Cathie's Column

2011-12-24T05:13:00.000-08:00

A blog a day keeps the writer at bay!

It's hard for me to think that I haven't written since February this year. What have I been doing? It feels like I have been writing, I wonder if writing on Facebook counts? :)
The good thing about this time of the year, is that we get a chance to reflect back, and consider everything that has happened. This year a lot happened, for everyone!
Many runs, trips, deaths, traumatic events, illnesses, visits, teatimes, and courses. Mind you all of this didn't happen to me directly, but did happen to my larger circle.

Personally, I went on a train to see if I could be a writer, I flew in a plane to visit my dad, I went on a bus to run from the Cango Caves, flew on another plane to get my second Comrades medal, attended a writing course which knocked my novel back by 20 000 words, my niece and great nephews visited me, counselled, laughed, cried, ate, drank and said goodbye to an Aunt.

My year sped up as I slowed down, and I'm sitting suspended in the belief that I do 'know it's Christmas' (thanks Band Aid) but shaking my head, because I don't feel ready for it. My tree went up with me putting up the decorations on my own, the first time in years that I haven't had a sibling's offspring help me. I must admit, it wasn't half as much fun on my own. I'm still planning where I'm going to go for the day, meanwhile that decision was has already been made. Even the Christmas cake 3/4 (finished) hasn't really convinced me of the time of the year, although I am solely responsible for the 3/4's demise. Such is the burden of the only one in the house that eats fruitcake :)

Hubby is doing his neighbourly thing, by cleaning up pavements of last night's wind storm, our lawn, he mowed, and readying for the visitors. Wait, we aren't having visitors, we are doing the visiting! The cool weather is a welcome relief to the oppressive heavy heat we've been having the past few weeks. The mid-season marker has been and gone, and yet, it still feels like mid-October. Sigh. I wonder if another piece of Christmas cake will shake me out of this time restriction, let me give it a try...

Merry Christmas everyone!

2011-02-16T13:25:00.000-08:00

'Just shout if you need anything...'

That is the kind of thing that people say when they are trying to console someone who has been told terrible news. But the person is usually in shock and can't ever bring themselves round to asking for real help. So often flowers, food, and cards are a way of trying to make our own selves feel better and feel less helpless.
Cancer is an ugly word. It wreaks havoc wherever it goes. People have a universal fear of it, and a helplessness whenever faced with someone who has been given this life sentence with no parole. So many people have crossed it's devastating path, and so many people are left behind reeling in the after affects.
My sister has left behind a hollow dark space, where she once glowed. But the 'good' side to her having this illness on the other side of the globe is that her family was not left with huge medical bills, and expenses that wring out every last ounce of energy. Thanks to the British NHS, those money troubles were non existant.
However here on our stark piece of the planet, so many people are not so 'lucky'.
My friend is one of those. In a world where so many generous kind people throw money at pink ribbons, cancer research and other charities, a person I love is faced with the prospect of not having enough money for whatever she needs.
Years ago I started up a women's network, primarily because she inspired me. A phenomenal, ordinary woman. Mother of twin boys, now divorced, she has faced life with a lightness of spirit always putting other people first. She makes the world around her lighter and all that come into her light can see it. Except she can't, because she is blind. That has never stopped her from doing much. She has even offered to drive my car when I kept stalling it!
Now, after losing a kidney and some of her colon last year, but sense of humour intact, she has found out that the cancer is now sitting in her liver and on her spine. She mentioned to me, that she would like to try complementary therapies, and asked about some things that I could help her with, but then she said 'of course, all these things cost money..'
This played over and over in my head as to how unfair life seems. She is facing a huge question mark over her life and she has to hold herself back, because of money. So I decided I would do what she can't bring herself to do.
Shout for help.
Money please.
Anything will do.

I know us South African's are hounded by people who want our hard earned cash. Put your car in reverse and there is an outstretched had. Stop at a traffic light and there's an outstretched hand, push your trolley to the car and there's an outstretched hand, go to church and there's an outstretched hand. Turn on the TV and there's an outstretched hand, admire a view anywhere and there's an outstretched hand. So I know that we are all 'given out'. Yet still I ask.
I have heard people say to beggars 'now don't spend it on booze/drugs/cigarettes' But if you give, you have to give unconditionally. After all people give primarily to make themselves feel better. If my friend wants to spend all/or any money that has been given to her on a new pair of shoes because it makes her feel better, then yey, good for her. If she wants to spend the money on having some fun with her 12 year old boys, then yey. If she uses it to fund a homeopathic cure then yey. If she buys chocolate, then yey. But instead she sits and worries about how she is going to manage financially.

So dear people. I am asking you to help. Any amount will help. You can donate anonymously if you like, or give your name.
Her Bank details are:
K Teunen
FNB Clearwater
Branch code: 251141
Acc # 62059605314

I want to make up a website for her and others so you can donate directly via Paypal if you are overseas. I will keep you all posted.
Thanks in advance
lots and lots of love

2011-01-24T13:21:00.000-08:00

Laingsburg
This time last week I was spending my first night in a very nice B+B in Laingsburg. I had travelled by train which is such an awesome way to travel, even if there are some strange looking travellers (of course - not meaning me!). I had set out on an adventure by myself which is in some ways unusual for me. I also wanted to go back the little town that had stamped itself on my heart while running the Karoo Ultra marathon last year.

Now on the eve on the town's 30 anniversary of the natural disaster which wiped out 183 houses, an Old Aged home, shops, school hostel and took 104 people's lives, my thoughts return to this town.

