495 Words Dedicated to an old Friend | or | Journey to the Center of the (Shre)Earth (haha)

As I write this I am countries and continents away from my tiny studio apartment in Cape Town. In fact, had I taken a quick jog across the southernmost pole, I might have taken a shortcut to my current place of contentment: a delightful, homely cottage by the sea in the finest, fairest, four-leaved-clover land of them all: Ireland.

Okay so I am not really in Ireland. But I know that’s where I want to be, one day. I had forgotten this quite some time ago – the power of hours home alone coupled with a carefree mind can create a powerful excavation tool for nostalgic desired buried at the core of one’s inner planet.

My planet is quite a strange one, where  - despite my persistent tendency to live in my own head – I have not visited it very often. It scares me. I’d rather drift around the stars, come back to the tangible Earth or just enjoy the blackened cosmos between my eyelids when I sleep. However, this is a problem.

How can you go on living in contentment when you’re not quite sure of who you really are and what fills the land and sea of your own planet? Loneliness is a plague that has scourged the land we live in, with the salve being human companionship and love – but how much richer would our lives be if we didn’t fall victim to the plague at all?

Prem Rawat said:

“And we are never lonely, for we always have ourselves.”

But who are we, really? A task I had set for myself some time back was to find happiness in myself and to get to know myself better. However, I seem to have subtly rejected calls from myself on more occasions than I’d like to admit. I’ve cruelly read messages from myself and chosen not to respond – how horrible must I have felt to have seen the ‘read’ receipt but not received a reply!! I am the worst.

Yet, I must say, it is not too late.

Once again, I will commit to becoming my own friend. Once again I will take up the pen and tapdance on my keyboard to type out boring blogposts to myself in a way of saying: “Hello, my friend, sorry I have been away so long – how have you been?”

 I am booking a ticket to my inner planet, naturally there is room for anyone who may like to join me, and I am going to get to know myself this year a bit better. I am going to do the things I love more often. I am going to put down IFRS now and then and let myself draw, paint, read and lay in the sun more often.

I am going to remember to breathe more often, and fill all the little gaps that people, things, my cat and clouds of candyfloss cannot fill … and I am going to fill it with my own joy.

PS

I am not going batty, nor have I been abandoned on the side of the road in a dustbin waiting for DSW to take me away. In fact, I am quite happy and thought this little identity discussion might inspire you to get to know yourself a little better this year :) 

2014: The Foo Fighters Quote Year

Oh for the love of furry baby seals and mink coats – not another blog post on the new year!! Gaah… gaaah…  *death by eye rolling*

Luckily, this isn’t about resolutions or something preachy about how this is going to be ‘my’ year (we all know that this and no other year will never belong to any one person including Disney Princesses because Wicked Witches never really die). This year I have just resolved to do just one simple thing: not quit.

It’s okay to take breaks, be derailed and not do that which needs to be done today. But I will not allow myself to quit. (“ YOU’RE THE ONE YOU’RE THE PRETENDER ! WHAT IF I SAY I WILL NEVER SURRENDER?” – Foo Fighters)

Quitting is the darndest, sneakiest dream destroyer because sometimes you never know that you’ve actually quit. Then - before you know it - a year has passed and you haven’t even made it halfway across the ocean to get those exotic spices from the land where they ride elephants, nor have you even filled that diary that was meant to help you remember the better days when you get Alzheimer’s.  You slowly slip away from the things that mean the most to you because you become lost in new adventures that slowly found their way to your doorstep – while your true passions and goals were sitting at your back door like Taylor Swift wearing fake hipster glasses shrieking “PLEASE LOVE ME AGAIN”.

So, yeah, this is the year I will not quit. I will think about quitting, yes. I will get lazy and bugger off to my cave in the mountains muttering about how I hate everyone and everything on the planet. But I will come back. And I will carry on.

Will you make this an un-quittable year? 

A 19 Year Old’s (Somewhat First World) Perception of Freedom

In the previous month, I was interviewed by a talented young lady, Sara Hartinger, about what it means to be free. It didn’t take me long to answer at all – in fact, I knew what I was going to say the moment the rising inflection rolled off her tongue.

Freedom can be aptly described, to quote, as a feeling of being “eternal”, as captivatingly described in The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. It’s that feeling when the only thing that goes through you is air, and it fills your lungs with a gaping emptiness so vast that you feel your existence scattered through the air around you. That amalgam of adrenaline, cool, strong winds and pure exposure to a world that has no obligation to accept you: bareness. A feeling often taken as ‘youth’ – but, oh, how tragic that would be! I feel as if I should end my life now if I can never feel that way, again.

Fitting yourself comfortably into the gaps between stars, having an unabashed smile and driving down a long road while a song that Takes Your Breath Away (not necessarily Berlin) plays in the car and the love of your life is at the wheel is freedom. Freedom is an empty joy – it is not an emotion itself, as happy or sad is, but it is distinct moments where you go beyond feeling any banal emotions and you simply exist with a belly full of life and the caving in chest heaving nothingness of the world sucking you into a beautiful, beautiful spell.

