This blog has moved HERE

Change.

And now, as 2011 draws to a close, it's time for a little review of all that has been and to consider where I am heading.

As far as goals go, it's been a bit of a mixed bag. I've achieved some (getting at least 5 articles published), I've almost achieved some (reading 17 books, when I set out to read 25) and some have completely fallen by the wayside (transforming my body).

It has been a remarkable year. Very eventful. It has only been now, in the quiet, that I can look back and see how much has happened and how far I have been propelled.

I started 2011 in a job I wasn't entirely happy with, and so did Madelein. She started her business in June and I joined her in August.

My plans had originally been to return to the world of journalism, however, I got bored in between job interviews and offered to help Maddies out in her business. And now I work with one of our clients daily and still get time to write.

I now write freelance, with most of my writing work going to Alice Magazine and Rahotep Start Living website. The plan is to expand my freelance clients and at the same time to submit something to a writing competition or several.

And also to turn my body into a work of performance art. My friend Dori and I are kicking off the year with a one month experiment in veganism. And why not?

I've been looking over Start Wearing Purple and realised that what is contained in this blog belongs to another time, another place. It is mostly the past with some movie reviews thrown in for good measure. So, I am moving the blog. While Start Wearing Purple will be available to read to anyone who finds it, I am creating a blog that will be a little more in line with where I feel my life is nudging me.

Thanks for the reads. I will post the link to the new blog in the new year.

Motherhood. Not.

There was once a time when I ached for children. I am talking about a physical sensation, bringing about the understanding of wanting something with every fibre of one’s being. Every nerve ending reached out towards having a child and it drove me nuts.

As women, we live within an ocean of chemicals that trigger all kinds of very bizarre reactions. My (almost) demented longing for a baby began at 25, reached its insane peak at the age of 35, with me weeping uncontrollably every time an advert for formula or nappies flashed across the TV screen. It was clear to me that there really was a biological clock and that I could, in fact, hear it ticking.

And then, just like that, it stopped.

I reckon that it’s part of the hormonal soup we float in, sending out a message to use those eggs before they reach their “best before date”. I figure that, realizing that babies were so not going to happen, my body decided that rather than waste its time on pushing me towards procreation, its energy would be better spent elsewhere. Like on craving chocolate, say.



For a while there I did harbor some regret that I didn’t produce a tiny human. I don’t anymore, though. The reason is simple: I’ve become incredibly selfish.



A baby would not fit into my life at all. I like my space. I enjoy lying in and having weekends where my partner do nothing but cuddle in bed with the dogs. I don’t want to spend money on an education or clothing other than my own. I like that my life is my own and I don’t have to squeeze in school runs or karate classes or soccer matches.

And yet, there was once a time in my life when I was looking forward to all that. Packing school lunches, cheering on the sidelines, going to every match, debating competition, prize giving and extra mural class that could be thrown at me. I wanted to read bedtime stories and sing lullabies and change nappies. And I envied my friends and family who had that opportunity.

Now, not so much.

I see how having children has enriched the lives of those around me. They work a little harder than I do. They are more driven, wanting to create a happier life for their offspring. There is a depth to a life with children, from what I’ve observed. So many lessons to learn along the way in the raising of them, watching them grow and become individuals in their own right.

However, I do not feel that I am missing out on too much. I get to be the cool Aunty and cousin, a role that suits me to the ground. It’s a path that I have chosen for myself for my own reasons and it enriches my life in its own way.

Being without my own children doesn’t mean I don’t get to pass a legacy on to another generation. It just means that it gets passed on a little sideways and in my own peculiar way.

The Move.

I have lost track of how many times I have moved over the past ten years. From one city to another. Across continents. With loads of furniture and with just what I can fit in one suitcase. I've moved a lot.

We have finally moved to a house we're renting out in Alberton. And I simply cannot find the energy to unpack boxes. Neither can Madelein.

On all these house moving pictures there are pictures of happy couples with children relaxing amongst boxes with big smiles on their faces. Liars.

