Wandering the road of exhaustion and sadness

Posted on March 25, 2015 by perditawayfarer

2014-09-27 13.42.48My soul …she is angry.  Stamping her feet and demanding attention.  She wants to go back to a simpler way of life.  To meditating in the morning, writing in a journal every single day before the day starts in earnest.  Going for long walks in nature for exercise and  for the sheer joy of it.  She is adamant that this is what she needs.  I know this feeling and might just as well just give in right now and do as she demands.

If I don’t, she will make my life a misery.  I will be worse than a prickly pear in heat – flaring up in fury for the tiniest thing.  I will spend precious moments on this planet raging, venting and whining when I could be writing or loving or playing. Enjoying this gift we call Life!

Enough… I cry!   I, of all people, should know that life can change in a heartbeat.  People can die and leave this world – my world – irrevocably changed. Things I counted on can be taken away or shapeshift and leave me bereft, torn and bewildered. It can take years of grieving and laborious healing to feel human again. To trust Life and myself again. To find new dreams to replace those that lie shattered at my feet.

Hello exhaustion, my old friend!

It may well be easier just to heed the call.  Then I won’t wake up at two in the morning worrying about insignificant details like did I leave the plunger coffee out for the guests? Will we have enough clean linen for the next group?

I won’t freak out when the hosting guide leaves all the food out and fills the catering kitchen with fruit flies and our day starts with cleaning up other peoples’ mess.  I won’t rant or rave.  I won’t sit at my keyboard with tears streaming down my face as my fingers hammer the innocent keys into submission.

I will remember what is important to me.  I will allow myself the luxury of tears.  I will cry and then I will dry my tears and start my day.

I will tell those I love what they mean to me so that if I am the one to depart this planet (or if I stay for many years), they will know, without a doubt, exactly how I feel about them. They will know what joy, healing, growth and love they bring into my life.   They will realize how much I cherish them with all their idiosyncrasies and their strengths.  As I pray they love and accept me with my porcupine defences.

I will accept that there will always be another level to heal.  There is no arrival.  There is no place that offers all the answers except the persistent call of the soul to be true.

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To ride is to relate!

Posted on March 2, 2015 by perditawayfarer
Hairdo by BMW

Hairdo by BMW

The first time I got onto the back of our motorcycle, I was aware riding pillion is a special experience.

My father is absolutely opposed to motorbikes. The mere thought of his only daughter on the back of such a monster is horrifying to him. So for most of my life, I spared him the agony.

Until I fell in love with an avid motorcyclist who has been riding the beast for about forty years. On the back of the BMW riding to Greyton under a starry night sky I felt it. A wild and wonderful sense of freedom tinged with a little bit of anxiety. Easily mistaken for exhilaration.

This exuberant joy was intensified by the sheer novelty of defying my own fear and Good Girl tendencies to take a ride on the wild side. I found myself singing in the moonlight while I clung to the driver for dear life.

The Gear

The Gear

The air was crisp and the stars right there above us. Almost within reach. I was thrilled.

A couple of rides later my beloved shared with me that whilst I am undoubtedly a natural pillion, it is a strain if I hang on like a limpet. He explained the holding on tightly meant I was leaning forward adding my own weight to his. I understood immediately that this would place an undue strain on his arms and make the handling of the bike even more difficult.

From that moment on wards I made a point of holding onto the bike or my love’s jacket pockets with my weight firmly in my own seat. That is when it first struck me.

Every time we get on the bike, I can sense exactly where we are in our relationship. If, for any reason, there is stress or strain in our everyday being together, I find myself having to consciously decide to trust. Exactly as I do in our relationship. Choose to trust. Choose to be fully present and engaged. As soon as we are cruising, defying death (my father would chorus) I know with crystal clarity how I feel about us. I also understand Jan’s contention that taking a ride on the bike is a meditation. It has a way of bringing things into sharp focus.

Invariably I gain a sense of purpose after a long trip on the bike. Ideas for stories or blogs such as this one. Or decisions about what I want for myself and us.

