a time for peace

Life offers you many opportunities to re-establish peace in your heart, in your mind, and always where and with whom it matters most.

City of many seasons

There must be
something
powerful,
and beautiful,
something rather enigmatic,
about seeing the city
that you live in
turn so many shades,
show so many colours,
reveal various personas
as the seasons wash over it.

In that place that you call 'home',
sober autumns might be followed by
a bright white Christmas;
and scented springs followed by
a vibrant, raging summertime!

But, what if the same can be said of
the person that you love?

What then?

Sober moments, rare and fleeting might be
followed by blinding cold,
the winter of your Love.
Fragrant love-making, impassioned or sweet,
followed by the storms of a violent retribution.

They say that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

Either way, the seasons still wash over it;
over that place you call home.
And rest assured,
the Master Painter forever waves
a kaleidoscopic paintbrush
over that city
of your dreams.

Greedy for Air

I've been enjoying my round of fiction reads this month.

Just last week, I got through "The White Tiger". Much can be said about a book that openly reveals that greed and survival are really not the same thing. The human mind forever fascinates me. The limits we place upon ourselves, as well as the new frontiers that are challenged in those finite boxes of sanity and insanity are largely unexplored. There are, I believe, yet to be seen examples of how much the potential of the human mind will surprise and enthrall, and yes, even horrify the 'clanging masses' rest of us.

Taking from the White Tiger, although situated in India, the story has echoes of relevance for South Africa; not just from an 'Indian' point of view, but also if we were to take both a human and then even an inhumane outlook. Okay, let's not pretend that we're one swathing mass of loving humanity; there are amongst us those who will sell their mother's left hand given the right blend of conditions.

Writer's like Adiga are adept at bringing that 'potential' of the inhumane human to the fore; of highlighting the irreverent contradictions of what it is to be a human being. And while I would like to imagine, still, that it takes much of a stretch of the imagination, I know at some rational level, that I would be kidding myself: I had barely put the pages of The White Tiger to rest, when the ET debacle exploded right in our midst. Not even for 7lakh rupees. Just. Dead.
Was it because of years of pent up Hatred?
Was it an act of Love?

I don't really want to know. A human life was slaughtered at the hands of people maimed by his own acts of terrorizing them over years. Do we really reap what we sow? This might be an apt example. Still, a human life is so easily rendered to a bag of bones and flesh and blood that oozes back into the womb of the earth. We're so easily turned back into the clay from which we came.
All material, mortal. There it is again. Mortality looks back from the mirror everyday.

Which brings me to the new book that I am reading, and reviewing, this time, for an Afrikaans paper: 'Say You're One of Them,' by Uwem Akpan. I am just learning, that childhood is a commodity in Africa. Akpan brings this idea to life in his book.

And. midway through the book, I am blown away. Now to scrape and claw for some moments of objectivity. Watch this space.

S

I am asking for Your Mercy,

somedays I wonder if you hear it...

this plea..

this hope.

this effort.

Or is this Wisdom

beyond me;

tests-of-strength?

Unless it's in a queue,

in-waiting,

then it's okay.

It's enough.

Because You are enough;

for me.

eternity dwarfs those...

Surrounded, by people and love and life,

Lifted by the lightness of simply being

And flung into the air by words and colours

that make me squeal in childlike delight,

I have much to be thankful for.


Then dunked into an ocean of despair

just by finding out that darkness exists!

That it is the gift that some will gladly bestow

on the brides of Naivete and meekness.

And that twisted in this vineyard of

black and white; dark and light -

this world of sobriety and intoxication -

are things that you and me in simple play

might fail to really grasp.


The finding makes me weak,

at these knees fit only for sitting

cushioned, on the little green mat

that points a sometimes wandering mind

to that place

where eternity dwarfs

those mountains in the mind,

those petty details of

black and white; dark and light.

And the silly borders

of sobriety and intoxication.

angels and demons

The forces of light and dark are undeniable variables in our every day. If day exists then so does night. For the most part, it's just as easy to enjoy the glory of a star-speckled sky, as it is to bask in the grand elation of sunshine caressing one's skin. Beauty has many colours, evokes different emotions and appeals to many in different ways. But in life, as one might at some point discover, there are also an army of angels that will spur you on in your quest to find that elixir of uncovering hidden potential. And there are a range of demons, too, who will stop your process at every opportunity; the way I see it, is that its really a game of wills, a maze of chance and a test of strength of spirit.