The guys who were helping us move were a little late, we had to sedate the cat because he was so stressed and we spent the day in bed yesterday. Moving is not fun, and I certainly hope that this is an exercise I won't have to repeat for a long while.

In the meantime, though, I am grateful for our new home. The dogs are happy. We are happy. Despite all the chaos with boxes all over the place, we are managing to settle in. And I am grateful for the people who helped us move.

Tired, though. Next time there has to be a move, I am hiring a company to get it all done for me, and then Madelein and I will be spending our day in a Day Spa getting massaged, pampered and enjoying cocktails.

Dreams About Shoes

I have been dreaming about shoes. Three dreams in one week, all about buying shoes.

Last night's dream - I am shopping at an Indian store with Madelein, Auntie Liz and Devangi. I find a beautiful orange and purple shawl with an elephant motif. I ask the guy if there is a salwar that goes with it. He produces a beautiful suit with an orange top and purple trousers and with that, a pair of purple Indian style shoes with intricate beading and sequins. It's so me! And I have enough money for the whole outfit.

The night before - I am shopping for socks, but find a pair of comfy flat black shoes with a white trim.

Last week's dream - I am shopping for practical hiking boots, but a gorgeous pair of brown mary-jane style heels catches my eye, though we have trouble finding a pair that fits.

Very odd.

Really nice dream

I am at a beautiful mansion with an infinity pool, fruit grove and rose garden. It's night and Madelein and I are attending a formal dinner party. The dream takes place after the dinner part of the evening and we have all just watched a beautiful film shown in the house's indoor cinema. Everyone is in evening dress and I am wearing a fabulous ivory evening gown with a black and green brocade coat over it. We adjourn to a ball room where cocktails are served. Someone announces that it is 5am and time for good morning cocktails. The couple - two elegant men - who own the house, and who are launching the cocktail products make the announcement. We all select a cocktail to appeal to us. I choose the white chocolate cocktail, which is served in an edible white chocolate cocktail glass. The other cocktails available are strawberry, accompanied with strawberries stuffed with cream, peach accompanied with peach mousse and cherry accompanied by sugared cherries.

It is the most delicious cocktail I have ever had.

The music strikes up and Madelein and I dance. I take the brocade coat off and the evening gown is strapless but then changes to full sleeved. The evening comes to an end and I grab my coat and we go to the parking lot and our car is a vintage classic chevy. Madelein says to me, "What a night. Pity we have to go to work now," and I reply, "We don't have to. We are our own bosses. We can go and grab breakfast and then do whatever we want."

And so the dream ended.

LAST NIGHT'S DREAM

I am driving in my car and at a stop street, a man gets into the car, threatening to assault me. I yell it him, "Oh no, you bloody don't!" and kick him out of the car and curse him three times.

Shaken, I drive to an apartment - my apartment. Friends are sympathetic and understanding. I tell them I am going to spend some time with my parents. I travel to a city where they live. In the main square of the business district, there is a giant statue of a scorpion, with its sting pointing directly into the middle of the square. I tell my parents, who have met me there, that this is not good energy. They agree and tell me they are heading to their guesthouse and I should meet them there.

I head off into the library. (This library often appears in my dreams. Sometimes as a bookshop and sometimes as a library, but the layout is usually the same and the librarian is usually the same). I look for the esoteric section. There is none. The librarian suggests I try some light reading for a change. I don't have my library card, but she knows me and says I could take the books anyway. The books I have out are due on the 17th and in my dream, this is the 19th. She is understanding. I select "The Magician's Nephew" by CS Lewis and another funny, satirical book by an author I have never heard of in waking life, but who I apparently enjoy in my dream life.

I go to the guesthouse. It's 3 storeys tall and I am looking for my parents. In the entrance hall, there is a smaller version of the scorpion statue, with its stinger aimed directly over a dining table, which is, in itself odd, as it has a pillar extending out of the middle of it. I ask the person showing me around if a lot of arguments take place in the entrance hall. She says yes. The whole guesthouse seems to be filled with grumpy, rude people, who are snippy when I ask which room my parents are in.

