Dare to Dream

02/04/2017

Cry my beloved country. And this is not about the politics. Or not only. It’s about crime. We have all experienced crime, if we are lucky –and I use the term loosely, as our luck inadvertently means someone else had not been– we know of someone who has fallen victim to crime. We know of housebreaking, hijacking, attempting hijacking, hold up’s, snatch-and-grab’s … and the more serious crimes: r**e, assault, murder. Of course very few of us have not experienced crime in some form. And now it has hit home. A beautiful young girl in the prime of her life murdered. Stabbed in cold blood for a cell phone 200 metres from her home. She will never wear a wedding dress and say “I do”. She will never feel the miracle of a baby growing inside of her. She will never … anything… She was left to die on the side of a road. My heart is in pieces. I cannot even begin to imagine the anguish her parents, sister and fiance is going through … but I know that our family and all her friends are feeling broken. I see pictures of the flowers and messages and her photo at the spot where she lost her life …. It hurts me beyond words that I cannot be there to offer my support…. I don’t write about politics or religion for a reason and although this post is about crime, it is first and foremost about the unnecessary and savage killing of a young woman who still had so many boxes left unticked on her bucket list … and taking a moment to remember all the other murder victims who died because in our country it seems that a life is worth nothing… and their families that have been left behind to try and find ways to live without their loved ones. Heaven has gained a beautiful angel…. Until we meet again…. RIP Chantal

16/01/2017

I’ve been thinking a lot about second chances – to give or not to give; the impact if you do and if you don’t; where it leaves you in the bigger scheme of things, especially if you choose not to give second chances. We all have been on the giving and receiving end of second chances. As those of you who read my posts regularly know, I have been given time out by life. I have tried to use some of that time to develop and grow; part of the process involved reflecting and trying to use what I learned to build a way forward. In my own history I have seen a pattern emerge – giving a second chance seems to be the breeding ground for a third, fourth, fifth… In my romantic relationships all but one ended painfully, regardless of how many chances were given or received. When I do the math, a second chance then does seem rather over-rated. It appears to only buy time for the inevitable breakup. From 2014 to date my life has been filled with upheaval, loss, despair … but also filled with a lot of new opportunities. With my focus a bit on the less pleasant stuff I thought that my only New Year’s Resolution for 2017 will be to not give any more second chances. To accept that if something didn’t work the first time, it was a very clear signal to let it go graciously (ha ha ha!) and move on. I didn’t come to that decision lightly. Why do we give people second chances? Is it really for them or more about them and thus really for the person giving the second chance? Isn’t it true that we give that second chance because we do not want to lose the person in question? We do not want to give up whatever it is that they mean to us. Often it doesn’t seem to matter to the heart that our needs are not being met; or that we have been betrayed; or deeply hurt. The heart only cares about love. The mind tries to protect us – it brings up valid points of broken trust; physical and or emotional scars.. it throws statistics at us … it reminds of analogies about the leopard that doesn’t change its spots. So at that moment when I made my resolution for 2017 I gave in to my head and told my heart to shhh. But my heart never gives up. Ever. It showed me times in my past where I was the one who wronged someone else and got given a second chance. How that second chance meant the world to me. Those friendships are still in place today. It could have been so different if I was denied a second chance. I cannot speak for others, but I have made a verdict on the matter of second chances. People deserve a second chance. We are all human and sometimes we do stupid, hurtful things that sadly cannot be undone – where we can only try and repair the damage if given that second chance. That being said, I will no longer be giving second chances simply because my nature so dictates. I think there are times when a second chance is only verbal, when the damage done cannot be repaired. We carry on with the friendship or relationship but it is never really the same again. Such second chances are false. We have probably all given those, perhaps hoping that in time all will go back to the way it used to be. Only to find it doesn’t. I am not going there again. Each one of us gets to decide what we can forgive; what we can forgive and forget whilst still being true to ourselves. I don’t have a long list in the column of things undeserving of a second chance, but going forward I will honour them. And yes, I fully understand that there might be times when I will be the one asking for a second chance, and not getting it. We all deserve to be happy and keeping someone in your life who repeatedly hurts you, however big or small the hurt, because you don’t want to lose them … well, that’s a direct contradiction to being responsible for your own happiness.

31/12/2016

I am so amped to bid farewell to 2016! I have come to realize that it has been a harrowing year for many … and it seems to have been the year where the Grim Reaper reigned. We have all lived through challenging years, but I personally cannot remember when last a year has tested me on all possible levels. Of course there has been some good and it is only fitting that I acknowledge that. Yes, 2016 have seen some good friends taken from earth; other’s suffered hardships through illness, serious accidents and violent crime … but I have also been given time-out by our creator (and I was not willing, more like kicking and screaming, with ill grace at best) to move my children to a new country and to settle them; I had time to discover and develop spiritually, to teach myself how to paint, to experiment with writing and most importantly to cherish friendships (family included) close to my heart and to review my life in general. I am grateful for all of that. I am grateful that tomorrow is a new year: a new beginning. I’ve seen many posts about tomorrow being the first page of a blank book. In 2017 I will not sit back and watch my life happening as if I am a puppet on a string. In 2017 I will, at the very least, be the co-writer of my life story. There will be big changes. Some of those changes I will have no control over. But I am ready. I will make it work, whatever the changes. I am working on who I need to be. Part of me is the Rebel and The Warrior and the Phoenix rising from the ashes, reborn. I will utilize all of that to make next year a success. That is all from me for this year. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read my contemplations, rants, wistfulness … Happy New Year and may 2017 be the best year ever ###

