's magic and surprises had I been following a plan. The key to living a good life is allowing for a good dollop of spontaneity. I said that from my experience planning is not recommended, but dreaming is. Dreaming BIG and vivid.
Planning creates expectations, and one easily sets yourself up for disappointment. Dreaming opens your eyes to all possibly doors, and inspires you to do extraordinary things, leaping out of the box. There are, after all, myriads more possibilities that we can ever imagine.

When I was at university in Stellenbosch, there was a song we used to dance to, "One night in Bangkok". I used to dance and dream about visiting that place, it was the most exotic place I could imagine, and it really was a crazy dream at the time. I was a poor student, sitting on the tip of Africa, with no means of bringing that wish to fruition. My mother never left South Africa in her life time. Yet, ten years later, I was touching down in Bangkok, realising that the world is my oyster and that without my crazy dreams, I would never have had a dream come true.

So, as we know thoughts become things. I can recommend breaking a few of your usual thought patterns and letting your imagintion soar. Amen.






Saturday, June 9, 2012

The way home

My students wrote exams today and what I should be doing is some serious power-marking, but I would like to share some thoughts first. I am really proud of these young people, they have made marked progress this semester, and I am happy to send them on to foundation year.

Yesterday I visited one of my favourite places in Oman with my dearest one. It is a sweet mountain village near Al Hamra called Misfat Abreen. We had slept badly the night before and then we almost missed the turn off and on our way up the mountain he asked, 'So what is the story of this place?'' I was a bit stumped at first, doubting myself a little and wondering if this was good timing for us to visit.
Why do I like this place so much? I know quite a few of you have visited there with me. It is beautiful, tranquil, lush and it clings to the side of a steep hill. The friendly locals allow the tourists to come into their village,yet the atmosphere is peaceful and calm. We were fortunate yesterday morning, there was nobody there. We walked around admiring the fruit trees- tall papaya trees, hardy tiny fig trees growing out of cracks in the rock, towering gnarled trees filled with mangoes, banana trees with fruit like giants' fingers; but for me the most  irresistable and majestic will always be the towering palms laden with dates- green, yellow and red.

We followed a lovely little path around the village and walked on a small wall by the side of a falaj, a narrow irrigation channel. I was walking along there enjoying myself looking at the sights and looking closely at the variety of trees with the loved one, when I had a sudden memory flash back. The previous time I was there, I had been nervous to walk on that wall beside the falaj and remember being unsure, a bit wobbly on my feet and constantly vigilant.

It feels to me as though in the last year, my stability has improved, the roots that tie me to this earth, and draw energy from it, have grown stronger; my feet have learnt to trust the trail more, to cherish it.  Isn't the journey about the path in any case, and not about the destination?

It was a good realisation, that on every level I am feeling more balanced. It has been a slow and gradual process, and my patience has paid off. I have been catching myself in my reactions, thinking more before I speak and living a deep state of feeling blessed. I am truly a lucky girl!

Tonight I pray dear friends, that the mysteries of the path reveal themselves kindly, and that your sturdy lamp lights your way home, always home.




Monday, June 4, 2012

Detours to the rainbow's end

You may remember me writing about doing some haiku with my students a while ago. Sometimes it is good to break away from report writing and academic reading and coax them in a different direction. I am a person that has come to appreciate the detours in life, and there is often much to be discovered on those unexpected turnings down the side roads. I am sorting through my papers at the moment and yesterday I came across a few of these poems that my students wrote, and my colleague suggested I posted this one here.

When I hear the opera sound
and see the bag of rainbow color
at the end I know it's Stefani :)

So, fellow traveller, allow yourself the time to take a few detours, you might find they lead you to the magic at the rainbow's end!

If it be your will

As most of you know, Leonard Cohen has been an inspiration, comfort and joy to me most of my life. I have had this beautiful song of his in my mind the last couple of days and would like to share it with you. I am permeated with a deep gratitude for all the miracles and love in my life and the music is so much part of it. Deep bow to Leonard. My mantra today is: Beauty beauty beauty!
What is yours?