I’m not saying that Apartheid ended so I could go look at stars and listen to old love songs. I’m saying that freedom gives me the ability to exist in a space so open and comfortable that I can let myself exist beyond the boundaries of my own self and become something more.

Something so, so much more.

Even if just for a moment.

That is freedom, to me. 

Waiting, the Rational Investor & Uncertainty

They say “Good things come to those who wait”. Whoever ‘they’ are, surely, should be knowledgeable since ‘their’ knowledge has been promulgated throughout society and the minds of little children. What are some of the things you’ve waited for in your lifetime – and I’m literally referring only to things you had to just wait for, without much action on your part? Things beyond your control – perhaps waiting for your mother to finish cooking dinner? Waiting for the train to come?

What made you so sure dinner would ever be done? How did you know the train was coming? There must’ve been a degree of certainty to ensure that you would eventually receive these abovementioned ‘good things’. A twilight zone formed between the probability of encountering the train and some sort of faith formed by trusting your mother or, at a more complex level, trusting the train’s routine as you’ve come to observe its dependability. 

Through this twilight zone you came to wait, either by force or by faith.

So, what do you do when confronted with situations where you could – readily –  walk away from the wait entirely? Naturally, you wouldn’t receive the ‘good thing’ that the wise old ‘they’ have extolled through proverbs. However, in this particular situation, there is very little gauge of probability and there is virtually no observation of dependability through pattern formations – essentially there is a very high level of uncertainty.

Let’s put the question to the floor- any takers?

Some wise old soul would bring up the principle of the rational investor : risk versus reward, taking up the investment where there is the least risk for the most reward. Naturally, there seem to be quite high risks as there isn’t much data available for the calculation of the probable outcome.

But, in life, how can we measure ‘reward’ ? Is it how badly you want the ‘good thing’ or is it the value of the ‘good thing’ itself? Our wants may override the value of the reward in itself – where a burning need for a toffee may elevate the worth of a 50cent sweet exponentially. Such is human nature;  to offset numerical values with emotional or intuitive interventions.

Waiting for me to get to the point, already? 

I have no point, other than to ask you, would you wait for something even though you had no idea whether or not your investment would yield sufficient return for time spent waiting with escalating opportunity costs?

I also think that, even if the investment does yield some kind of return, would we not begin to resent the yield if it does not live up the costs incurred to obtain it? Waiting could also, itself, be detrimental as it may build unrealistic expectations.

Just throwing a few thoughts out there. Curious. 

Awe

Perspective is a force of thought more powerful than the events themselves that compose our reality. In order to nourish this perspective, to help cut the human crystal so that it shimmers in a thousand and one ways, to transcend the meaning of life – it is important to be left in awe. Regular, small miracles are easier to  stumble over and not appreciate (like that breath you just took) – but some moments in life help redefine your existence… and the awe I felt as I basked in the shadow of the poet-master that I had come to idolise was inexplicable. He towered over me, slight angst, slight spite – but blatant inscrutability: Dante Alighieri, master of The Divine Comedy. 

His towering statue in Florence, Tuscany helped me realise how very insignificant my life is. Yes, this sounds like it is taking a turn towards the self-imposed Inferno – but, I pray you, listen. Perspective is the salve to all our meaningless issues. There are cities, people, microcosms linked through roads and skies that function regardless of whether you’re on your university’s merit list, or whether you fit into a size 8 pair of jeans, or whether you’re experiencing the pangs of unrequited romance. Ages pass, worlds and words spin around – and you are but a golden fleck on the ceiling of the Vatican Museums.

This awe:  this feeling of tininess before figures so beautifully painted on the ceilings of the Vatican, this feeling of bewilderment before the perfection of Michelangelo’s  David create that trembling wonder that makes life worthwhile. See how small you are, and revel in the amazement the universe has in all its crooks and corners. Inspirations spews unparalleled from joy, and the ecstasy I have seen in the Sistine Chapel, the years that I have felt (quite illegally) in fading tapestries and carved stone pillars… the eternal marble I have slid upon have captivated my very soul. 

Rome, Florence and Venice have stolen me. Bewitched me in ways I could not comprehend through your juxtaposition of rich history alongside Mercedes and racy motor bikes while greying women beg, clasping onto their rosaries. 

Where will life take you? Will you find a place to fall in love with… or come to find Stockholm Syndrome on your front porch? The elixir of eternal youth, truly, is made of proportions of curiosity, excitement, fascination, rapture and awe. The more you see, the more you thirst. The more art I saw, the more I wanted to know: who painted it, what did it mean, what did the people think of it, what meaning did it have to me? 

Layers and layers reveal themselves as time slides on and the world shyly comes to bear itself to you. 

