When I tell people that my husband takes me fly fishing, I
usually get faced with disbelief from men and pitying side-glances from women.
Some go so far as to say ‘Oh, you poor thing’ while nodding knowingly and
sympathetically.
When I protest and explain that I love to fly fish – that it
started out as his hobby but has become mine too – they nod even more and give
me the ‘wink wink nudge nudge don’t worry
I know you are only doing it to keep him happy’ look.
It’s then that I have to pull out my favorite photo
(conveniently saved on my cell phone) of my fish and me. A beautiful Atlantic
salmon caught in Scotland on one of the fly-fishing trips Husband dragged me on.(Please note the sarcastic use of ‘dragged’)
So lets just get this straight – I love to fly fish and I
want to go fishing!
The season is upon us for catching still water trout in the
Western Cape, and I cannot WAIT for our first weekend away.
But it’s not only the catch-and-release that I love so much,
it’s not only the thrill of glorious sessions out on the water, wondering what
beauty I will or won’t catch next, the exhilarating tug of possibilities on the
fly line, surrounded by mountains and crisp fruit tree blossom –
there is so much more to it than that.
Here are my top 5 things I love about fishing besides
fishing:
1. Road trips
Usually when we go fishing, we have to travel a little way
to get there. Road trips are full of great pad-kos,
awesome radio, my very own DJ skills while hubby drives and fun conversation.
Discussions that tend to begin with work, issues at home and daily bla-bla-bla,
often shift once we lose radio signal to other, way more interesting things.
You just can’t have a 45 min sing along with your significant other anywhere other
than in a car and not be horribly embarrassed and/or admitted to a psyche ward.
It’s pure magic, and one of the best ways to spend a Friday afternoon, if you
ask me.
2. Weekends away
Do I even need to explain this one? Going away, staying in
remote bungalows in the middle of the mountains with nothing but a sky full of
stars to look at at night? Yes please! Not to mention the romantic nature of
open fireplaces, tiny beds and zero cell phone reception – a weekend fishing is
the most romantic get away there is!
3. Fresh air
Maybe it’s just me, but living a fast paced city life has a
way of making me feel suffocated at times. Even though I love it, I need to get
away from it all once in a while to be able to breathe, and what better way to
do that than with my favorite human being in the whole world? A walk to the
Woolies on the corner together in town with its car fumes, drain covers and
overflowing dumpsters just doesn’t have the same charm as a walk, hand in hand,
to the edge of the water in the dusk, surrounded by croaking frogs hidden in
the reeds, and the air sweet with pine.
4. Braais and the Fires of Truth
Standing around a braai having a drink (or three) while the
meat sizzles is a birth right for most South Africans. We love it! But daily life
doesn’t always allow for too many leisurely braai’s in a row, and usually
involves big groups of friends or family getting together. While Master Chef
ignites my weekday aspirations, I love a good old, fuss free, eat when it’s
done and not a moment sooner kind of dinner arrangement for two. We make a
point of braaing on our fishing weekends, rain or shine, and we let the fire
burn big and bright late into the night, enticing the most in-depth one-on-ones
a marriage could possibly handle. It’s at these ‘fires of truth’ with my
husband that I feel like we are dating for the first time all over again,
diving into each other’s minds and swimming around, revelling.
5. The Pink Hunter Boots
Yes, it’s about the clothes. I love that I get to dress up
like a stuffy Downton Abbey countess in her tweeds and wellingtons, and still
be looked at by my husband as though I am the most beautiful woman in the
world. And the fact that my wellies are pink makes it all the more enjoyable
for me.
So to answer those questions and ease any suspicions - yes, fly fishing is definitely one of my favorite pastimes,
no it’s not just because he loves it, and hell yea I am super excited for our
next up-coming trip!
