All images © 2008-2019 Cyril Souchon unless expressly noted otherwise (All rights reserved)

Saturday, March 30, 2019

a day in the life ~ Saturday morning at the Pantry Market


After a deeply thought provoking walkabout hosted by the artist Robert Slingsby at the neighbouring Circa, I wandered over into the Keyes Pantry Market to give it the once over, it being new there and all. Lots of lovely little stalls, all in a carefully coded corporate livery and not at all like the usual little market stall places.

The people manning the stalls are lovely though, and the goods yummy and worth the trouble and expense. Frequented by the kind of people whose 4x4's traverse the urban landscape, climbing pavements for parking on the weekends and shuttling hockey sticks, cricket bats and footballs during the week. The clean middle to upper classes, if you know what I mean.

This place really works for them, and curiously I very much liked it too. Space enough to gather and chat to the stallholder, try some of the wares and not feel jostled and forgotten. The stall holders like it too, they can go to the loo and not worry that their goods will be stolen or mishandled. Sometimes less definitely is better! Especially if the less has enough to satisfy the need. And I picked up a really nice pesto for a friend whose cooking talents are legend. A win all round.

And that's how it was for most of the stalls, excepting one joyous little corner in the bottom section, run by Bilkees who is Creative director at KolorKids in Parkhurst. If you go to the Who we Are section on their website you will see the very image of a director gazing professionally back at you ~ "How can we be of Service, Sir or Madam?" But here, Oh here she was simply beaming from ear to ear as she stepped away from the weekday business to just have fun with the kids coming by.

You really do see people as they truly are when catch them engaged in what they love to do, don't you? If they weren't so old & ugly I'd have my kidz there too! (well, maybe the grandkids, one day. They, of course, are perfect!)

Friday, March 29, 2019

Do Vampires Fear Aids?



Aids is only an existential threat to Vampires

Vampires
feeding on blood in the divided dark
dark shadows of a bloody night

Vampires feed and the body bleaches
cold and pale in still moonlight
withering and dying in day made night

For all the shadows of darkness
the fear inducing night
mothers must as mothers do
bring calming light
to nightmarish flight

Aids thrives only in darkness
in the shadows of fear we hide
Bring sunlight to your fears!

Sunlight on mental darkness
Sunlight on a great divide

The cure for HIV-AIDS begins in the community. It starts with those who are healthy, not those who are sick. We who are healthy should not - must not - no, must never drive the sick into the darkness of fear and retribution.
That is the beginning of a Great Divide. Sick people are not vampires to be sent back into the Dark. Let them come out into the sunlight, for sunlight on a problem is the first step towards remediation, and the most important one. Anti-retrovirals are the tools, the community is the framework within which it can operate best.

 If you have it, or suspect you do, or know someone who might ~ remind them, remind yourself: there's help, & hope and a life waiting to be lived. Bring it out into the sunlight and away from Dracula's shadow.

the image© is a detail from Blessing Ngobeni's 2018 acrylic and collage on canvas "Everyone is a VIP" ~ an apposite title for this theme.

Monday, March 25, 2019

The Fates: What lessons do the Ancient Greek Sisters have for us today?


The sisters ponder on and weave the tapestry of a life *1
Read from ...

Lachesis
Chlotho
Atropos
Conclusion
The Ancients believed the three Fates had roles at the start and ending point of their lives, and at the various crisis points. They were the mistresses of the mother thread in the life everyone, both gods and humans. Is there something to learn from it today? That's the topic of this blog post. Let's kick off with a brief summary of who they were. Looking at the image, we see
  • Lachesis (the assigner, sitting at the back) she decided how long you would live for;
  • Clotho (the spinner on the right, that's the thread of your life she's pulling on), Clotho spun the story of your life and intervened at critical moments in it; and
  • Atropos ( on the left - the 'unturnable', preparing for the moment when she will cut off the thread) she also ensured that you never deviated from your fate.
Each of these women acted independently from the others, i.e. they could not influence each other's actions. No doubt, being women they likely gossiped about our foibles, but at the key points they acted on their own volition. No court of arbitration. No appeals. Dice rolled, wheel of fortune spun, now get on with it. You wish our leaders could act with that sort of firmness and decisiveness!
How might this work then? and what value did people get from the process? Why were they so accepting of it? Let's do a plain language, somewhat allegorical deep dive into it.