I finally locate my parents' room, but before I can go in, I wake.

"Attacking" Life

Back in the day, when I wanted to become an opera singer (for real - that's not a joke. I really did want to become an opera singer), had a delightful little pixie faced Italian lady named Angela to teach me. Angela was in her late fifties at the time and I was around 19. I have always said that Angela taught me more than singing - she taught me life, and today, while writing a letter to a friend in Australia, I was reminded of her and her lessons.*

Angela always used to say to me, "Attack the note! Don't wait! Don't guess - attack!" She also used to say that I should attack life the same way as I would the note. It didn't matter if I didn't land directly on the note or if I landed slightly on the next note - the most important thing was that I launched myself into the song or the exercise being 100% present without attachment to the outcome. She wanted me to 'jump' on the note, 'pounce' on it. With practice, she assured me, I would make it onto the note beautifully balanced more often. "Like life!" She would exclaim, smiling broadly with eyes twinkling. Singing and life were one and the same thing to her.

Reflecting on my own life right now, I realise that it's been a long time since I've "attacked" life. My life over the past decade has been a journey into life as one of the walking dead. Not in the fun cape-wearing-vampire kind of way, but in the dragging-your-feet-to-the-graveyard-Zombie kind of way.

So, reminded of Angela's wise words, I am committing myself to delighting in life. I am committing myself to jumping on that note, even if I land a little skew, and it doesn't sound quite right. I am committed to bringing the best I have available on any given day to life. To "attack" life.

Thank you Angela.

*Angela taught me for just 2 years about 17 years ago. We never know how long our words will stay with someone, nor how deep they may penetrate. I am grateful for the very rare gem of a teacher I have ever had who opened a door on learning and made me feel as though I was about to uncover a great and magical secret. I am blessed to say I have met, and learned from, seven of these passionate teachers. So far. 

Before 40...

So here I am, officially 37 years old as of yesterday. Officially I have 3 years to go before 40. I have started on a list of stuff I want to do before I reach 40. Here's the list with a bit of extra info


1. I want to grow my hair down to my butt. 

I haven't had hair that long since I was 14. At the moment, my scalp is a mess and when my hair gets long, there's a lot of flaking and I get sores on my head. I figure with proper nutrition and care, I can get my hair healthy enough to make it right down to my butt.

2. Get really fit and healthy.

I weigh in at 107 kgs. My BMI is 42 and if I don't sort my health out now, I'll end up with adult onset diabetes. Already my body is having some issues with insulin. If I want to live a long and productive life,      then I cannot play around. I have at least 30 kilos to lose. Thanks to chiropractic care I have a nervous system that's functioning better than it has in years, but what good is a fabulous nervous system if I have such kak nutrition? Time to make that change.

3. Learn to Tango.

Because  I have always wanted to. Because I love tango music. Because I love watching people tango and it looks beautiful and graceful.


4. Go on a meditation or yoga retreat.

Because you have to do some nourishment for the spirit too.

5. Make things right between me and my sister.

I love my sister. I miss having the close relationship we once had. I miss that we used to talk and enjoy each other's company. And because sometimes we let stupid shit get in the way of enjoying a great relationship with a person you're related to, especially because this life is the chance we get to sort things out so that we don't have to do it in the next one.

I am sure that I'll add stuff to the list. I can think of a few things right now. If I add to the list, I will update the blog.

Yesterday was my birthday. Not just a birthday. A REBIRTHday.

It seems that life follows a certain pattern. There was a time in my life when everyone was getting married. There were weddings to attend every couple of months. Then people started having babies. Some couples split, others didn’t. And in between all this, some people died. Now, it seems, that there are more people dying.

My uncle, Geoff, died yesterday while undergoing an operation. I didn’t know Geoff that well, we were never close and I feel for my cousins and my aunt who have to go through this.

In May this year, I attended the memorial service held for a friend named Hiro, who I knew through the SGI. He died of pneumonia in Japan.

