Joseph Rubin – may his soul rest in peace –

I came home last night, and this afternoon I received a letter from Marilyn Rubin, daughter of Joseph Rubin. Those of you who read my blog will have noticed Joseph’s comments on my blog, always supportive and encouraging. I’m unsure how long he’s been a follower of my blog, at a guess about 3 years. I also know that he popped over to others’ blog and followed them too and made supportive comments. I had personal emails from him too, and loved to hear about Anita his wife, his daughters, the cat that came to visit, the squirrels, the changing seasons …

This is Marilyn’s letter –

 Sunday morning, my father was having difficulty breathing, and was brought to the hospital. The ambulance took a long time to come, and by the time they arrived at his house, he had stopped breathing and had little or no pulse. They were able to resuscitate him, and he remained in the hospital until this morning, about 6:40 AM Detroit time, when he passed away.

 I am about to go to the hospital to console my mother, and be with the rest of my family. But first, I wanted to write to you. I feel there was a very special section of his life that he shared with you, and the writers community associated with your blog and other related blogs. So I feel that you are as close to him as family. You all were very special to him.

 The writers community that you and he were part of was very important to him. He constantly spoke of how much he admired your talent. But it was more than that – I think there was a special connection that he felt in this community. A funny thing is that I used to exclaim that sometimes, I would write a comment on your blog, and you would then find a way to repeat it, rephrased in a way that better expressed what I was trying to say. So, as I feel my words are not adequate here to express how much you and the writers community added to his life, and therefore mine, I know you will find a way.

 Please also pass on this news to other readers and posters on your blog, as you see fit.

Dear Joseph Rubin – may your dear soul rest in peace. Your life was well lived. We mourn the deep loss. To the family, a long life. You are in my thoughts and prayers. May G.d grant you comfort and peace in this sorrowful time.

I’m reminded of Oscar Wilde’s words ‘Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground’.

Hair, Youtube & Amaryllis 

Sunrise from my bedroom balcony in Plettenberg Bay last Sat morning, the day after I arrived –

Hair and youtube – is there anything that links them? Yes, in my instance there is ..

Where to start?

My elder son Mike, did a youtube thingamy of me this past Tuesday. A 5 minute promo of me speaking about ‘Aging & Becoming’ a book in collaboration with Susan Schwartz (Phoenix Az.) and myself, soon to be ‘launched’.  We did many takes. I was down in Plettenberg Bay for this purpose; also to be there for his birthday on Wednesday, and also because my younger son David was visiting from Cape Town with his lovely bride (whose parents and family live in Plett). And also to wrap up the mansuscript that my son is formatting into an e-book ~ ‘Aging & Becoming’ ~

It was fairly stressful being filmed while talking about the book. They were many takes. I did NOT like that my lipstick was too dark, my hair very peculiar and that I blinked like a crazy woman at the beginning. And I think I did not sound like myself – I sounded like a Rhodesian. We lived there for 6 years a very long time ago in my formative years. We all spoke the Queen’s English.  I received a message on my computer that evening that my you-tube was now live. I got such a fright. Dave fortunately was there, Mike was out. Dave was able to have it deleted IMMEDIATELY.

So, I’ve been worrying a wee bit as is my wont with regard to matters such as this ~

We left Plett yesterday midday after a birthday breakfast with Mike – Dave & his lovely bride brought me to my sister’s home in Cape Town last evening. It’s about a 6 hour drive.

It’s cold and wet here in Cape Town – strange weather about in South Africa. My sister took me to her hairdresser Nicole at midday today. I said I wanted a short-long trim. The long and the short of it is that my hair is now really short. It’s an excellent cut of that there is no doubt.  Does it flatter me? They, Nicole and my sister said I ‘don’t look my age’. That kind of statement always make me feel strange.  I know it’s meant as a compliment but –

I think in a week’s time I will like it better.