I have been CrossFitting for over a year now. Life in the
‘box’ has been wonderful to say the least, but the benefits that have surprised
me the most have not necessarily been strength, fitness or even endorphin-rush
related. Even though all those things have been a huge hunk of the awesomeness,
(including making some great friends along the way, feeling a part of a group
of people who are all about support, positivity and leading a healthy balanced
lifestyle), these are not the things that have blown me away the most or what
will keep me going back.
I have learned life skills that would otherwise seemingly
have no correlation to the lifting of olympic weights above my head.
THE MEANING OF YET
The first thing, and probably most important thing, is that
I learned the greater meaning of the word ‘yet’.
One of the first coaches I began training with made it very
clear that in her class we were not
allowed to say the word ‘can’t’ without following it up with a resounding ‘yet’.
For example, ‘I can’t do a push-up’ – or even ‘I can’t do a
hand-stand push up!’ (I mean, who can?!?)(…er…besides all those who can,
obviously…)(This is CrossFit after all, not a light walk in the park!) was not allowed
to be uttered by an upside down huffing me. I had to say ‘I can’t do a push-up
- YET’, or ‘I can’t do a hand-stand push up – YET’ and then she would be happy.
Even though I still can’t do hand-stand push ups – yet - I learnt that that
little word ‘yet’ makes all the difference.
Yet encompasses a
vast gulf, the gap between not being able to do it and being able to do it, prop-vol of the unknown and triumph. Thanx
to the scaling CrossFit is famous for (there is always a way to scale a workout
down to something you are able to do
no matter your fitness or strength level) and the strengthening of appropriate
muscle groups when doing a particular move, ‘yet’ involves so much more than
just doing what you currently can do, or staying in the same place or giving up
entirely. Because ‘yet’ is a forward thinking concept. When it comes to
scaling, the scale tends to always lean forward.
‘Yet’ has become one of the most important things to me in
life now, both in and outside the box. When I quit my job to pursue my dreams,
I had no proof that I would succeed, because I couldn’t write a book, couldn’t
play the piano – yet. Now I can.
THE CHA-CHA LAB RAT
The next surprising thing I learnt at CrossFit is that I am
my own Lab Rat. The coaches, though wonderful leaders and highly qualified
trainers who constantly teach and help guide me, have always given me the same
message: ‘Pull on your white lab coat and strap on those pink Nanos – it’s your own
body and you are the only one who really knows and feels what’s going on inside
it.’
When it coms to diet, exercise and even rest, I have become
so much more in control of what I do with my body. Joining CrossFit was like
being handed the keys to my own future, and now that I am behind the wheel, I
am so much happier and have a much better understanding of what is going on
inside me. And I like being in control.
I know that CrossFit is not the only way, but for me, it was
the first time I really did start to take notice and internalize my progress.
Following mapped out schedules, keeping track of my progress in my own log-book
app and deciding for myself how far I will be able to push myself each day has
done wonders for me. When you really do listen to your body, you need not follow
fads or the latest trends in exercise or diet blindly. You can try things out
for fun or curiosity, but always in a mindful way.
This means that there is a constant ‘cha-cha-chaa’ going on
in my progress. Today I might feel stronger and take two steps forward. Next
week I may be dealing with something and am not quite as strong, but then I
only take one step back.
I have dealt with a bit of a physical blow the first few
months this year after a surgery in December and have not been able to give my
workouts quite as much gusto as before. But after feeling really down about it
and that I was failing, I realized that I can still do things now in my current
recovering state that I could not do before I joined CrossFit over a year ago –
two steps forward, one step back. And that’s OK.
No matter how things are going, how my body is healing and
progressing, how much I overindulged over the weekend, or how sluggish I may
feel after a bad nights sleep, I keep working - and I always end up further along the path to
success than I was before I began. This double-sided approach of active
patience is extremely helpful to me in this time of recovery.
SLEEP TIGHT AND FIGHT!
Perhaps the most surprising thing of all is the difference CrossFit
has made to my dream world, or my nightmare world, to be more specific.
