Displine is doing it despite not wanting to. Enthusiasm is the joy of waking up to do something I love. Where is the middle of the two? If you do something long enough, do you become to accustomed to it that you learn to love it? Mistaking it for oxygen?

(어제 오늘 저절리 눈이 감겨지며 명상에 빠지게 된다) To connect with myself deep inside, calling out my name that I can finally hear. The pain body losing the battle (this time around and hopefully more like it) of digital binge which the being doesn’t want to participte in.

I said yes to a friend going on a long walk from the Green Point lighthouse to Camp’s Bay. Three of us walked and talked. And like two weeks ago, my sharing opening others to do the same. There is something special about walking and talking. Releasing the energy and emotions as we look forward and not at each other. Letting the stories and breath dissipate heaviness, lightness, whatever. Feeling the calves signaling exhaustion. Familiarity not felt in a while. The next day, I do Devil’s Peak, tired all the way. Meeting a couple of friends negotiating fear of heights. I hope they summitted and got bragging rights. Pass to the right. You slow pokes et to your left. Let the lady pass. Girls bop along, not listening to their leader’s instructions. They don’t know better. They don’t drive!

As I hop and step on familiar rocks, surrounded by lush plants, sign of recent water fall. Listening to the babbling brook join me up and down. Pink flowers. I did this hike with a woman who I thought would become a lifelong friend. I was wrong and this was out of my control. A year has passed. How do I know? By the gail force winds, the clouds, and pink flowers along the pathways.

1000 meters up and down. Calves hurt just the same, yet there is familiarity. I get home and something takes over me. Gathering all the boxes in the third bedroom. Flattening, cutting, using few boxes to stack them in. Using the recyclable garbage bags to put styroform in. Two trips down the lift. Three trips to one set of bins. This one is now full. Two trips to a longer set of bins. Vacuuming, trying to suck up the white plastic pieces. 30 boxes down to 7. In the middle room, I hang up what I can. Surprised to find so many clothes I haven’t worn. What I cannot fit into now until I say goodbye to 3 more kilograms of me.

And through these mundane activities, I wonder. What we forget we have until we see them laid out against all the other outfits. Almost four meters of clothes hung up. I have more pants than shoes. I wish I hadn’t sold these cool shoes my ex had purchased me – totally my style. Anyways, where was I going with this? That… What we fold away into neat piles. Putting them away in cupboards. We don’t know what and how much we have until we have to fill these boxes.

I have cleaned out the bottom drawer and in it put place mats, towels and bin liners. This is where they belong. I am fighting the urge to clean the top of kitchen cabinets collecting decades of dust.

Instead, I sit here, after 1-hour meditation. Opening every window and front door to let the place air out, with fresh morning air. Lighting incense and a candle to remove the odor of paint and old floor. Still lingering after a month. Grabbing a blanket to wrap myself. A long sleeve top. The wind has died down and it’s not as cold. Or is it because I am wrapped up?

I have been wondreing about the places we live in. Inspired by the documentary called Mother City. A set of Cape Tonians started occupying empty government buildings, demanding public housing in unused land and abandoned buildings. The building I had been wondering about, next to the old V&A Oranjezicht market, is one of these occupied spaces. When protesters visited the mayor demanding a meeting, a friend protests in disbelief, “how rude! at least they could have made an appointment.” During covid, the government sent a set of masked men to dismantle shacks illegally built on a stretch of government land, closer to the city. I will never forget a scene of them pulling out a naked man from his shack. And as the camera pulls away, the man runs back into his dismantled shack, into his bed of one mattress and blanket. No protest from my friend.

This touches me because I have been evicted. Avoided the streets with the generous welfare of a blue state. And now, I am considered wealthy, living in one of the ‘go to’ zip codes in Cape Town, the Atlantic Seaboard. If we didn’t live where we lived, we would have lived on the streets. If our stepmother didn’t insist in a better district, we would have left the one-room motel sooner than the 11 months we were there. How did we live and eat without a kitchen, I do not know. Worth the wait, finding government housing in one of the richests zip codes in the country. When I tell people where I went to high school, they assume I am rich. I have been on the extreme ends of pendulum. But not really. My parents kept shielding us, despite them not blocking everything that came our way. I went to the best school with children who would come back raccoon faced from a cruise of a ski trip to Europe. Showing a different world that could never be imagined. Going to university with another angel’s guidance. Getting a well-paid job, working hard, yes. But so does everyone else. The same friend reminded me once. Now I live with a panoramic view of the sea, north facing (only to realize it now), with the sun rising from my right and setting to my left. Yesterday, I walked down to get roasted chicken from Woolworths, passing a Jacarandas tree, a Hadidas chilling in one of the gardens, and two men braaing on their terrace. Seeing people getting ice cream at Moro Gelato, some having their dinner at Hudson’s. The walk back was more challenging, with the incline, but all in all. A lovely walk in an affluent neighborhood. How do I know? There is a Jewish building. I have only lived in jewish neighborhood. They are always walkable with a nice set of restaurants and shops.

