Gratitude
At the beginning of this year, I did not imagine that I would be packing up my life in the UK to move back to South Africa. My plans were, instead, to continue teaching creative writing, getting more freelance work in. I did not foresee that just four months into the year, everything would be changed, and so dramatically too. Even then, when it all happened, I still considered my options in the UK.
I began 2007 with the conviction that I was going to make my life more positive, that I was going to create value. Well, the universe certainly ensured that, though not quite in the way I had anticipated.
I woke up this morning with a very profound sense of gratitude for my life and for everything that has happened to bring me here, to bring me home. I am grateful to everyone and everything that has happened to bring me here. More than that, since all this happened, so many people extended themselves to help me first of all to make this move, and then, when I got here, to make this transition in SA as smooth as possible.
So, I would like to thank the following people from the deepest part of my life:
Daddy, for continuing to teach me the value of life, even in his passing
Martin, for making me redundant and giving me a severance package, which he didn’t have to, that allowed me to buy my ticket
Kate, for being brave enough to end our relationship and give me my freedom
Lin, Lizzie and Sharon for giving me a home, even for a brief time, for the meals you cooked for me and the support and encouragement you lent me
Simon H, Jen and May for sharing their wisdom with me on 4th May and helping to realize my own potential
Sharon for showing me a new way to love and for the best 6 weeks of the year so far
Simon W, Julie, Erika and Mark for your love, friendship and support through a difficult period of my life
Sherine, Greg and Liam for giving me a home and too many other things that I cannot even begin to count
Chris and Liz C for your support via email
All my friends in SA: Joe, Dori and Justin, Tracy and Jane, Gav, Kerry, Timmee, Dimmy, Lisa and Linsay. Thank you for the dinners, the phone calls, the support, the work you’ve sent my way
Peterborough District of SGI for your support and Daimoku and The Great Lions District in Johannesburg for the opportunity to advance my life and develop my potential
And to my blog friends: (asterisk)*, Red, Karen, Healing Room and anyone else for your encouragement and comments
Thank you.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I, Servant of Fang
Fang is a six month old tabby and white kitten. I have been chosen to be his primary servant here at La Casa O-C.
With regard to naughtiness, Fang is in a league of his own, regularly disappearing with my sister’s cellphone or trying to quite literally grab the food off our plates. I have wrestled a piece of chicken and a lamb chop from his grubby little paws.
He thinks nothing of using his humans as step ladders, drawing blood as he makes his way from knee to shoulder. Little bastard. My back is covered in scratch marks and I’m not talking about the fun kind. Once on my shoulder, he elects to stay there, even when I stand up to walk around. Most disconcerting, since he refuses to move from his perch even when I have to make the necessary visits to the bathroom.
He’s also remarkably affectionate. At night he purrs around me in great big circles, trying to find the comfiest spot to lie down. While on his circuit of my blankets and me, he stops several times to lick me on the nose with his rough little tongue, or purr noisily while trying to nibble my ear. Or he chews on my pajama top. And in the morning he resorts to batting my cheek with his paw. If that doesn’t work, he tries biting my cheek. Or my nose. Little bastard.
He isn’t a cat that meows. Instead, he emits a high-pitched squeak. He’s singed his eyebrow whiskers by straying too close to a candle. He regularly chases after the other (larger) cats in the house. I no longer deem the water I leave beside my bed as safe to drink because he likes to stick his face in and drink from the glass. Doesn’t matter that he has a bowl of clean water in the kitchen.
Right now he is resting on my hand bag at my feet, in a very convenient patch of sun, warming himself. Like this, it’s hard to imagine he’s a little terror. I bet he’s gathering his energy so that he can bite my toes under the covers tonight.
Fang is a six month old tabby and white kitten. I have been chosen to be his primary servant here at La Casa O-C.
With regard to naughtiness, Fang is in a league of his own, regularly disappearing with my sister’s cellphone or trying to quite literally grab the food off our plates. I have wrestled a piece of chicken and a lamb chop from his grubby little paws.
He thinks nothing of using his humans as step ladders, drawing blood as he makes his way from knee to shoulder. Little bastard. My back is covered in scratch marks and I’m not talking about the fun kind. Once on my shoulder, he elects to stay there, even when I stand up to walk around. Most disconcerting, since he refuses to move from his perch even when I have to make the necessary visits to the bathroom.
He’s also remarkably affectionate. At night he purrs around me in great big circles, trying to find the comfiest spot to lie down. While on his circuit of my blankets and me, he stops several times to lick me on the nose with his rough little tongue, or purr noisily while trying to nibble my ear. Or he chews on my pajama top. And in the morning he resorts to batting my cheek with his paw. If that doesn’t work, he tries biting my cheek. Or my nose. Little bastard.
He isn’t a cat that meows. Instead, he emits a high-pitched squeak. He’s singed his eyebrow whiskers by straying too close to a candle. He regularly chases after the other (larger) cats in the house. I no longer deem the water I leave beside my bed as safe to drink because he likes to stick his face in and drink from the glass. Doesn’t matter that he has a bowl of clean water in the kitchen.
Right now he is resting on my hand bag at my feet, in a very convenient patch of sun, warming himself. Like this, it’s hard to imagine he’s a little terror. I bet he’s gathering his energy so that he can bite my toes under the covers tonight.
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