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will
If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well
And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will

If it be your will.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Night swimming

 The temperature here is Muscat has hit mid-forties Celsius but the humidity is still bearable and the die-hards( including me of course!) at the university are still having lunch outside. I came home from my German class tonight, and sat outside having a glass of bubbly and pondering the last few days. The rose moon of June is magnificent and I look forward to doing some nightswimming with the loved one under the full moon tomorrow. How romantic can one get :)

The sea is just amazing at the moment. On both the evenings of the weekend, we went down at sunset time and just luxuriated in the water. It is the perfect temperature.
 There were some families on the beach and also a couple of little pockets of children in the water, who soon disappeared at the call to prayer and the promise of food. After that it was just us, the shadows of the fishing boats on the sand, the watchful moon and the winking street lamps coming on, casting their rippling lights over the gently moving water. Oh, I mustn't forget the surprise of  little schools of fish jumping, and the odd turtle bobbing up for air.

There is a time when the sky and the sea are both almost white and ethereal, and we feel like the only people in the world.

As I lay drifting in the water losing myself in the sky, I remembered the story of Jesus healing the lame man at the pool of Bethesda.
It was the sermon preached on the day I described in my entry, 'a trick of light'. I have been thinking of it a lot since then. That paralysed man had been unable to walk for 38 years, and anyone would have thought it was obvious that he would want to get better; yet Jesus asks him,' Do you want to be well?'

Why does Jesus ask him this? This is how I see it. Because for anyone of us to change, heal and move towards our highest and best selves, we have to be seriously willing. Or as my healer mother used to say,'Willing and desperate!'. Many of us are addicted to our own destructive ways, negative though patterns, the thinking  that lead us to fall into the same hole again and again eventhough we know better. We don't want to let go of the physical ailments that earn us sympathy and time and care from our colleagues, friends and family.

We have to give ourselves permission to evolve and let go and break the moulds we have set through years of habit and conditioning. I often ask myself why we hold onto these things that do not serve us. Fear of the unknown I guess, just part of our challenge of being human.

I lay floating in the sea, which held me like a safe hammock, and whispered to the sky, yes, yes, yes. I want to be well. I want all to be well. And I realised that in saying those words, it was already a reality.





Saturday, June 2, 2012

Unzipping my skinsuit

I have been enjoying experiencing my body getting stronger little by little, step by step. I have only rarely experienced myself acutely as a physical being before, and these yoga classes are working very powerfully for me. I keep making progress, recently managing to do my first proper press-up!
 It is a great special thing to share with my loved one, and I love watching the transformation in him too.

After my experiences in Beirut, I have really been thinking a lot of the challenges of being on the earth. Out of the blue, as we were taking a long walk along the corniche the other day- admiring the azure sky and sea-the loved one commented that one of his favourite quotes was that we are not physical beings that have souls, but spiritual beings that have bodies.
As spiritual beings, time and space do not exist for us. It is a mighty challenge to be confined to this earthly existence. I love jumping out of my body now and then, shooting straight up above the clouds and floating there. As a good friend says, 'unzipping my skinsuit'. Sometimes at night before I fall asleep, I imagine myself drifting up above the earth's atmosphere and playing there, tumbling and turning and somersaulting free.

Tonight after the exercises, we were resting in the dark quiet on our mats, Shilpa led us through a short meditation, asking us to choose a point on our bodies and imagine the breath radiating from there like a pebble thrown into a still lake. I became aware of the steady pulse of my heart and felt a lemony light radiating softly out of me, through every cell of my dearest on my left, filling the class and the house and the street and the neighbourhood and the city, and finding all of you and sweeping over and into you like a kind of gentle tsunami of joy.

I was filled with such a sense of celebration when I left that place. I got into the car and we spoke about food and contracts and Excel sheets and mundane normal topics. However, they all seemed so unusually beautiful.

Dear friend, may the everyday routine things in your world have the ability to remind you that you are liberated child of the stars.





