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“passion killed by the comfort of time” (parlotones)

‘It’s stirring, it’s moving, it’s growing, it’s exploding!! Can you feel it? Can you feel the energy. It’s pulsating through my veins.
Is it reckless to live as if I were dying?
Is it reckless to discard convention and suck the marrow out of life? Is it bravery?
Is it brave to live with passion or is it passion itself that defies cowardice? That overrules logic, common sense, rules and conventions? Is passion that powerful? Can passion be harnessed, and restrained – yes, indeed it can be, but does that not result in passion itself vaporising? For it will not be contained, and thus, if it finds itself so imprisoned, it will alter its very form in order to sustain its life.
Passion has a life force and an energy, a momentum and a power all of its own. It’s like some sea anemone trapped in a glass container of tap water. It can not survive under such conditions, yet because of its very nature, because passion is in and of itself, a living force – it will not slowly pulsate less and less aggressively, until it beats only once in a while and then succumbs to the external environment and stops beating altogether. No, passion will, when trapped, metamorphosize into a gas, a vapour, any form it can , that escapes the hold that the circumstances have over it – it finds a way to squeeze out of the strangle hold that life has over it, that it might find flight, find air, breathe and begin again to THROB, again, to throb and throb with an energy that is all consuming, that moves the planet, that alters the very future of humanity.
For it is the passion of a single teacher to build a strong vision, the passion that oozes from her pores, and seeps into the hearts and the minds of the future of the nation. The passion that sparks an “I can” in just one mind, the catalyst if you will for one impressionable being to be energised by that same life force – passion. And if just two or three of those beings say “what if?” What if we did things differently? What if we changed a philosophy, a perception, a methodology, then that passion lives, and thrives and literally breeds in another generation. Is it far fetched then to say that passion has its own life force? I don’t think so. Because I am one such helplessly drowning participant in the pool of passion. And it is a pool, you spiral and drown and are immersed in its flow, in its strength, in its force.
It is the passion of a single journalist to say – I will bring this story to light, at the expense of my own well being, but I will bring this perspective, this truth at this time to this world.
It is the passion of a single doctor to say – its NOT ok for a virus to thrive when we have the means, the finances, the knowledge to alleviate suffering, and I will work tirelessly to bring to this world what I was born to do.
It is the passion of a single mother to say I will not desert, I will not deny, I will not give less than, for an act that produced a life holds me accountable to another being and I will give and provide and guide and love with every ounce of myself.
The passion that drives you, motivates you, brings the spark, the flame into your eyes, before it becomes a discipline, before terms are applied to it, like goal, or career – that passion that affects every organ in your body, and will allow itself to be interpreted in many physical ways, the pulse that beats faster, the eyes that widen, the stomach that contracts, that twists in an agony of bliss, or anticipation, the breath that is sharply drawn in, the tingling sensation that ripples down your spine. That passion. Is it reckless to act on it’s power?
That passion disregards self preservation, yet heightens being attuned to forces that lead and guide us into our destiny.
Its that passion that makes life worth living. For me.
I am not an extreme sports participant, my career is humble and possibly a little mundane, my life is fixed in space and time and routine. Safe. Stable. Secure.
Marked time.
But, ‘It’s stirring, it’s moving, it’s growing, it’s exploding!! Can you feel it? Can you feel the energy. It’s pulsating through my veins.

 

Colder Weather … Zac Brown Band

Whatever your issues are, and I don’t know what they are, and it’s irrelevant. When you are lovers, the solution is always the same. Always. Every time. Irrespective of the issue.

You need to decide one thing only. Is this worth fighting for? If the burden feels more than you can carry, if it causes that crushing feeling in your heart, like a truck is on top of your chest, and you cant breathe – then – don’t mark time – don’t tell yourself – don’t let your thoughts over-ride what your soul already knows. It’s so easy to do. Because we think we know what we want. We think we know what we need. We think we ought to follow the plan, the route that our minds mapped out for us, but our souls did not. Because the soul perceives before the brain. The mind only perceives through the senses and the senses are fickle at best, but the soul has a map that few have the courage to follow.

To endure and prolong only causes more pain. For everyone involved. For the person with whom you have cast as the best protagonist in your life’s movie. And also for the freedom your soul hungers for.