I know that I want to be in my own seat, trusting and connected, but playing my own part. Making sure that I go with the flow. Leaning into the corners and making sure that we are in sync.

Trusty Steed

Trusty Steed

Above all, finding the perfect balance between you and me. Between responsibility and trust. Between being aware of the rough road and bumps along the way, as well as the sheer pleasure and joy of the ride. Knowing.. to ride is to relate.

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Lady of Letters

Posted on February 11, 2015 by perditawayfarer
The Lady of Letters

The Lady of Letters

I saw a post on Face Book the other day.  Even “liked” and “shared” it! It was an old-fashioned picture of a little girl.  The old-fashioned ones, especially those with the fifties feel to them always get my attention. I  like and share anything from that era.  Sometimes even if the platitude (that’s what Jan calls them) isn’t something I particularly agree with.

This one was different though. It was about honouring your Inner child. The little girl you were before you felt rejection or life just got to you. About what you liked then when you were whole and felt good about yourself (and life!).

That message spoke to me. It took me back to an Inner Child group I attended in Jo’burg and John Bradshaw’s book “Homecoming”. The letters I wrote to (and from) Little Perdita.  Her letters filled with the desire to be free and live a little! At that age she was already tired of being the “Good Girl”.  Or was that me – the adult version? It doesn’t really matter, I suppose, we are one and the same – Little Perdita and Big Perdita.

The message was about what it is that the mini-you liked to do.  I liked to teach… teddy bears, brothers and friends (real and imaginary!) –all became pupils and were given tasks, books and stars. I imagine I marked the children’s work with a frown of concentration puckering my brow…much as I do now.

Paper, crayons and pens (especially brightly coloured ones) absolutely delighted my little heart and soul.  I once longed with my whole being for a huge set of crayons – the biggest one to be had. Don’t rightly know whether I ever voiced that longing and got my heart’s desire. Chances are I didn’t… because I can remember being very surprised in my middle years after my divorce by the realization that if you want something, you actually have to ask for it!

Even as a scholar in primary school I loved to write! My favourite thing (besides reading) was writing.  I still have an essay I wrote about my first crush dating from my high school days.  I got 85% for that story and kept it long after I let go of most of my mementos.  I know it is not about the then object of my affection, but about the writing. Being acknowledged for my writing. Or was it just the thrill of taking a theme and giving it a surprising twist? That was definitely part of it. I can still feel the joy when I think of it.

This photo of me was taken on an ocean liner as our family crossed the equator on our way to Germany. A fancy dress do. I am dressed as “The Lady of Letters”.  The post reminded me of that six year old me with the realization …that is what I truly am – a writer. A lady of letters.

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On the road again!

Posted on January 31, 2015 by perditawayfarer

For the first time in eighteen months we actually took leave!! Hit the road and travelled up the coast with our trusty Caddy campervan!.

In Knysa we almost had the whole camping site and lovely ablutions to ourselves. We enjoyed some touristy things like visiting The Heads viewpoint …eating oysters. It was really hard to switch off. I abandoned Florrie (who was taking care of Witvoetskloof and Trinity) after finding that a small peek at the phone just doesn’t work! The minute I switched the damn thing on all sorts of gremlins jumped out demanding my attention.  People leaving without paying and other equally juicy little hospitality industry gems jostled with the normal requests for accommodation. I realized again how much I handle on a daily basis. So for the rest of the trip I only answered the Budget Getaway queries and just trusted that Witvoetskloof and Fynbos Retreat would be absolutely fine without me!!

Nothing like a spot of leave to remind one of one’s control issues!!

We soon found that camping has it’s own little quirks. At the first few spots I woke up during the night because of a shrill persistent peeping sound. I was convinced that it was our new camping fridge and that we would be labelled : The Neighbours From Hell! At Port Edward we clicked (at least Jan did) that it was, in fact, a frog call keeping me wake! Guess what? Never heard it again. Go figure?