There are people who will love you for what you do even if their blood doesn't flow in your veins. There are those who will love you for who you are because the same heartbeats resonate in their chest as in yours. And there are those who will abhor you beyond reason. Some will spit venom when your name is mentioned. And some will be audacious enough to partake in actions that intend some harm to you. Bad words. Bad thoughts. Even worse, they might do that which belongs in the realm of science fiction bestsellers; engaging forces of darkness and evil to cause you nothing but harm and often even disease. It makes sense, of course, that invoking the protection of forces of good will encourage in you a lightness of being. And that increased faith and belief in a Higher Power will fortify you against such malice. It just seems for many that I have heard tales from, that the struggle is continual. Kind of like playing different stages of a digital game where the stakes are upped every next level.

And we keep playing. And so do the demons. Angels are plentiful, too.

It's a surreal place to be, this hanging between lightness and darkness and knowing the beauty of each, but also being wary of the dangers inherent in that in-between space.

Here's wishing one and all, angels more than demons. And here's wishing you the ability to discover the Angel within.

Love and Light,
...S

time travel

a long time ago, my dad told us that once the travel bug bites, you're just as good as done for. we used to giggle profusely as children, when we heard him say that with a hint of sinister in his voice. i mean, what parent wants to have their children bit by something remotely unpredictable; or anything for that matter. of course, this is meant in most figurative sense (or so it seems). travel bug, like literary bug or movie bug that keeps you firmly glued to the latest string of blockbuster reads or motion pictures.

so the travel bug it was. first time out of SA for us kids was in 1984; our first umrah; a pilgrimage to saudi arabia along with a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles and extended members of family that left only profound memories of the fancy ice creams and cherry cooldrinks that we gleefully got our fingers and tongues into. my sister celebrated her fifth birthday in Madina on News Years Eve. And so it turned that our most memorable holidays coincided from then on with her birthday. And other's were planned around the April date of my parents' wedding anniversary. Celebratory efforts also linked in nicely with an appreciation and setting aside of real family time. And tied in perfectly with well-timed travel arrangements. the first time we visited India was April 1994. Mauritius was April sometime some year. Singapore too. Malaysia another time. Egypt and Turkey midyear-ish, although my parents have experienced a winter in Istanbul. Europe, the US and Canada in June. Etcetera...

needless to say, we're a family of compulsive travellers. and of all the places both east, west and somewhere in between that we have ventured out to, India has by far held our fascination and love in myriad ways, explainable in simple wordedness. even for me, who prides myself on wordy recognitions (or deludes myself that way?).

cheeky worded illusions are my vocation of choice, so be it. moving on...

this latest trip was reminiscent of those other trips -last was India July 2008- with the family on a whirl wind tour of sights and delights; feel good moments and tonnes of stuff packed into a short time frame. just the way we like it. just the way that we thrive on, taking a full deck of adventure loving personalities in the same space. it makes the world tiny as a marble. and its the kind of travel that transcends the necessitated dimensions: time, space, being. it just is. and its awesome :)

here's to travel. in time. and in a rush against time. for all time!

here's to being a happy carrier of the travel bug, and to recognising in ourselves the fact that we are just travellers in this life, really. may the Almighty in His infinite wisdom always make our journeys and destinations havens of safety and learning for us; and may we never forget to extend our appreciation of the wonders of Creation as we engage in it and are a part of it.

look at the fisherman...

"You're a fish in the trap of the body;
look at the fisherman, don't look at the net.
Gaze in wonder at the infinite rose garden,
don't consider that thorn that wounded your foot.
Contemplate the Bird of Heaven whose shadow shelters you,
don't look at the crow that escaped your hands.
Put your trust in Him who gives life and ecstacy;
don't mourn what doesn't exist, cling to what does."

JELALUDDIN RUMI

I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair...

- Sandi Thom Lyrics

Kareem Salama: Generous Peace

Touch...