I asked my sister if she could film me talking a bit about the book, ‘Aging & Becoming’ while I’m here for a few days. We are going to give it a go, and the other part of the ‘promo’ of the book that Mike did, he can hopefully incorporate into the youtube thingamy. I’ll think about it being even shorter (like my hair) – from 5 mins to 3 mins max. Mike did a very good job of it on Tuesday, Dave gave him some suggestions for post production, but I am not happy with it. Clearly it is myself I am not happy with. Maybe a part of it is a sort of a fear of putting myself out there … for all to see. It’s a big step – for me at least.

We’ve just come back from a very brisk walk in her suburb with her poodles – it was lovely and refreshing –

I took this photo last week of my amaryllis before I left Johannesburg –

I asked my husband to please photograph the same, this week, in my absence, so I could see, which he did on Tuesday and sent it to me from his Ipad to my email –

Check out those other buds still to bloom –

Thank you for reading. Be safe. I know that Hurricane Michael is approaching the east coast of the US – my thoughts are with you all. A blessed Yom Kippur to all, the Day of At-One-Ment. 

Peace –

 Brief Encounters

I took my car to the dealer for an overdue service on Tuesday morning and was lifted home by Joseph a driver. A whole day without a car? No problem, much at home that needed my attention.

On the way home, I wanted to engage with him while we spent 20 minutes in traffic. I enquired of Joseph what he thought of the state of our nation given all that has happened recently. Well, it was interesting to say the least. The man in the back seat who Joseph was delivering to work after dropping me, also engaged. How they ranted at raved at our people in government. No, no longer were they going to vote for the ANC (the African National Congress of which Mr. Nelson Mandela was our first democratically elected president in 1994). They could not believe that their own people in power had done so much wrong. They felt totally betrayed. Unbelievably, they said they would NEVER vote for the ANC again.

The same Joseph fetched me this morning to return to the car dealer to fetch my car and pay – his radio was on. Xhosa or Zula I asked him (we have 11 official languages). No, Pedi, he said. The discussion on the radio he said was the issue of women who, once married, got fat. And that it was no wonder that their men ran off with other women when their wives got fat! Well, blow me down with a feather. So I gave my view – and we had a lively talk. He switched the radio off, but as he said it was good that the issue was being talked about and all sides of the story were being heard!

On Monday night, 10.30 or so, I was driving home from my Jung study group (every other Monday night). A traffic cop flashed me down. He said, good evening, where are you going? Home I said. Aren’t you afraid of driving alone at night he asked me. No, I said. Have you had a glass of wine he asked. No, I said. Oh he said, well, drive carefully. Thanks Officer I said, and for doing a good job. A 2 minute encounter.

I had much to do once I got my car back midday today. I stopped in at the pharmacy, and wished the woman pharmacist Shana Tovah for the New Year beginning 2nd October. Please God, she said, peace for all. 

I went for a walk this evening in the coolth of it. I saw Gideon who looks just like I imagine Gideon from the Bible. Grey head of hair, shaggy grey beard, a few teeth missing, the widest smile. Oh ho he said booming. I think mebbe you dead. I not see you for long time. We chatted a bit, I told him of my broken toes. And a few minutes later, I saw another gardener, in his red T-shirt, walking up the road. A Malawian. High pitched voice, the blackest skin, the whitest teeth, and always so friendly. Hello ma’am, I think you been overseas I haven’t seen you for long time. At least he didn’t think I was dead –

And the best encounter was seeing my friend Lyndy in high care this afternoon. Her son had arrived from the US. I’ve known Lyndy forever, she really is my oldest friend from my school days. Lyndy’s op was major, she’ll be in high care for a long while still and her recuperation will be long. Her hair was being washed, her head leaning back into a basin, and the nurse washing her hair so gently. I had the privilege of drying it. She’s doing well, praise be –

I took photos this morning of my amayrillis and a bottle brush tree. Already by late this afternoon the amaryllis was budding even more. I’m going away on Friday back 10 days later – I can hardly imagine how beauteous this amaryllis will be on my return!

Peace to all – and Happy New Year to my Jewish friends!

I

Apologies

I am so sorry that those of you who came by my post last night (South Africa time) and wanted to leave comments were unable to do so. I was alerted by three people who said that they’d made a comment and it disappeared. One person said they were asked if they wanted to post from an insecure site which she accepted and their comment disappeared. I tried to make a comment on my own post and up came ‘ please enable referrers in your browser’.