Sunday, May 27, 2012

On the joy of mixed spice and mist lifting

A good happy busy day. The semester is winding down and one of my classes finishes at the end of the week. I have been teaching most of these fourteen students since last September, and I feel like a mother bird who know her chicks are ready to fly and who needs to throw them out of the nest. This afternoon my last class ended at 5.15pm and I decided to go the supermarket before my German class, instead of rushing home. I usually run in and out of the shop, and it was fun having time to browse through the aisles for a change just looking at all the different things on the shelves.

The loved one and I are lusting after a decent fruit cake, and are determined to bake one. I recently posted on FB asking for good recipes with ingredients that would be available in Muscat. Well, I found THREE essential ingredients this evening that I have never seen before. I honestly can't believe my luck, and that finding 3 small things on the supermarket shelf could give me so much pleasure. Mixed spice, glace cherries and candied peel! It felt as though they had been there all along, just as though a kind of mist has lifted. Sometimes life feels like that, just open your eyes and you'll see that what you wanted was right there in front of you all along.

The cake is one large step on its way to fruition. Yeeah!

I was carrying with me today a little image from my trip to Lebanon I wanted to tell you about. As you drive from Beirut down ( or is it up?) to Byblos, there is the deep blue Mediterranean on the left and the green lush mountain on the right. It is pretty built up all the way, but as you look up at one point there is an imposing dove-white figure of the Virgin Mary benevolently gazing out over the city. This is Our Lady of Lebanon at Harissa. I was very happy on my last day to visit there with Junaline and Lara. There is a little peaceful altar to light blessing candles and a sweet chapel with bright stained glass angels, beautiful trees and also many interesting people to see. We were peckish and ordered fresh thin based pizza bread with zatar ( thyme and sesame) and I had a nourishing beautifully colored orange and carrot juice.

As we were waiting, there was the gentlest of tugs on my shirt. It was a little boy, no older than five,with black curly hair and huge brown eyes looking up at me. He enquired politely in Arabic about the wherabouts of the bathroom, and I instintively put my hand on his shoulder and we walked together there.

This interaction was no more that a few seconds, but it left an impression on me. This child so innocently being drawn to me, asking for help and trusting me to lead him to the right place. Is this not how we should be with God? Laying our needs and concerns before him, asking Him to take care of us and trusting that he will lay his hand on our shoulder and gently steer us to where we need to be?
Again, a mist evaporated before me.
It dawned on me that it  really is that simple.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

The mirror

I felt rather creaky after my yoga class tonight and have just got out of a lovely warm bath laced with rosemary oil. I am snuggled in the centre of my universe, my black four-poster bed, full of comfy purple pillows, covered in a white mosquito net moving gently in the breeze of the fan. I am thinking about how comfy my world is at the moment, and how I love feeling so content and the centre of everything.
My life is shiny and flowing and I am asking myself about what the cause is. My life has not changed: same house, same housemate, same kitties, same job, same dreamy loved one :) As you all know, my sunglasses are pretty darn rose-colored to start with.

I am reminded of a story which Roberto Moussi told on the theta-healing course I attended in Beirut last week. Roberto is the insightful husband of my soulsister Junaline, who encouraged me to start writing this blog in the first place. At second thoughs,"attend" is really not the right word to use for that course. I breathed it in like the sweet air of my native country's Karoo, I assimilated it into my system like the purest honey sucked from the comb, I drank it down like a delicate pink sparkling wine with the finest of bubblies tickling my nose. A culmination of the last 25 years' of life experience, like a bouquet of beautiful flowers elegantly arranged together in 3 days, with the addition of the fabulous sweet Gardinias of Beirut!

I suspect you will hear many stories from there, but here is the first. It is attributed to Marci Shimoff.

A happy dog walks down the street, looking for a good place with friendly companions to stay. He is pointed to a house further down the street and when he pushes open the door, the house is filled with shiny-eyed dogs wagging their tails at him in welcome. The house's walls are covered in mirrors, and the dog is seeing himself. He thinks this is truly a very convivial place.
Now imagine a grumpy dog walking into the same abode, what happens? He finds a space filled with irritable growling dogs and experiences it a little hostile and not very welcoming at all.