I believe in reincarnation, but that still doesn’t take away grief. Grief, I have learned, is a process that is ongoing. We grieve for ourselves. When I spoke to my aunt yesterday, I realize how great the void is in those left behind.

I know that Uncle Geoff was unwell for quite a long time. I also know from my cousins that he was talking about being too tired to carry on and that he wanted to go “home, to my mountain.” For Geoff, dying was something he wanted. For his family, having him around was what they wanted.

It brings to mind my father’s passing. He too was ill for a long time. My thoughts have remained unchanged: even though it’s sad that Dad’s not here and I miss him, I know that he is no longer in pain. In fact, it hurt more to see him weak and in pain than the grief of losing him. At the time of his death, though, the shock of losing him was too strong to see it that way.

Goodbye, Uncle Geoff. Rest well.

Why I Have Left the SGI
(and started my own religion)

The SGI (Soka Gakkai International) is the lay organization for the Buddhism of Nichiren Daishonen. I started practicing this Buddhism in 2004 and received my Gohonzon (a holy scroll that represents your life) in 2005.

Initially, I believed I had found where I belonged, but gradually, and especially since coming to SA and joining SGI SA, I realised that the organisation ain't really that organised. I began to grow very disillusioned with the organization altogether, and several events culminated and allowed me to make the decision to break ties completely.

I am not faulting the practice of Buddhism – Nichiren Daishonen’s or anyone else’s. It’s not the practice of Buddhism I have left behind: it’s the SGI.

In points, and no particular order, here are my reasons:

For a practice that is supposed to be about tolerance, I have seen a great deal of judgement delivered. One of the Buddhists in SGI-SA is also a Sangoma (witch doctor). He was brave enough to get up and tell everyone how chanting had enhanced his work as a Sangoma. Later, two leaders of the SGI were whispering about how taken aback they were about this guy being so open. According to them, he should not have even mentioned it. I was asked to write an article about this guy for the fledgling Buddhist magazine and was instructed by one of the same leaders, quite strictly, not to mention the “Sangoma thing”. This same person, when I mentioned I was a healer, asked if I had permission (!!!!) from the SGI to do that, as she knew about a woman in the UK who worked with crystals who had to get permission from SGI-UK to do so. Hmm. The organization likes to talk about “absolute freedom”, but clearly it doesn’t live it. I see auras, communicate with the dead, channel paintings and do Reiki healing. I could see myself heading the same way as the Buddhist-Sangoma.

I am openly gay and while I didn’t encounter any homophobia with the UK groups, I have in South Africa. I was waiting in line for a cup of tea at the end of a meeting, chatting to one of the ladies behind me. She was bemoaning the fact that she just couldn’t find the right man. I joked that perhaps she should be looking for the right woman. We both cracked up and laughed about this. The man in front of us, also a leader in the SGI, turned around and with venom spat out: “You people with your agendas. You come in and take our women from us. What’s the matter with you? Why can’t you just leave our women alone? Why do you always have to push your agenda in everyone’s faces?” He looked so angry, I was certain he would have hit me, if he had the chance. His tirade went on, saying pretty much the same thing in several different ways. Not cool. Another member in Singapore has told me that because she was gay, she was being ostracized by her family – all of whom are practicing Nichiren Buddhists with the SGI.

The SGI discourages investigation into other schools of Buddhism. Nichiren Buddhism is promoted as the ONLY path. So is Christianity.I like to think for myself and explore. If people are telling me not to look into other schools of Buddhism, I want to know why, and telling me that “those schools are wrong” isn’t a good enough reason. The SGI also discourages silent meditation. Again, the ONLY path is to chant. Stuff that – I have gained a lot of insight from silent meditation as well as chanting.

The SGI is infatuated with its lay leader, Daisaku Ikeda. Maybe I just didn’t get the lesson of mentor/disciple, but from working with Demartini’s Quantum Collapse Process, I know that I am no greater or lesser than another person. Yes, he has written great works and is a great leader, however, I am not going to view him as some kind of Buddhist Jesus. Nichiren’s Buddhism tells us we are ALL Buddhas. We all have Buddhahood. Then this man is no more enlightened than anyone else – we are both Buddhas.