However, if the answer “Is this worth fighting for?” If the answer is Yes! Yes! Oh my G-d – a resounding yes! Then you only have one choice lover. You have to lay down your life. Then it’s about her. All about her. Her needs, her wants, the fulfillment of her dreams. You get to live vicariously. She gets to live. Ad you lay it down willingly and in gratitude to her, because through her, you gain pleasure. Through her, you gain.

But you learn of sacrifice and of selflessness. And of surrender.

Surrender everything.

Surrender the right to be right.

Surrender the ego.

Surrender the war that you build in yourself, because you want to be heard.

Surrender your ideas and your plans.

Surrender is still good. Sacrifice is damn hard. And few can do it.

Yet, it’s the exact same act. One done willingly, one done out of discipline.

So, it’s still just a simple decision. Listen to your gut. Not to your heard. Your soul knows.

Good luck my lover. Good luck my friend. Life is not easy. But it is always good.

I am the eye in the sky, looking at you, I can read your mind. Alan Parsons Project

“She is the keeper of dreams. Look carefully and you will see. She sits on her throne holding all your hopes and dreams.”

Woman.

I am only just beginning to understand what you are. How to manage being in you. Moving with you, walking with you, negotiating who you are and what you ought to be. And we have journeyed these 42 long years together. I am only just starting to embrace you, learn you, know you and celebrate you. I haven’t given you permission to make yourself known, and in your subservience, you wouldn’t fight to be known.  That is how you defined yourself. As subservient. A term so derogatory in its very etymology. Sub- the prefix for below, for under, for less. Servient, reminiscent of servant, servile, bonded and only  in existence as a tool for another’s use. Oh woman! We have wept many tears together, over so very many issues. And if only we had known, that all we were weeping over, the only thing we mourned was the abdication of your supremacy. In your life. Your own loss of being. Your own loss of self. The tears that ostensibly flowed for lost loves, for lack of love, for desperation, flowed for the keeper of dreams, to whom you would not, could not yet give permission to open that box of dreams, and allow them to take shape, to formulate, to begin to define the woman you are.

I am only beginning to smile at you. To smile at all of you. Who you are and your ilk. To have wanted and searched and longed for so many years to know who you are, and to be discovering only now, only the surface. And not yet allowing myself full permission quiet yet. Rather still allowing you to be defined by those who can’t possibly have a clue.

You are who you are. You are power. But you don’t know how to wield it. You are beauty, but you don’t know how to wear it. You are strong, but you don’t know how to show it. But I see it now. At least now, I see it. And the more I am able to see, the more willing you are to reveal. Be safe. Know that it will be ok. Know that the revelation can only bring freedom. Freedom comes in many guises though. So do not be disappointed in the guise in which freedom chooses to come, for that will be the precise form and shape that you most need. Maybe freedom is synonymous with a birthright. Maybe its synonymous with fulfillment, maybe with sufficiency. Irrespective of how she   shows up, the fact that you are wanting to stand in your strength, your way, your rules, your game, your definitions, that in itself is a freedom.  And you are doing it on home turf. On homeground, where spectators are always most critical, most judgmental and most likely to disallow the new, disallow a redefinition, disallow a metamorphosis.

That is brave.

Woman, you have faced your demons. And the universe has conspired to present them to you, and you, you have taken them on, head on. And won. You win because you have embraced, and said – so what? What now? What power do you hold over me, now that I have looked you in the eye, and taken you into my arms, and held you closest to where you could hurt me the most, and I – yes, I have disallowed your power. I have disregarded your strength. Not because its a case of either mine or yours, because you are free to continue with your power and your strength, but not at my expense.

Woman, you have had the courage at last to disregard what has been spoken to you and to experiment with what feels good and right and honest and true. Your truth.  You have disregarded so many words, so many opinions that would have wanted to guide and mold you in the image that they would hold of who you ought to be, how you ought to think, the way in which you ought to behave. And you are beginning only now, to understand that what you are, who you are is beautiful. Abundant. True. Your beauty. Your abundance. Your truth.