Nature is expected to take it's course in harsh ways from time to time, and freakish events do happen. Flooding in SA at the moment is mentioned on every news bulletin, wreaking havoc wherever it goes. What makes Laingsburg's 1981 flood so more impressionable on me is the state of the river bed. For most of the year, it is a wide, dry, barren stretch of flat land that shows 4x4 tracks, footsteps and tumbleweed. On my visit I even saw sheep grazing on the sparse tufts of grass! Flooding is expected next to river beds, that are in constant flow and the occasional freak wave at the coast can almost be excused too. To stand in the middle of the Buffels river under the railway bridge which is very very high and think that this was the scene of the most powerful flood and devastation makes my blood chill. The soaring temperatures of around 40 degrees enveloped me in heat. The heat came up from the ground and crept in my trouser legs and in my nostrils and ironically felt like it was suffocating me, except it wasn't. New sightings of freckles on my skin, surprised me, and my face shone bright red thanks to the lack of sunblock. The sand curled upwards in it's dryness and crackled under my feet.

I spent a lot of time shaking my head in amazement trying to comprehend the absurdity of that flood. How can something so rare that it is recorded as the worst flood in 2 centuries have really happened? Marker boards all around the town give the flood level and some history to what happened. This has become a tourist attraction for the town and for some it may be a little morbid, but the fact that it was in my recent history and there are still some people living to tell their tale fascinates me. The flood museum was started by Mrs Francis van Wyk who seems to be the mother of the town. Gathering most of the information, and salvaged relics, she also seems to be the guardian of the memories, and realises with such depth what her townsfolk went through emotionally.

Karoo folk have been accused of being hard and tough, but I found them quite the opposite. Strong, most definitely, but with such a simple sincerity of heart and respect for the land, it astounded me. Especially as these people were so betrayed by nature and ripped of their soul.

Thirty years on, they have built up a town which has a lovely energy with a hint of reservation. Who can blame them for that? The buildings have all been rebuilt and after 30 years it is sometimes difficult to know which houses have been replaced as it all looks so in place. Gaping wounds have long since stopped bleeding, but for some there may be deep scars. My curiosity as to what happened next was not quite fulfilled as people weren't expecting to talk about that. Most people talk about the flood, so the pain in the aftermath of repair sometimes gets forgotten.

Precautions have been put into place with no residential buildings in the front lying areas closest to the railway bridge. The two streets that got literally washed away have been replaced by a peaceful golf course with bragging rights of being the only grass course in the Karoo. Ironically it is looking a little tattered as they are experiencing a bit of a drought and the underground wells are dry. The schools are full and it's back to business with Citiliners stopping for refreshments at the service stations and filling the tills with much needed revenue. The national road still serves as a main source of income with weary travellers resting overnight, and the curious stretch their legs around the two streets of commerce. Geological finds attract the interested and some of the deposits nearby are unique to the area, and possibly the world. There are plans on building a wind farm in the nearby Moordenaar's Karoo which will bring construction people needing beds. Farmers experiment with different crops to maximise their viability in this harsh climate.

Locals here are inclined to say a lot of hello's and goodbye's in any day, but to their town they remain committed and faithful. It takes a lot for people to stay here, but it seems to take even more for them to leave.

2010-12-17T06:07:00.000-08:00

Layering

Life is funny. Just when you think you have it all figured out along comes an event that makes it all go *ping* and leaves you scratching your head in confusion. Such an event for me recently, was a school reunion.
Now I have heard of people avoiding these events but for me, I love them, It brings up all sort sof pop-psychology type questions and this recent event was even more unusual.

Our high school was a new one in our town, and this meant that pupil numbers was initially quite low, until at last we had a full compliment of standards from Standard 6 to Matrics (or Standard 10). I was in the third year of matrics and we were only a small cluster of pupils, around 80 I think. We had had a 10 year reunion and it was my job to round everyone up and I had a good idea of what everyone was up to and what they looked like. This was all fine then and throughout the years we heard bits and pieces about school mates, and then the social network phenomenon exploded and suddenly the small world of our small townsfolk expanded. Past pupils have spilled out into the big globe and show up from all sorts of angles on our blue planet.

This recent reunion was not confined to a specific school year, but rather the first decade. Our school's pupils were all invited to show up and join in the fun.This is where my confusion started as there were many familiar faces, but names escaped me as the 'youngsters' turned up, making me stretch into my very thin memory banks. This is where I experienced the *ping* feeling. Layers of neatly arranged memories all individually wrapped for what was supposed to be eternity now had an arrow darting right through the middle of them. The aftershock meant that my brain scrambled for things, anything to try and plant the new faces into the alloted slots all without the help of 'Facebook' and the information gleaned there! Names sounded familiar, but the visual images didn't correspond to what data I had collected and I felt almost rude not recognising people who obviously had some recollection of me!

In high school, us 'seniors' didn't really pay much close attention to the younger ones unless there were 'qualifying' characteristics, but on this night, I wished I had! My anxiety rose as my brainfry wasn't really clearing and when I chatted to my one friend, she admitted she was feeling nervous too. This calmed me a little when I realised that I wasn't the only one who was feeling out of sorts! I was shocked to see my past schoolgirl crushes and their dramatic changes throughout the past 28 years. I didn't think that I had changed that much, or have I?

Eventually I relaxed and watched with my 'pop-psychology' eyes, and really began to enjoy the confusion, reminiscing and laughter. That night I am sure there was closer examination of laughter lines and waistbands, but the most surprising thing for me was my own *ping*. Slowly the realisation dawned on me that the 'boys' were the most changed, as I remembered them as boys and now they are men. When I had figured that out, I could slowly start to pack up the layers of memory banks once more, this time leaving some space in between the layers, understanding that life has a lovely way of surprising me once more!