It is now 6:07am, and I have been up for almost two hours. Sparked by joy and enthusiasm to find myself here. Seeing what I am learning. I write like water, meandering as I go. Thoughts that open up and unlock as I write. Finding myself here. Hello, how do you do?

The mind and body are happy to sit for an hour. Do you remember when you tried to sit twice a day, running out of time? Midnight not so far away? Is it because you were distracting yourself with digital addiction?

Time passes faster now. What I thought were twenty minutes becoming forty inutes. Is it because I am out of touch with time? Or is it because I am not rushing. Taking time to walk. Eat. Not racing first with the mind, face, and feet?

Less excited. Seeing the placid lake for what I am. A gentle surface that glistens with the sun. No waves. No changes. The bottom not clear, unseen and unclear to anyone except hte lake itself.

I have been to our stores more than six times. Buying and returning. It’s not until I went to Canal Walk, to Mr. Price, I saw why. I have bought everything I can use there. At Mr. Price, I saw possibilities, products and excitement I hadn’t felt in our stores. Going to the same and familiar, I had outgrown. Did I ever belong there? No. Looking for things and experiences that do not exist in those walls. Yet they exist elsewhere. Dinosaurs. Going extinct.

Now? No, continously I am seeing clearer and clearer. Itis not supply chain or inventory. Or head quarters bothering store operations. It is not our values or fear driven labor practices. Sales are taking because our merchandise is stuck in 2015. No innovation. No fun. No excitement. I bought a nice looking hand towel and toilet paper roll holder that sticks with double-sided 3M tape. Not wanting to spend too much money on bathrooms that need to be renovated in the future.

How do you get yourself out of a rut when everyone else around you is going extinct? You get out of there, and go where there are positive chnages. Where you can lead and pioneer. Where you are excited. You are celebrated for being awesome. Because you are awesome.

Stop going to places where they don’t sell or serve what you need.

I can feel my heart beat more and more. The heart that has always been there.

12 hours of deep slumber, missing networking event, and even the 4am meditation bell. I still sit for 53 minutes before getting up to brush my teeth.

Feeling rested, I feel something else arising. The unfinished business to claim what is rightfully mine, and following through to collect through the legal system.

I sit back in the enclosed patio, sitting on the convertible beach chair with comfortable backing, laptop on a small round stool I found in the trash pile in the previous apartment. It is perfect for me, and this activity. The universe is always giving me what I need, exactly when I need it, and hardship that helps me level up and grow into a more ‘me’, if there were such a thing.

When I opened my eyes, the sky was clear with a small patch of cloud afar, and now, droplets cover the outside, small mists landing on the glass outside. How quickly things change. Anicca. Equanimity. Birds still fly, unflappable to the weather. Flapping their wings, towards the sea, where are you going?

I peer to my left to the feelings wheel, wondering why happy and surprise make up 35% of all feelings. The rest filled with fear, anger, disgust and sad. I know. These are ways in which to protect ourselves, because to be happy is to be safe. And maybe once we get to a safe place, happiness dominates, as other feelings no longer needed fade away. Or maybe, we get to a safe place and don’t know not to feel the other feelings. The amygdla not required so much. We are running away from saber toothed tigers or spears of an enemy tribe.

Yesterday, I dressed in traditional corporate attire with a bit of flair. Button down shirt with slacks. Do not look like your problems, she said. I felt better. Now, how do I feel? The left upper part of my heart is telling me something, but what, I wonder.

Thanks to the wisdom of a work friend, I keep my correction factual and balanced. Business focused, and get the insight and support from their manager. I am doing what I can. Taking wide steps back to where I should play. The role of a department, as Executive. I set the vision and direction. How they follow and do their work is up to them. It is free to learn now. Everything is available on the world wide web. You can even create agents to replace yourself.