Lachesis

She had a rod which she used to calculate the length of your life. Your life would be spun on a spindle, so her measuring rod was used to determine how much thread is allocated to you. Think of it this way ~ every heartbeat is a stitch, and when all the thread is used up, your time has come.
Freedom from the fear of death
You might say that there doesn't seem to be much value in that! Not so. The ancients were very pre-occupied with the reality of death. Life was uncertain, and death or misfortune could strike at any time, from anywhere, without warning or mercy. Much like today, in fact ~ only we put it to the back of our minds. Modern life insulates us from death until it strikes those around us, and then we are overwhelmed by it. Thereafter it haunts us, a silent breathe on the nape of the neck.
Lachesis takes this most primal of fears away: this fear of dying. Since our days have been numbered, down to the last second, they were able to live life fully and without fear. You're going to die when you're going to die, whether you act with cowardice or courage, with honour or deceit, so you're free to live your life to its allotted span. At the end of your days you will be remembered for how you lived, and for nothing else. Your legacy is in your own hands. This is the promise of Religion expressed in a different way: both view death as a portal rather than as an ending. Both offer a means to immortality.
Having done her work she plays no more part in our lives: Easy job. Some goddesses have all the luck! Look at her up there with her chin in her hands, chatting about this or that while the other girls do the hard yards.

Clotho

She has skeins of twine with which to weave your life's story around the mortal thread. Not forgetting a spindle and a needle to do the weaving with.
Imagine it this way. You're living your life, and unbeknownst it's been recorded on a tapestry which can be seen by those who have sight of it - not mortal people, of course! but by those who'll judge you one day and call you to account. We have come to a Big Moment waiting on a Big Decision. Maybe your relationship with your partner has soured. Maybe chance has brought someone new into view, and temptation beckons. What to do? Well, let's see …. hmmmm. Divorce, that's an option. Murder. An Affair (sounds exciting!) Couples Therapy? Maybe do nothing (because doing nothing is a choice with consequences!)
Knowing you (as Clotho does, she's been weaving your life's story since birth!) she knows what you would do in the event of each decision, and so she weaves a different path for each choice: one that you will be fated to follow once you've made up your mind. Beware! The law of unintended consequences always applies. Clotho is also the Goddess of Chance. She (metaphorically speaking) spins a wheel of fortune and let's that influence her weaving. And so Murphy's Law was born . . . . .
Let's think about this for a moment. Your life now comes down to a cycle of issues and events that lead up to a decision point. It's your decision, no one else's. You could get someone else to decide for you, but again that's what you chose. Having made your choice you're committed to follow whatever transpires. Once begun Divorce follows its path. You can't undead your partner once the murder is done (or attempted.) There's a process waiting, with police, judges, jails and who knows what else. The affair, well that could go anywhere! And not all of it to your liking either. Doing nothing will most likely lead to a deepening of a poisonous relationship steadily souring two lives. More if there are children or other dependents in the equation. Maybe couples therapy would've been a good choice after all . . . committed couples therapy, that is.
You live your life, you're confronted with choices, make them and then you're on an irreversible path. Nothing much has changed in 5000 years, has it? To live well you must choose wisely. But wisdom is not given us, it is acquired through our life's choices and reflections: we are iron hoping to be forged into steel in the furnace of life.