The sense of touch is difficult to write about. Some things have a distinct taste about them, smell pungent or sweet or anything in between and look a certain way. Sounds can evoke emotions and cause anxiety; each of the senses can be a tool of seduction or terror. My recent interviews with a woman who spent some time in prison brought many memories out of the simple sounds of a dripping tap, the clamber of keys and the wardens footsteps.

Touch is all of these and more. It is also a new word on my nieces lips.

"Touch" she said with curiosity, when she wanted to stroke the sheep in the backyard yesterday. "Touch" she said in earnest, when she wanted to kiss my aunt's baby. "Touch" she repeated with glee just now when she sat on my lap in front of my pc because we were looking at stock images of birdiiiieeeessss :)

And with the essence of touch, we managed to groom her from whole palms treating the keyboard like the drums of a rockstar to her using one or two delicately poised fingertips on the touchpad, just after I aligned the cursor arrow on the 'next' button. She waited with her hands in the air; watched my fingers intently, and then touched the touchpad ever so lightly until the next piccie loaded.
"Hi Birdie!" she squealed each time. Giggles punctuated the delight in her voice.
And then on to the next one again.
Ooooh, I said. This one's so pretty!
"So, pwettyyyy," she giggled.
Hmm. Next up, an owl.
"WhooOooo!" she said; her eyes widening with the drama of the large eyed bird.
And then to accent her distaste:
"Tata, Whooo!" she signaled both to the imposing bird and to me.
Lol. Moving on :P

Of course, the sounds in the kitchen have distracted her and so she's tottered off in that direction. Which gives me some time to write again ;) But I miss her antics, so instead of getting back to the manuscript, I am writing a tribute to her...
And to the things that she teaches me. She's a wise little one, that. She reminds me of her mother...

When we were growing up, Dilshaad was the voice of reason to my acts of daring. She was the nurturing, caring epitome of sisterhood. And she continues to be this warm and loving soul. I guess that people touch our lives in various ways, reminding us of that innate ability that we have to heal each other with compassion. It is that same compassionate nature that we are able to dig up in the most adverse situations that remind us of an energy of humanity that extends beyond the warring and destruction around the world.

We need to be reminded.

We need to touch and be touched; to feel the tingling of our senses when we are reminded of our power to do great things. To feel the rush of energy that makes us want to be a better person and then some. To be inspired because someone believes in us; because we believe in them. And because we believe in us.

It takes a touch. A word. A care. It takes sharing. And forgiving. And loving the human in us in spite of, and because of everything that we do and are. I am touched everyday by the sheer wonder of it all.

My heart is filled and emptied and filled again.

My soul is full.

Good News and Bad News...

Good news is always welcome.

I believe that.

Especially since a lot of negative words get thrown about and rages flying from people you probably won't remember in two years time can cause unnecessary grief. And then there were those 'venom-spitting turds' who called themselves anon. Aaaarghhhh. I mean...who needs someone else's hot potato in their laps, right? Especially when things you say get twisted by ego's only ready for a jol.

What happens when their thirsts are quenched? Will they see the light, or will they continue to delude themselves for a lifetime? I guess everyone gets what they deserve, me included :) Alhamdulillah.

Ok.. First the bad news. I am in an excruciating amount of pain today. This all due to some painkillers wearing off and an hour of dental drilling into the recesses of my one measly tooth. It used to live quite peacefully at the back of my mouth until that dreaded day. A cavity. My dentist says its due to those braces I had when I was 13. Today's braces don't do that, she says. Right. Back then it was the coolest thing to sort out twisty teeth; accept for the fact that I couldn't chew gum or eat 'jawbreakers' (remember those hot spicey red ones??!!) or that I couldn't eat those lollypops with the gooey centre.

Back to the present; this all a load of drama to bring me to my proverbial knees. Actually, I am sitting on my knees as I type this! (I use one of these posture accurate typist chairs that has a rest for knees and butt. It's kinda funky. And it has wheels :P I love it. But Boi am I in pAiN!. Sigh.

So, to put away the bad news, I'm going to sleep. Writing is not happening today. Not like this, any way. Hmm... now for the good news...

I have just been appointed as a trustee (the youngest, I might add :P) on the corporate board of WIPHOLD. I know, its just a word. Or an acronym. I know. But it's a feather in my cap, whichever way. We are a total of five board trustees. The CEO of WIPHOLD, the CEO of WipCapital and the Chairperson (a Founder Member with great Merit in her field - legal and corporate). And then theres another two of us, newly appointed. This piece of news comes at a rather opportune time, seeing as I am at the threshold of many choices. It is a culmination of the many coats that I wear in the corporate and social sectors and I really hope to be able to make the most of it.