Talking about everyone being Buddhas… We are told we are all Buddhas, but when we begin to think for ourselves and move away from the SGI, investigate other faiths and practices or meditate silently, you are labeled arrogant and ignorant.

I engaged in SGI activities. When my schedule no longer permitted me to be as involved, I was given a series of phone calls and emails, bordering on guilt trips in order to get me to come back. The organization didn’t like NO as an answer. Even after leaving, I have been pursued with a cult-like enthusiasm to return.

Finally, I don’t need to have permission to do what I do, nor is it necessary to apologise for who I am. No one has the right to tell me how my spiritual life should be structured or what I must believe.

So I have started my own religion. I call it Hectic Eclectic and I embrace all things and nothing. In fact, I do a lot of embracing. I’ve named myself the Huru Guru and I am basking in my own glory.

I am much happier calling my own shots.

… Finally, After 7 Months.

Sheesh. No blog for seven months? Really? The time has flown. I cannot believe it’s been that long. Now that I have a little borrowed internet access for the month of December, I am finally able to do a little update.

It’s been a year and four months since my return to South Africa. I feel settled now. Settled, acclimatised and accustomed to the fact that getting things done out here takes a bit longer than it did in the UK.

I’ve watched the jacarandas bloom. Been here for the birth of two babies. Offered my shoulder to my cousin when she split from her boyfriend and shared drinks with her when they got back together. This stuff – the grit of life – this is what I missed while I was away.

What a year so far. I did not choose a relaxing and uneventful life this time around. While I knew Madelein for a little while, we started dating in February. By June, after a whirlwind romance, we got married at the Department of Home Affairs. We were planning a spiritual ceremony for early next year, but finances have forced us to put that on hold. I am so blessed to be living in a country where one’s sexual orientation is protected by the constitution.

In July I moved out of my sister’s house, into our own little garden flat. This weekend just gone, we moved all the way back into my sister’s house. She’s off to work in Middelburg for two years and preferred to rent the family house out to… well… family.

My cousin Jackie and her husband David are expecting their first child and about a month ago, they immigrated to Australia. It was a blessing to get the chance to get to know her, because the last time I saw her she was ten years old. So weird coming back and she’s a young woman.

Painted a grand total of six paintings so far. Not done much else creatively. Bit of a novel. Bit of a short story. Couple of poems.

I’ve seen an Egyptian Sun Healer and I’ve left the practice of Nichiren Buddhism as promoted by Soka Gakkai International. I am slowly coming out of a spiritual crisis that began in late July.

I’ve lost a total of four kilograms, with more on the way. I feel renewed. This is home, and this is where my energy began. While I miss the friends I left behind in the UK, I am glad to be around the friends and family I have here.

In the universe there is always balance.

I am still alive.

I am still enjoying life in SA.

I still work for a chiropractor.

I am no longer single.

I am painting like crazy.

I love my life.

I am glad to be home.

NEWS

Here I am again after a long absence.

I am still enjoying my job enormously and am having a lot of fun at work. So much to do, but nothing I can't handle and I love learning more about chiropractic.

I am getting a visit with a psychic named Rahotep for my birthday present in May and I am so looking forward to it. My sister and cousin Linsay have both gone to see him and have reported that he is accurate and good. So now it is my turn!

I have recently met a lovely lady named Madelein. We've been dating for a little bit and it's going very well. This after being adament that I don't want relationships, commitments or anything else. It has raised several issues regarding my relationship karma, but people are mirrors and I am facing myself and actively participating in my human revolution.

It has only recently struck me that Iam back here in theUK. I went along to see the Rocky Horror show with Dori and I realised that had I still been in theUK I would have felt really sad that I could not enjoy things like that with my friends. Now I can see my SA friends whenever I want.

I miss the people I left behind in the UK. It's a process, this letting go and moving on thing. It's all good.

TWO THINGS:

1. I am off to see the Rocky Horror Show at the Victory Theatre on the 13th. I will then be able to scratch it off my list of things to do before I die.