Well, that is simply how the universe works. If we take care of our own well-being and joy, the world will be a good place to be in. If we are grumpy and moody and critical, there will be plenty of faults to find. As they say,'Two men behind prison bars, the one saw mud, the other stars'.
 It's the same world. What your perception of it is and the choices you make based on those perceptions, are up to you only.

Dear ones, I wish that today my love for my life may be contagious, and that you may all experience the world smiling back at you!





Friday, May 18, 2012

First thoughts in Beirut

The sky is pink and blue ice, the temperature perfect and I am sitting on the balcony of the Hayete guesthouse chilling out after a productive and thought-provoking day at the Theta-healing course I am attending here in Beirut.
Hayete means “My life” and it is great to have a few days off from My Muscat Life to regroup in a different space. This morning I got into the taxi down to the Monroe hotel and the taxi driver handed me a gardenia, which I have worn in my hair, the scent pervading my space all day.  This is a city of dichotomy, all windswept purple flowers on the pavements, and delicate jasmine and heady gardenia. But there is also dogshit from the shi-shi dogs being walked by the Filipino housemaids, as well as the pockmarks of war everywhere.
There are shiny glass buildings and old style Beiruti houses, like the one I am staying in. There are buildings that have been half- destroyed and have been left as is; and a lot of construction work everywhere too. On the busy corniche, there are ladies strolling in tailored cream shorts with stockings and pumps, and girls in tight skimpy dresses and women covered in black from head to foot. There are Porsches and ancient BMWs and also completely clapped out vehicles, seemingly missing essential parts, that look as though they should not be going anywhere.
There is a bustling vibrant energy and and I have found myself looking closely into the people’s faces. They tell completely different stories to those in the land where I live. As I rode down winding streets in that taxi this morning, we passed a large hand-pushed cart of gigantic fresh strawberries, the biggest I have ever seen. Yesterday, at sunset on the cornice, surrounded by the sweet smell of shisha, the people were buying sweet corn with lemon juice from vendors; those lemons also being the largest I have seen.
I am constantly surprised by the greenery everywhere, coming from Muscat this feeling is naturally pronounced.  I am also really happy about how grounded I feel here and how things have flowed since touchdown.
I had the perfect meal last night at Frida’s, the restaurant just below the guesthouse. It consisted of avocado salad with pomegranate, cucumber and teeny green leaves with lemony dressing. There were 5 types of crispy flatbread, my favourite was baked with sultanas and anise and served with slightly spicy olives and grated mature cheddar. I drank a litchi lemonade, freshly made there; the taste of which will stay with me for a long time.
My huge bed and pillow are super-comfy, and even though the resident bird woke me up at 5.30 this morning, I felt at peace with the world.
Now to read through my notes of the day to get up to speed for tomorrow and then I have a strong feeling I’ll be frequenting Frida’s again tonight.


Monday, May 14, 2012

The hundredth monkey

Dear friends, I remember a teacher telling uss this story in school in the 1980s, and I have discussed it with many people over the years. I thought you might like to hear it again. It is always thought-provoking. Wishing you interesting and stimulating thoughts and good sleep tonight.

“The Japanese monkey, Macaca Fuscata, had been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.
In 1952, on the island of Koshima, scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkey liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.
An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem by washing the potatoes in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers too.
This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists. Between 1952 and 1958 all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable. Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.
Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes – the exact number is not known. Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes. Let’s further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.
THEN IT HAPPENED!
By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them. The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!
But notice: A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea…Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes.
Thus, when a certain critical number achieves awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.

Although the exact number may vary, this Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the conscious property of these people.
But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone.”
Perhaps that one extra person is you?
The above is just a short excerpt form the book The Hundredth Monkey by Ken Keyes Jr. The book was not copyrighted and may freely be reproduced.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

On seahorses and safety nets

I am very happy to report the storm is over. It has been hard to describe and I am still not sure where it came from, like a strange and eery current from the depths of a calm sea, come to stirr things up. Everything is all pink and luminescent and harmonious again, and I am deeply relieved. Many things helped me to weather the storm. My house mate, my loved one, the artists, Claire, my colleagues in my office, my students, you- all firmly woven into a safety net of support that holds me, even when you don't know it!

