Of rocks and vigilance

This was my father's favourite psalm. I feel that he is close at the moment, really watching over me and I have been reading this psalm every day. These are such beautiful words of connection to nature and of complete trust. It doesn't matter what creed you follow, these are comforting and strengthening words. I think of my father in the last months of his life, and how these words were a safe-haven for him.

I love the image of feet not slipping, as I have such bad balance, I can barely keep my balance on a bike... famously falling off my bike in front of the school inspector walking his dog in our neighborhood.

I love the imagine of looking to the hills, God as a rock, eternal and ever-present and I love that my name derives from Stephen, meaning rock.

The most meaningful actual rock in my life is Table Mountain. I had a wonderful realisation a few years ago about how much it meant to me growing up in its shadow. I have been through so much, and the mountain is a solid presence.

I am a lover of rocks and collect them, I don't know much about them, although I am attempting to be an amateur geologist. I love them for their aesthetic value, for their color, shape, feel and beauty. I often walk around with a dead normal stone in my pocket, to ground me and remind me that even those things that seem permanent also change, it is just a matter of time. I love the way geologists have the capacity to think in thousands and millions of years. It really makes us seem so trivial and truly puts things in perspective.

I love the image of God not resting, but constantly watching over us, like a mother sitting by the bed of a sick child, being ever vigilant and aware of the child's every move and breath.

The man has been ill recently and I spent a night wth him, lying awake and listening to his breathing, switching on my all senses and intuition to what I could do to support and comfort, praying for his peace in the night. Being so relieved when I could tell that he was sleeping deeply.  It is so incredible to know that God does that for us every minute of every day into eternity in his all-encompassing capacity.

Living in the desert, I also love the idea of being protected from the sun; God being the shade to rest in, an oasis, not letting any harm come to us.

It is called a psalm of ascents, as this are one of the songs that the people used to sing as they ascended to Jerusalem to praise and worship.

I wish that we may all rest assured that we are protected and watched over, and sleep in peace tonight in that knowledge. Amen.

I lift up my eyes to the hills-

Where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip-

He who watches over you will not slumber:

indeed, he who watches over Israel

Will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you-

The Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,

nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm-

he will watch over your life;

the Lord will watch over your coming and going

both now and forever.

Psalm 121

 A song of ascents

Psyllium husks and cute ears

''If you were here, I'd kneel for you, a thousand kisses deep."  L.Cohen

I never thought I could get so excited about psyllium husks. I have never been a breakfast person and I am not a great eater of fruit, plus I have a famously runny stomach. The Chinese say that the stomach is the second brain, and I certainly find that to be true. My stomach and brain are often in disagreement.  My stomach generally doesn't like to leave the house. I always have a little chat with it. 'Listen tummy, we have to go to work and I know that it's going to be a challenging day, but really it will be fine', or 'Listen lovely tummy, we are going on holiday but I promise to give you nice food at regular times'. I am forever coaxing my stomach to go with me without protesting.

Before going out the door, I invariably have to make a last loo stop. It used to be really bad, but since I have been living in Oman feeling much less stressed, my stomach has also settled down a lot.

 A BIG part of this because of Opra Winfrey. My goodness, is there anybody's life she hasn't touched in one way or another. There she was one night with Dr Oz. Bless the man. I always want to call him Dr Spock, I sort of expect him to have pointy ears. I like his ears, they are a good size. I absolutely do not trust men with small ears. Can't explain this phenomenon, sorry. Men are so bad at listening in any case, can you imagine what terrible listeners men with small ears are. Not to be trusted, absolutely not.

Back to Dr Oz with the ears. He was saying this thing like, Are you always rushed at breakfast or just skip breakfast all together? Do you suffer from an irregular tummy? Why don't you make yourself a shake in the morning with a banana and some frozen berries and some psyllium husks? Perfect, get your portion of fruits, give your body some sugar first thing in th day, fantastic anti-oxidants in the berries, and colon cleansing husks.

