My dad once said that your body tries its damn hardest to make you less attractive as you age, so you’re less inclined to mate and produce offspring. Being a farmer, he saw this ageing process happening in goats. Ostriches. Cows. I get it now, Dad. You were right. The brutal truth is that nature is doing everything in its power to ensure that we are no longer attracted to each other. Thanks a bunch.
I’ve been trying to tap into my creativity more recently. I lost my way creatively a bit this year, due in large part to stopping my old blog I think. It was certainly the right decision but it’s taking me a while to find my groove creatively, which is probably normal, but no less frustrating. Anyway, so I’ve been diarising “creative dates” for myself, setting aside time to finally watch that TED talk I’ve been meaning to, or listen to that podcast. And the one I listened to today was from Alyssa Monks an artist, on how loss affected her art, and also on dealing with the death of a parent.
I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty fed up with supermarket shopping. I know I have to do it, but visiting supermarkets is not a pleasurable experience for me. I would do anything to avoid it really. In fact, it was this article I read recently which really got me thinking about the role supermarkets play in South Africa, a country where millions are malnourished because they can’t afford healthy food, where farmers are so badly paid for their produce that they cannot afford to be in business any more, and where farm workers are some of the worst off out of everyone.
What a few weeks. I’ve been walking around like a zombie, with bouts of sobbing thrown in, flashes of fear, lots of anxiety-fuelled conversations, and thoughts racing like a bird trapped in a room. I don’t want to write about those moments though, as I’m still processing them, and I don’t have a lot of value to add right now.
What I do want to write about instead, is a general feeling I’m getting about the world. A world that is damaged and topsy-turvy. There are not many safe havens left. Very few places where you can escape to, where everything is blissful and stable. We’re in a state of turmoil, whichever side you look, both in our country and then further ashore as well.
I thought it was high time for a blog post explaining all my recent activities, because training to become a surf lifeguard at the grand old age of 40 could be seen as a very obscure thing to do. Even more so for me, because I am a creature who loves her little comfort zone. It’s cosy in my shell and warm – everything is safe here. But here’s why I took the plunge recently and trained to become a lifeguard:
It’s been quiet around here because I’ve been floundering a bit. Which takes a lot to admit, isn’t that weird? We have no trouble posting all the shiny brilliant parts of our lives on social media, but when it comes to the tricky parts, the stressful parts and the sad parts – we suddenly get all shy. I suppose sadness is personal, it feels more private, while we are more comfortable with our happiness being public. This all adds up to a perfect storm, as we’re constantly seeing only the happy parts of someone’s life. It’s completely distorted.