 

The Power of Love…. (Jennifer Rush)

Life is like that. We negotiate meaning out of our interactions. That’s all that life is really. A series of negotiations. I am really only another soul trying to negotiate meaning – with you – as my mirror – with you as my conduit, with you as the reflection that I am able to see at this time. That’s all really.
If I paint my life story the way I want you to hear it – the portion of it that I have compartmentalized – no more – no less, then please, do not think I am misrepresenting the truth, or myself. I am only opening one tiny shutter in the advent calender that is my life. Be grateful for just that view. It’s only that aspect of my life that you are able to reflect to me; and perhaps – I am only able, right now, to examine, to acknowledge, to begin to digest that part of me.
We are fragmented, disjointed, complex, trillion billion piece puzzles. And you are the corresponding counterpart for only one, perhaps a handful of my pieces, and when, upon the rare occasion, you look into someone’s eyes deeply – and there is an instant recognition, an attraction, a moment that takes your breath away – that gasp is like your soul’s cry – “it’s me!” Your mirror holds a greater angle than others have or do. And I need to negotiate more meaningfully with you than I do with others.  And how do I do that? How do I hold you towards myself so that the view can hold the greatest degree of significance?

It’s instinctual – it’s almost a primeval reflex. So overwhelmed by the desire to hold your truth – to have you feel mine. So attracted to your soul – to touch your being – that I gently want to kiss you.

And in that kiss is the mirror, responding, matching desire, equally soft, equally gentle, equally hungry, equal desire. And perhaps, that moment, that encounter is all that is needed. Perhaps that is all we can manage. Perhaps it is enough. For now. Sufficient.

Perhaps that power is too strong, and that is frightening. The  power of attraction.

“Part of your world”

None of us knows the hour we may pass. Within an instant, a second, or a prolonged illness, or just age marching it’s long and arduous path, until we end up old, discarded, irrelevant, burdensome. None of us know our path out.

But what I do know is that if I were to have to leave within an instant, if I were to have to leave before my children should rightfully be ready for me to leave, if I were to have to grow old & senile, endured simply because euthanasia was not available. And irrelevant to the generations that march past the elderly, and indeed march in their own wars, their own paths, their own forested mazes. If I were to have to leave via a long and arduous process, then I would want for my children to know how I feel about them, my perspective, my insights, my aches, my fears, my views.

Yes. I love you. But WHAT on God’s earth does that mean? That I enjoy your company because I’ve moulded you to suit my way of living therefore it is more pleasant for me to spend time with you than with someone else’s child? Or that I have just gotten used to having you around, and in habit – as with any habit – it is hard to imagine life without that particular scenario?

Yes, I love my child because I have seen him learn, grown, struggle, develop …. Become.

But I would want my sons to know specifics, that are pertinent to them and them alone. I would want them to know, why, from my view – the universe ordained for them to be mine, and for them to be born to me, through me, and thus spend time with me. Me, with all my habits, all my strange perspectives, me, with my often times distorted angels of interpreting life. Distorted, I believe, for the better, but oftentimes misunderstood, misinterpreted, and misrepresented. Me, with my fragmented, torn and patchwork quilted Be-ing. They got all of that.

Sometimes, I wish they had gotten someone a little duller. Someone so mundane and dull that there were no questions. That routine, truth, order, predictability, rules, structure, homely norms were so solidified, that they got a homecooked meal every night. That they had parents who lived in the same house. That they had SURE answers to all of life’s moral conundrums.

But I have no such thing. I would not presume to dare to have all the answers to life’s conundrums. So, they have me. Me, who sees a situation from every single conceivable view point. Me, who understands the hobo. Me, who sympathises with the down trodden, broken, fault riddled of the world. Me, who cries and sobs at every turn. Me, in whom anger RAGES when I perceive an injustice. Me, who WRESTLES and STRUGGLES with WHAT IS true. Me, who likes that I am sufficiently chameleon to know that there are a myriad different truths in every tale, and that no truth is more accurate, real or less true than another, yet horribly chameleon to be perceived as indecisive, wishy-washy, blown by the wind, standing for nothing, falling for everything. I am a dichotomy. I am a personification of contradictions. And I have berated myself for this over the last 20 years harshly and critically. Yet I despise the alternative. I despise people who are arrogant enough to presume that they have the answers, that they know the correct format that life requires. That they know a ‘right’ way of living and that outside of those parameters, it is ‘wrong’.

Yes, there are the principles that are good and solid, such as ‘first do no harm’ Such as do not speak poorly of others, such as honour your own soul’s integrity by earning a wage that is the result of committed work, of contributing to society, of the expression of your talents for the greater good, and getting a wage, an income, a sustainable living off that is what is good and right and proper.