Viva my own Bermuda triangle!

2010-12-07T05:03:00.000-08:00

Slithers of Soap

Growing up in a large family there are certain things that I got to experience. I never realised how my life might be different to the rest of the planet in the aspect of washing. With only two people in my household now, I realise that not everyone fights with slithers of soap. I took it for granted in my youth.

After 9 people jostling for a spot in the shower, I have very little recollection of using a full cake of soap. Many a morning was spent trying to rescue the largest remaining slither from the wet floor before it vanished down the drain forever. Sometimes I was lucky and there was still a 'beauty sized' remnant of soap left and shower time seemed much quicker, because there was no need for a soap search. But more often than not, nimble fingers and soapy eyes, made for interesting exercises in the early hours.

Now in my adult world, I rarely get to see the soap slithers, and it's only when hubby goes away for long periods at a time when my fingers realise that they are smaller in their grasp as I have let the soap shrink down past the manageable size, in our shower.

I was curious to see how long I could keep using this specific portion before I relented and got a new bar. Each morning, the memories would rush back into my distracted sleepy mind, as the srinking soap uncovered the grappling of my youth. The fancy gels and bottles which I sometimes use are great, but I must admit that slithers of soap take me to different places of my life long ago.

Who would have thought that memories could be made of this?

2010-11-20T12:50:00.000-08:00

Tonight, my dear friend's mum died. She didn't pass away easily. It was hard and tortured, much like the last few months of her life. Her mum had cancer, an ugly, monster of an illness, which is unbearable to have and unbearable to watch. Now my friend is sitting stunned and shocked and has a bumpy stretch of the road ahead of her.
I tried to support her the best I can these past few months, and as I sit here late at night wondering if my friend is okay, it brings so many memories back into my mind. When my mum died, I was surrounded by loving people, a huge clan who were all experiencing the same loss, that we could share. My friend is an only child. My sad tortured dad was still here to watch over, and even if he looked like he wished himself away too, he was there to comfort, to still have one parent. My friend is now an adult orphan.
I had a loving husband, who watched over me, who made me endless cups of tea, and looked after the routine of daily life as I tried hard to steady myself. The quick, sudden death of mum, left a huge hole, a space that can never be filled, and at that time, I was too stunned to really comprehend what a life without her would mean.
My friend had lived a routine for the past few months, in that she was waiting for death. I know what that feels like too, and it is ghastly. The routine where the body manages to get some sort of 'normalcy' over a very 'un-normal' situation. With bated breath she weaved her way through the endless days of knowing what was to come.
When it does come, there is no more clarity as to what to do. Numbness as the initial stages of grief take hold. The automatic functions of sorting things out are done mechanically, and handled. Feelings still too far suppressed to be retrieved.
Grief is an unusual emotion. There is no predictability, no 'normal', no road map. The 'stages' of grief have been documented, but unless you have experienced it, the words of the stages are simply ink on a page.
Mechanics is what happens initially as people try to help you through the process, guiding and comforting as bet they can, yet nothing seems to sink in, until later. Much later.
Then the feelings rush to the surface demanding release, often by this time the people are gone. Comfort is not offered as readily, and quizzical looks are given instead. Death is such a huge part of life, yet, we are so inexperienced at handling it. It makes us raw, vulnerable, exposed, angry, and a touch crazy.
My friend is facing a tough time ahead, please help me send her love.

2010-10-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

My 'already in the bucket list'

In 2008, I watched the movie 'The Bucket List' and I, like many started thinking about making up my own list of things to do before I die. I sat down and decided to write. Lists don't come easy to me I know, but I never thought that something so nice, would feel so difficult. I made a few notes, and then I realised that I have a small problem in saying what I want. In fact it is more of a problem in 'knowing' what I want. So I decided to turn it around and make a list of all the spectacular things that I have done/ experienced. This list was far easier to write, and on stumbling on it the other night I thought it would be good for me to share it, so here it is!

Bungee jumped off Gourits river bridge
Ran the Comrades, Two Oceans and Karoo Ultra Marathons
Took a photo for Jerry Hall
Hiked the Fish River Canyon
Did a circus trapeze in Cape Waterfront
Have George Benson in my most embarrassing moment
Climbed the Drakensberg
Skied in Swiss Alps
Rocked live with INXS, David Bowie, Live and many many more
Had a fish braai on the Cape West Coast
See rhino, lion and giraffe up close
Been on tv, by accident and on purpose
Seen people at their moment of death
Seen shooting stars
Been interviewed on radio
Miked up presidents of countries
Been in a helicopter over Plettenberg bay with the door open
Met many big name golfers
Travelled in a taxi with Rian Crywagen
Flown in the cockpit of an 8 seater jet
Filmed Ollie Viljoen and his orkes in the Weskaap
Slept under the stars
Walked the 100 mile West Highland Way, from Glasgow to For William
Met Pierce Brosnan
Stayed at Sabi Sabi Game lodge
Parasailed
Been on the back of a very fast motorbike
Been in magazines
Spoken to 80 people in one sitting
Eaten Koren Black Pig, in Korea
Seen Ronaldo and Ronaldinho up close
Pissed off the German Football Manager at the world cup in 2000
Seen the biggest Buddist temple in Korea
Had Pope John Paul wave directly at us
Seen Princess Di
Eaten lamb tail (urg)
Seen Richard Branson twice
Never managed the Rubik's cube
Got lost in a forest in Swaziland
Laughed myself sore
Danced with all my soul
Asked Duran Duran for autographs
Almost been knocked over by a bicycle in Amsterdam
Been on a tram in Melbourne

2010-10-11T00:55:00.000-07:00

Sea of pink

I have realised something about myself these past few years, and that is when I have profound things happen to me I HAVE to write about them! It's' so great to be able to put it out 'there' instead of keeping it locked in 'here'!