The power is within you and me. How you exercise that power is up to you. You can idle or you can work. Was it physics or chemistry? Potential energy vs. kinetic energy. Potential is dormant and innate. Kinetic comes from chemical action. From moving the tiny molecules inside that create heat, cause chemical reaction, boil and burn away. The one that causes discomfort at first.

Creating movement causing awe. I did that. I made that happen. I played a role. I was the catalyst. I am oxygen. Create your oxygen. My oxygen is created through these moments, sitting in this enclosed patio. I love it here. My new home. It may appear too big for one person. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, living room, enclosed patio, long entranceway with snaking corridors. Two tandem parking bay and one garage. Yet, this finally feels like home. My intentions were clear. Own a place to raise a boy with nanny’s help. If the baby thing doesn’t work out, a gathering place where friends and family can come and rest. A place of comunity with easier access and parking for visitors. To make it more convenient to be here. All that has come true. Be deliberate and intentional, she said. And that I was.

As I step back from the senior manager, manager, and doer’s role. To leave the game altogether. To leave the room of multiple chess players and their plays. I have to think about where it is that I am headed. Do not react. Respond. But why even respond, when silence can fill the space better than uttering of words that waste oxygen and create future complications that had no intentions.

This morning, I find myself well-rested and in deeper contemplation. Need to send apologies for not attending the event, but this event doesn’t serve me. I am never excited to go. Finding it awkward and unnecessary. I missed it because I plopped down on my bed for a nap, finding myself there still at 2 am, and going back to sleep until 5:30am.

What has gotten me here so far? My American friend who said yes to dinner with me and who invited me to her space to stay. Friends who checked in to see if everything was okay. How can we help? My friend who shared the most with me. Sharing disappointment. Work friend who listened and (always) gave me great advice. Another work friend who put things in perspective with condiment buckets and crinkled up tissue paper. Considerate boss and considerate colleague who took their time to carefully deliver a sensitve message with nothing but love and tenderness. What a difference between the people (ironic? no) team who left doubt and fear in my core. And I have to admit the truth. I, too, must have been like them, despite best of intentions. And accept that they are just doing their job. They simply don’t care and are most likely numb to these things anyways.

Help from these wonderful people. Seeing that I have created a network of wonderful folks that wants to help and most importantly, can help.
I was mistaken before. People just want things from me. Not responding for connections and referrals. I was wrong. Now, I know better.

As I rise up to better consciousness, I am seeing the lies and missteps I had been taken. Seeing and doing differently.
And as i write this, the small mists have burned away, the blue skies gently lifting between the shades of white and grey clouds that no longer water moisture. Soon enough, only the blue will cover the horizons. Sun is rising from my right, and the white light it casts against the clouds is ethereal.

Everything is always changing.

Unfamiliar sound causes alarm. The rain last night falling on corrugated roof below me. I wonder, how do people sleep under such metal sound?

Waking up at 4am is no longer up for debate. Finding the circular cushion at the foot of the bed, I start my meditation. Unlike the past three days, my mind wanders about people at work, window cleaning, minor. No, how can it be minor when they are taking precedent over all my other thoughts?

Grabbing a ladder and squizee, I glide across outside windows of my bedroom and patio. Surprised to find it’s cleaner than I thought. Feeling absurd, I continue. Wiping down the top ledges, finding brown dust from floor sanding from few weeks ago.

Peering out the window, I see now. This is what I have been looking for in coffee shops: Movement, wind, trees, people walking across. Wide open space with panoramic views, I exhale and let my fingers connect with my heart.

Outside window is cleaned through the rain, wind and sun. Inside is surprisingly dusty. Only when the outside becomes streak free, I see the dirt inside. And this makes me wonder about me. How they see me is through the outside, and me from the inside. While seemingly clear, image is distorted with our own dirt. I see you through my window, peering into yours. Sitting outside the rain, peering in. Huddled in your jacket, hurrying along, to avoid getting rained on. Here I am inside, observing the world in the comforts of dry and safe surroundings.

How clean is your outside and inside? I am focusing on seeing things more clearly. It takes daily cleaning. I call this meditating and writing.

I cried yesterday and the day before not because I was sad. The anger melted away over the weekend, through meditations and mettas. Tears come from the love and care that I hear and feel. Carefully crafting words to not hurt yet speak their minds with nothing but loving kindness. The skills I know I lack, the skill I am trying to learn with Toastmasters. Inspired by the Vipassana Assistant Teacher, Sonia from Amsterdam. She said everything she needed to, always with a twinkle in her eyes, smile hanging on both sides of her mouth. Firm and gentle. She means every word, and you can hear she wants you to succeed. She showed me what I needed to see. And this also means I was finally ready to see and accept it.