In the middle of this feeling of endless waves washing over me and not being able to come up for breath, I remember a very helpful image that was given to me by my Swiss TCM practitioner and  acupuncturist many years ago in Ravensburg. It was not long after my mother's death and my first miscarriage, and it was the Chinese year of the horse. I was born in the year of the horse and it is said that every twelve years when the years revolve to your own sign, it is supposed to be an auspicious year for you.

It was a water year, and Karin said that she had come up with an image which would help to get me through the storms. She said, "Imagine yourself as a little seahorse at the bottom of the ocean, with your little seahorse tail firmly wrapped around a reliable frond of seaweed. No matter how strong the waves are on the surface, you will be swayed by the currents, but you will stay calm and composed in the depths".

So there I have been for the last 4 weeks or so, a little coral colored seahorse, holding on to my bit of seagrass for dear life. I have been fortunate to have all manner of interesting and beautiful sea creature swim past and share a smile, and have been surrounded by lovely plants and water treasures to distract me. I was even able to experience an unforgettable perfect moment of intimacy and peace amidst the fear.

Dear friends, if times are a little hard, KNOW without a doubt that the feeling will pass; and if times are bliss, give thanks with all your heart!



Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Threshholds

One of the reasons I love Oman are the beautiful ancient mud and brick buildings in the old towns everywhere. They embody a certain kind of magic for me.

I once wrote this:

What young girl
twirled her skirts and skipped 
across the threshhold of this place?

What old man
hummed and bared his heart,
light playing on his face?

This place so thin
like skin, so strong
Time disintegrates and generations meet
in this precious dusk.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Take care of the golf balls

I don't often post stories that are not my own, but this is another "'oldie but goldie" that has periodically been crossing my path for many years. You might know it, but it never ceases to help me to get my priorities straight.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty pickle jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two glasses of chocolate milk from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.

The Moral of the Story - The professor waited for the laughter to subside....

"Now," said the professor, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things...your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions. Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full."

"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your home, your car."

"The sand is everything else...The small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are critical to your happiness."

"Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house or fix the disposal."

"Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities, the rest is just sand."

Luminescense in the deep

I wonder why it is so difficult writing about times that feel hard and challenging. I always want to sound happy and upbeat and sunshiney, and THANK GOD, mostly I am and do. But when I am too busy, unfocused or ambivalent, headachy or over tired, emotional or going through utterly irrational fears that have no basis in reality, I just want to hide them away from myself and the world.
 I just want to run, but then am always reminded once again of Hester, "You can run, my Blom, but remember, you always take yourself along!"
 I once ran from London to Hongkong in one fell swoop, only to realise there in a bar in Kowloon, that I had indeed "brought myself along".

I have not been sleeping well, and I have a small muscle under my left eye that keeps on jumping and shuddering. I am putting my light off too late and then wake up at 4 am with knots on my stomach that I cannot name. I am just not in a very safe space with myself right now, diving down into unknown unchartered waters.

I have told myself to let it be, just let it be. This too shall pass and the light heart is sure be restored.

Today, I felt a prick of  familiarity to this feeling, and thought back to the time when I was feeling really heavy and scared, attending a grieving seminar in southern Germany many years ago. I know I have spoken of it here before- a beautiful quiet Franciscan monastry and an ageless wise and childlike nun.
I spoke to her of my feeling of diving through the deep murky slush, completely disorientated and bewildered.She instructed me to go where I fear most, close my eyes and willingly go with the process, dive even deeper down and just trust what was happening.

I could hardly breathe at first, my heart exploding in my chest, but willed myself to continue down down down, through layers of blackness, until inexplicable I started to perceive a kind of luminescence. A tiny feeling of relief washed over me, at least something was becoming visible. I started to faintly make out sea creatures and plants, and then also shells, amazing pearls and other treasures, all glowing with an inner light. I had reached a place of unusual and sublime beauty and serenity.
As I had that memory today, I realised anew, that I need not fear these moments, but need to embrace them and dive into them, in order to find the gifts that are hidden within.