I have an angry aversion to red ribbons, white ribbons but particularly pink ribbons. My heckles rise, when I see ad's with glorious, normal women rant about their cancer and surviving it. My throat thickens in rage, when people ask me to show my support for breast cancer research. This reaction still surprises me, as I am normally a passive (possibly passive aggressive-ssh!) person. I don't like fighting, although I enjoy a good debate, so my reaction to the pink movement takes me off guard. Especially because my gorgeous sister, Joanne, lost her life to this torrid disease three years ago. I suppose my natural reaction should be one of solidarity, and joining the pink movement for a cure. Instead I remain angry, that she lost her life to it and pink ribbons ain't gonna change that. My younger sister has the 'normal' reaction to this and looks at me in strange way as I growl my way around this pink issue. Not that I dislike the colour pink....

So yesterday sees a ladies running race, sponsored by Spar, take place, and being the awareness month for cancer, has a pink theme. We received our free pink t-shirt beforehand which means we can wear it to the race. Normally I would've waited till after the race, being a real runner and all, but this year things are a little different.
One of our running friends was recently diagnosed with beast cancer and has started chemo. New to the running world, she had planned to do the race as a marker, another 10km under belt, before her life changed forever. A group of us had decided to show our support to her and her hubby by being there for her. Now she hoped to manage the 5km walk.

In the early morning, I started to get ready and put on my pink t-shirt. A wave of emotion rushed through me. I listened to my body and realised it wasn't anger. It was sadness. This surprised me. I held it for a brief moment, then carried on readying. After my breakfast I went to put on my pink bandana. As I shut away my hair, I stopped and looked. I saw my sister's reflection in the mirror. Tears gushed at me, and I trembled.

Waiting for my younger sister to pick me up, I contemplated this new feeling that I was experiencing at the pink revelation. By the time we got to the venue, the people were everywhere. There was still an hour an a half to go to the start, but the mood was very festive. All shapes, and sizes, people gathered to make their way through the streets of Bordeaux and Craighall Park. Men who want to run this 'ladies-only' race, come dressed in drag and it is very entertaining watching as more and more men come to the pink party. Some of them looking a tad too comfortable in their dresses and stockings. This year 4 of our guys came decked out in skirts and we howled with laughter at their attire. Oddly enough only one of their hands had nail polish on, and afterwards my sister and I discussed this, we came to the conclusion that they could only paint the one with the 'good hand' and were not-a-chance asking the other guys to paint it for them!

Our friend arrived but tried unsuccessfully to stand in the long line at the loo's, so we waited for her near the start. Her fast-running hubby was in a skirt, and we had decided to join them in the 5km walk. The sea of pink t-shirts blocked both double lanes of road while we waited for the starting gun. Arnorld Geerdts was brightening everyone's day with his comments, and he even brightened some of the guys-in-skirts faces as he made passes at them as they made their way to the start. The tsunami of pink moved further and further into the distance as we walked into the early morning.

Our friend got emotional at one point, which resulted in a rush of tears in our eyes, luckily she is short so couldn't see them as we hugged her.The mood changed when her husband 'borrowed' a party-holding- house's balloons for extra padding, and it was hilarious listening to the comments from the pavements as a Dolly Parton lookalike emerged before our eyes. The banter continued as we made our way through the new spring leafy shade towards the finish. Laughter, tears, emotions soaring, great music from Navi Redd and lovely breakfast and wonderful friends are helping me change my idea on the pink thing. I won't be changing my facebook status sometime soon, nor will I be raisning funds for charity, but I am prepared to do what needs to be done to ease the path of my friend. Even if I have to wear a pink t-shirt!

Pink love!

2010-10-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

If Music be the food of love...

I was very lucky to have a cool brother who is 9 years older than me, because when I was about 5, the house was filled with David Bowie, Deep Purple, Yes and all sorts of psychedelic music. Brother had control of the turntable, this was pre-hi-fi days, (gosh this sounds old!) and he also bought most of the records. The occasional Cliff Richard was slipped in now and then, for my sister's sake, but the art of music was taught to me at an early age. Headphones were physically huge but with the advent of stereo, it made listening to music an otherworld experience. Whatever these guys were smoking came through in their tunes, and by absorbing the music I went along with them for the ride.
Rick Wakeman's Journey took me with him to the centre of the earth, and now on the rare occasion when I listen to that record I still find myself having short trips into the warm womb of the earth.
Vangelis and the soundtrack to 'Cosmos' made my skin prickle and even today it brings tears to my eyes.

By the time I left school, Mike Oldefield was regularly tripping me, as I listened to my oh-so-cool walkman, I would shut out the new world of downtown Jo'burg and pretend I was worldly-wise. I did know the world, my music world. Early INXS was raw and ballsy, and felt so earthy and I loved new acts that were finding their way into my soul, in amongst all the electronica of the New Romantics, that my mum hated.
A big bonus, yet huge surprise was the burst of local music that touched my emerging soul. eVoid, become my cult of choice, and I went to as many concerts as my trainee nurses salary would allow to fill up this new avenue of high. I would dance, and absorb as much as I could, and sometimes people thought I was drunk, but I was simply high on vibration. Music understood me, and it became my soulmate. It filled me up, made me feel vital and alive!
Peter Gabriel surprised me with his depth, and amazed me with his live concert, though sadly I never got to see any of his concerts. After the flurry of local music calmed down, and Ella Mental, the Windrich brothers, and others left for distant shores I found myself going for a 'gap year' before it was compulsory to do so.
I was lucky because the my year of choice also saw many of the oldies touring, and I saw David Bowie, Big Country, U2, Loyd Cole, Genesis, Pretenders, Bryan Adams and INXS' first tour to the UK. I was in seventh heaven, although I didn't do much professionally! I wrapped myself in the safety of the music, and would often wish to slip away and not have to return.