Atropos

Atropos has a pair of shears, probably better to think of them as scissors, these days. They never had modern manufacturing plants. The modern Atropos probably dresses like a Goth and has a range of really cool scissors in her hand bag. And hates her parents & siblings (careful dears, those scissors have purpose!)
So what's her role then? Keeping the end in mind, once the length of your thread has run out, she makes sure to cut off any that might somehow have remained. She cuts off the thread and so ends your life's tapestry simultaneously drawing an end to your life.
She has other duties during your life. After her sister has woven the possibilities, Clotho steps away. Atropos waits until you choose and then cuts off the ends of the lives you chose against. These are your ghost lives, shadowy possibilities of might-have-beens irrevocably pruned and composted.
There is no value in the moment of cutting, the value comes later in self-reflection and awareness, if you choose to make it so. 
Wisdom begins here, because as we reflect on the lessons of our choices, and ponder our ghosted lives, so we start on our journey towards it. We come to understand that the Wisdom of our mentors and influencers are their stories partially realised in ours: the contexts of our own lives might differ, but human emotion, honour, morality and ethics and their opposites are eternal. To become wise we take the wisdom of the past and adapt it for the present, and then hand it on to the future.

So what is there to conclude?

That the process the Fates followed are a mirror of our own lives maybe?

How will your tapestry look, laid out at the end of days?
All your struggles and choices laid bare:
a legacy built from the ugliest clay in a life well lived,
or one torn down from a golden plinth?
We know and understand so much more, yet still our lives are woven under the influence of random chance and in the midst of mindless chaos, and here's the only difference between then and now: The Ancients had an external force to blame for how their lives unfolded. We can own our lives.
*1: Public domain image sourced from Wikimedia Commons

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

I don't live to assuage the guilt of the dead


In the moment of change
its not for the last
nor for the least
not for the next
or even an act of contrition
or a longing for redemption.

sourced from what I know
and've learned about myself.
insight,
absent of guilt, 
in a moment of realisation 
brings a dawning awakening light

knowing how it ripples
as tiny droplets do
rippling across my memories
each ripple washing a neighbour
in waves moving over and on. 
each drop is driving a difference
a necessary needed difference
steering in some small measure
an outlook and new perception.

another droplet will fall
fashioned in its moment to be
another and then another
driving the changing me.

this is no river of tears
it carries no retribution
the past is not assuaged
no garden of Eden intention.

this change is a gift to my future
and a possible gift to yours

All images copyright (c) the author

Monday, March 11, 2019

this thought

as my ego fades

this thought

Sometimes
as the mind slips to a tipping point of emptiness
a thought starts to surface about me
and then of you.
And other times its you first, and then me.

 9Jan14
Image (c) Author: Woodstock graffiti

Saturday, February 23, 2019

all the pointers they have shown

all the pointers they have shown,
that you & I need time alone ... 
(our busy lives are just a cover to keep ourselves one from the other) 

not just each other! 
a busy life will keep away the mortal truth of life's decay 
I'm fine just me! 
I'm free you see! 
Let's make a date! 
what's that? too late? 

There's duty & things that closeness brings 
 ... 
take response a bility 
some account a bility 
selfish gene a gility 
... 
well then ... 
Let it not be. 
not you, not me. 
we'll always find another! 
and yet . . . 
and yet, never to another. 

Oh hell. 
Just use me when you need me, find me when you will. 
my shadow's there beside you, a shadow there until 
there's no one else to need to 
or the minds have lost their will. 


Image (c) Author: Woodstock graffiti

Friday, February 22, 2019

me without you without me




Me without you is a still wind in a cemetery
a headstone without words
an ending without beginning
a living unknown
a falling suspended.

begun unseen ended
darkness in sunlight
heartbeats distended.

Me without you is a midnight extended
dawning to sun-setting
a dream.

Othertimes.

othertimes me without you feels no better than any other combination that has me in it without you.