I
suffer from terrible night terrors and have done so since childhood. There is
one specific scenario that comes up over and over again in the worst of them,
where I am being chased by someone or a group of people, but I am paralyzed in
some way – either unable to move my legs, or blinded and can’t see where I’m
going, or struck with a voice-sucking black hole inside me so I can’t yell for
help no matter how hard I try - and I always get caught. It’s in that
terrifying moment when I usually wake up screaming (and freaking poor Husband
out).
But ever since I joined CrossFit, I have
begun to fight back in these nightmares. I still wake up with
heart-palpitations, but instead of getting caught, I am now finding my
strength, actively bracing myself to defend, and even doing superhuman things
to dissolve the situation. In the most recent one, I jumped up into the air
high above my attacking mob’s heads, to give me the time as I came down to
breathe deeply and set my core and fists, ready to fight.
Don’t get me wrong – I don’t think CrossFit can make me
Super Woman and defy the laws of gravity, but I believe there is a positive change
in my conscious and subconscious mind as my body grows stronger. Taking the
cha-cha lab rat ownership of my fitness journey (a cornerstone of CrossFit
lore) has resulted in me ‘knowing’ I am stronger than before, even in my sleep.
It’s not rah-rah-dead-lift
or look-at-me-look-at-me-and-my-muscles…
it’s Back-off-would-be-attacker-I-could-kick-your-ass!
So take it from me. If you haven’t joined CrossFit – yet –
or you don’t like CrossFit – yet – or if your fitness regime is something you
are simply slumping by on in hopes that all the gym-entrance-card-swipes will
magically make you skinny, maybe think about how much more you can be gaining while getting fit.
And if you are still anti-CrossFit and afraid of our ‘Strong
is the new Skinny’ mantra’s, don’t picture those orange-tanned women on the
internet with muscles bulging out left right and center…
Think of me, a girl who couldn’t do a push up. But who can now
not only do full unassisted push-ups, but who can also fly!
Love, lust and fairy-star-dust
Cherry Blossom
(Go check out the TaggCrossFit site if you are keen to give it a try too!)
*Please note that none of what I talk
about in this blog post would be possible if Husband was not in a position to
support both of us, and willing to give me the freedom and space to chase my
dreams for now. I am fully aware that someone has to still take care of the
responsibilities and bills of real life, and Husband has taken over that role
for both of us for this chapter whilst I follow my bliss. I love you Hubby! And
one day, some how, some way, I will return the favour. Thank you for believing
in me and putting your money where your mouth is!*
Three years
ago I embarked on a sabbatical of sorts. I left a very corporate world and
replaced my office days with something that most would describe as being a
full-time house-wife, or even lady-of-leisure.
I embraced this title for a time, but only because 'Full-time Dream-Catcher' is
not exactly something you can claim at dinner parties when strangers inevitably
ask you: 'So? What do you do?' without looking a bit like a freak. And that is
the sad state of our society.
It has been
quite an adventure, with highs and lows, victories and disappointments. I found
that even though I was no longer 'working' that I still didn't have enough
hours in the day to do all the things I wanted to do. I discovered that all
those things we always say we want to do but never have the time, don't
magically happen when time is allocated - but rather take a whole lot of hard
work and dedication. But the thing that I was most surprised (and hurt) to
find, was the firing-squad of judgment, resentment and down-right nastiness I
encountered from many peers, friends and even some family.
'What do you
do all day?' 'I would be so bored if I was to stay at home all day!' 'Don't you
think it's time to go back to work?' are the kind of comments I have had to bat
on a regular basis. For the most part I have ignored, joked about or argued my
way through these unpleasant encounters, but a recent, more frank version of
these comments (from a well-meaning source) got me thinking - why is it that
some people have such a hard time dealing with my current life choices?