When I did return and as the years have ticked by, I find myself not visiting my soul mate as often. In fact it is less and less and I didn't realise how much my soul ached for it it, until one day I innocently walked into a store and 'Cosmos' was playing. Tears prickled my eyes and goosebumps clothed my skin. My friend, my lover. I dashed away embarrassed, seemingly by my tears, but now I realise it was more my aching for something that I didn't know I was missing.

I know it still lurks in my soul, because every morning without fail, I wake up to a tune of the day. Sometimes it is a sample of a song that I can't get the rest of, sometimes it is a tune I want to instantly forget. Every morning I am reminded that the vibrational food is always there, and most days I tend to ignore it. As I write this, I am nurturing Collective Soul, and it is doing it's job. I am calmer, happier and more settled. Not that I wasn't all those things, but the medication of music does things to me, that words, food, people just can't do.
Sigh.

2010-08-31T03:00:00.000-07:00

Phew, the prospect of spring is lying heavily in the pregnant air, and my mood swings are much the same. The clue is in the word 'swing', wow, the view from the top of the swing is awesome, but how quickly the ground can rush up to my eyes, but luckily it is only for a moment!

This week I would like to share the bestest way to 'let go' of stuff. Yes, tapping is cool, but often we have to go a little deeper, and little closer to finding the core. But what about the times when you don't want to go closer, because it hurts? Well, I do use a lot of 'ho'oponopono, which in itself is letting go, but sometimes even that is too...nice!

All my life I have wanted people to like me, to be nice to everyone, and not rock anyone's boat. This means that I have always figured out before the other person has even blinked, what they want and expect from me, and me in my 'niceness' morphs into whatever they need. I have always jumped into people's problems and helped, without being asked, and eventually I am expected to just do things, without any thanks or gratitude. This has always been fine, but eventually a 'tipping point' is reached. I didn't even know I had one!

This week, I bought a copy of the book 'F**k It- the ultimate spiritual way' by John C Parkin who is ironically the son of Anglican Preachers and I am still giggling. I am still twitching at the word and when I was reading it on the plane I was conscious of the cover in case I offended anyone, so there is still much 'work' to be done. However, avoidance of the word has always made sense to me. Except that most of my life I have been surrounded by people who use it, and in the end get rid of their dark moods that way. I worked in an industry where the word is used so often that it should become it's own language and I must admit hearing it said in Afrikaans isn't as cringeworthy. I have fabulous friends, who end up having sailor mouths as I would sit and shelter my ears in quiet coffee shops hoping the people at the table beside us wouldn't hear. Just in case they judge me!! All the while not realising the health benefit of actually saying it with meaning and conviction.

When a person says it, or gets to that point where they think it (like I do, because I can't say THAT!) the limit is reached. It is when all solutions have been covered, and there is no other option than to just let go, which in essence is the ultimate spiritual act. Release and let go. Ahh, deep breath. Even with a growl, it is the handing over and admitting that I don't have the answer which is freeing, so I trust myself enough to let it go.

This week I had a perfect opportunity to explore this. I had applied for what I thought was my dream job. A junior journalist for a running magazine. Perfect. I visualised, I pretended, I felt myself in that job. I knew it was mine. According to the law of attraction that is what is required of me, yes? So a couple of weeks go by and I heard nothing from them. Inside those dark voices began to whisper, ' you should have been contacted by now..' I tapped away any doubts and negativity, just in case I 'chased' the job away. So Monday comes and I get an email, saying 'thanks but no thanks'. I am floored, devastated, and I sob and rage and shout at the universe. Why does this happen to me? Eventually I get to a point where the only thing left to do is to say 'f**k it' and breathe.

I let the sad parts hang around, and I am rude to my sister on the phone and I snarl at the world. I don't try to rush away from this dark feeling, and tap it away like I usually do. I wanted to know that this did matter. It was important and it hurts like hell, f**k it!

So I allowed hubby to be his magical self, while I sulked about, crying like a kid, and today I feel good. My eyes are extra blue because of all the salt, and it's all okay. Sigh. I tapped a little today, just to check, and I feel inspired.

I don't need a dream job, I have a dream life, and I can keep on dreaming bigger and bigger! Whoa!

2010-08-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

On the receiving end.

Random acts of kindness is a phenomenon I like to live by. Sometimes it can get tricky to do, other times it is easy. I never expected to be completely surprised by being the recipient. But today, my faith in humanity was bumped up even more.

Last week, just after I saw the possiblility of a new and exciting job as a running journalist, I was buzzing with excitement. The phone rang and it was some stranger asking me for my address. He wanted to send me something to inspire me after my recent 'failure' at the Comrades Marathon. I was about to give him my email address, when he laughed and asked for my postal address so he could send a parcel. Now with the amount of bad skammers nowadays, you would think I was crazy giving him my address. But I was on a high. He gave me his name, so I of course 'googled it' He was a recipient of the 2009 Spirit of Comrades award, which they give to people who spread the spirit around to the community. Well, that comforted me a little, and the fact that he ran his 36th Comrades this year, so no doubt I would meet him on the road one day.