There are many of these principles which I know to be fundamentally correct. And if applied, one’s life should be an honour to all – God and mankind alike. However, the situations in which men (and by men, a generic term for humankind) find themselves, sometimes by choice and other times by life design, these situations call oftentimes for an interpretation of the foundational principles.

For instance, in warfare, the principle of ‘first do no harm’ , barring a stance as a conscientious objector, needs to be suspended in certain aspects, for a greater cause, provided that the greater cause is indeed for the ability to apply the principle of ‘first do no harm’. (if that made sense at all – it did to me)

Nonetheless, I am what my boys get.

But with that they get a mother who will honestly and authentically celebrate whatever they choose to become, I have no expectations in terms of career choice, choice of partner. I would celebrate and accept with arms wide open my son’s vocation, be it in the service industry, professional industry, whatever their hearts urge them to pursue, if they pursue it with conviction and passion, I am 100% behind them, cheering – their no 1 fan.

Their choice of relationship, irrespective of nationality, colour, creed, religion, gender. They get a mama who doesn’t give a damn, as long as within that relationship they find satisfaction, stimulation, inspiration, validation, celebration. Then I will be the first to embrace and celebrate with them.

They get a mama who will understand to the depths of her core, when and why they go wrong, each twist in their path that is painful, nothing but a learning curve, a difficult, traumatic, harsh, hurtful one, if that is what their souls must endure, they get a mama who will not waste time on the guilt trips, nor the torture of asking ‘why’, but they get a mama who will take the shoes off their feet and walk in their shoes, through their eyes, comprehending all that has sent them there, not because I can put the puzzle pieces together of every cause and effect… hardly so… but because that is how I understand EVERY human being.

They get a mama, who sees their souls. And this is not always a good thing, in daily operational terms. In daily operational terms, it’s much easier??? to lay down the law as you, as the adult, as the parent, see it, and simply expect compliance. Then there is structure. There is discipline. There is success. (apparently) They don’t get that because mama can not say with full certainty what the law really is, and how therefore another soul should comply.

“ Life for Rent” (Dido) or Diana Ross’ “Theme from Mahogany” capture aspects of this constant, persistent, daily mental anguish in many ways, or pursuit of truth, by which token, I would have it no other way.

So, to my sons – I SEE you.

I acknowledge your BE-INGS.

The best way that I can be all that you need for me to be – is by simply being – me, because the choices are and always were yours, and I – I am the vessel you have, I am part of your story, I am the story you will tell, till it needs no more telling, then it will be your story, and yours alone. And I will meet you up in the heavens, in the stars, in the great cosmos, and I will be then, as always, your number one fan.

“find your strength in love” (from Whitney Houston)

In response to a post which read:

“Be strong they said, keep pushing through, Don’t let it break you; hold your head up high, I’ll pray for you, I’ll pray for….  But what happens when I start dropping the balls? ”

Underneath he had posted a picture of a lion, with a caption “The problem with being strong is that no one asks you if you are ok”

And a comment on that had read: ” I would rather be strong than weak”

I couldn’t help by think, from my world view:

“ohhhhhh Nooooo!!!!” DROP them ALL around you! FROM weakness comes a deeper strength, one that requires no support, no validation, no effort. But to have the courage to drop it all, and let it all shatter, and to trust that you won’t stay that way forever – THAT is true strength, and is the source of the Dali Llama’s quote “True strength is gentleness and true gentleness comes from deep strength”

So I too will pray. But I will pray a very different prayer: That you relinquish all strength, that you turn the shadow on all the glib comforts, and that you break and shatter. And the BEAUTY of that moment is so incredible… IF you have the strength to go there!

And when you drop the balls, you become free. Free to pick up and select the balls that are worth anything – and your definition of what IS worth anything alters so profoundly, that in itself is reward enough for losing “strength”. And when your hands are empty and open, and not clutching shut, and in the openness, you can receive a-new!!!!! Things you could never hold before. Things that require the gentlest touch, and the softest touch, not things that require  “strength, endurance…”

And in breaking and in “losing”  you are free to refine and to see humanity at it’s core, at it’s most base. And it will fascinate and enthrall, excite, disappoint, and disgust you. But of strength, and of the prayer you know- you will never have need again. Yes, there is prayer in this state, deep deep prayer, that speaks directly to the heartbeat of THE ALMIGHTY.  Not the prayer that in blindness seeks what IT THINKS it needs and wonders why the prayer hasn’t been answered: Oh perhaps I should pray more earnestly, you think, more sincerely, more piously, more, more, more and the desperation has its twisted way of whispering to you that you are genuinely pious and genuinely seeking God, for look how I seek and pray in my troubles….