Lets say
that you started dating a new guy. He makes you happy - happier than you have
ever been. He is sweet, kind, generous, funny, smart, and adores you. He is
completely dedicated to you. He listens, lets you choose the movie (most of the
time) and even finds your strange obsession with purple spandex endearing. Now
lets say I am your friend, your confidant, someone who has been around in your
single years. But from the day you met Mr. Perfect, all I can ever say to you
is 'Oh my gosh, you have to get out of this relationship immediately! He is
poor. He isn't going anywhere in his career. He lives in a rented apartment on
the cheap side of town and can't even afford a decent cup of coffee. He lives
with his mommy! He drives a beat-up old second hand rust bucket and he doesn't
have an iota of dress-sense. He uses 'literally' incorrectly and makes spelling
errors on his Facebook status updates. He listens to Nickleback, for goodness
sake, dump him!'
Would you
say that I am a good friend? Would you say that my interests lie in wanting
what is actually best for you, or what some of society perceives as being best
for you? If I were to suggest that you should date the rich maverick over the
poor guy any day of the week, that would make me shallow, right? Shouldn’t he
be valued for more than just his monetary status? Would you consider me a b**** if I only thought of your boyfriend as someone you could get a five carat diamond
out of?
That's
right. I would be a bad friend, at the very least.
Well, this
is what I am encountering in my life right now. I have chosen the 'poor guy',
if you will. An artistic, non-money-making sabbatical over a previously
thriving career. To 'stay at home'. But I believe there is more to life than
salaries. There is more to life than 9 to 5. And yet my dream-chasing has been
seen as everything from lazy to lost, and I have come to the conclusion that
those people in my life who perceive it that way are not wanting the best for
me. Perception is a funny thing - because it can be just as easily based on
blind ignorance as on personal experience. I suppose that is the difference
between perception and misconception.
I have
decided to map out a few answers to the top 10 general misconceptions I face:
1. "You don't 'work'."
Define
'work'. Are you saying that the only work worth doing is one where you get a
monthly salary? Where you drive your car or take public transport to a
building somewhere away from your home and spend an average of 8 hours 5 days a
week doing things that make profits for a company that gives you a pat on the
back and a pension when all's said and done? Don't get me wrong - growing up
through this work force was an important, crucial part of my own personal
development, and there may very well come a time where I have to return to the
ranks. I do also find the work that so many do to be admirable. The street
sweeper who provides for his family by beautifying our city, picking up the
trash discarded by strangers; the lawyer who fights her battles and pays for
her own Prada; the nail technician who puts her baby brother through school
with her earnings; the husband who sees his wife yearning to create a new path
for herself, and takes over all monetary responsibilities for a time so that
she can do so; the high-school teacher and the sales person and the doctor and
the domestic and the accountant and the entertainer and the researcher alike.
But they are not the only ones working for a living. The Oxford Dictionary
defines 'work' as being an 'activity
involving mental or physical effort done in order to achieve a result'. So
yes, I work.
2. "What do you do all day? I
would be bored if I had to stay at home all day long."
Being 'bored'
is probably the saddest, most revealing aspect any human can portray. The world
is an enchanting place. Perhaps not everyone sees it, but I wake up each
morning and embrace my universe like a child prancing through vast fields with
a butterfly net (after my cup of coffee, that is). My husband jokes that I have
been going through a second childhood, and in a way that is true. Any parent
will know that children need to be fed not only with physical food, but in
mind, body and spirit.
-The first
thing I did after quitting my job was to enroll myself at a piano studio - I
was adamant that I wanted to be classically trained in music, something I
didn't have the opportunity to do as a child, and wanted to be able to one day
teach piano too. I hadn’t yet worked out the specifics, I didn’t have a
piano-teaching 'business model' mapped and ready to show any doubting onlooker
- I just knew I had to start getting my brain and fingers moving. The learning
curve was intense, but I have completed 5 grades of music training thus far,
complete with taking the exams and playing mini-performances, and am continuing
in my training. I was taken on by my piano teacher as a 'student teacher' a
year ago, continue to sub for her when she can't take a class, and have built
up my own profile of pre-grade students, under her guidance, that I teach on a
weekly basis. (a highly rewarding job, might I add - much more so than anything
I ever did in the corporate world!)
