Journeys...

Thursday is the 2 year anniversary of being in this little house in the bushes.
The only home my furkids have known over these last 2 years alone with me.

Busy packing up boxes, but no time, date or destination waiting for me. This journey continues.

I had the best of hopes for 2014, and despite all that happened, never once did I ever dread its existence and space.
I still don't.
I still look up and wish and hope for a 2015 that will action all 2014 *felt* like.

Family and friends have been "lost" this year...
Jobs have disintegrated.
Jobs have eluded.
Masks have been removed.

And we're still here... writing, reading, learning, living.
Still waiting for that cliff edge to come into view so that we can take that jump... no hesitation.

There is no knowing what others are going through, no true understanding, no matter how hard we may try. There is this infinite space that looms between all beings. Even those of the same species. The same kind.
But I know what this year has been for me. As selfish as we think we sound, we can only know what we've gotten out of our existence.
The end of the rope reach me Sunday and I let go... maybe for good... or maybe until I find the next one. Like an emotional/mental Tarzan. Waiting for that swing through the branches.
And all I can truly hope for is that the next rope isn't another snake.

"If it hurts, then you're alive, it means something's there..." - Dead Letter Circus.

All the things...

What a way to "end" a year that STILL keeps us hoping.

A few months back I started promising a friend at the coast that I'd be visiting him. And as we went into the homestretch with the final plans and dates... we were texting and on the phone with eachother often.

I happily and positively made my way to one of my last 6 markets for the year last night.  People I know came past, chatted... and the news arrived in the form of two people I have seen often on the local market scene.
They also happen to be family of the friend at the coast.
He had "passed away" on Wednesday.

Words should be invented to accurately describe what disbelief I continue to drift in and out of.

A life just barely past 30 years of existence... a gypsy soul that was never content with being in one place for too long.
Gone.
As easily as its said.
Gone.

And yet... I cannot cry at the thought of it.
A person genuine to his very core. Someone so easy to be friends with, because it was all as simple as it was said.
Admittedly, we had had a few years of space in our relationship, but we slipped back into reparation as easily as a few honest confessions.

Gone.

But I am not without tears. Breaking the news to other people who called him friend, has been only just short of devastating.
I cry at the thought of him, of the world being without him, at having heard him over the phone only weeks ago with all these plans to be in eachothers space and.... not anymore.

Words like, Polaris, Harrier, braai and breadmaker.... will forever bring back memories that so many of us (past and present friends) will know too well. The first of many New Years Eves is approaching where we wil be without the tradition started so many years ago.... that all too familiar phone call "Happy New Year Dudey".

I'll be wishing you anyway Gar. Thank you.

Not a new year's resolution...

I want more positivity... I want to be surrounded in it.
I'm not asking to be blinded to reality by fairy tales... I'm well aware life happens, beyond our control.
But I want more positivity.

When I'm enjoying a really good cup of coffee, dew is glittering over fresh green fields... I don't want someone telling me how they hate daylight and hate grass and hate dew.

When I'm messaging someone to tell them how great they are and I'm thankful to be alive another day... I don't want to hear how they wish the day was over and how tuey "can't wait for the weekend".

Politicians (in and out the country you live) are greedy... with "power" comes that part of feeling invincible,  no matter how much you scourge from the working class.
If you have freedom of religion, work (albeit scarce), education (even if its not free) and drive, walk, talk, dance, laugh and breathe.... remember the loved one that died that doesn't have any of that anymore... or the teen living in a country that forbids you be educated based on your gender (because you apparently CHOSE to be born a girl)...

I want more positivity... more gratitude. I want to be allowed to appreciate what I am blessed with today, right now.
I'm not blind to the world and its harshness... but I want to be more positive..

Strings and things...

There is nothing quite so nerve wracking as being someone who NEEDS to be "in control" of everything possible...and then finding out how little "possible" actually is.

Financially,  emotionally, spiritually and mentally,  you have to start throwing your worries to the wind...because right now, its like they're all rhetorical questions in my life.
Because I know what the answers would be if I had a full time job again... and yea, if I had a full time job.

How awful is it that so much can depend on us working for someone else? Either it's a joke or it's pretty sad....

We're so very lost when one piece of our puzzle falls away... I'd like to say I can deal with it, and that I'll "find a way"... but for all my trying there seems to be this massive invisible wall that keeps jumping I to my path along this journey.
Luckily I'm stubborn... or unlucky

But for all of this instability, I can be sure of how grateful I am for each day I get to wake up to. The more I look at the little things, the more I can find a way of easing the unease.
Bitter sweet and comfortably so... I guess.

I guess its better than losing my mind, pathetically, to the "real world".

Losing your sense of humour...and finding yourself...

Every morning I wake up, open up doors in the house, travers my way between a cat and three dogs to the kettle... and for those few minutes that it takes the kettle to boil (plus a bit) I sit on the kitchen floor, in the doorway, listening and watching as my neighbourhood wakes up.

Someone near has a peacock...and sheep. And every morning during this ritual, while the dogs are madly chasing eachother in post sleep energy drain and my cat "observes" them... this peacock calls to the world. So distinctly.
And sheep call to eachother in illogical panic and birds all around in the trees and sky demand that everyone knows they're there.
I find a very blissful calm in this cacophony.
And I find myself not OWED that moment, but blessed to be allowed that moment.