And … It’s just SO much simpler and LESS. Less stressful, less desperate than that. It’s allowing yourself – giving yourself permission – to see yourself at your “weakest.”

What AWFUL INSULTING terminology!!!!

WHO is WEAK?????

Someone who admits its all too difficult? Is that weakness??

Someone who says “screw this system of working till I drop to pay bills for my ‘needs’, I can’t go on like this anymore! Is that weakness???? HA!!! It’s the BEGINNING of wisdom my friend….. If only, IF ONLY… you would want to risk it all to find out!!!

Who is weak? The person who has a break down? YES!!! BREAK DOWN!!! It’s about time!!! Break down stereotypes, break down preconceived notions of strength, break DOWN the fortress you have built around yourself, break DOWN your idiotic expectations of self and of others. Break down the stories you tell yourself about your life – your expectations and hopes, which are clearly not being met from any source in any event, so, really not much to lose in taking the risk to break them down now is there???

So, Break Down! Its the beginning of a celebration of LIFE – that you can not possibly wish or begin to enjoy while you are so busy being strong! Holding it all together! For what??? For whom??  For image? For appearances? For fear of the alternative? Oh… wait… the most manipulative tool of all…. For your children!!

Oh MY G-D!!!

I CRY OUT to God in desperation and in an impassioned plea, PLEASE LET our men be weak, show vulnerability, show fear, for in this, a place is made in their hearts for love, for peace, for true connections. We are so busy role modelling for them “how to be strong and successful” that we entirely forget to model “how to be true and authentic in all you feel and do, how to follow your heart, your passion that God gave you, your dreams that may not be defined in monetary success, your emotions that will range from joy, ecstasy, bliss, to anger heartache and gut wrenching pain. NO my son, no, to do this is weak!!!

I have nothing but CONTEMPT for the connotations of that terminology “weak and strong”!!! For WHO is weak and what is strong???

And who is arrogant enough to define these terms on THEIR terms????

A Roman soldier, with a position, a title, a rank, and a whip. He would have been considered strong.

A man accused of blasphemy and treason, who (supposedly) didn’t even have the guts or intelligence to answer to his accusers would have been considered weak.

Oh NO, my friend! Oh NO!!! Redefine your vocabulary, and you redefine your life!

Redefine your perceptions and you redefine your future!

Redefine your thoughts, which is only a self talk of words anyway, and you redefine the World!!!!

For the BETTER!

 

 

“Find your strenth in love” Lyrics from Whitney Houston’s Greatest love of al.

In response to a post which read:

“Be strong they said, keep pushing through, Don’t let it break you; hold your head up high, I’ll pray for you, I’ll pray for….  But what happens when I start dropping the balls? ”

Underneath he had posted a picture of a lion, with a caption “The problem with being strong is that no one asks you if you are ok”

And a comment on that had read: ” I would rather be strong than weak”

I couldn’t help by think, from my world view:

“ohhhhhh Nooooo!!!!” DROP them ALL around you! FROM weakness comes a deeper strength, one that requires no support, no validation, no effort. But to have the courage to drop it all, and let it all shatter, and to trust that you won’t stay that way forever – THAT is true strength, and is the source of the Dali Llama’s quote “True strength is gentleness and true gentleness comes from deep strength”

So I too will pray. But I will pray a very different prayer: That you relinquish all strength, that you turn the shadow on all the glib comforts, and that you break and shatter. And the BEAUTY of that moment is so incredible… IF you have the strength to go there!