Image (c) Author: Woodstock graffiti

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

April 5th, 1986


Last year it was 25 years since my mom passed away
25 years!
Now its 26.
A tiny pang under a fading scar
sharp and unexpected
liquid and deep
gone before I could find it
pick at it
scratch it
make it bleed.
I would have liked to savour it
But it retreated too quickly, back into my flesh.
Who would have thought,
After all these years,
I could still miss her?
Who would have thought

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Keats, 2 Odes, and 2 Things to avoid in Relationships


Most of us struggled with poetry in school.
So much heavy lifting, and really, all the poet's saying is "I'm feeling depressed because the girl doesn't fancy me any more". *sigh*. *deeper sigh* "Anyway, I'll keep on loving her and then maybe it will be all right or I'll just end it all" *deepest sigh of all*.
All pretty straight forward, now let's get Adele to set it to music and we can all listen to it and Feel Deep About Life and Stuff.

Sadly, the academic world doesn't want you get down to the guts of the matter, they want you to be intelligent about it. Never mind about them, I ended up liking Poetry despite the best efforts of all those Teachers.

Let’s talk Keats and Relationships instead

Its 1819 and Keats is struggling with the idea of Beauty.
As life and chance would have it, he ends up in the London Museum in front of this great big vase with a number of scenes engraved on to it. The Grecian Urn. He walks around it, and there's a scene from a hunt, another of a bull being led to sacrifice and then there's a young man promising love, life, and the pleasures of the body to his girlfriend. This is it! Beauty! Everlasting, unchanging! A frieze perfectly frozen for eternity!

But then he has an oh-oh moment. He changes his mind about this Meaning of Beauty thing, because - well basically because there is no fulfillment. The hunt will never end, the bull remains unsacrificed, the couple never get it off. So, like - hey, what's the point? It’s all an abstraction and we get stuck in that moment and ... who needs that?

This depresses him (as most things seemed to) and he is left with no answer other than that it is what it is. After a Great Deal of Agony he writes his Ode to a Grecian Urn.

Some time later (weeks/months/days?) he is sitting in the park in this state of depression when he hears a nightingale sing. The song is so real, he finds himself so moved by it that he is convinced that he has found the Meaning of it All. But, oh-ho. (there's always an oh-oh when it comes to Keats). Oh-oh ~ it dawns on him that the bird can fly away, leave him, drop him back to the place he came from. Like any number of girls I have known, this bird can fly. And so he pens his "Ode to A Nightingale".

So,
what do we learn from this?

Don't be his Grecian Urn ....

What is it with some people that they want you to be stuck in that time zone when they met you, only stripped of everyone else who was in it? What is it with them? While they carry on living and changing and growing, the only thing you are allowed to be is congruent with them. Which is another way of saying it's OK for them to have careers, find new challenges, friends and so on, but your role is to adapt to them and Stay the Same as when We Met.
Be the Muse.
Like I want to live the rest of my Life as your Muse?
We all know what happens to the Muse 5 years down the track ...

Why are you so Afraid I'm your Nightingale?

There's something so wrong in the idea that if I meet new people, build a career, go ANYWHERE without you that I'll turn into a nightingale and take the song away forever. Where do you get such a low self-image? Trust me, if I'm going to hop off, fly away and never come back to the nest it won't be because we're not permanently joined at the hip. To the contrary, joined to your hip is the best way to lose my song.
And I happen to like my song.

A couple grows together, or it grows apart: that's the homily ~ but the truth is we all need space to grow ... so let's take a message from Keats and his struggles with Beauty:

  • Being someone's Grecian Urn - not on. Get out of it! It's dark and lonely and sad stuck inside a Vase, no matter how beautifully its engraved; and,
  • If you're being treated like a Nightingale, then it’s probably best to fly away before your wings are permanently clipped and you find yourself in an iron-clad, not-so-gilded cage ...

You deserve better.



Sadly, Keats himself died shortly hereafter from Tuberculosis, lost in love to Fanny Brawne.
But he left us a legacy, and an unwitting message for Relationships in general.