Thankfully its a hot Spring, so I get to enjoy this moment before 6am in sunlight...
I also sit in these moments,  where noone else has shared it with me... and my mind wanders, even if only a few seconds to the surreal feeling of missing a part of myself.
To think that nearly two years ago (give or take a month) my best friend in the entire world dissappeared from my life. Willingly.
That the world has not stopped turning and we have not fallen apart... I thought this angered me once upon a time, but now I see a space that will never be filled and a seeking for the piece that eventually subsided.
You move on...you live.... and its a choice to let it drag you down or lift you up.
My best friend may be lost forever... and my grip on the string of hope...is no more.
Many people, blood or water, will only be a moment in your life and you in theirs... we drift like water living vicariously through the material world of hugs and kisses and spoken word.... but this is all fleeting.
My heart will only ever be in the place it always was....

And then the click of the kettle and I watch the rooibos tea steam in the cup in my hands. I grab whatever Terry Pratchett novel I'm busy on and read a good few pages with my playlist blaring therapeutically through my little house.
The dogs have worn themselves out and are stretched across a dew covered lawn, the cat is solar powering in the doorway... and the day begins.

At the expense of sounding new age...douchy....hippy... every morning is just another chance to live, without shackles and ties and negativity...
Very little compares to these small things... and nothing will ever replace what is lost... but there is no way I'd stepback to sacrifice what has already happened in the hope it would be different.

Burn the hearth...

After months in a swirl of freelance work, job hunting, crafting and living... alot of things have been learnt and realised.
Alot of good things, more than the disappointments.

Have found an unending list of things daily, that I can be completely grateful for. Things that noone can affect either. Things that I can experience and smile at in complete solitude, yet share with others.

These things have made my heart a little better, and I'm closer to the path I want to walk... we slip and fall  and lose sight of who we want to become and suddenly we're falling blindly. Until we try that little bit harder to stop the tumble.
So here I am.
Thankful that as dark as things have been this year for me, for loved ones, for those close to my heart... we still hold the lantern up.
We're alive and we get to wake up to newness every morning. Maybe a little less in heart and soul than the day before and maybe (hopefully) more than the day before.

I am grateful for these beings whose souls I get to saturate myself in so often in private moments... they rejuvenate all those around them and live through their hardships with such courage and such beauty.  They are inspirational.

From loss...

Its taken over a week for to get to this post.

Very few will identify with it..save those that have loved and do love their animals (dogs, cats, horses) intensely.

This year's Winter Solstice...was the longest day I could bare. The week leading up to it had just been littered with things that sent me off kilter,  sank me deeper into the impending downer... and then the drop off the cliff.
I woke feeling more positive than I had that whole week... if I look back at my social media that morning.
I got to the stable to find my Sonny, unable to get up...or unwilling.
Even as my father rushed to come help me, his unmoving silhouette in the stable entrance as I frantically tried to push and shove Sonny into getting himself up off the floor, was my conscience.  I knew all along.
To the deepest pits of my stomach I knew it was no use.
Even the safest place in the world, my dad's arms, couldn't change it.
Of all the days....a Saturday. The busiest vet days. Not a single vet could come help sedate him while we waited for "the man" who comes out for all these situations.
It was agony, not nearly what his must have been for 7 hours long I was helpless to make my Sonny's last moments more comfortable,  less painful...

When the man arrived, it was emotionless.  How many times he must have done this, he had it down to a process.
I went to stroke Sonny's face one last time, sobbing like a beaten child, and he whinnied so softly and painfully.
I was told to move away and ran for the side of the stable, covering my ears and unable to stop the crying.
You can hear it, no matter how tightly you shut your ears... that pop, and the seconds of silence that follow.
Then the chains and the crane being positioned, the swell of another lost life under the canvass of the truck...
My groom cried as he helped the man chain Sonny's ankles together... then another moment of silence. And that pop.
The last I saw of Sonny was the crane raising him up and the sight of his hooves just over tye rooftop of the stable.
My groom cried as much as I did. Sonny had been a part of our everyday lives here at home. His space still looming over the field and in the stable.
Some may not know that many horseowners "donate" their animals in death to the Lion Park... giving life where one has been lost, as it were.
But those last hours, if I could do it all over again, I know I would do it so differently. 
And the finality of it lingers painfully... in his folded blankets, boots, halters, fly masks....photos.

There is just a raw wound where peace longs to fill me for what happened... and then I am reminded that June will always be that to me.
I made the decision for my 32 year old Saddler in June 2009....and 5 years later the decision was made for me with Son of Man.

Leroy doesn't seem to have noticed much difference and I suppose I am thankful for these small blessings.
The destruction that followed Sonny for the first 2 weeks after Tiger's absence was gutt wrenching... so see that young little Leroy has remained calm, puts my soul slightly at ease.
I cannot say I will never be left with the same decisions ever again... my oove for these animals outways my own comfort if I'm able to give them a life worth having. Even if the end of these short lives leaves me distraught.

I do not regret a single moment I had Tiger and Sonny in my life. They gave me so much.