Today started out bumpy. I had watched some hectic videos last night about the rioting that took place over the weekend. I ended up falling asleep with some clearing meditations which must have worked because I woke feeling easier but still foggy. I decided to go for a run which always clears the mind and it also helped. I tried to limit my Facebook time but I was still conscious of some fear.
Will this stop?
Will I ever be able to live at the sea after all this?
What if it gets worse?
I played some jigsaws to avoid doing any work while in the vibration of fear and a dear friend did some of her mojo for me. Suddenly I stood up and looked at the shelves above my desk. The next thing I knew, I was standing on a ladder cleaning the shelf and discovering just how good my journal keeping has been.
There was an extract from July 1986. I was 20 years old and South Africa was at the breaking point of Apartheid. My school friend, Jane, was a victim of the downtown bomb blast. Sadly I didn't write much detail other than I got my passport sorted the next day. I had been planning my original gap year so I think it was a coincidence in timing and not a response tothebomb blast (she's okay now). I wanted away from the unjust society, the draconian laws and the dangers of living in one of the greatest countries in the world.
It made me think about my choices now. Although I am gearing up to move out of my home, I am not done with this country. Against logical mind telling me otherwise, I still am passionate about the spirit of the place. The people, in spite of the hardships and chaos, there's an energy of living here that is difficult to describe. Although I must admit, with the pandemic adding to the pressure makes life even harder, there is still a tenderness underneath.
Comentarios