And when you drop the balls, you become free. Free to pick up and select the balls that are worth anything – and your definition of what IS worth anything alters so profoundly, that in itself is reward enough for losing “strength”. And when your hands are empty and open, and not clutching shut, and in the openness, you can receive a-new!!!!! Things you could never hold before. Things that require the gentlest touch, and the softest touch, not things that require  “strength, endurance…”

And in breaking and in “losing”  you are free to refine and to see humanity at it’s core, at it’s most base. And it will fascinate and enthrall, excite, disappoint, and disgust you. But of strength, and of the prayer you know- you will never have need again. Yes, there is prayer in this state, deep deep prayer, that speaks directly to the heartbeat of THE ALMIGHTY.  Not the prayer that in blindness seeks what IT THINKS it needs and wonders why the prayer hasn’t been answered: Oh perhaps I should pray more earnestly, you think, more sincerely, more piously, more, more, more and the desperation has its twisted way of whispering to you that you are genuinely pious and genuinely seeking God, for look how I seek and pray in my troubles….

And … It’s just SO much simpler and LESS. Less stressful, less desperate than that. It’s allowing yourself – giving yourself permission – to see yourself at your “weakest.”

What AWFUL INSULTING terminology!!!!

WHO is WEAK?????

Someone who admits its all too difficult? Is that weakness??

Someone who says “screw this system of working till I drop to pay bills for my ‘needs’, I can’t go on like this anymore! Is that weakness???? HA!!! It’s the BEGINNING of wisdom my friend….. If only, IF ONLY… you would want to risk it all to find out!!!

Who is weak? The person who has a break down? YES!!! BREAK DOWN!!! It’s about time!!! Break down stereotypes, break down preconceived notions of strength, break DOWN the fortress you have built around yourself, break DOWN your idiotic expectations of self and of others. Break down the stories you tell yourself about your life – your expectations and hopes, which are clearly not being met from any source in any event, so, really not much to lose in taking the risk to break them down now is there???

So, Break Down! Its the beginning of a celebration of LIFE – that you can not possibly wish or begin to enjoy while you are so busy being strong! Holding it all together! For what??? For whom??  For image? For appearances? For fear of the alternative? Oh… wait… the most manipulative tool of all…. For your children!!

Oh MY G-D!!!

I CRY OUT to God in desperation and in an impassioned plea, PLEASE LET our men be weak, show vulnerability, show fear, for in this, a place is made in their hearts for love, for peace, for true connections. We are so busy role modelling for them “how to be strong and successful” that we entirely forget to model “how to be true and authentic in all you feel and do, how to follow your heart, your passion that God gave you, your dreams that may not be defined in monetary success, your emotions that will range from joy, ecstasy, bliss, to anger heartache and gut wrenching pain. NO my son, no, to do this is weak!!!

I have nothing but CONTEMPT for the connotations of that terminology “weak and strong”!!! For WHO is weak and what is strong???

And who is arrogant enough to define these terms on THEIR terms????

A Roman soldier, with a position, a title, a rank, and a whip. He would have been considered strong.

A man accused of blasphemy and treason, who (supposedly) didn’t even have the guts or intelligence to answer to his accusers would have been considered weak.

Oh NO, my friend! Oh NO!!! Redefine your vocabulary, and you redefine your life!

Redefine your perceptions and you redefine your future!

Redefine your thoughts, which is only a self talk of words anyway, and you redefine the World!!!!

For the BETTER!

 

“We don’t need no education, we don’t need no thought control (Pink Floyd)

“We don’t need no education…. We don’t need no thought control”  (Pink Floyd)

We are a nation in crisis. Our schooling system, our children are in crisis, the moral fiber of our society is unraveling at a frighteningly rapid pace and as teachers we are at the forefront of the ‘battlefield’. And it is so easy (and entirely justified) to become despondent, disgruntled, discouraged. To become critical, negative and unhappy. To focus on our often meager salaries, and the seemingly overwhelming challenges.

However, I am humbled and inspired to have had the opportunity to realign my work with my life purpose. It’s a paradigm shift in perspective that reminded me of why the attitude of :the futility of it all, the meaningless of being in a rut, the resentments, the sense of loss, why that attitude is not only sad but also entirely incorrect.

As teachers, specifically, we have a power that can influence the course of history. While that may sound very grandiose and somewhat exaggerated, I challenge you today to consider that it is neither. But rather that it may well be the truth. And if it is the truth, then with that truth comes a profound responsibility

We as teachers have a ‘captive audience’ and a very malleable,  impressionable one at that. Propaganda specialists would love to have access to the minds and hearts of children who are still sensitive enough, dare I say gullible enough to believe what is said to them; who not only believe it, but  often times take it on board as a foundational building block, a life principle if you will, upon which they build an entire personal belief system, and thus the way in which they respond to the world,  the way in which they interact with the world, the way in which they operate their relationships, may all be influenced by what is said to them in the classroom.

