Hermit-Existence

Rereading “Ageing is an Attitude” I laughed
when realising that what the author depicts
as the more reflective, slower lifestyle of the
elderly, applies to how I have lived from my
youth; no wonder I do not see the distinction
between young and old and what has to be
changed with increasing age

Now I happily settle into my hermit-existence
with more self-confidence - relishing my best
Cinderella-dreams as the most glorious vision
I could conjure knowing manifestation would
only have spoilt them; glad that remaining as
I am is the best thing while dreams shall lead
to ever more magnificent visions


‘Aging is an Attitude’ Cecil Murphey – AMG
Publishers, 2005

Amplify Inner Visions

Finished reading true private eye stories searching
for missing persons, so many people romantisize the
past and early experience; we should enjoy our visions,
not try to find them manifested in real events, it is better
to fail in tracing old flames or abusive parents

Imagination enables us to improve on reality and create a
better world - the fact that the past proves their memories
of young love wrong, teaches us to look ahead to create the
best future we can, instead of trying to find idealized images
in real life – we should project these dreams

Into the future, striving to amplify our inner visions…


‘The Man with the Turquoise Eye and Other True Stories of
a Private Eye’s Search for Missing Persons’ – Norma Mott
Tillman with David Hunter; Rutledge Hill Press; 1995 ----
“Fanning Old Flames” pp 131-137

I am Mute (Revised)

Today is lost, I could not navigate
a steady course, mind disturbed,
nothing claims my concentration,
surfaced now and again to where
my head is snared in a net of
meaninglessness

Could not create a purpose or set
a Don Quixote task, cannot dream
the impossible dream for mother,
a hip replacement which financial
constraints make impossible, pain
her constant companion

No state hospital operations, only
self-funded private interventions
so how long should she need to
suffer? Nor can anyone alleviate
the pain – only her trust and faith
will pull her through,

To know she has to endure the
destructive agony of pain dims
beauty of life, makes me unsure
of myself and the meaning of
spiritual growth I assigned to
simple existence –

I could not breathe without it or
hear music; she must be released
from jeopardy, freed of pain, I am
mute in face of her suffering, my
head aches as my heart burns
shrinks into oblivion

A Wild Palate

This must be the scourge of allergic people
everywhere on earth, trying out new dishes
amazing new sauces from heaven, innovative
sausages with velvet textures - such delight
for a wild palate, enjoying forbidden pleasures

Exulting in the universal camaraderie of gourmets
then, terrible discomfort and malaise, torpor and
lassitude - uncontrollable urges to lie down, when
horizontal, neck stiffening, back contracting
the poor sufferer turning into a contortionist

Bending the body out of shape in an attempt to
become more comfortable in a body turned into
iron and steel, aching bones and joints, sinuses
clogged, breathing stops, life throttled out of the
glutton, once again new resolutions are made:

Tomorrow I shall be wise, only eat and drink the
tried and tested – if only I can survive the night
without succumbing to pain and fright…

Pulse Of Life

The simplistic soul of the small
organism revels in sheer joy of
existence, delights in basic being
as magnificence, enjoying mani-
festation as creative realisation

Requiring no other justification for
appearance, exciting pulse of life
is quite enough, ecstatic in being
present in abundance - all that is
required for throbbing, shining

And singing in total abandon to
wanton life, passionately aware
of being there, here and every-
where, no beginning or end to
the energy that is self-aware

Intelligent electricity magnetically
loving, nurturing and propagating
itself – indefinitely!

Albeit So Weird

I do not trust the long rinse and spin cycle of the
washing machine, loud and insane, scrunch up
the washing, making careful hanging to obviate
ironing impossible; I always interfere in rinsing-
spinning since washing machines have been
designed by demons bent on torturing humans

My distrust of all kinds of machines; except my
adorable laptop who takes every word it is fed
and returns it to me in the script I like; led to my
never using a dishwasher, an evil device that
runs in unfathomable cycles driving me crazy
with uncertainty about objects and motives

And degree of cleanliness; therefore I turn the
kitchen radio to Radio Pretoria (because they
play German music, the bedroom radio stays
tuned to FM Classic, TV alternating between
Nat Geo Wild and Deutsche Welle while the
big screen TV remains on sports channels)

And wash the dishes by hand; - I forgot to
add detergent when washing Tiaan’s dusty
clothes two washes ago, somehow I hold an
irrational belief washing should require little
detergent if any– and the washing machine
did not remind me – hah! – point is

While it is impossible to wash by hand, my
wrists go numb as I scrub and twist - the
washing machine is a strange invention
that refuses to wash in a way I can
understand; but I shall always use
it, albeit so weird…

Crystal Landscapes

And then you said, These are wild dreams and
mesmerising schemes, how can I go on, how
listen to the song; and I said, But you are strong,
your wings are wide now that they have stretched
to encompass the biggest scenes your mind can
hold, your view enlarged, your song won’t die,
just go and please try to reach yonder horizon

Then you flew with arms outstretched, you jumped
into the abyss, all seemed lost but here you rise
again, carried on currents of brilliantly coloured air,
the dream is so great, the ideal so beautiful, it in-
flates the mind and carries the spirit to the green
pastures of old which now start to seem like crystal
landscapes glittering in diamond and gold

Shining in azure, agate and aquamarine