-I enrolled
in a creative writing course at UCT and started to work towards the goal of
becoming an author. I wrote a book, which, like piano, was something I have
always wanted to do, getting my first novel down on paper, and am a third of
the way through writing my second novel (with one abandoned literary project
in-between). Writing is not something that just happens when inspiration
strikes (though those 3am - 7am inspiration sessions do occur and I have to
just get up and write till it’s out) - it is a skill one must work on and
develop over time and thousands upon thousands of words. Being aware that
successful writers don't just lie on the beach waiting for heaven to open up
and deliver them a product (read Malcolm Gladwell’s book 'Outliers' to
understand the 10 000 hour concept of success) I allocate 'writing' days where
I start first thing in the morning and work for 8 or more solid hours with just
coffee and a lunch break in between. Nothing glamorous or easy about it.
-I dusted
off my old sewing machine, only ever used for hemming or fixing
store-bought-garments in the past, and started learning to make my own clothing
from scratch. The growing ensemble of 'pami products' now includes an array of
trousers (stretchy jeans, leather leggings, silky sleep bottoms, his and hers
fishing fleecies) children’s pajama’s for my nieces and nephews, baby's touch
quilt, vintage feel lace napkins, various tank tops and long sleeved shirts,
and the latest, a leather Catwoman suit, and a white pom-pomed fluffy
waistcoat.
-I started a
veggie patch, quite a feat for someone who used to have a talent in killing
everything green - including cacti - quite dramatically. (My
'Peace-in-the-Home' is the only survivor of this past opposite-of-green-fingered
me, having miraculously made it through patches of darkness and drought, and an
oops where I once spilled a pot of
boiling pig stock I was making over it...) My garden is now producing herbs and
veggies for the third year in a row, with its first-of-the-season tomato
revealing its round little un-ripe self today. Bless.
There has
been so much more keeping me butterfly-catching, or staying at home, depending
on your perception, but in an attempt to avoid eye-rolling proclamations of
'first world problems', I'll leave the overseeing of house renovations, writing
of blogs, wifeing of high profile husband, running of household, throwing of
life-event parties, baby-sitting and making of red wine reduction sauces,
stuffing my own olives, and whipping up home made mayonnaise’s out for now...
In short,
what do I do all day? I chase dreams, I experience life, I do. I don't believe in 'boredom'. Boredom is for people who bore
people.
3. "But you don't WORK"
Let me
elaborate. Playing a musical instrument requires an extreme amount of mental
and physical effort in order to achieve a result. If you don't believe me, try.
Learning to play the piano as an adult is even harder - not because the work is
harder, but because we are so conditioned into not using our fingers that way, that we first have to break the
years and years of 'hand' behavior and then build new abilities. Cramp-hand is no joke! Just ask the
teens who suffer from bbm-'thumb' carpal tunnel (I mock, but apparently it is a
real thing and has resulted in the need for surgery) and learning to read music
is just like learning a new language - in fact, a few new languages, as you must
memorize a whole bunch of Italian, French and even German terms, along with 'reading' all the semebreve's, dotted minim's, demi-semi-quavers and imperfect cadences. (The good thing about learning as an adult, is there is wine at the end of it...)
Making
clothes also involves mental and physical effort in order to achieve a result. It
is hard, until it becomes easy. Practice generally makes perfect, and trust me,
many a throw-away resulted from my sewing machine before the white pom-pomed
fluffy waistcoat. Writing a book...don't even get me started! The initial 150
000 words were 'easy' to get out relative to the editing, re-editing and multi-editing
processes (they say that 7 is the lucky number). And jumping into the
publishing-pool has been nothing short of an amateur swimmer thrown into the
Cape of Storms in high season. But I continue to paddle, grasping for signs of
land, and continue to write.