Yes, as teachers, we are here to teach content, subject matter, facts, figures, but with the accessibility of knowledge and information on the internet today, surely we are not still of the opinion that our main function is to dispense of this information. Please do not interpret that I am in any way negating or being disrespectful to the formidable task of conveying information – no – it is indeed the ‘nuts and bolts’ – if you like, of the job description, and of course the primary function of a school. However, as a nation in crisis, as a nation with a rapidly unraveling moral foundation – scientific and mathematical knowledge and the ability to read and write could be applied to the building of a bomb, or it could be applied to participation in developing a cure for cancer, it could be applied to humanitarian altruism, or to despotic self gain.

A Chinese proverb reads:  Learning without thought, is labour lost,  but thought, without learning is perilous.

Thus, to take a step back from the nitty gritty of the daily tasks of teaching and to view it from the perspective of Life Purpose – both your own as the teacher, and that of the child’s; for myself, it both humbles and inspires me. ‘

Irrespective of religious persuasion, irrespective of how you define ‘higher power’ and higher authority, YOU as a teacher, are a TOOL in the Hand of the Almighty. As a teacher, you are but a tool – yet a tool of such value that nothing in the nation can be built without your contribution (of varying degrees of value)

You are the needle that weaves the threads which collectively result in the ultimate picture. And the thread you use to sew this pattern, the pen you use to write this story, the hammer you use to build this house – is your WORDS.

Words echo into eternity and there is no telling their end. Words have power, they have a strength and a vibration and an effect.

Words have a frequency, and an energy and energy never dies.

Our  WORDS IMPACT  a child’s life: that choice of words within that very sentence hold a significance.

An Impact. The terminology we use to describe a car collision. Impact. Dent. Crush. Destroy. Damage. Write off.

Or they Imprint on a child’s life. Like the imprint of a duiker, a wild cat, a leopard on the soft soil. The imprint is there, the beginning of a trail, the start of a journey,  a path that is to be pursued.

We will often times never know the power our words had on others, but the child will never forget.

A teacher changed a name that forever resounds into eternity – that of Rohlihlahla to Nelson.

A teacher  flippantly insults a child’s singing ability and for the rest of their lives they do not sing! To restrict another beings soul from singing – let that never be accounted to me. A teacher compliments a child’s effort and his heart swells with self respect and pride. And his willingness to keep trying flourishes. A teacher feeds a child and she is able to alter the course of her own history by returning to school for a meal, and in so doing, become one less statistic in our still patriarchal society.

Teacher; pause. Look up. Breath. See. Not with the eyes of a logical, rational scientist. For hearts, souls and children’s minds are neither logical  nor rational. They are motivated and inspired by how you make them feel. And you make them feel through the channel of your words. So Look up. Breath. See. You are where you are because there is a higher purpose. A greater picture. A bigger world. And on that, you can put no price.

 

With arms Wide Open (Creed)

Life has opened its hands – two palms held open to you – and given to you.

And what have I been given?

We contemptuously spit that question out – at ourselves, and life, at anyone who will listen – what have I been given???

I have been given a beautiful body: strong, firm, perfect in its composition of muscle, sinew, organs – all arranged to serve me well in all I wish to undertake in life. I have been given the blood coursing through my veins – I  have  been given – LIFE. The blood pulsing through my organs, my being,  my heart, bringing me life.

I  have been given air: oxygen, the gift of inhalation, of strong, fresh oxygen, taken for granted and not perceived as a gift until you experience the claustrophobic desperation of it’s absence – then – your lungs filling with the rush of pure, life giving oxygen – the gift I have been given. So often a gift is only known in its negative……

I  have been given water: fresh, pure, life sustaining water – to refresh my  body and so much more than that … to refresh my soul.

I  have been given nourishment: food – rich, sustaining food – to indulge, to appreciate: the succulence, the celebration – of food. The oils of life – dripping down my fingers, wrists, arms. The crispness of fruit, and of salads, the richness of breads, fish, spices, I have been given – food from the earth, to nourish, and food from the table of fortune – to indulge!