So today I go to the post office and there is my gift. A huge box. Not new running shoes, but a comrades inspired clock, hand made by this angel. He wrote a lovely inspiring message that ended like this "...the greatest reward for effort is not what you receive, but what you become through it"

So he obviously gets his reward through his spreading his kindness around, and now I can fill up my heart with warm fuzzy feelings. How cool is that?

2010-06-24T06:14:00.000-07:00

On the cusp of 44!

It is the eve of my birthday and I have been pondering a lot of things lately. One of which, is birthdays- of course! I used to get so excited and worked up about them, a legacy of my youth.

Growing up in the seventies(and 80's, 90's, thousand's)there was not as much money floating about. Particularly in my big family, but birthdays meant that we usually got something new. New things had a special kind of sparkle, and I would try and keep then 'new' for as long as possible. I find now, I still like to keep lables on new clothes, and don't take the plastic off too quickly, in an attempt to keep the shine!

Hubby has a mantra of 'everyday is a birthday' and I would try and refute, because of the allure that birthdays had over me, but things are shifting. My last few birthdays I have managed to stretch into weekends and sometimes even weeks, by seeing different friends on different days and spreading it out a bit. I am beginning to settle in my own skin, and I am starting to appreciate my man's wisdom.
Everyday is the start of something new. Living in SA means that there is usually a lot of 'shine'. I have lots of blessings in my life, big and small, and at the moment, with World Cup Fever, the energy of the country is positive, shiny and upbeat.

Last year Michael Jackson died on my birthday, so now, I am destined to be hearing 'thriller, beat it, and billie jean' every birthday. I now have the advantage of feeling 'birthday-like' the rest of the year, when his music is played. I am spreading my birthday joy throughout the year.
Isn't that cool! At last!

2010-05-25T13:59:00.000-07:00

I want to tell you about a disease I have been suffering from, for most of my life. I thought I was over it mostly, but this past while it has surfaced again. The quiet anonymous symptoms are almost indistinguishable to the eye. I have a feeling that a lot of people are suffering from it.
It's called 'the disease to please'

You won't find the symptoms described in any health manual, nor even the psychological reference books, but it has many characteristics.
The first one, is the inability to say 'NO' and mean it, and not providing any validations or explanations.
The second symptom, is the 'fear of getting into trouble'.
Next, is the overwhelming guilt that comes after doing any of the above.
An equally powerful one is ALWAYS saying 'sorry', (the phone rings, and I say sorry to the caller, someone bumps into me in a supermarket and I'm the one apologising... etc etc)
Another one is indecisiveness, and not 'knowing what I want'
'Let me help you', is a way that a lot of my sentences start.
And a more rare one, is the inability to set goals, because everyone else has to be consulted first.

Mmm, a lot of my symptoms have indeed gotten better as a result of tapping, but there is still much work to be done.

Tonight I almost put down on my Facebook status, 'no more mrs nice guy', but I knew that would mean a barrage of questions from my family, so I am going about it in an explanatory way, more for my own therapy, of course, So sorry that you have to read it!

Putting myself last has always been second nature to me, in fact, I turned it into an art form! I even convinced myself that I liked losing.
But I realise now that I have to train myself into being more self- ish. A huge physical lesson in that, has been my running.
On Sunday when we line up for the 89km run at 5.30am, there will be a quiet silence and knowledge that no matter what, no-one can do it for you. Plus I can do nothing for my fellow runner neither, they have to move one step at a time, just like me.So it has forced me to become more 'self' aware, and it is a nice feeling knowing that I can rely on myself.

Many, many free treatments, money, meals, cars, clothes, babysitting, shoulder to cry on, books, dvd's, time and energy has been spent on people that don't seem to even acknowledge that I am here. Why would they, if I never fully acknowledge me? So after another subtle lesson in my giving my money away, because I don't like to create a fuss, after all what will they think of me? I get to the point where I ask, 'will it ever change?' It might, in moments, but tomorrow I might wake up and be back at the space of 'where does the planet need my help?' Who knows. At least I am acknowledging that I have a dis-ease, that is the new starting point. Tapping on that would be very general initially, then I may move onto the various symptoms I mentioned.
I like the one of tapping on 'saying NO'
I have written about this before, and I was reminded of it today with a client, and I realised that I slipped back a little at saying 'no' when I should. So that is where I will start.

After re-reading this, something must have shifted, because all sorts of different examples came up to prove me otherwise, and they can still sometimes surprise me. I want to share some with you.
I never give car guards money. I never give beggars on the road money. I shoo away beggars or strangers from my gate, no matter how good the fertilizer may be! I don't like giving to charity, especially cancer research one's, (you may recall that rant from last year!) I put down the phone on cell phone selling agents, I argue with timeshare or 'you have won a chevy spark' callers, I don't give to religious groups, (this took a little longer to enforce, after many hours in the weekly Sunday sun, debating with the witnesses about making donations for their printing material that I know I won't read). I refuse to sign email petitions of any kind, and I don't send on threatening chain email, even if the message is good. I don't like to listen to the phone call harassment about any church message, but putting the phone down on them is still a little tricky. I forget to write thank you notes. I don't always reply to sms'. I don't like drunk people and always try to excuse myself when I'm in their company. I won't apologize for eating cake in a coffee shop!!

Wow, I'm tough hey? Ha!

Think of me on Sunday as I spend the day admiring the view in the Natal Midlands on foot, until I reach Durb's by the sea.