This idea literally changed my life. No more runny stomach. No more mid-morning sugar slump and frantic scavaging for food. I literally became a more emotionally balanced person overnight.

But what the hell are psyllium husks? I had a bit of a mission to find them, and my friend Renate has been posting them to me from South Africa. Or any unsuspecting friend has been bringing them to me from there. But these things are not cheap and I became determined to find them here. It has taken me months, and I have asked loads of people, most who look at me strangely.Completely by chance, I mentioned it to Vishkir, a friend going to South Africa, hoping he could bring some along.

He told me immediately that his mom uses them regularly and that you can get them in the local Lulu supermarket next to the panadols and the Vicks.We love the place, it has everything. I always take all my visitors there as part of the standard tourist trail. The name means "Pearl".  I made a bee-line there, and lo and behold, there was the little green packet with the deer on the front just as he said. And really reasonable. Joy.

I have been pleased about this now for more than a week. Everytime I see the packet in the cupboard my face breaks into a huge smile. What I am trying to say is that sometimes one can derive enormous pleasure from the smallest of things. Plus, sometimes something really simple can make a really big difference to your quality of life, you just have to have your ears and eyes open and be willing to give it a go.

The man in my life thinks I am a weirdo, yes, his word. I once asked him why he likes me. I think most of you can anticipate the kind of answer I thought I would get. I didn't get any of that. He answered that he perceives me as part alien, part mermaid and part unicorn. This is about as romantic as I can expect to get, and a huge compliment coming from this man. The one thing I can say about him though, he has very decent ears.

Driving out of the box

I am really happy to have come back from a great European holiday and to be able to look forward to a short break in Oman almost immediately. We have booked for Masera and Ras al Hadd for the Eid break. I am a huge fan of the beautiful island of Masera, its wild emptiness and vast beaches and the two completely different personalities of its east and west coasts. I love camels on the beach!

I haven't visited the turtles in a long time, as I became annoyed with the behaviour of the tourists, but apparantly it is better organised now, and the man hasn't been, so it has to be checked out again. I hope we get to see the babies. The sheer strength it take for those little mites to wiggle and wriggle their way out the sand and make their way to the water is incredible. You hold one of them in your hand and are immediately in awe of the life force they radiate. And the turtle beach at sunrise is a truly magnificent experience. Yes, it will be good.

I count under the many that took my mother for granted when she was around. I always expected her to be around forever, and I remember when she died, I did not only grieve her loss, but had to actively and consciously grieve for the loss of the dreams we had together. I am so grateful that we had those dreams, that she taught me to dream, dream crazy and out of the box. That I am now able to harbour dreams for myself again.

Another lesson I am thankful for, is her teaching me how to separate my emotions and feelings from other peoples'. I used to come home from school with a grumpy look on my face, and she used to ask, "So,Stefs, ma se kind, aan wie behoort die kak? Is dit joune of het jy dit by een van daai kinners opgetel?" So, my child, who does this anger...frustration...crappiness belong to? Is it yours or did you pick it up from another child?

We deal with so many people every day, and they love to dump their stuff on us. As open and receptive and caring human beings, we take it on and make it our own without even realising. Whenever I am in a shitty mood, this is the first question I ask myself, do I own this or is just someone else's thing clinging to me. If it isn't mine, I can of course drop it immediately. if it is mine, I can look at it and deal with it appropriately.

One avenue of my life where I have great difficulty applying this principle is with bad driving. Oman is notorious for the really atrocious drivers, and has one of the highest death toles per capita on the road in the world. We have a saying here in Muscat that if you see someone using indicators, they are clearly new in town. On the airplane form Germany recently, we commented that we had not heard a hooter even once in 3 weeks.  I think one could drive for a year in Germany not even knowing if your hooter is in working order. Here people will hoot behind you 1 millisecond after the traffic light has turned green. A friend says they do it as a favour to one another as everyone is looking down while busy texting; we should not take it personally. I could go on and on.