4. "You are lost - no direction
in your life! Remember when you used to be in marketing...you were always so
concerned with the next project, the new launch, the sales figures etc... You
had purpose. Direction. Now you are lost."
Erm, no.
Nope. Not true. My past is in my past. I gave it my all when I was there, but
that's just me. When I do something, I do it to the fullest. And I was in a
very different stage in my life. I had to ‘work’ to pay the bills. I had to
build up my own skill set to know that I could take care of myself for the rest
of my life if need be. I needed to prove to myself that I was worthy of the
corporate title I eventually did attain, and made darn sure I studied and put
in the hours to do so. But my past
success is not who I am. I am following a very clear map - the map of Living a
Happy and Meaningful Existence - Whilst Wearing Fabulous Shoes. And speaking of
shoes, the 'Dreams' I have been chasing for the past three years are 'Futures'
I have been trying on, investing in, (convincing my investor to invest in),
ones that I have been walking around the shop floor in, testing to see which
ones will leave the Store of Life with me to carry me through the next phase of
my time here on this planet. (OK, enough with the Capitol Analogies...)
5. "You probably spend all day
tanning on Camps Bay beach, reading books, and getting treatments in beauty
salons."
Aw, thanx
man! You think I look that good?
And yes, yes
I read. Your point?
For the
record, I went to the beach on a week (aka work) day a grand total of ONCE in
the past three years. I go to lunches on an average of once a month (most of my
working friends do 'lunch' more often that that, where absolutely nothing
work-related happens) I have had my nails done...oh wait...that’s right, never.
Nails are things I take care of myself, after hours, every second week or so,
while watching a movie or series with Husband. I am about to go for my first
pedicure next week as a birthday treat, taking my two teenage nieces with me to
enjoy the experience too. The appointment is at 4pm. Sue me.
6. "It must be so nice being at
home. You can kuier all day, drinking
tea." (usually
said with so much back-handed venom that it would take a machine-powered syphon
to suck all that sarcastic poison out!)
It's coffee
most of the time, not tea, and it's mostly by myself with my
manuscript-in-progress or piano books, and not often with friends. Having
coffee is something I did just as much of when in an office environment
(possibly more).
7. "You are on Facebook, like,
24-7! Clearly you have too much time on your hands!"
Facebook is
my 'water-cooler', and I am a sharer. I admit, I am partial to social media. I
check FB/Twitter/Pintrest/Instagram on my phone in traffic on the way to
CrossFit, on my iPad between teaching piano classes, on my laptop with my
morning coffee and on the couch at night when watching a series I am not as
enthralled in as Husband is (when I don't have some hand-sewing to finish or
nails to do, that is) I have a friend who is on Facebook just as often as I am
- she sees all, reads all, browses every photo album. But she is not a natural
sharer. She never hits 'like' or 'share' or comments on statuses like I do, and
thus appears to have no FB activity what so ever. (Very sneaky, my friend)(you
know who you are!) Fun fact: Being an avid social media user (and this is years
of previous marketeering speaking) makes me more of a modern-ling than a
stay-at-home-with-nothing-to-do-ling. Think about it.
8. "You don't wake up to go to
work, your life is a breeze.”
There are
more things in the world to wake up for than 'a job'. Have you ever been on
holiday, with some exciting event planned for the next day, and had to set the
alarm clock for a work-worthy-hour? Welcome to my world. I wake up with Husband
every day. Granted, not to go to an office like him. But to go to work on my
life. (PS Husband and I sleep in on weekends AND WE WILL NOT APOLOGISE FOR THAT
TO ANYONE!)(PPS I am aware that babies will change all of this in one foul
swoop, but I will embrace that bridge when I get there)
9. "I am worried you are going
to turn into one of 'those' women."