In the normal course of events I would have phoned Mike my son who lives in Plettenberg Bay but he is hiking the Otter Trail along the Garden Route. I tried to investigate this on my own – made enquiries via Google etc – and late last night I what’s-apped Mike with profuse apologies for asking for help, but he has not picked up on it. He may have switched off communication entirely while on the trail. I remember he said he was going to do that.

So, in I went to the Apple Mac store in Sandton City this morning. Sandla is always so welcoming and so helpful, and Doron a technician behind the desk was so obliging. They tried everything – they think it may be WordPress itself, or possibly Mike’s site – he hosts me on his site  – (which is doubtful because he is extra security conscious).

So, that’s the story for the moment. I may try to e-mail WP support this afternoon and see if they have any clue what’s going on. Or I may just leave it for the moment until Mike gets back to Plett. Which I think is the most likely – perhaps I’ll go and have my hair cut. 

Thank you to those who came by. I would have LOVED to have seen your comments! And again I’m really sorry for any aggro.

While at the Apple Mac store, my oldest girlfriend called me – she’s a year younger than I, but she is my only friend from school days and a precious friend. She has to go into hospital today, for op tomorrow, and 2 weeks in hospital for treatment. She’d triumphed over a rare form of cancer about 2 years ago. Hair loss, the whole bang shoot. I can only hope and pray that this is not a recurrence. Doron at the Apple store saw my distress and I told him – he said he’ll pray to G.d she’ll be ok – it was hard holding back my tears.

 These are outside my study – I’ve just taken the photo.

And Happy Equinox day today! I’ve scheduled my post to come up at 16.21 (SA time) which is when the momentary balance occurs.

My Friend the Wall and Hearing the Call

 This morning I attended yoga, the first time I’d been to a Thursday morning class. The teacher was new to me. Her class had been with her for about 8 years she told me so they were ‘advanced’. I was to go at my own pace. It was amazing to watch her go so gracefully into various poses and hold them. And the pupils too. 

Then it was the headstand. My late mother was a yoga teacher and I remembered that it was her policy that no pupil attempt the headstand until had they’d several years of training. So I sat and watched. The teacher’s execution was a delight. Grace in slow motion, balance and stillness. And most of the pupils did it effortlessly.

A pupil walked to the wall. ‘My friend the wall’, she said and performed the head stand balancing her legs against the wall. Of course being me I made all sorts of associations. Hitting our heads against brick walls we seemingly can’t get through. A wall of pain and grief. Walling ourselves in and not allowing our vulnerability to show. Building walls instead of bridges. On and on went my associations while I sat on my yoga mat watching others. 

Can a wall become a friend as it did for the yoga pupil who used the wall for balance? Can I break down walls and build bridges in myself and in the world? Can I befriend the wall and see it as an aspirational metaphor, using it as a stepping stone to break down my inner walls that keep me from my fullness of being?

On ‘Hearing the Call‘ : My son who was visiting for several days last week took back with him to Plettenberg Bay a small gift from me to his girlfriend. She called me yesterday to thank me. I asked whether there had been any sightings of whales in the bay. We’re flying down to Plett this coming Sunday. No, she said, she hadn’t seen or heard. Call them to come I said to her. She said she would when next running on the beach.

I checked my cell phone I’d left behind to charge when I returned home  after yoga for an urgent cup of coffee. The first message was from Amanda. She’d seen whales in the bay this morning while running! My heart did a little leap –

Am I suggesting that the whales heard Amanda’s call? No, not really.

What it did suggest to me so soon after my yoga class, was my need to break down the inner wall in order to better hear the call. To make a friend of it and invite it in. Use it for clambering and climbing. Paint those walls with my own inner deep recesses. See, sniff through the walls. Knock down those inner walls that keep me bound. 

Could the obstacle be the path?

I tried to find some photos of whales I’d taken a few years back but no luck. Hopefully I’ll be able to put up a photo or two next week.

Those leviathans of the deep always stir something deep inside me. I like to think that I hear better the call of the deep – 

Thank you for coming by and all good wishes. May the Force be with you.