Travelling through the former Transkei (now the Eastern Cape) was fascinating. Such a beautiful part of our country and amazing to see the changes. For the first part of this journey we were intrigued to see almost no traditional dwellings or shacks. Just neat houses spotting the countryside. Many signs pointing to schools and clinics although we saw very few children actually on their way to school!

Port St Johns was a shock to the system. Such a beautiful place – we found it run down and filthy! Arriving late in the afternoon we searched for quite a while before settling on an enclave: The Spotted Grunter. Our host assured us they had a good festive season and that the town had looked neat and presentable! If you say so…

We spent four nights in Scottburgh and really pushed the camping envelope with a self-designed gazebo type addition to our tent. The caravan park is quite famous. Situated on the beach, it is definitely a well-run establishment. Being in the industry ourselves, we can’t help checking out the water and power arrangements, the bathroom fittings and trash cans. Fascinating stuff!

St.Lucia was great. We chose an air-conditioned self-catering cottage. Neither of us relished the thought of encountering an irate hippo or hungry croc on our nocturnal way to the ablutions! Or melting in the heat for that matter.

Too soon it was time to head home via Golden Gate and Clarens. Too beautiful for words. All in all an amazing trip!

Hippo's at Isimangilso - Place of wonder and Miracles!

Hippo’s at Isimangiliso – Place of Wonder and Miracles!

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Unbelievable

Posted on January 12, 2015 by perditawayfarer
Early morning misty dam at Arum Lily House, Witvoetskloof. Photo: Tracey Shaw

Early morning misty dam at Arum Lily House, Witvoetskloof. Photo: Tracey Shaw

Here I am. The Wayfarer. Shocked to see that the last blog I posted was in April 2014. It feels like yesterday … I have been writing on the Fynbos Retreat website. Posting on the Facebook pages about the daily comings and goings at Witvoetskloof. Relating snippets about the hiking groups as they pass through. Or documenting our trials and tribulations with the supply  of water and power off the grid. The fact that I have not written on this, my personal blog, is surely very telling. The story of my life. Where work invariably becomes the life I live. Not that I can complain about my life, mind you.. I live on a beautiful farm ten kilometres into the fynbos. We have a lovely house ..a real genuine Phoenix that rose from the ruins of an old foreman’s cottage. My bath and shower are clad in stone collected in the area and I get to grow vegetables and herbs. We’ll forget for a moment that most of the fresh produce gets devoured or destroyed by birds, pests and baboons! It came up for me again the other day that I am living in one of the pictures on my vision board made in Fisherhaven in around 2008 or 2009 or thereabouts. As I write both my (now grown up) children are visiting us. The man I love and share my life, bed (and work) with, is sleeping peacefully in this home. What greater blessing can there be? My father and both my brothers have been to visit as well.  Granted not all at the same time, but they have all been to Milkwood Cottage and shared the solitude and grace of this special place. My faithful soul has woken me up, like so many times before. to call me back to write. Today is my birthday and the call to show up at the keyboard was so powerful that it has me typing away at 4am while Witvoetskloof  sleeps under a beautiful clear and starry sky. It never ceases to amaze me how natural it feels once I am here. How I feel when I am writing. It is a part of me almost like a limb or breathing. Although, if it were the latter I would be long gone the way I deny myself the joy of being here. A recurring theme and by no means unique to me . The writer’s lament .. Maybe, just maybe, this year will be different. This new year of my life will be one in which I love myself enough to sit here often with words flowing from my heart and fingers. That I have the discipline to show up time and time again. In good weather and bad. When I feel like it and when I don’t , maybe ,  just maybe this will be my year to write. May it be so. May the Wayfarer travel down literary paths where words, phrases and images dance like leaves rustling in the wind! May my fingers play the tune and sing the song of writers through the ages! May my heart ebb and flow with the yearnings of the storyteller, the narrator, the spinner of yarns. May it be fun, joyous and light. May it be so in 2015.

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That thing again!

