Pruning

It is easier said than done. A paradigm shift, that is... But The Art of Possibility (Zander and Zander) offers some help. Recognizing that we accept the boundaries drawn for us by others, is a first step. The second is realizing that the so-called benchmarks are invented, along with the scales that measure them. So when the strictures get too much for you, stretch as much as you can and arch your back (in defiance, if you must). Something will give. Even if it is only just a creaking expansion at first, eventually there will be a crack in the wall and a way out will start to be revealed.

But what if you so accept the measurements and boundaries of others that to lose them might mean you become someone that does not fit into their hearts anymore? Undying, unconditional love is a concept we all like to cherish (at least the idea, if not in the observance) – but the reality is that the sordidness of everyday living sometimes erodes the shallow soil of our hearts a bit too much.

Then what? Will a paradigm shift help or harm the relationship? Well, it is clear that there is not enough loam to nurture the old plant, so a cutting must be taken and transplanted into some rich, new medium for a new shoot and root to sprout. Transplanting, propagating from an old plant is fraught with the possibility that the operation will fail, but equally that great new things will spring forth – in time.

We are having our garden renovated and it is a good thing that I am still on crutches, I think. It has been exceedingly hard to restrain myself from rushing outside screaming, stop, stop, stop – when I see the extreme pruning, ripping, uprooting of my (sickly) beloved little plants taking place. I know that spring will bring wonderful new things (maybe even some veggies) and I am really excited about that, but now there are only sticks where there were leaves and flowers.

So we move... move on we must. But a little help is often required.

¨Hello, darkness my old friend...¨

Never thought one could miss it, but just occasionally, it might be nice to have a good cry. 

 My heart feels encased in leather; so few things really move me now. The thick dullness of medicated equilibrium has made me into a bland, pragmatic coper, with a measured temperature that hovers between nine and three o´clock. 

The days of despair are a distant memory, but then so are the crisp, incisive shards of ice that draw fresh red blood, awaken nerve endings and call forth a cry. It's always high summer, baking sun, and dryness. Soporific, shoot-suppressing, thirst-inducing. 

This is a survival mode, but can there be any growth?

Ninety-nine bonk

Remember the primary school joke about the centipede with a wooden leg? Such luck - he had another ninety-nine to choose from! 

I have discovered that a one-legged woman on crutches is actually without hands either - as both arms are fully employed doing a very poor impersonation of the other leg. In the morning the heel of your hands ache as they grip the spongy handles afresh, and your side muscles (technical term that!) say, ¨Aren´t you sorry you didn´t do those arm presses in the gym now?¨ You can´t even hold a cup of tea, water a plant, carry a phone, etc. without a measure of creativity. Funny bags and little pockets come into their own, along with baskets that can be pushed along, typists´ chairs, innocent vegetable trolleys... everything takes on a possible new function. The most important goal, however, is to absolutely ensure that the remaining ankle stays intact! 

 Just when self-pity threatens to close in, the SABC provides material to save you: permanently wheelchair-bound people in Lenasia are only asking for a decent bus service - but in the meantime are coping superbly with caring for babies, doing shopping, wheeling themselves up potholed roads, navigating small houses, little money... (Okay, I am ashamed now.) 

There comes a time in everyoneś life when you hear the distant call, ¨Slow down¨. I did - resigned from work. But the urge to fill the vacuum is inexorable. So, I got slowed down a little bit more! Now there is no escape. I am with myself all the time, going nowhere slowly, doing little - and that very carefully. 

Does the noise in my head bother you? It is starting to bother me - so I thought it was time for (more activity?) to revive this little blog! Well, letś see if I can keep it real this time...