Opposition

I tried to find the quote which has always stayed with me ~ I can’t ~ but to paraphrase  as I remember it, ‘a healthy democracy is dependant on its opposition’.

This is evident by the outcome of our recent national municipal elections held every 5 years this past August 3rd. Although there wasn’t a huge voter turn out, our ruling* party the ANC~ the African National Congress ~ was severely trumped in 3 major metros and elsewhere in previously held ANC strongholds. The opposition leader of the DA ~ Democratic Alliance ~ Mmusi Maimane ~ led a clean and inspiring challenge to the ANC.

We’re hopeful that the Democratic Alliance will bring back values enshrined in our Constitution, drawn up by Mr. Nelson Mandela and many other worthies. We’re hopeful that those who remain in the ANC will be similarly inspired. There are/were many within the ANC who did sterling jobs but there were far too many who were feeding at the trough. We’re hopeful that money for education & schools, health clinics, housing, water and electricity will be properly allocated and implemented; tenders will follow proper transparent procedures; councillors will be accountable; people who are qualified for the job will be given the job and no more positions for pals; and that tax payers money will no longer be used to line the pockets of those in the ‘inner circle’ ~ the sycophants.

The lead up to these municipal elections was seriously rough. Racism reared its ugly head at every turn. Dirt on candidates was unearthed; 20 potential candidates were murdered, perpetrators still to be found.

At long last, we can hope that our country can pull together in spite of the challenges ahead. That there will be more job opportunities for our youth who find fulfilment in their work and can foresee a future for themselves and future generations. That women and girls rise up from their position of subservience and disallow a firmly entrenched culture of patriarchy ~ and that men and boys do not feel threatened by the natural feminine.

It really does seem to me that we’re in a process of transformation in my neck of the woods ~ a slow one as worthy ones are ~ and while there opportunities for all in our beloved country, there are also dangers. There always are as the old gives way to the new, as a new consciousness and a new vision is born. Waking from sleeping is never easy ~

I think this is true for the world at large as well ~ the soul of the world is calling out for recognition of pervasive social malaise and a re-dressing of serious imbalances. We’re all being called to be in opposition that does not serve ourselves or our planet.

There are many seismic shifts worldwide. Locally we’re still in winter here in South Africa but I am heartened to see buds on plants that looked very tired. A bougainvillea pot plant looked quite dead yesterday but I today I can see the shoots! The below photo of orchids I took this afternoon. Snowdrops in the background. Opposition is healthy ~

May The Force be with you, and thank you for reading.

*I wish they’d do away with ‘ruling party’ and-rather call it the ‘serving’ party ~

To Hunt A Sub

Jacqui Murray’s debut novel ‘To Hunt a Sub‘ is out. I read an excerpted chapter which I enjoyed so much that I’ve ordered it on my Kindle. There is no guarantee as to when I will read it but I will and follow up with a review.

I’m really happy to put this up as a blog post. It’s the first time I’ve done so. It’s a small token of appreciation for her ongoing support and comments to my infrequent blogs. I’d be happy to do likewise for any of you.

Her posts are so worthwhile – there are so many excellent tips for writers, technical shortcuts on the computer and much much more, all written in her clear and concise style and always a pleasure to read. For checking out and subscribing to her posts:

blog :- https://worddreams.wordpress.com/

link to her Tech Tips for Writers column:  https://worddreams.wordpress.com/category/tech-tips-for-writers/ 

link to her Writer’s Tips column: https://worddreams.wordpress.com/category/writers-tips/

She is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, and the thriller To Hunt a Sub. She is also the author/editor of over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, adjunct professor of technology in education, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer,  a columnist for TeachHUB, Editorial Review Board member for Journal for Computing Teachers, monthly contributor to Today’s Author and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. You can find her nonfiction books at her publisher’s website, Structured Learning.

 The link below is to the Kindle version of her new book. I wish her great success!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01K7VSPBW#navbar

 Never Again

My younger son David met Mr. Nelson Mandela (South Africa’s ex- president) about 12 years ago just before his high school jazz band was about to go on a performing trip abroad. The school band performed for Mr. Nelson Mandela at his home in Houghton Johannesburg. David knows that he was enormously privileged to have met him.