When it comes to Ramadan, everything gets completely off the scale. I am driving 10 km over the speedlimit, people come zooming past me on the inside...people pass me on the speedbumps. .. incredible crazy weaving all over the road... And my blood pressure rises every time. I have tried my Mozart, Leonard Cohen and even super chilled chakra clearing CDs, but terrible profanities still cross my lips.

So, I just make peace with the fact that I am also not using my indicators, I am also passing on the inside, passing on speedbumps and using my hooter at a whim. At least by foot is not on the dashboard as I am driving, or dangling out the window.

When in the sandland, do as the camelriders do.

Love and the gunmetal sea

'There ain't no cure for love'    L.Cohen

So, I have been so busy being in love, that there has just been no time to write. That does not mean that I have not thought about my blog, or that I have not written, no, I have been writing in my head all the time. I have also been jotting a lot of things down in my journal; but that's not sharing, so I guess it doen't really count.

I have been wanting to tell you about it for ages, but what to say about love, it is such an incredible subject. It is so private, so precious, and so fragile, but still it keeps growing against all odds like those unbelievable tough and plucky plants one sees pushing their way out between rocks in the mountain. They grow into huge trees and flower and live a life on that precipice. Or like those little flowers one sees coming up between the cracks in the pavement. What is with that?

Forgive me if I have told this story before. I remember years ago being on a grief seminar, everyone so torn that they could hardly speak. The Fransiscan nun running the workshop was using pictures to help us come to terms with all the complex emotions inside. One of the images she showed was of a little purple flower growing through the cracks of a cement tile. I remember being able to cry for the first time in many years. I perceived that picture to be the perfect symbol of hope. Nature doesn't think of the future. Nature just does what come naturally.

Maybe that is really how I feel now. I am in awe, quite speechless, am just watching and partaking in the flow of the process. And I allow myself to have hope.

It is the first time I have loved and preceived that love to be completely mine, mine, mine. This belongs to me and it is my experience: the joy, the excitement, yes, the beating heart  and anticipation when I know that I'll see him, the contentment, the peace, the mundane moments, all these things belong to me. It is not his doing, he is not responsible for it; he is part of it and shares in it as much as he wants, but this is my love. I have owned it.

I am basking in it, surrounded by it, have surrendered to it,  have opened my heart to it. I am complete and whole and can enjoy it completely and wholely. He is whole and complete and how he perceives it, and lives it, is his experience.

I am not projecting my feelings, expectations, longings or even gratefulness onto him, and it feels good.

There is so much silence and so much space between us, and so much intimacy in that silence and space.Also there is laughter and play and much joy in the ordinary things.

I seek to change nothing.

It is also dififcult and painful and sometimes I struggle. I have fear because after all we live in the world, but still I seek to change nothing about this complex and wonderful thing. It is too late to run.

Today is everything. It is a love of drifting together in the quiet gunmetal sea after sunset with the lightest frostpink in the sky and a slight mist around the street lamps in the distance. Being held by the soft water and that simple cool moment being all encompassing.

As my dear friend in Oberschwaben , Brigitte, said last week on the phone, 'Only the wind knows what tomorrow brings.'

Crazy funky fusion and a bottle of wine

The days are flying by and I am not writing. I feel as though I am sliding down a rainbow in slow motion, everything is kind of whooshing past, yet I am very much in the moment. This is a very strange combination of emotions- exhilaration, fear, deep peace, awe, laughter. It all feels right. I am dreaming of skydiving, but I am not alone in the sky. All the particles of the universe hold me. It is the ultimate exercise of trusting the process.

I wonder if I will ever sky dive, I have always wanted to in this lifetime. But I am simply too shit scared. I am afraid of throwing up or passing out or worse! Breaking a leg. I adore watching basejumping clips on youtube. I always joke with my friends and say that I get quite enough adrenaline in my blood by just getting my feet on the ground in the morning. I would really love to paraglide off Table Mountain though, maybe that is more of a soft option. Any companions?

 Let me get onto something more tangible.