2010-05-12T06:38:00.000-07:00

Tribute to a lady.
We lost a dear friend this week, Jean Loser. She was 83 years old, we think, she never told us her age, we weren't allowed to know! She joined our social badminton group a few years back after having had a dispute with her old club. She was like that, feisty, and loved a debate, she would draw people in, and then get them all fired up, and would say 'I am not arguing...'She played a mean game of badminton, and it was obvious that in 'her day' she was a very tough contender! Jean loved to play doubles with the men, us ladies were too slow, not that she told us that! But she would take on the challenge of the boys and give a good smash shot.
She was a very glam lady, and I remember the first time she visited us at the badminton without her badminiton clothes as she was not playing that day. Sexy jeans, fashionable top, matching heels, the guys couldn't believe their eyes!
She was so proud of her grandchildren and she would bring Matthew to play badminton with us during school holidays, I think it was more to brag about him than him playing!
Alfred and her would discuss the various tennis tournaments around the globe, that she would sit and watch at all hours of the night. She often said 'Nadal has burned himself out...' and would argue over who was going to win the next title.
I had this picture of her watching the tennis eating tinned pineapple which she loved, but she blamed it for giving her a fat tummy and stopped that and moved onto some other delicacy.
She wouldn't eat breakfast and come to badminton and be dizzy and we would force her to eat jelly beans or drink some Oros. She had a lovely chuckle, and a broad smile, and would hold her teeth, because she broke the top tooth, but 'wasn't going to pay that ridiculous amount of money' to get it fixed.
She was a determined bridge player and would talk about all her tournaments, and the ladies from the bridge, it seemed she lived a very full life.
Dear Jean, you will be sadly missed by your small group of Wednesday friends. We know you are up in heaven giving all those men a run for their money on the badminton courts, now that you knees aren't giving any trouble any more. We will hear your calls of 'out' in the echoes of the early morning.
Until we meet again...

2010-05-11T10:28:00.000-07:00

Today I coloured my hair. After the last couple of years, watching my hairdresser make me darker and darker, I decided to go lighter. Myself. Ahem. The colour isn't that bad, it's just the lighter streaks where the grey is resting, makes me look a little bit like a peckinese dog. The box colour was one I have never used before, and I suppose there should have been a warning on it, like they do on 'Ripley's' as 'do not attempt this at home! Needless to say my Comrades marathon photo's will be blonde this year. I was fair as a child, so my colouring isn't too bad, so I suppose tomorrow when I wake up, I may get a shock initially, then it will grow on me, like it always does!

Now is this life altering writing? Nah, but I get that blogs don't have to be words of wisdom all the time, I am after all, allowed a blonde moment or two, no?

2010-05-09T03:14:00.000-07:00

Mother's day
I am not one, and I no longer have one on this plane. But today, the world over, the focus turns to mums. The hardest job in the world. I watch as 2 of my sister's try to be both parents, to their offspring, meanwhile trying to make a living, fit in sport and try and have a social life. Rest is all they really want. I tilt my hat to them as they plough their way through the unknown world of mothering. I watched my older sisters make their own way through the same route, both of them changing countries to live in, to do so. They are a little bit further down the line with their now adult offspring. The unchartered territory of teenage years behind them. Yet their worry and care never stops. My two younger 'foreign' nephews are on the precipice of teeanger-dom. One of the almost-teens, doesn't have a mum anymore either, but he does have a fab, multi-skilled dad. The other nephew is wide eyed and creative watching his world with a lovely innocence and wonder.
I may not be mother to any 2 legged variety of offspring, however, I am an aunt, and I must say that is a far easier job than mother-ing!

2010-05-07T05:26:00.000-07:00

So I have threatened to start this blogging thing for many years, but that has always been my problem. Where to start? Do I start at the beginning, or jus dive right in? Do I introduce myself or do I jus start ranting, and I sure know how to rant, On 'paper' In life I am a silent ranter, keep it all in until there is a full moon, ha, then it all comes out!
I have come to writing down my feelings as a way of clearing myself, and nowadays it is so easy with technology, and we get an audience! But primarily it is useful for me to write it down, and then it feels like I have 'done' something with my feelings.
So hopefully this is the begiining of my public writing, where anyone can read it, skip over it, instead of me quietly slipping in your mailbox and waiting to be deleted.
Now I can add pictures, be un pc, if I want, write like there is nobody watching (or is that dance like nobody is watching- but hey I do that anyway!)

Stand back, Im on a spin......

2009-09-07T13:54:00.000-07:00

Vic Clapham Victory!

4 days later, my body tires. Lack of sleep, the build up, and almost 12 hours on the road is catching up with me. Yet I still have a smile in my heart. I collected my first Comrades Marathon medal in Sahara Stadium on a perfect evening, and I am still wearing it. I am savouring this medal, this victory, because 2008, my novice year, I didn't make it on time. I am not sure if every novice runner feels this proud, or feels this invincible, I like to think that it is only me, because I had to wait a year, and go back to get it.Two years I have been through all this training, and all these feelings, through life's up and downs, and now my success is measured with one small Vic Clapham medal

2008, saw a rather haphazard commitment to my running. Perhaps it was a certain numbness over my sister dying from breast cancer the October before, or perhaps it was just a fear that I may not be able to do the 87km's, I'm not sure. But I went into my novice Comrades feeling excited, and finished my attempt in the suburbs of Pietermaritsburg in awe of what I had just achieved. I was also now in awe of the physical challenge that I had just accomplished. So although I received no medal, I had had a fantastic day. I at that stage was still unsure whether I would be back again, and even less sure, whether I could indeed do it in the allotted time. But after a few weeks rest, and my mind still reeling from the experience of the indescribable day, I decided to come back and test myself properly. I planned my training differently, and this time I really heard all the advice I was given. I was also fully committed to the challenge.