In the intervening years, David read music and philosophy at Rhodes University in Grahamstown (eastern Cape), and has been a musician for some years. I’m not sure when David produced this song, but they use the words of Mr. Mandela himself. He must have excerpted them from Mr. Mandela’s many speeches and put this particular one to music. Drawing is courtesy of elder son, Mike. The music composition and trumpet is David’s.

Never, never and never again

shall it be

that this beautiful land

will again experience 

the oppression of one by another

July 18th is the late Mr. Mandela’s birthday and every year on this day is Mandela Day where citizens world wide are encouraged to spend 67 minutes of this day in helping the less fortunate in some way. Mr. Mandela gave 67 years of his life to public service and we are encouraged to give a mere 67 minutes of our time on this day.

“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Martin Luther King

Viva Mandela, Viva!
Amandla!

Unusual

I’m happily back at home from my trek/road trip to Plettenberg Bay on my own in my little car, and feeling gratitude for my safe trip. I’m also pleased that my son Mike willingly spent several hours formatting the WIP after I had worked at even more editing while in Plett. I think it is almost ready for the next step. 

Some weeks ago, here at home in Morningside, Johannesburg, I walked to my friend’s home one Saturday afternoon to play bridge (a newly revived interest). It was unusual to make the walk – it wasn’t just around the corner – it was quite a fair way. While walking I thought of doing at least one unusual thing each week. Which helped in my making the decision to drive to Plett the following week – two weeks ago today. This fell into the category of unusual.

I left home  2 Thursdays ago around 6.00 a.m., overnighted in Graaff Reinet, left about 9.00 in the morning, had breakfast some hours later in Willowmore, drove through the mist of the Outeniqua Pass,

stopped in at my sister in the Wilderness for tea and got to Plett about 5.00 p.m.  Rain on Saturday. I rested though started fashioning something from egg cartons soaked in boiling water and flour. I went with my son and lady friend to Harkerville for a hike on Sunday. Below is a view point.

The week was unusual, come Monday. Always I would wake early and step onto the bedroom balcony to check the sunrise. I went to bed fairly early and woke early, made tea and from my bed in utter comfort I worked on the WIP. I would make coffee a little while later, and would continue working from my bed. 

The week flew by. I saw a few people. I walked on the Robberg Beach with my sister who came through from the Wilderness about an hour away.

Mostly I worked on the manuscript. Made some walks into town to have my car cleaned, another time to have my hair cut – up hill and down dale, necessary exercise.

I left Plett on Friday afternoon to overnight at my sister an hour away. Such a lovely evening with her grandsons and Elizabeth my niece and her husband. 

That’s my sister’s husband on the sofa – with TV control where it always is –

I left the Wilderness on Saturday morning, around 9.00. Earlier sunrise from the  Wilderness balcony. That’s the mist that accompanied me for the next several hours.

I overnighted in Springfontein, in a charming garden cottage on a farm. Golly those stars at night; I can’t remember when I last saw such a night sky. That Milky Way. Those bright glowing stars. I wish I’d attempted a photo –

I left really early on Sunday – my windscreen was thoroughly iced. Several jugs of water from the tap to de-ice in the complete dark. It was totally freezing. I arrived home at 1.00, tired but very happy to be home and sweetly looked after by my husband.

I thought some more on the road trip of aiming to do something unusual each week. I have already. I walked to the gym close-ish by me earlier this week to enquire about yoga classes. It makes more economic sense to sign up for the gym and attend yoga classes included in the ‘deal’. My husband and I are seeing Zanele tomorrow late afternoon to discuss it all. He also wants to join! Not for yoga, but you never know! So, if we join, believe me, this will be extremely unusual. And my unusual something for the week.

Thanks for reading! Hope this finds you all well & safe. May the Force be with you.

On the Road again …

August 16, 2014, driving through the Karoo –

A restlessness, a yearning to be on the road. It would be less expensive to fly down to the coast, certainly far quicker, probably safer. A two hour flight as opposed to a 14 hour road trip. My husband has a car at our holiday home so it’s not as if I wouldn’t have wheels down there, I would.