I had a blinding visit with Matthew. His timing was perfect and we had a lovely weekend of catching up and spending time with friends here. Joe helped and we cooked up a storm on Thursday night. Very traditionally South African. We ate off the plates my parents Bill and Hester bought before I was born, and used the silver cutlery I inherited from my grandmother. My artist friends came with their baby and a bottle of South African white wine.. They admired my newly decorated living room profusely which made my chest swell with pride. I also invited Joe's German teacher called Sabine. A very interesting woman who recently moved from Canada to Oman, can't think off more opposite countries! They do have excellent people in common though. 

There was an air of perfection to that evening, as though the forces were conspiring for us. I felt as though generations of my family were watching over me and approving of the crazy funky fusion I have going on in my home and in my psyche.

I had another story to tell which has completely slipped my mind. I will tell you tomorrow. In the mean time I will share my favourite 'bottle of wine' story. I'm sure most of you know it but it always makes me laugh.

A saleswoman is driving home through Arizona after a long stint on the road. She sees a Navajo woman hitchhiking and because the trip has been long and quiet, she decides to pick her up. During their small talk, she notices the woman glancing at the brown paper bag on the seat between them.
'If you're wondering what's in the bag', says the driver, 'It's a bottle of wine, I got it for my husband.'
The Navajo woman is silent for a while, nods several times and says, 'Good trade'.

I often wonder why I enjoy that story so much. I love of course any play on words, but maybe it is the fact that I can laugh at myself for not having the foresight to have traded my own husband in for a bottle of wine a long time ago (instead of going through the whole life-altering excrutiating process as it was). It certainly would have been much simpler, as well as a good trade.

Suzi Q, 3 gates and the perfect moment

Oh my goodness, I love being this happy. I was driving to work this morning listening to Suzi Quattro, I mean not really the kind of artist that you would associate with being the catalyst for blinding realisations, but as I parked my car and prepared myself for getting out into the sauna, I felt as if something just came together, slipped into place. I stood in front of the sea and felt as though I was living the past, present and future in one. There was no sense of time; I felt huge and tiny simultaneously. Is this what it is to be truly present in the moment?

Haha, I know there are several of you out there right now who are taking the mickey out of me! What mind-altering substances has the girl been enjoying? Mmmm, for me to know of course, but it could have something to do with several glasses of my favourite bubbly beverage last night... either way, it was a perfect moment, the second this week. The universe is spoiling me! The first was listening to Leonard Cohen sing "Halleluja" at the winding down of a beautiful evening.

So, Matthew has arrived safely in town and I am looking forward to the weekend very much. We are both making breakthroughs at the moment, and it is good to be able to share it with each other in person.

Talking of sharing, I am always honoured to have the students share with me, and this week I have felt particularly close to them. I have been thinking of how we should watch our words and treat our fellow humans with reverance.

I remembered this lovely piece of advice from the Sufis.

They say we should speak only once our words have managed to pass through 3 gates.
At the first gate we ask, "Are these words true?" If so, they pass on.
At the second gate we ask, " Are they necessary?" and if they make it through that, they are ready for the final gate,

"Are they kind?"

My sincere wish and prayer: May our words and thoughts bring kindness to the world.

What a wonderful word- Quench

THE MYSTERY OF YOUR THIRST

Imagine this scene. You're really thirsty -- so dehydrated that you're
feeling faint. Yet here's the weird thing: You're walking along the bank of
a wide river that's so clear you could see the bottom if you looked.

But you're not looking. In fact, you seem oblivious to the surging force of
nature just a few yards away.

Is it invisible to you? Are you so preoccupied with your suffering that
you're blind to the very source that would end your suffering?

Up ahead you see a man. As you approach, you realize he's holding a
bottle of water. You run to him and beg him to let you drink. He readily
agrees. Gratefully, you guzzle the precious liquid, then thank him
profusely.

As you walk away, he calls after you, "By the way, there's a lot more
water over there," and he points to the river.

Do you hear him? If you hear him, do you believe him? Or do you keep
walking, hoping to find another person with another bottle somewhere up
ahead?

Rob Brezsny