So, dear ones, I wish us all the inner courage to embrace the moments that bring us trepidation, and know that they have special fruits to bear.

Friday, April 13, 2012

The best showers in the world

I spent a day and a night last week in the desert.  I always go to the same place and it always works its magic on me. I slept outside and fell asleep watching the stars. Although the daytime temperatures are already relatively uncomfortable, the night is cool and refreshing. Rashid, my friend who owns the place, had told me before that he would not be there, so it was a lovely suprise to find him there after all and have a proper catch up. We drove back together through an amazing thunderstorm, the sky lit up with lightning and water falling buckets from the sky. Very unusual for this desert country.

What I actually want to tell is that in my friendship circle, the bathrooms in the camp are known as 'the best showers in the world'. They are seperate from the sleeping huts, spacious, and are open to the sky. It is such a great feeling to be standing under the water with no roof above you.

There I was towelling myself off, when I spotted a small grasshopper who was desperately hopping around trying to get out of the enclosed space. I opened the door and with my towel gently tried to coax it in the right direction. Of course instintually it moved in the opposite direction. I then resorted to a good few firm sweeps of the towel to finally get it out through the door. It sailed away free into the morning.

I wondered if the universe doesn't do this to us sometimes; first it tries to coax us subtly in the right direction and if we don't listen, we then have to endure some discomfort and a couple of swift slaps to get us going on the path of our freedom and bliss.

May our ears be open to the soft voice in our hearts encouraging us to make the right choices today!

The most difficult lesson of all



Honor them, love them, help them, heal them, but above all else, Stefani, free them.

Everyone, of course -
    The Universe

http://www.tut.com/


For me this is also a reminder not to cage myself, clip my own wings, but to give myself all the space I need to expand and be my best self. A constant learning process.




 

Monday, April 9, 2012

Lessons from my mother

I grew up with an unconventional mother- just me and her.  My dad died of cancer when I was seven;  she was just in her mid-thirties. She grieved him for much of the rest of her life. But that is another story.
She really tried her best to stay in the box while I was growing up. She taught at a technical boys’ high school for all the years I was at school, dressing relatively conventionally and wearing her long blonde hair in a bun. She always helped out with the art, costume design and make-up for school plays, and often sewed clothes for me. She was a very creative and exuberant person.
Somewhere around my late teens, she started to change. She became more and more eccentric and took to wearing long flowing clothes and wearing her hair in a long plait. She started taking part in and presenting self-awareness courses; and all sorts of weird and wonderful people starting showing up at our house saying they were sent by God. She gave up teaching completely and started making paper and unicorn art which she sold at craft markets.
We had never had money before, but now it was a scarcity. Friends coming to visit used to bring milk and sugar and somehow we got by from day to day. The housemaid left and our house started to resemble something out of Wuthering Heights. She literally gave up all sense of security and needless to say, the conservative Afrikaans family thought she was going completely bonkers, away with the fairies.
I remember one day trying to talk to her about these changes and how they were upsetting me. We were sitting on my bedroom floor and I was trying to explain to her how hard it was to see my mother change so much and not know why.  I felt so insecure and helpless.
My mother was very calm. She told me to really look at her. She sat opposite me and we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. She asked me then what I saw. Suddenly it dawned on me how happy she was. I realized that in all the time that I had known her, I had never seen her that joyful and fulfilled. I had only been looking on the outside,  just as my grandparents and her siblings had been looking on the outside.
She explained that she had finally been able to drop living up to all the expectations of the people around her, as she had done all her life, and was just following her own path and her own happiness from day to day. She no longer feared the judgements of the world, but lived according to her inner guide and light.
I never worried about my mother again,  as I realized that my love should give her wings and not hold her in the old patterns that I had grown up with.
I admire her immensely for her courage to set herself free, and live her life to the full.
For me, love is a huge infinite space. A space where I and those I love can soar free, play, and find our own true bliss. Then share that joy in intimate moments together. I thank my mother Hester, for this precious lesson.