You work too hard. You try too hard. You don’t know how to rest. You do not respect the ways of the world. Go with the flow. Do not fight it. We have planned this course carefully for you to meditate, eat and rest. So go rest. You come from the world that never sleeps. Always on top of everything. Taking care of everyone else. Rest, my child. We will take care of you.

And this message resonated the last two days. We are with you. We are fighting for you.

Resonating with what Sean said. If you carry yourself in such a way that you are not the doer. You become the Observer. Then you become hte observer observing the observer, and so on and so on. Is is not disconnected. It is awareness and embracement of what it is, not letting reactions taking over you. You do not need to carry a sword and shield, because people will respect the healthy boundary you have around you. You will have people supporting you.

I feel your heart opening up. Let your body breathe. Do not resist life. Let life dance through the dance that is you.

Bell chimes and vibration starts. Do I want to get up, I ask myself. I can sleep in for another half hour. I remind myself this is not up for debate. I decided three days ago to get up at 4:15am and attempt daily morning meditations. Not twice a day. While I set audacious goals, I’m learning to set realistic goals.

Being in my new home, everything makes sense. This is where I am supposed to be. Even the gawdy yellow gold side shelf of an eyesore fits in the kitchen. The space to breathe, the walls to separate each room with solid bricks and doorways. I look out to my left. Green Point stadium. Round-faced clock tower that no longer tells time. A black facade of an apartment block that breaks the perfect panoramic view of the east to west, from the Silo hotel to Mojo market.

I rise to the chanting, day 2 of Metta. Yesterday, I sent loving kindness that attempted to trespass against me. Five days to cycle through the full range of emotions. Surprise. A night of unrest. Sleep eluding. Dismay. Confusion. Betrayal. Confusion. Self Doubt. Helped by friends and family open to conversations and offer their support and consolation.

What a week, I say to myself. Monday, a day of anticipation. Tuesday, truth and disappointment. The rollercoaster plummets to the buttom. Wednesday, the best speech gets voted best toast master’s speech. Thursday, a bit of calm and this storm hits me from work. I work until 10:30pm to honor my commitments. Arriving home depleted. Completely broken.
Friday, I finish packing from 6 to 9:30. I move into my new home. Movers are speedy and kind. Two appliance deliveries. One guy helps to push the new washing machine into its just big enough cranny. One failed electrical connection to the stove.

Loving and kind friend invites me to stay at her house, to give the new one more day to clear of paint and floor fumes. I get up early at 6am to go to my new home. Cleaning the brown dust from inside closets, top of ledges. On Saturday, a kind man comes to lift all four curtain rails, hang 2 big mirrors, and helps to get the fridge into its nook.

Having lived out of boxes for a month, and what I am facing at work, I know I cannot live like this for another day. I clean the windows. Wipe down inside of every cabinet. The amount of dirt surprises me. Contractor charges me R450 for his helper’s time after five hours of work. He sits where I am now, and takes in the view. Telling me how he used to do a lot of work for Estate Agents. Until he stopped after they stopped paying him. “They make so much money! How can they not pay you?” I wonder. The poor steal out of need. The ignorant rich steal because they can.

I go to exchange two unopened floor sealers, surprised at the amount I get back. These are expensive. I go to Makro to buy curtains. I see a man using one of the side rails to hoist himself up, with a grimace on his face. “Are you ok?”, I ask him. He says he’s fine. He’s got lower back issues. Verimark associate, he is there to sell mops and buckets. He demonstrates one that I think can work for my place, and he puts one in my basket. “I can do it. I hope your back’s okay.”. He looks at me and thanks me for being so concerned with his back.

My sister answers my plea for a conversation. Getting tired of pushing the shopping cart with one hand and holding the phone to my ear. I find the camping section and choose the most comfortable chair I can fine. After an hour of sitting there, I find myself liking the chair. “Get what brings you joy”, she tells me. So I put the chair in the basket and pay for everything just before closing time.

I hang the curtains. They are perfect.
I use the mop. Not for me. I prefer the one I already have.
I open the campmaster chair and sit down. It’s not comfortable. It doesn’t fit with my aesthetics.

What appears convenient and perfect is often what sustains us.

I have been opening up to close friends. Surprising myself when I tear up. I have reached out to more of my existing contacts than ever before. Taking my time. Not jumping to rush. Even exboyfriend to invite him to share songs because some of my favorite songs were from him. And someone I dated briefly, I sent a note of thanks for introducing me to the contractor. No expectations. Just stating facts and inviting them into my world with gratitude and not expectations.