Who exactly
are 'those' women? And who gets to judge who 'those' women are? And even once
identifying 'those' women, who are you to decide what 'those' woman do or who
'those' women are in their deeper core beings? Who are you to define them? The
kept? The princesses? The desperate housewives? I don’t know about you, but I
haven't found myself trapped outdoors in nothing but a bath towel any time
recently, and certainly don't have a pool boy (I clean that out-door Jacuzzi
all by myself, yo!) The only people who should be concerned with my current
usage of my time, are me, and Husband. No one else. If he doesn't see me as one
of 'those' women, or if I don't feel that I am one of 'those' women, then what
exactly are we talking about here? Moving on.
10. "Well, you don't have a job,
and you don't as yet have a child. So what are you doing with your life?"
What are you
doing with your life?
Having said
all that, being 'unemployed' definitely has its freedoms - mostly in that my
time is mine to do with as I choose. So there are days where I choose to spend
quality time with my siblings children, or help a friend in doing the school
run for her, or take a friend shopping to find the perfect dress for an
exciting event in her life. There are days where I choose to show a traveling
visitor around my city, or leave early for a long weekend away with Husband, or
attend an NGO meeting, or meet with editors and writers to 'talk books', or simply
have coffee with my folks. I'm not claiming that it's ALL work and no play -
after all, pami is not a dull girl. But what I don’t understand is why what I
choose to do with my time is such a personal offence to some?
To those who
still don't understand why I am on a Dream Catching sabbatical, can you
possibly be happy knowing that I am happy and fulfilled in my life right now
and that my 'cost' of living is taken care of by someone who I have a very open
and honest understanding with whilst I catch those dreams?
To the rest
of the naysayers and haters out there, let me leave you with one final thought.
I have taken a leap of faith, trusting that I can grow my wings in time before
I hit the bottom. Why do you feel the need to stand on your chunk of the
precipice and take cheap shots at me, hoping to knock holes in my dream
catching? I can only come to one conclusion. But Taylor Swift says it better
than me - she has a wonderful little song, which perhaps applies to you. Have a
listen to it here.
(P.S. Hello Kitty called, and she says 'Live and let Live')
Happy Septermber all! Down here in the
southern hemisphere, spring has sprung! The tree’s are budding, the birds are
singing…but wait? What is that I see advancing over the ocean from my kitchen
window? Another cold front? Winds so strong and grey that their
life-consuming colour swells up and blasts the living sparkles out of all those
well meaning early budding blossoms? Well how nice, given that I am sick as a
dog in bed.
This dreary, ghosts of winter day has got me thinking. Spring this year, thus
far, is a bit like me this year, thus far. Many still consider me a ‘spring
chicken’ of sorts, but I assure you that lying here, swathed in the dregs of
flu, my thirty-three years of spring chicken has found me a little less chickeny
lately and a lot more old-farm-hen. My chicklet feathers are not quite so
downy, my fluffy tail is not quite so pert and my cute little baby hen claws
have developed the ability to not so much tickle
adorably as tear the rooster a new one. I don't like being sick one bit, and so, what did I do? Deny deny deny.
I have realized that
no matter how far from the chicken facade we come, we will always need a Mother Hen, even if that mommy is your own self (or Husband) looking out for you.
Being sick in your 30’s is a great way to slap you up side the head and say
‘Grow up! You’re an adult now, act like one!’
You see, I did not act like an adult
at all preceding my demise. Because sick isn't something that happens to me, sick is what happens to other people; People who don't live a balanced lifestyle; People who work too hard, people who don't look after their bodies or eat healthily; People who are too stressed, too tired - not me! I live my life-party on a daily basis, complete with mood-enhancing heels and matching sparkly dress, and the flu monkeys are not on the guest list. But now, the result is this horrible virus confining me to
the gloomy dust-ruffles of my bed, and those flu monkeys are throwing their own party in my head!