Fabulous Fantasy Fiction Holiday Reading List of Amazing Fantasy

With the holidays sprawling ahead, some of you bookies must be looking forward to laying on the sofa with a great read. For those of you that see Fiction as a reading genre, not a club on Long Street, here’s 5 great fantasy fiction reads you need to get down to this holiday!

                                                                                                                                                                 

1.       The Hobbit – J.R Tolkien                                                                                                

Getting into the Middle Earth buzz, don’t let yourself get left behind as ardent fans rave about the similarities between book and movie. It’s a quick, interesting read filled with activity and great narrative. Great for both young and old, there is a classical tinge to the tone it has been written in.

Bilbo Baggins, a casual Hobbit that is fond of minding his own business, is thrust into the adventure of a lifetime quite unwillingly. Expect goblins, eagles, shape shifters, treasure and – naturally – a dragon waiting at the end of it all.

2.       The Belgariad – David Eddings

Mature fiction begins with David Eddings : he is my favourite author and the master of words. This is a series of 5 books:  Pawn of Prophecy, Queen of Sorcery, Magician’s Gambit, Castle of Wizardry, Enchanter’s End Game.

These five books, although bearing simple chess related titles, comprise an elaborate, elegantly told story about Garion, an orphaned farm boy and his quest alongside his aunt Polgara as they pursue the Orb of Aldur : an orb fashioned with a living soul.

“Long ago, so the storyteller claimed, the evil God Torak sought dominion over all and drove the world to war. Now the one talisman keeping this sinister force from seizing power has been disturbed--and no one will be safe. . . .”

3.       A Song of Ice & Fire – George R.R Martin

Otherwise known as “A Game of Thrones”, the book series is as equally riveting as the televised one. A rugged amalgam of romance, pillaging, sword bound violence and lust for power find their way to the pages of A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows and A Dance with Dragons.

The story, simplistically, tells of an array of character’s pursuit for dominion of the Iron Throne, and power over the kingdoms in a fascinating fantasy dimension. Each chapter follows a different character, making for interesting reading as you put the pieces of each perspective together in Westeros.

“In a land where summers can last decades and winters a lifetime, trouble is brewing. The cold is returning, and in the frozen wastes to the North of Winterfell, sinister and supernatural forces are massing beyond the kingdom’s protective Wall…”

4.       The Black Magician Trilogy – Trudi Canavan

Ah, these fantasy writers do love their series, don’t they ? A feminine outlook on fantasy, The Magician’s Guild is split into:  The Magician’s Guild, The Novice and The High Lord.

This story follows a young street girl that possesses skill to shock masters of magical discipline, where in a fit of rage she is able to pierce a barrier protecting a master and consequently renders him unconscious.

So begins a race to capture and contain the Guild’s worst fear: an untrained magician being on the streets.

“She must be found, and quickly, before her uncontrolled powers unleash forces that will destroy both her, and the city that is her home…”

5.       Green Rider – Kristen Britain

No, a Green Rider is not someone closely affiliated with Green Peace. In this world, a Green Rider is an elite, almost legendary messenger to the King. Entrusted with a secret message to be passed on to the king as a Green Rider takes his last breath, follow Karigan G'ladheon through four novels: Green Rider, First Rider’s Call, The High King’s Tomb and Blackveil. While galloping through these, beware the “shadow man,” and never, ever read the letter passed to you. It’s for your own safety.

“Ride! the voice commanded.
            The buildings of a village were a smear they left behind. Two arrows, she knew, sang behind her and would not stop till they found their mark.”                                                                                       

   

A Story of The Reacher & The Settler

This is how some friendships and relationships end:  routine forms, and someone tries to break that routine. 

There’s usually a reacher and a settler: a reacher instigates the friendship, reaching out and the other person will reciprocate or reject. Over time, a pattern is established: one person usually texts the other person first, plans outings and is basically the catalyst for communication. This could either be the initial reacher, or the settler may assume this role after warming greatly to the reacher.

Things go wrong when the reacher beings to get tired. Tired of chasing, tired of being the one saying “Hi,” first, tired of being the one to plan and pursue. This is what happens when the balance of things is thrown out. When the reacher withdraws, hoping the settler will notice and start reaching back out AND NOTHING HAPPENS, that’s when disappointment kicks in.

The settler, so wrapped up in routine, either waits for the reacher or assumes the reacher no longer wishes to communicate. Pride or indifference takes over and the settler leaves the reacher waiting or eventually forgets the reacher altogether. All the reacher probably wanted was a little confirmation that they’ve been missed, wanted a little encouragement from their friend, wanted to know their friend is still thinking of them and other silly little emotional things that mean so much in the long run.

The reacher is left alone, waiting in vain, and begins to feel the weight of the entire friendship, eventually overthinks and explodes.  And dies.

The reacher must learn to be happy alone. 

Which is hard.

So, either enjoy your own company, find mutual reachers… or explode.