As I read the Saturday morning papers

A friend gave me a copy of Parabola, a fabulous quarterly magazine that embodies a spiritual focus. In it was this new poem by the extraordinary and radiant poet American poet, Mary Oliver

The Morning Paper

Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition
is the best
for by the evening you know that you at least
have lived through another day)
and let the disasters, the unbelievable
yet approved decisions
soak in.

I don’t need to name countries,
ours among them.

What keeps us from falling down, our faces
to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?

Watch your thoughts

There is always an unexpected and welcome moment in my yoga practice… today we were asked to notice where we send our energy, where we place our attention… a timely reminder for me who loves nothing better than to wallow in repetitive thought patterns… I think I have shared this age-old quote before but I am a slow learner…

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.
Watch your words, for they become actions.
Watch your actions, for they become habits.
Watch your habits, for they become character.
Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.

Patience… yeh right…

In the coaching that I have been doing recently I have reflected to clients the importance of trusting process work and not being impatient… unfortunately I don’t really heed my own advice… and now being back I have found myself swimming upstream – given I’m not a spawning salmon this is not doing me any good… So I am trying to find a way to allow this year to continue to unfold in its natural order… and to return to the sense of trust and belief that I had in Cape Town… and allowing whatever no longer serves me to fall away and allow new possibility in… There is a wise coach I know 🙂


Just emerging from jetlag, still a little dishevelled and fragile… the bubble of joyous abandon has burst and now the reality of not having formal employment and what my next step is has already begun to fill my thoughts… although I made a promise to myself I would not do anything rash for a month while I found my way back to my life here… I have a theory that when we travel our soul takes way longer than our physical body to arrive and that the general malaise one feels is really the split… It has been a few days of black and white – the things I love about Cape Town are not present here and the things I love about Sydney are not there… I left the anarchy and wildness of South Africa and arrived back to well-behaved, clean, working Australia… I know I have to go with the flow but I am aching to take a break on the banks on the river and just get my breath back… the next month will be an interesting process…

One more day

Freezing in Joburg and the bubble of beautiful Cape Town has been removed by the icy fingers of this city… I feel like my 3 months has finally come to an end and I am leaving for Oz… which of course I am tomorrow… and awaiting me is the reality of earning a living which feels like it may spoil the fun 😦

Socks from the universe

or maybe just bad housekeeping…:-) I left all my socks at the spa and so I rang a friend and said when he came to visit yesterday he needed to loan me a pair of his as I wanted my last promenade along the mighty Atlantic… A while later I saw lying under the curtain a pair of man’s socks that obviously the cleaners hadn’t found but I had… and as is my way I had to give it profound meaning… that I asked the universe (read my friend) for help (socks) and it provided immediately (someone else’s lost pair)… Now much to my own mirth I am trying to work out the metaphor of socks and the universe as I pack to leave the mother city… filled with gratitude and joy for my magical time here… I wonder what awaits me next – more socks?

I had to update

Reality may not meet your expectations but a discussion – clear and crisp with front of house… not rude just present… and suddenly I was moved to a room with a sideview of the ocean and now I am contentedly drinking green tea, listening to the ocean and thinking how much I love the Radisson Blu 🙂 and preparing for the final round of drinks and dinners…


This is a continuing theme for me… whenever I hold expectations the reality is nothing like what I hope for… I had built up my two special days at the Radisson Blu with such a joy and excitement that somehow my departure would be made sweeter and easier by spending a fortune and imbibing the beauty and aroma of the Atlantic… I arrived today to find they had put me into a room at the back of the hotel overlooking the carpark… the only aromas I have are the car exhausts and a huge sense of deflation… perhaps this will make my departure sweeter and easier…

My way

It is just an admission… I start off hating it and then I end up loving it… so my 70’s down-at-heel spa turned into a beautiful experience… you can almost bet on that behaviour… I am hesitant, wary and then sort of boots and all… so with three more days in Cape Town I feel ready for the departure in a kind of disbelieving way… I have been dedazzled and enchanted with the place… and today I found out that my poor ancient cat had an epileptic episode so I figure this is my cue that is time to return home (or at least to one of them)…

I do love a good spa

So I snuck out of Cape Town for a couple days to a spa (I know like I needed to relax anymore)… the problem is this is not a good spa… it feels locked in the 70s and has an ancient and unkempt air about it and even the gowns have passed their use-by-date… but there are some interesting people and I have been reading a fabulously wordy book – The Privileges by Johathan Dee… I had to share with you my Cocoon wrap from this afternoon… the tiniest therapist – she couldn’t have been more than 4 feet high covered me in salt and began to sandpaper my body like she was preparing me for polyfilla and painting… I screamed out in pain but this seemed to make the tiny creature injure me more… when we finished with the removal of my top layer of skin (and several others as well) I was thrown into a murky blue bath of hot water and nursed my wounds for 10 minutes… I was finished off like poached chicken – slathered in oil and a mask and then wrapped in cling-wrap for 15 minutes… I thought she may bring in a broiler just to finish me off… I escaped and escape formally tomorrow to a world of shiraz, samoosas, chocolate and final farewells…