2. I am YWD unit leader for Gauteng's Great Lions Buddhist Group.

Hoorah!

Fang

Fang
Originally uploaded by wyrdbanana

This isa picture of Fang pretending to be a Christmas decoration.

2007 in Review/2008 Year Ahead

I am shamelessly copying *(Asterisk) with his 2007 review.  Let's do a quick round up of 7 things that happened last year:

1. Dad moved on into the spirit world in January.

2. Was made redundant and then my relationship ended

3. Attended a LOT of Buddhist meetings and did a LOT of chanting

4. Met Sharon

5. Packed my life up and moved back to South Africa

6. Found a job with a chiropractor and did a few freelance writing jobs

7. Started painting again

2008 - The Year Ahead

I reckon I am going to have a busy year this year. There are several things I would like to accomplish by the time the year is over. Here are 7 things I aim to achieve in 2008:

1.  Continue to build my life out here, working towards getting my own car and my own home

2.  Go down to Cape Town to visit Joe and Vianne for a weekend

3.  Sell 3 paintings

4.  Make a daily, committed effort to seeing the Buddha light in everyone I come across

5.  Re-establish and regularly update a NEW Dangerdykes and the already existing Jesus

6.  Take a break by myself down at a Buddhist retreat in KwaZulu-Natal

7. Grow in my understanding of my sister's pagan practices

And there are quite a few more things in there besides all that. Year of action.

A Buddhist, A Witch and a Hippy Walk Into a Catholic Church…

Sounds like the start of some cheesy joke, but this is exactly what will be happening on Friday evening at 6pm. Sherine, Greg, Linsay and I will be attending Mass at Maryvale Catholic Church.

Yes. Mass.

Because my father died this year, we have been invited to come to Mass to remember him and maybe light a few candles. Even though I can very skillfully recite my way through Mass even now, I am not going to be a hypocrite and mouth the words along with everyone else. The standing and the sitting is fine. I draw the line at kneeling, genuflecting and doing the sign of the cross.

My father wasn’t even Catholic. My mother was, and he insisted he wanted the same ceremony in the same church as she had. We are going to honour him, remember him and celebrate his life. Well, that’s what I am going for. And maybe to light a candle because I still get tickled by the pagan-ness of lighting candles in a Catholic church!

Boddhisattva Never Disparaging

I have had a little… difficulty, shall we say… with sharing a home with my sister and her family, recently. I have been determining to change my relationship karma, to let go of my need for abusive relationships, and not surprisingly, this has kicked up some karmic dust. Difficult relationships have become a little more difficult and my first reaction is to run and hide away in my room.

Relationships are mirrors. What is becoming clear to me now is that transforming this karma is not so much about how other people treat me, it’s a lot more to do with how I treat myself and others.

I found this passage on Boddhisattva Never Disparaging on the SGI USA website:

“There is a fundamental oneness of self and others. Therefore when Bodhisattva Never Disparaging made his bow of obeisance to the four groups of people, the Buddha nature inherent in the lives of the four groups of arrogant people bowed toward Bodhisattva Never Disparaging. This is the same as how when one bows facing a mirror, the reflected image bows back” (GZ, 769).

I’ve resisted looking at some people’s Buddha nature. I figured how can someone that mean or nasty have Buddha nature? I realise now that they DO have Buddha nature, they are just not aware of it. By refusing to see the Buddha nature in those people, I am refusing to see the Buddha nature in me, and thus, slandering the Mystic Law.

I Bless The Rain Down in Africa...

There is a different quality to the rain in Africa. Especially out here in the Highveld, with the dramatic thunderstorms we get.

I missed these storms. I missed the scent of the earth after a downpour and the freshness of the air. I've missed the dark thunderheads that hang low in the sky and the electric morse code they send out. I missed the crashes and booms and then... the rain. The fat drops, the sheets of rain. Rain that could only be appreciated in Africa.

No. Rain is not the same wherever you go. Here in Africa, the rain is as wild as the land.