And I see what Lion’s Head has been showing me. People come to you to fill the need. To help when I am flushed in the face. No water visible in my bare hands and no back pack. Singing my name as they pass, to encourage me to join them at the summit.

I’m not saying we should be weak. No, because is not who we are. We must stand upright on our own and embrace the strength we all have.
What I am seeing is this: Show all parts of you. Do not hide. Do not pretend to be stronger than you are. Just be. And if you need help from complete strangers, ask. Most of them will say yes. And some of them will become your long-lasting friends. Thank you for being my safe space and co-creating our relationships built on bedrock of continued engagements and conversations.

The intent is important, however. Engage with open arms and open heart. Forgive the ignorant and lame. But leave them swiftly, as you’re a swallow meant to soar and cover infinite grounds. But also feel free to land and settle down. But be deliberate and make choices seeing things as they are.

This is living without regrets. Living with all range of emotions.

Rising before the sun. Delighted by bird songs, with no cars passing through the high level road in front of me. Seeing the sky turn into the familiar sunset, marking the beginning of the day.

I sit on this grey plastic chair, my feet on the bottom run of this round wooden stool I used to sit in front of the make-shift counter. Just the perfect size and height to rest my laptop and my fingers dancing along the black surface. Seeing and feeling everything I’ve wanted has been created. I didn’t do it all by myself. Always with help from angels and demons around me. The other place was great landing pad, and I thought I would miss it. I was wrong. This place is better. It serves all my need of contemplation, creation, meditation. A place of community to invite people for meals and connections. To borrow from Dolly’s recommendations, to have “Circles of trusted conversations”.

It has already been two hours since I opened my eyes, and I feel accomplished for having meditated, making my bed, and writing my thoughts into the lifeplunger, that is me and you. Thank you for getting here.

Morning pages fail because this pen won’t write. And so, I find an altenative. Not my personal preference but this will work.

My eyes need glasses (finally) and things are a little blurry. I can still see.

These lines are the minutes of my life that I can’t write onto. Because I am missing a writing utensil. All spent and nothing left to mark.

Resting. Doing one thing at a time.  Closing my eyes to sleep instead of working and achieving. Prioritizing stillness and quietude above all else. Finding it difficult because it is against the societal norm. No striving. No achieving. No accolading.

Today is day 1 (yet again, which I used to lament but I choose to see differently.  Another opportunity. Another day to live. To try again).

Of two meditations. 1 hour in morning.  Done.

1 hour in evenings. Tbd.

Morning pages done, though not following the script.

To love myself.

Become one with the universe.

Have a witness of life.

Contribute in ways only I can.

And be at peace with what I have already

To embrace the slow and smooth

It starts with putting on shoes and leaving the house to explore the world outside of comforts. Creating friction and doing what feels unfamiliar.

It is about showing up no matter what.

Consistenly.

Competency follows.

Confidence emerges.

Another way to see it? Habits change our minds, our bodies and most importantly, our actions.

New vista emerges and we always find a way

Exposed I-beams painted lime green. Buttressed by black clamps with cylindrical pillars. Brown floor laid with cement. Fans turn at different speeds.  Oven doors open and close, bringing freshly baked goods.

Vintage mirror behind baristas. Round and rectangular tables. Emerald green sofa lines one side.

Post Hyrox event, one limps out. Murmur of conversations. Different rhythms and decibels and accents. A baby that cried out is gone? Replaced by the sound of cutlery being cleared, workers talking to one another.

Approaching closing time, crowd thins. I sit back as I write.  Wondering what song is playing in the background. Instrumental cover of well known songs, inviting us to sing along silently.

Oven stops firing. She is not bending up and down. She wipes the outsidr with her right, as her left pushes the handle to keep oven closed.

Water runs as he rinses dishes before slotting them onto drying rack.

We are slowing down. This melody that I wanted to run away from. The quietude of silence. Away from socializing. Looking for property to buy. Personal bests to beat. Mountains to climb. Life to create and offers to sign.

Now that the achieving has been achieved.  The lull of this vastness of space filled with energy that used to collide… I am learning how to still them. To let them…myself settle into a collection of heaped piles of electrons. Letting the valence collide, into one another. Creating new shapes of me. Unfamiliar but better. A shape of me that burns brighter. Less effort and less pretense.

Start writing.