I was feeling a ‘bit’ under the weather a
few weeks ago, but not too bad. Not ‘too bad’ to simply deal with it the way I
used to back in the day when I would pop a sinutab and drink a sugar free red
bull and be ready to go again. Not ‘too bad’, to stop me from getting up and
doing my CrossFit avidly and enthusiastically, and laughing off Husband’s heed
when he warned me of all the germs going round like last seasons shoes at a half-off sale. Not ‘too bad’ to stop me from going off to teach my piano students, having after-work drinks, going out every night in the week,
staying out way past my bedtime with a friend visiting from the UK, staying up
all hours with Husband even when I was at home, never saying no to any offered
event, taking myself with Husband fishing and wading in the ice cold
mountain water, and walking around at home with no shoes or socks on, even
though my feet were cold. The little voice in my head (my Mother, or perhaps inner mother hen) kept saying
‘Your feet are cold! You‘re going to get sick. Your head is sore! You should be
in bed. Your ears are hurting from being in this loud place! Your lungs are
hurting from being in this smoky place! You should not be here!’ But did I
listen? Of course not. No, the spring chicken in me thought she could handle
this snivel, this mere head cold that it surely was.
But as it turns out I could not. Perhaps
when I actually was a spring chicken
I could, but not anymore. Two rounds of anti-biotics, a course of cortisone and
one big fat needle injection later, I have finally succumbed to the flu, and
the voice in my head simultaneously. So yes Mom, you were right after all. I am
staying in bed, allowing Husband to look after me in his sweet way. And the only spring chicken in my immediate future is the one
in my soup.
I found a pretty rock.
A white, sparkly, quartz crystal rock. I was walking with Husband a few weekends
ago by one of our favorite fishing lakes and noticed for the first time that
the ground is literally littered with these shimmery bits of stone, like frozen
pieces of sun-kissed snow slopes, all glittery and white. I am a HUGE fan of snow and the gleaming wonderland that snow covered mountains bring us, and so this stone is right up my alley! It reminds me so much of a gorgeous, pure white, opulent Alpine slope in the sun. And I found it right here, in Sunny South Africa!
I guess I have never
seen these 'snow' stones there before because whenever we go to this particular lake, we go to fish,
and my mind is focused on that. So much so that I guess I never thought to look
down. This time, though, we had a sort of strange fishing weekend away - in
that we didn’t fish at all. Life changes, work stresses and some big hurdles to
be cleared kind of hijacked our weekend, and so we rather went walking along
side the water, tucked away so neatly in the beautiful farmland and mountain
slope surroundings, to talk and to think. The sky was a perfect winter blue and
the wind was ice-cap chilled. A few sprinkles of snow had made a first
seasonal appearance on mountains near by, trickling down in melted streamletts to green patches that
made me think of the highlands of Scotland. It was a perfect moment in a
perfect day outside, while inside us, a perfect storm raged down.
After I picked the
pretty rock up, and admired it briefly with Husband before he moved on, I had
my own little moment with it and decided to slip it into my pocket.
As we walked and
talked about the problems ahead, about the figurative mountain he was facing, and
therefore as his wife, I face alongside him, I clutched the gleaming rock in my hand in
my pocket for the rest of the walk. I couldn't help feeling that there was
something special about this rock. It gave me an instant hope. I saw in it a
glittery future, and felt as I wrapped my fingers round it that the solid hard
surface made me feel strangely grounded. It fit perfectly into the palm of my
hand, big enough to hold on to but not too big to get in the way. Just a token,
a symbol, a simple piece of something beautiful and pure. A piece of the earth that was exactly what it was.
It has been next to my
bed back home ever since and I find myself looking at it, picking it up and holding it quite often. I even think about it when I am not at home. In fact,
this weekend while I was a 2 hour flight away, I wished that I had brought it
with me. For what reason, I don’t know. I just know that I love this little stone and feel better that it is now with me. I feel that I should keep it close
to me for a very, very long time.