Posted on April 16, 2014 by perditawayfarer
Perfection in a bowl!

Perfection in a bowl!

Throughout my life there have been these little freaky coincidences. Signs along the way, that have amazed and humbled me. They have also delighted me with their quirkiness and absolute perfection.
Today I experienced another one of those special moments.
Those of you who know me, know that I love to write. Too often, I must confess too, I’m inclined to talk about writing and my love of the word. Rather than buckling down and just doing it. Human after all.
Since being here at Fynbos Retreat , and really longing to write about this part of the journey, I have started to question why it is that I deny myself this pleasure. The joy of sitting and putting down my thoughts on paper (or screen nowadays!). I know, as a Capricorn ( if you believe in star signs and their supposed predispositions) or as the eldest child in my family, I am duty bound. Responsible, thorough, ever striving to get it right. It is even clear on my face. I have this puckered frown, rumple an almost permanent , dare I say it, “wrinkle” between my eyes that speaks of concentration and strain. In moments of total relaxation it is not there, I am told.
There has always been another bed to make or pizzas to prepare or a booking to handle. Some days I have been tired from the Jack & Jill trip up and down the hill to Arum Lily. If I’m honest I have to admit if I really wanted to – or maybe it is not that – maybe it is simple- just decided to….I actually did have time. Or I could have made the time to do what I am doing now. Losing myself (or is it finding myself, creating myself) as I write. Why didn’t I?
I suppose part of it, is that fear of sucking at it. Being a bad writer. Or not getting it right. Lately though there is this little voice that whispers something along the lines of: “Why are you so unkind to yourself? Why do you think you have to earn the right to take some time to write?” I am beginning to think it is deep seated thing with me. If I know one thing after 55 years on this planet that probably means I am not the only one. The only one who fills their days with “have to’s and should’s and must ‘s when there is longing that constantly tugs and calls. A call that eventually must be obeyed. When I answer that call I am happy. I feel joy. I feel pretty and witty and gay (happy that is ala Blast From The Past).
So here is the quirky, freaky happening! Today I sat down and wrote a blog which has been fermenting for months (maybe even from the very beginning of our time here). Not this one, but one about my first impressions of Fynbos Retreat. Guess what happened?
An e-mail arrived inviting people in the Overberg region to enter the Homegrown Bloggers Challenge 2014. I rest my case.
Perdita Van Dijk Du Bois

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It is time!

Posted on July 11, 2013 by perditawayfarer

Once again it is time. In the wee hours of the morning I am propped up in bed. Just like in some Hollywood movie scene  – tapping away on my laptop with my beloved fast asleep next to me. Most un–Hollywood like a paraffin lamp supplies light for this nocturnal operation.

How he can sleep , is beyond me! My soul is so filled with joy because I am heeding  its persistent call at long last.. Surely heaven’s  bells  are ringing loud and clear? If he is deaf to the bells, maybe he can sense my little inner child? That blonde tousled haired rascal is doing a Sister Act dance of delight.  Her thumbs in her ears , she is waving her minute fingers, crowing: ”Told you so, nanana! All of this, just because I have not been writing as I know my soul longs to and have been bad tempered as a result.

Someone remarked the other day when I was lamenting my present lack of literary productivity : “Well, you are probably living what you will write about” and no doubt that is true.

We are packing in quite a bit of living at the moment. Life has once again brought us to a truly beautiful place. Living and working on Witvoets Kloof, tucked away in the fynbos mountains behind Bodhi Khaya, we are running Fynbos Retreat. Originally a flower picking farm, it is now used to accommodate hikers and other nature lovers as part of a joint tourism venture between Grootbos and Flower Valley.  This piece of paradise, with it’s amazing serene dams and tranquil natural surroundings has captured my heart.

FUN! Hard work for sure too: physical – making beds, cleaning, to-ing and fro-ing , dealing with all the many aspects of the hospitality industry. Getting used to living off- the- grid :  gas appliances and three hours of diesel generator time for lighting only for guests!