Read the Corporate Profile Mission Statement HERE.

The reasons that I have become hugely interested in this organisation is their immense social responsibility programmes in place. In some cases, companies like these are able to do more than the state. Read more about the extensive Social Development Commitment HERE.

I have a feeling that 2009 is going to be one heck of an exciting year!

Crazy weather, weather crazy

I love the rain... it reminds me of being born.. again and again... of the cycle of life, and the ways in which the innocence of children can be a storehouse of learning for us adults. I love summer, because of its warmth, that eternal feeling of being embraced with the kiss of sunrays leaving you just a little pink... and I love the breeze that works its way into my room when im writing... playing a little distracting game with me and the muse... teasing just enough to get some amount of free writing out in a mere five minutes.

I love my freedom. My family. My books. My car. Yes, that too. I love being a girlie girl. And I love being South African. Oh and jelly tots. But for now, I love the rain. Its great for writing. And painting. And baking, believe it or not. My shortbread biscuits just came out superbly today!

This rain has memories for me. It reminds me of coffee shops and colourful umbrellas. It reminds me of yellow butterflies. It reminds me of spontaneiety. It reminds me of me...

one last dance

This last dance,
Is all it takes
for a mind to say good bye.

This last dance,
when the roses have long dried
and leaves once green
are ready for their bronzing.

Just one last dance,
so i can feel that memory
of your breath
on my skin,
and that signature whisper
that you almost didn't utter
forever branding me
as your silent love.

This last dance,
is all i need to
remember that it wasn't
just a dream,
and then to
forget eyes
that smiled once,
just for me.

This last dance, in appreciation,
because you showed me
that eternity
exists.

Yes, I'm savouring this one last dance,
because you always are
and never will be.

A last dance,
is all a heart needs
to finally let you go.

...and love is the tool of healing...

Self-doubt is probably one of the most disasterous of man-made devices ever built. I imagine that it was first designed on some malfunctioning unit of human being, ready only to self-destruct or render itself to smithereens due to not liking the game being played. And so, the psyche beleagured, wrought the addition of a grand mutation in this form. Human beings were designed for love and Love. In no particular order. Love Creator and love creation. Simple as that. So then why oh why do we complicate matters so? Self-doubt questions worth. Diminished self-worth questions being. And purpose. We fail to see the divinity inherent in being part of that great thread of soul energy. Because thats all that we are. Energy. We are refueled by compassion, appreciation, and love. We are drained by self-doubt. Fear, pain, resentment, anger. All are children of self-doubt. Why do I keep harping on about this one icky little word? Its because by implication, doubting self causes a pain that is self-inflicted. And pain translates into anger. Self-processed. So theres no room for victimhood here. We're able to make the conscious choice. A proactiveness is required in being able to undo the self-flaggelation tactics. To get a grip, and see the harm that we wreak on self and surrounds. Crimson Shimmer's new poem says it well... Fear is the weapon of self-destruction... and it follows then, that Love is the tool of Healing...

I write these posts in reflection. And they are free-written with little thought of grammatical error or structure. I write as I feel. Or maybe these words are messages that my subconscious wants to reveal to me as lessons to self. I am not free of qualms and quirkinesses. I am, a work in progress. I just hope that I am learning from my own mistakes, that I am forgiven my many mistakes by those who I may have wronged... and I hope that I am able to discard the regrets and not hold resentment in the tiny space of my heart. If it must expand, then let that be with compassion. I have so much yet to learn. And there's so little time.

i surrender

i love the feeling of emptiness..
of going beyond the hunger and fatigue and just being
its that point when the body stops struggling
stops its nagging
stops its tantrums
and knows
nothings going to come of making a noise

and so it embraces silence
it finds peace
in surrender
what will be will be

body, emptied, melts into spirit
and it remembers ancient secrets
and it just remembers

zhikr is fuel to the spirit
its wat it really means to kill base needs
or the beginnin of it rather

this is where it all begins
in empty silence
in surrender
in being