All images under wikipedia's Wikimedia Commons



Sunday, January 29, 2012

A Day in the Life: The passing of the Boekehuis

Champagne and Cake, Goodbye and Good Luck

"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got til it's gone" **


The Boekehuis has closed, it's gone: Goodbye.

It's passing will be mourned for many years to come, not only by those who visited it regularly, but also by the occasional visitor, looking for something specific. I can picture them arriving, and then wondering "Now where on earth are we going to go?!"

There is a distance between author and audience that's rarely narrowed. The commercial imperative of a book signing, the hidden agendas of TV and radio interviews ~ these create and maintain the distance.

If you dropped down the hill from Melville, travelling along Lotherbury Avenue, then turned left at the first traffic light, you would have found yourself at the Boekehuis. For 12 short years, this is the place that you went to if you wanted to narrow the Gap. Most Saturday mornings between 12:30 and half past one, and often well beyond that, the Boekehuis played host to an array of South African talent and their works. And yes, they sold a lot of books afterwards; but not because of hype: no, you bought them because you understood enough to know that you really had to have them.

The formula was simple and straightforward: a 10 to 15 min reading from a particular work, followed by a panel discussion, then an open discussion with whoever was in the audience. The audience was not chosen, the agenda was not fixed, and the interaction between all the people there spontaneous, revealing, often deeply insightful; but never trite, commercial or (most important of all!) boring.

There were special occasions ~ a conversation with a person or group whose work and life had contributed in some meaningful way to the enrichment of the South African landscape: Politics, Art, the Struggle, Literature, or even just Social engagement.

How do I explain the experience? There is so much to be gained by sitting in a small room crammed with deeply interested and engaged people and listening and understanding what drives them to do what they do, how this has changed them and the communities that they live in, and then seeing how this played out in our own lives.

But the space itself is not enough.
The intention, no matter how well conceived counts for little unless you have the right people driving the process through. Rudyard Kipling has his Roman General say to his two young lieutenants "It is always one man's work—always and everywhere!" – before giving them the impossible task of defending the Wall from the Barbarians.

For these last 12 years, this has been the work of an extraordinary person~ Corina van der Spoel is an artist at getting the most out of people: persuading them to take the brave step of engaging directly with a spontaneous, critical, and sometimes aggressive audience. And then ensuring that the whole process is rewarding to all the stakeholders, prompting questions, stepping back when needed, and engaging firmly to keep the conversation at its best level.

Corina keeps a watchful eye:
standing, as always, and
ready to step in when needed
There is a peculiar talent that some people have, of being able to lift or lower their conversation to the level of the person they are talking to, so that the person feels its all about them, that they are being heard: and so they open themselves up. Corina has this knack, whether it is the author, the panelists, or the audience. No matter who you are, you feel you have a voice, and its a valuable voice.

Drive, energy, commitment: a large network of people whose lives have been touched directly by her; the demands to take forward some new project will come streaming in from many sides. I should say her difficulty will be in choosing between opportunities, not in finding them.

I'm not sure what persuaded Nationale Pers/Media24 to bring the project to a close. Maybe the economy is biting too deeply. Maybe they think it's not part of their core business: maybe, maybe, maybe. Who's to know?

What I do know is that so much of what I have absorbed about South Africa, its culture, its people, its failures and successes has been given context from the understandings gleaned from arbitrary Saturday mornings, listening to people who have researched our world, reflected on it, or merely speculated. From the funny to the serious, I will miss them all. Let me say this: for a while I became somewhat reclusive: the only place where you would find me out and about would be the occasional visit to (where else?) the Boekehuis: at 12:30 in Auckland Park for an hour or so, before slipping back to my hidey hole.

Now, like Joni Mitchell, at last I know what I've had.
And that it's gone.
But unlike the singer, we are the richer for the experience: and we can ignore the parking lot :)

All Images copyright © the author
** From Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi Cab song