Temporarily housed in a minuscule  restored farm worker’s cottage, nicknamed “Snowdrop” in honour of the small patch of my mother’s favourite flowers in front, we are as busy as the ladybirds that bless this space. Close by, a dedicated team of builders are beavering away.  A miracle in the making, it seems to me – a derelict old crumbling structure becoming a managers’ house .   A brand new gable sports a hand-written  : ”2013”!

The miracle in the making

The last few days have been spent cleaning and making our temporary nest live able -clearing the plants around the cottage away to keep moisture at bay.  Jan has been crafting a path from stones and old building rubble to keep sand away from the front door which in typical farm style is really the back door!

All of this, as we ready ourselves and this magnificent wilderness place, for the many hikers especially those walking The Walker Bay Fynbos Trail and other visitors who will grace us with their presence. Also hopefully  keeping my soul happy writing the odd blog early in the morning…

Check out our beautiful space : www. fynbosretreat.com

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Be Brave! Be A (BMW) Biker!

Posted on November 25, 2012 by perditawayfarer

I should have known! Every time the man in my life spoke about The Ostrich Run he got this boyish glee excitement glow that I find so irresistible. He told me all about the scrumptious and abundant food at Kleinplasie in Oudtshoorn where we would stay, looked at me with bright, eager eyes when he asked if I would join him.

After our previous trip through the Richtersveld I should have known that the boyish glee is almost certainly caused by adrenalin which he loves to get from physical sports of many kinds…marathon running, swimming, diving, hiking, cycling and the king of kings: motor biking!! Preferably off road -the rougher and the more technically challenging- the better.

As a relative newcomer to the world of motor bike riding, I am finding this biker’s world a great adventure with a lot of new experiences and little details to learn along the way.

The thrill and freedom (and sometimes sheer terror!) of travelling at high speed on the back of our white BMW GS 800 is amazing. Everything seems brighter and clearer and more beautiful. I don’t know whether it is fear of death that makes for such a heightened sense of awareness – all I know is I love the feeling!

The world of motor biking has something for everyone. If you are into clothes and fashion, a delight awaits you .. There are accessories, garments of all kinds, gadgets and gizmos too.  When my love took me to buy kit, I absolutely drew the line at wearing the word :”Assault” on my person and opted for a jacket with a feminine touch.  You do get pink biker jackets, but that seemed like cheating to me ..too girlie …I am a biker chick now I growl.

I love the buffs and have one in almost every colour! This indulges my love of colour in a relatively inexpensive way.  I can even wear them as scarves or arm and head bands when not riding, but I digress.  Buffs are really useful to keep your neck warm or keep the dust out or even to tame unruly hair under your helmet. I have found it great to wet your buff to keep you cool when it is  hot. And ladies (or should I say fellow newcomer pillion riders to be gender pc!) , in case your driver forgets to tell you… your jacket will probably have vents that you can open to cool you down in hot weather.

I love the people I have met on the outrides we have done with others . They seem to be a wide and varied bunch united by their passion and love for nature, fun and motor bikes. They are jovial (often a wee bit competitive in the nicest possible way)and love to tease. It takes a while to get all the insider jokes, but my advice is just laugh any way – you can’t go wrong. It is all about having fun!

Image

Kitted out. In the Richtersveld with the cairn we built.

 

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It is 4h40 am and I am home

Posted on October 23, 2012 by perditawayfarer

It is 4h30 am. I am awake and cannot go back to sleep.  I am being called. Called to do what I love. To write. To let words and thoughts flow from me. To let the joy that is in my heart find its way from my heart through my fingers to the beautiful new keyboard I have gifted myself with just for my writing.

I have not written my blog for a while now. My wonderful trip and stay in Prince Albert came and went and I came back to work.  I live and work at a truly beautiful place called Bodhi Khaya (very roughly translated meaning “home of awakening or enlightenment”). It is situated just outside Gansbaai on an old historic farm called Baviaansfonteyn which is covered in fynbos and ancient forests of milk wood and other indigenous trees and plants.