15/11/2016

I’ve been called a nurturer about as many times as I’ve been told I don’t have a nurturing bone in my body. Hmm. I am the first person to admit that I have seemingly been put together on a day when there was a surplus of paradoxes ready to go. Yet I consider myself a very simple person in my thinking and needs. What I have learned is that simplicity often confuses people and hence is labelled ‘complex’. Over analyse is something I do well. So I like to think about things. Especially when it’s a label someone puts on me. I have to at least consider the merits. The eternal rebel within me insists, and it is only fair, not so? I thought long and hard about this ‘nurturing’ vs ‘not nurturing’ label. I care – about people, children, animals, insects, plants, our planet … not necessarily in that order. When my kids were little and they got hurt, my first instinct was to evaluate the damage: blood, swelling, etc. etc. In the absence of, my natural reaction would be to brush it off and send them off to play. Does this come from my own childhood? Or is just my personality? I don’t know. I quickly discovered that what my children wanted, whether there was blood or not, was a kiss and cuddle. And I could do that. I kissed and I cuddled and they were happy. Nurturing? Perhaps, but it was not my natural instinct. It was a learned behaviour. What I can say about myself is that I care and also that I have a very strong sense of duty and responsibility. I will do what I must in order to meet the very high standards of my strict and rigid conscious. Another example is when loved ones get sick. I don’t mean a serious illness, let’s say a cold or the flu. I nurse and I tend and I kiss and I cuddle. Nurturing? No, I do it because my sense of duty and responsibility dictates that I do …and because I care. Sometimes I inwardly sigh and roll my eyes. Sometimes I even mutter out loud. I can only take it up to a point and then in my world, buckle up soldier! Where true nurturers seem to have an unlimited supply of, well, nurturing. Yet if someone is heartbroken, going through trying times, recovering from a serious illness or accident …well, then, I’m all in – and it’s all heart and duty has nothing to do with it. Or when I walk my dog and I see a bee crawling on the pavement and I find a leave to give it a magic carpet ride to my house so I can give it some sugar water in the hopes that it is only tired and not dying …. Or when I help a frail old lady with her trolley … That is nurturing from the heart too, right? I think I have the capacity to nurture, or at least I have learned to be nurturing at times, but I do not think I am a natural …. Having said that, I disagree with the statement that I do not have a nurturing bone in my body. I care deeply and although that is not the same as nurturing, it has to count for something. As always though, when people slap on labels (and yes, a saint I am not, so I’m well aware that I am guilty of this too) one’s permission does not matter and the label sits, irrespective. Note to self: stop and think before labelling. There are many variables in life … black and white, with tons of grey in between … and all is not always as it seems…

09/10/2016

Paying forward. A concept as old as time, though it might have been called differently. It is an honourable thing. Often a lifeline. But paying forward is not only about those lifelines; it’s also about the small, even seemingly insignificant actions – a smile, a hug, a joke, chicken soup for a sick relative, taking an overwrought friend’s children on a playdate so she can go and just be. Sometimes we know when someone makes a “paying forward” gesture; sometimes it goes unnoticed in the normal hustle and bustle of our oh-so-busy lives; especially when it is the small little things. Luckily we can balance the scales, so to speak, by the very act of paying forward those little things. I have so much gratitude for the times in my life when I was the recipient of a “paying forward” gesture. Once, and this one stands out, because it involved a total stranger that remain unanimous to this day. It was many years ago. I had no money, other than the money essential to see us through the rest of the month. In better times I used to treat my children to a burger and milkshake the first Saturday after payday. At that time we were living in post-divorce days and the term ‘better times’ certainly did not apply. Being very young, my children did not understand that I did not have money to uphold our monthly treat any longer. Most of know those days where everything becomes unbearable all at once. I was having one of those days. I looked at my children crying because we couldn’t do our family special –again!- and my heart was breaking. I felt guilty and sad and angry and a failure. The angry part of me saw spoiled little brats. The sad part of me saw children that had to adjust from living a pretty pampered lifestyle to one just this side of poverty. How could I be angry with them when even I, as an adult, was battling to come to terms with everything? In that moment I allowed my heart to overrule my head. And off we went. My children happily agreed to forfeit the burger and have only a milkshake, but the Wimpy had a plain burger on special so that’s what we ordered. I was happy that I could give my children this small treat. I was also worried about the money I didn’t have that had to pay for extravagance. I took my purse out and started counting the coins as that was all I had. When I asked the waitress for the bill, she said that somebody had already settled the bill in full. I looked around but nobody even looked in our direction. I told her that I was very grateful but that I couldn’t accept the offer, and that I would like to thank the person for the kind thought anyway. She replied that our bill was paid and that the person had already left. The only thing I could do to repay that kindness was to do the same thing for someone else …even though it took me about 2 years before I was finally able to afford it. Paying forward is part and parcel of how I choose to live my life. Mostly it is just in the small things that someone might or might not even notice. Today I am trying to pay forward on a bit bigger a scale – to the man that was my first everything … and although we got divorced managed to stay friends and raise our beautiful children; to his wife who put her discomfort, and perhaps even dislike of me, aside to support me as she was the first on scene in a very dark moment in my life …and we became very close friends indeed; to my children who did not escape the divorce unscathed, but was never used as ammunition by their parents and never made to choose sides … Our family and circle of friends now share the sorrow and worry that an unexpected and vicious illness bring and where only the unknown is known. I love you all ###