I have been given warmth – in love – in a mother’s love that knows ONLY how to wrap me in arms of warmth. In a heart of blood – of life – of warmth. I have been given a safe place: a safe and warm and dependable space – in the deepest most primal place the earth has to offer: A mother’s heart. Within the arms of mother earth. It’s the core. The beginning – from which all life, all blood, all beginnings have their source: ‘mother’. And there is no warmer place than the core of the earth – the soul of the mother.

I have been given a king’s bounty – plentiful – no lack. I,ve not known lack – as the gods of fortune have bestowed on me – excess – it is only by choice that I have experienced lack – if at all.

I have been given talent, and inspiration, and brains to calculate and plan and think (Oh! The irony!)  I have been given zeal, and zest, and lust, all for the purpose of that burning flame of inspiration – to create and become – for myself, and for the generations that follow  – my own highest aspiration.

And I have been given the difficulties and the challenges, the discomforts: not those of my own making, but those dished out to me by life – and the life choices of others … but I have been given them, as a gift. That I might see – see life through the eyes of another too, that I might see the wants, the longings, the black holes in the heart of ‘mother’. That even the giver – she too seeks, yearns, longs.

I  have been given those struggles to look deeper into the pool of another’s life and heart.

And in all this giving – in all that I have been   given….

I’ve  taken.

I’ve taken for myself.

I’ve taken the pain, the torment, the confusion, the hopelessness, the despair –

I’ve taken the lack – when plenty abounds all around me.

I’ve taken the punishment, when only acceptance existed.

I’ve taken the burdens when others stood by willing to carry my load.

I’ve taken the bountiful, and binged on the excess –

I’ve taken – for granted all that life has offered me, with arms wide open.

I’ve taken the torment – like skimming only the dirty foam off the vastness of the ocean.

When the ocean and all that it possesses was offered to me: I took only the filthy foam.

It is enough.

Again the ocean has come to me: that I may immerse myself in it.

The ocean STILL lies in front of me: cool and deep and beautiful and abundant and pure.

GIVING me: another wave, another tide, another opportunity to immerse myself in all the excess – to literally drown in the abundance.

And this time, I will – I will dive, I will plunge, I will take – but  not for granted, I will take in a way that produces only giving…

This time, I won’ choke on the dirty scum foam, when I can drown in the sparkling depths and find all the treasures of Atlantis – which were mine to begin with – anyway.

 

 

Make your house a home

How do you make a house – a home?

Create a space within your house and fill it with things that you are passionate about – things that entice, excite, ignite, enthrall and engage you – things that keep the fire of passion pulsing through your blood – a room that, when you enter, your life purpose is tangibly on display – to remind you of that which gives you a reason to live…

Create a space within your house that brings awareness of why we are so insignificant and yet paradoxically, so significant – in this world – A spiritual place, a place of reflection, and thought – full – ness. And peace. And honour. A place, where it’s not about ‘me’ – the world, possessions or activities – but a quiet place – where the soul can be restored, renewed, reminded of what matters; what’s real – of value – if you were stripped of everything considered valuable….

Create a space that is beautiful – a space of aesthetic beauty – with scents that enrich, with scents that stimulate thoughts – vanilla, cherry, sandalwood, citrus. Deep, rich scents, that bear a colour – the rich greens and browns of wood, the rich yellows and reds of home baked foods. The crisp, clean scents of fresh cool water. This space is not pragmatic, but it is a reminder that in all the chaos and shamefulness and ugliness – there is beauty – for beauty’s sake alone…

Create a room of noises – of laughter, of chatter, bantering, of music, where the energies, lives and forces of many other people come and go continually – filling it with their combined, intertwined liveliness. Their humour, their hurts, their companionship, their thoughts – the busy – ness of other people’s be – ings. A messy place of clutter and clamor and mismatched trinkets from every source imaginable…..

Having created these four rooms – KNOW which one to enter – to maintain an ever continuous gratitude for life – know which one to enter at each specific moment in your life, to continually celebrate that life in all its facets – to celebrate the love, the friendship, the laughter, the excesses, to celebrate the peace, the solitude, the loneliness, the sadness, the sorrow (yes the sadness and the sorrow are a celebration) To celebrate the gift of physical and mental capabilities and to celebrate the spirit – which is neither.
To make a house a home – its easy – it requires but four rooms, or four spaces with in a room : And every single fiber of your be – ing – laid bare in each room – where you can take solace, refuge, peace from the spaces in this world that are not.

My prayer is that your house – becomes your home. xxxx