On the wall outside my flat at Bodhi Khaya. Picture taken by Siobhan.

I live with a group of people who have become my family over the year that I have worked here.  They have helped me heal and grow and become more whole, more me, just be accepting me the way I am. And miraculously just be being who they are. Has it been easy? Plain sailing? No, it certainly hasn’t always been a walk in the park and yet it has.  I have lived more and learnt more and without a doubt laughed more than I have ever before in my entire life.

Arriving back from leave, I honestly felt divided. As if my spirit were split. Part of me was still in Prince Albert, that beautiful Karoo town that stole my heart with its wind pumps and cement dams, lime green mountains, creativity and sense of community. Another part of me was with the man I love overseas. And another part still, and my body, that until so recently underestimated part of me, was here, in this exquisite place I call home and work.

As I set about picking up the threads of my work life, I gradually called my spirit back. It helped that I still had contact with my temporary home in the Karoo . I was asked to write about the PArt Festival for the local newspaper, the “Prince Albert Friend”.  It helped that I had photographs and memories and also loving colleagues who welcomed, watched and reminded me to “Take it easy. Ease back into it!” This from Siobhan, who is visiting us from Ireland. So these admonishments have a delightful Irish twang when they ring in my ears and guide me and urge me to curb my usual inclination to want to get on with it , to have things done and dusted. IMMEDIATELY!!

So it is that I think I am beginning get an inkling of what our beloved retreat manager, David, means when he says: “We are our own home”.

Guess where my two sister/colleagues, Chantel and Siobhan, are spending a few days? That’s right….Prince Albert in the Karoo. 

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Praying my goodbyes!

Posted on October 13, 2012 by perditawayfarer

I am back at the beautiful Bodhi Khaya. Sitting at my desk. Trying to motivate myself to pick up the threads of my work here.  But, it feels as if a part of my soul is still in Prince Albert, the magical place that was my home for the past three weeks.

As I packed up on Thursday this title repeatedly came to me :”Praying my goodbyes”. It comes, I think, from an article or book I read many years ago about loss and rituals for letting go.

As I put the cottage back the way I had found it, I used one of those rituals. In my mind I thanked Life and each space for the time I spent there. Also all the wonderful people I met during my stay in the Karoo.

I took photographs of every nook and cranny even though I know trying to capture the essence of what I experienced between those walls is not possible. Maybe it is not even necessary.  Because everything I saw and felt and went through is surely part of me now.

ImageI drove to the entrance to Prince Albert to take pictures of the lime green mountain as you enter the town. The visitor’s board also featured.  It is special sign. I don’t know why, but it is humble. When Jan and I went walking in the Swartberg Pass we passed it and I pointed it out. He felt just the way I did.

ImageSitting here, I feel sad. Everyone was glad to see me and welcomed me back. Bodhi Khaya is still the beautiful, loving place I left when I went on this adventure.  But the Karoo has irrevocably stolen a part of my heart.

When I close my eyes, I still see the blue. blue skies with tiny white wispy clouds and tall wind pumps silhouetted against the rock strewn veld.  I hear water in the furrow racing into one of the oblong or round stone dams, see children playing. I remember the early morning Karoo light streaming past the beautiful embroidered Greek cloth that covers the small kitchen window. The cheerful greetings of passersbys fill my ears. I imagine walking briskly down the main street past Mix, the hotel, the Victorian house becoming a guest house called “Sudden Comfort”.

Image

I picture the pretty prison and “Bougain Villa” with its brightly coloured blossom vines trained over the white walls, the Prince Albert Country store with Fred’s welcome mat, Sanderson linen cushions on the wicker chairs and all over the town: black mourning ribbons wrapped around trees gently, insistently protesting fracking in the Karoo.

I know there is plenty more I want to share about this place that was so good to me.  In the recalling I will gradually call my spirit back to be here with the rested and restored me.

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