I plan to overnight tomorrow night in Graaf Reinet, a very charming Karoo town and stay at a BnB we’ve stayed at before in October 2 years ago. Such comfort, so charming, such a genial host. Then it’s only about 450 kms still to get to my destination. 2 years back this August I did a road trip down to Plettenberg Bay, leaving Johannesburg very early in the morning and did the trip solo in one go. I want to recapture that sense of being on my own again, winding through the Karoo and those never ending roads and wide open blue winter skies and be part of the changing scenery, unfolding in all Nature’s grandeur. Just me and thee and Mother Nature –

The timing is right – government schools are on holiday so I am not tied to my volunteer work. The girls at the rooms are happy to stand in for me in my absence. My husband will manage. Already the freezer is half-full. There is food for the cats. I’ve changed a few arrangements for next week. But the following week I have to be back and not just for school. I have other commitments that can’t be changed.

I want to get off the treadmill for a bit. I know I’m lucky to have a treadmill when so many don’t. I want to walk on the beach, feel the sand and sea on my feet, watch the waves and who knows, there may be whales to watch and climb Robberg maybe.

I hope to paint, play with clay, do nothing, dream, read, finish what I’ve started reading on my Kindle, finish off the WIP, so close to finishing. June is almost over – we’re halfway through the year –

I want to be back by Sunday next week to prepare for the following week but also to watch the finals of Wimbledon on TV. I wondered which route I will take to return … perhaps I’ll meander back on a different route.

Well, those photos are old photos – here’s a recent one from last Sunday when we trekked out to Nirox, a beautiful place not far from where I live, to see the land art sculptures.

A-Z Blog Challenge T: Trauma as Initiating Agent.

The Rose with its Thorns

Oscar Wilde: Where there is sorrow there is holy ground (De Profundis)

Many of us have had some kind of trauma in our lives, whether the death of a parent, sibling, grandparent who we’ve loved, or of a partner or loved one; the loss of a job, home, security; betrayal; illness or injury of ourselves or loved ones.  The list is endless. What was once beautiful, has shown its’ hurtful thorns.

A friend of mine here in Johannesburg is feeling totally whacked and weary to the bone. She says she’s seeing so many trauma cases in her clinical practice – this was correspondence via email apropos something else entirely but she mentioned it at the end of her email. I felt for her tender and gentle soul. This got me thinking – could trauma to the individual in a psychological sense be an initiating agent? I’m not speaking of the Holocaust, or the Vietnam war or of those having to flee because of atrocities in their home of origin. That is too big a something to write about here. Individuals such as Victor Frankl, Anne Frank and many many others have written movingly about their experiences. It must be said though that people such as they have looked into the heart of the matter and brought their wisdom to bear on human nature and the ability to rise above trauma, irrespective of how unimaginably damaging. 

I’m thinking of the wounding we may have received as a child in our normally dysfunctional families from eg a cold mother, or an emotionally absent father or a bullying sibling or relative or at school. Or any of the traumas mentioned above at the beginning of my post.

Do we have any helpful guides along the way who can help us hold the trauma, and see into the heart of it? A friend, a therapist, a counsellor, an outreach programme? Do these traumas propel us towards change whereby we can say when there is light at the end of the tunnel: we’ve changed – and for the better for I am now stronger, wiser, more compassionate, not so alone in my feelings of hopelessness. I’m human, like everyone else …

I think of Lilith, first wife of Adam (according to the Midrash) exiled to the depths of the Red Sea for her refusal to obey him and her subsequent blasphemy to God for refusing to hear her plea. Aeons sitting in the depths, wounded to the core. She returned and in disguise offered the apple to Eve which she took and she and Adam were exiled from Paradise. (according to the creation story). Trauma, that kind of wounding leading to a new world to be learned. Rosa Parks, refusing to give up her seat in the bus. Mr. Nelson Mandela spending 27 years in prison yet emerging with peace and forgiveness in his heart. Propelling us forward, all those acts initiated from trauma .. 

Is the rose any more beautiful without its thorns? I don’t think so – the thorns are a timely reminder of beauty and sadness residing together.