21/09/2016

Isn't it funny how most of us human beings simply don't learn? And how hindsight is incredibly instrumental in our learning on earth, albeit a totally useless tool at the moment of learning. Today, one year ago, I spoke to my mother for the last time ever. She was very sick and in hospital, but did I think for one moment that my time with her was numbered? No. In hindsight, let me just put it out there that I feel as hostile to hindsight as I do to dear old Murphy, I wish I had rushed to the nearest airport and hopped on a plane. But I didn't, not until the next day and by then I was a day too late. I wish I used the last time we spoke to tell her all the things I somehow couldn't manage to do when she was alive and now have to content myself with telling her in Spirit. I wish I broke down my walls in time. I wish I was brave enough. You know, sometimes when someone hurt us deeply and we erect those walls, it feels so justified, yes? We have to look out for our hearts, make sure we don't leave room to get hurt again, right? Yet I am wondering how it is that my heart is so broken, despite my walls? I am wondering if my heart wouldn't be less broken if I had made my peace and found away around my hurt. And I guess we do that with many people, especially the ones who really hurt us deeply. I'm at a crossroad, I think. It is so much harder to be at the place behind the walls when the person is no longer on earth and there is absolutely no chance of 'patching' things up.... I look at all the horrible things that have happened over the last year: to people I do not know, to people I do know and to people I care really deeply about. And I'm questioning if living behind the wall is my way after all. I hope I find the courage and strength to break down that wall.

09/09/2016

How short life is. And how busy. Somehow the busier we get the shorter life seems. We lose touch, or aren't in touch as often as we should be ...because we forget how short life is. We forget that tomorrow is not guaranteed. Actually, the next minute can bring news that cuts to the core. We have all experienced it. Then there is the resolve to remember how short life is. Resolve to do things differently: to stay in touch, to 'get in touch, to mend fences, to tell those you love that you love them, to use your special perfume every day, to take out your crystal glasses. But then life resumes its busy pace. And we forget yet again. Today someone is being put to eternal rest. I did not get in touch in time. She is so young, we have time, right? Wrong. My heart is so heavy. I'm angry at myself for forgetting that life is short. Haven't I just been reminded not even 2 months ago? And also when my mom passed away - almost a year ago now? Now there's guilt and regret coating the sadness in my heart. I'm sorry that I thought we had all the time in the world and that I would see you again. I'm sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye. Most of all I'm sorry that it was your time and that your husband and children have to find a way to live without their rock ...and that everyone who cared about you have to learn to life without you. You will be missed. RIP ###

04/08/2016

One of my biggest challenges in life is moderation. I have never been able to find that happy medium between ‘too much’ and ‘too little’. When I have a box of chocolate in front of me, there’s no stopping until the last one disappear into my mouth… When I love, it’s with everything I have – in certain circumstances, often way past the ‘sell by’ date… When I work it becomes all consuming, I note not the “Stop” signs or red traffic lights along the way… Over the last year I have had to learn many life lessons in the same fashion – no moderation. Being a very slow learner at the University of Life, my time to have mastered these lessons have apparently run out and the time is now. Needless to say it has been a rollercoaster ride. Sometimes fun and sometimes not so much. Settling in a new country, starting up a business, blah-blah and blah … all without once stopping to smell the roses – again. A big set-back was when my mom passed away …but I pulled myself together in time and learned to live with the hole in my heart. And now another set-back, a crisis in the midst of our family and again I cannot be there to support and be with people that matter to me. I found myself on shaky ground there for a few days. So frustrating for a control-freak like me to not be in charge of my life. I turned to a passion – one that I have always wanted to master, one that I have dabbled with now and again, one that I have not even looked at for close to 7 years. Art. I pulled out my sketch pad and pencils … and I created. It took my an entire day. Lots of frustration at my lack of skill and knowledge, but it took my mind off my heartache, it re-routed my mind …and it fed my soul. I smelled the roses.

26/07/2016

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24/07/2016

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22/07/2016

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21/07/2016

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