November 2008. I was going to qualify on the Soweto Marathon. The race of the people. I was geared up, and ready. I wanted to get the qualifying out of the way, so I could really focus on training without that extra stress. That day, my life changed forever. One of our dear running friends, and mentor's, dropped down dead beside us, just after the 32km marker. Without a complaint, sound or signal, he was gone. We did what we could, we waited for the ambulance, we prayed, we panicked, but he left this earth doing what he loved doing, running, and helping us get our qualifier. Needless to say, we never made our qualifier that day, and for a short time, we looked at our running future, but Jo would have wanted us to continue, and for me to feel that accomplishment of finishing the 'big' race, he so dearly loved. So we ran.

And ran. My training improved, my times sped up, and I relaxed. I really began to enjoy this hobby of running, and after a comfortable qualifier in Sasolburg, I gleefully entered Comrades 2009. I had fun on the roads, and enjoyed the people I ran with, and appreciated my body. All too soon May 24 arrived, yet sometimes it felt like it wasn't coming soon enough. I stood in the dark shadows of Pietermaritsburg's City Hall, that was cheerfully lit up with the TV lights and smiled inwards. I was here again. This time there was a certain edge to the possibility that I might not make it again, after all, it is even longer than last year's. But I felt excited at the prospect of receiving all the awesome support along the road, and that is the real reason why I was doing it again. Moving gently towards the start line and taking over 5 minutes to get there, didn't make me panic like last year. I was aware that it could feel so long before we were able to get going. I was also very cautious about the debris on the road, as well as cat's eye's and traffic islands, as last year I had taken a tumble just outside Berea, and I didn't want any excuses this year. My mielie pap for breakfast now a distant memory I felt a tiny hunger rumble before we started to run, so I started early with my jelly bean snacks. We left Pietermaritsburg and the crowds began to thin, we were on our way!I realised that I would be running from sunrise to sunset, so I knew not to panic about speed or pacing early on in the day, so I just admired the welcoming sunrise and listened to the chit chat all around me. After attending a Roadshow talk, it had been comforting to hear the legendary Bruce Fordyce tell everyone to 'hold back' and enjoy the day, and I fully intended to do so.I spoke to all the blue number foreigners visiting our shores, and heard their stories about running, and I paid attention to all the surroundings. Last time, I missed Arthur's Seat as well as the Wall of Remembrance, so I was determined to see it all this year. I did. And more. Dogs and their owners out for hours on end at the sides of the road, giving me a bark of encouragement. Kids, grannies, husbands, cousins, everyone in KZN gets behind this landmark event, and I really really appreciate it. Music dotted along the route told us a little about the owners, from Gospel, to rock, to country, to hip hop, and even some sakkie sakkie thrown in, it all made up for one huge party, even if it was much longer than what I am used to!
Cut off points this year was also far less stressful, and when people shout 'hurry only half an hour till cut off' I almost laughed, because now I really know how far I can go in half an hour. Passing loved ones and supporters at halfway, I was feeling fabulous. A niggle in my knee, but otherwise nothing I couldn't handle, we continued our long journey to Durban in the dusk. The weather played along magnificently, and it felt far cooler than last year, even though it was 3 weeks earlier in the year. At around 29 km to go, my friend and I decided to stay with Vlam Pieterse from Hartebeespoort who was driving the sub 12 hour bus. I had seen him in action, and I knew that if anyone could get us there on time it would be him. I had heard dreadful stories of the downhills, and thought that I could benefit from his experience in getting down them. I was so right. Entering Pinetown I realised that we must have just come down Field's hill, and I felt great. Vlam knows his stuff! Unfortunately there were a few water points without water, and after the third one, it must have started playing with my brain. My friend saw this and asked after me, luckily spectators were very obliging and dished out their supplies to us. Finally we reached a water point with water, and a hose, and the spray on my face shook me up, and my head cleared.
Just after Westville, the crowd really intensified, and families cheered us on. People lined on both sides of the road, making me feel really special. An ordinary person being celebrated in an extra-ordinary way by thousands of people. This is what I experience on Comrades, and this is what is likely to bring me back!
Durban showed itself to us, and I started to really feel giddy with excitement. I was going to do it! Slowing down with the bus, as we picked up stragglers, the morale boosted. So, so soon, we would be turning in towards that stadium. Vlam kept some lagging spirits up, by chanting a few songs or making us take a deep breath, and raise our hands, which always stirred the spectators. We fed off their energy, and would trickle onwards, inching closer and closer. The entrance to the stadium buzzed with applause. Perhaps it was just my head? I grabbed my friends hand and we shrieked the whole 300 meteres round the stadium, and when we weren't shrieking, we grinned. Spotting hubby in the crowd brought another yoop of delight as well as tears to my eyes. We had spared them last year's worry of where we were. We made it in with 10 minutes to spare. I got my medal and gave the medal bearer a hug, like the people before me. She must have been drenched with sweat from others, but never complained, instead she smiled and hugged back.

A small medal, a long way, a fabulous journey.
2009 - that medal is now mine!
Cathie van Rooyen Age 42

2007-01-12T11:26:00.000-08:00

My name is Cathie and I have started this blog as a means to hear feedback from people around the globe. I live (and love) in South Africa and am married to Nic and have two four- legged children and Nic has adopted a chicken.
I am a certified Emotional Freedom Techniques(EFT) practitioner and love what I do! (More about that later).
I look forward to this blog!