Perfection

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Isn’t everything that nature presents us with perfect?
I mean could you really find fault in something from nature like it is too small, ugly, messy, awkward, fat, colourless …?

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I have a beautiful garden and now in the rainy season, here on the southern tip of Africa, it produces beauty unimaginable. Not just the many plants but also the birds are magnificent. The sky is a theatre of cloud plays never repeated. The sun adds life and everything reproduces.

I can’t fault nature.

But, I do fault myself, and I fault others. I am actually especially skilled in the latter. Passing judgement on others is the easiest thing. I vehemently fault myself too when I mess up. Forgetting a wallet when going shopping, hurting myself, saying the wrong thing or not doing the right thing etc. etc.

I have another skill-set. I can randomly and entirely un-choreographed produce a string of expletives that I join to my judgements, and, should those word-bombs exceed my thoughts or become louder than a mumble, they would send others cowering.
I am also quite happy to run myself down. Slate myself. Curse myself. Knock myself on the head in disbelief and do even worse things when no one is looking.
But I find no fault in nature. None. I love nature. I have grown up close to nature and have never once that I can recollect, cursed or run nature down.

Aren’t we humans also nature?
If we’re not then what would we be?
For a while, when we are very small I think we are perfect. Then comes indoctrination from those around us and then our mind kicks in and pretty much shapes our behaviour. Now we become clever, judgemental and call others all kinds of names. We think we know a lot and yet we don’t even acknowledge that there is so much we don’t know.

I don’t want to think who and what you are and I don’t want to listen to what others have to say about you.
I want to see you as unquestionably perfect as I see nature.
I also want to believe that I am perfect.

lots of lots vs enough

I have that feeling that many in society, me included, are generally not all that satisfied with having ‘just enough.’
‘Just enough,’ has a sound of being poor about it. Maybe even a bit stingy, but certainly there is a connotation of being a bit short-changed.

If you are invited at someone’s for dinner and want to go for seconds and the hostess says,”Sorry, we only made ‘just enough,'” it would surely raise your eyebrow.
It raised mine. There wasn’t even an apology, it was just accepted amongst them that there will ‘only’ be ‘just enough.’

Now why should that raise a question? Why do I want more than ‘just enough?’
I mean I had ‘just enough’ and that is actually more healthy than stuffing myself till I become un-moveable and sleepy and useless.
My grandfather practised what he preached all his life and his philosophy on eating was: “When it tastes the best, stop eating.” Something I have dismally failed at all my life. For him there was always enough and for me there was never enough, and that goes not just for eating. He wasn’t a masochist and I don’t think I am a glutton.
Those same people that had me over for dinner and had ‘just enough’ food, also had a ‘just enough’ car and ‘just enough’ furnishings.
It seemed they were happy with ‘just enough’ and they could have afforded better or more if they wanted to.
For them ‘just enough’ was good enough, however for many of us it isn’t.

I know of many people in Africa to whom ‘just enough’ would be a blessing. I know Africa personally because I live here, and then there are those with ‘not enough’ in South America, in Asia and the rest of the world.

What if I could have everything I wanted in ‘just enough’ proportions rather than wanting too much of everything? I would still be happy and nothing would go to waste.
That sounds like a good plan to me. But, I have a built in fear that ‘just enough’ just ain’t enough for me. I also have no trust that there always will be ‘just enough.’ I am so conditioned to lots of lots and seeing others around me who also want lots of lots. Imagine a kiddies party with ‘just enough’ soda pop and sweets, it would be a disaster, – or would it really?
The strange thing is that the leftover from all our ‘more than enough,’ eventually gets thrown out, – hopefully not into the bin but given to charity.

Somehow we have been conditioned to leave a handsome margin of tolerance in our vision of ‘just enough.’ Realistically however, coming to think of it, ‘just enough’ is actually ‘enough,’ so that there is nothing to worry about, right? Because there is some stigma attached to the term of having ‘just enough’ like you feel you are that little bit short changed, let’s call it just, well, ‘enough’ from now on. I don’t need ‘lots of lots’ or ‘abundant of,’ I need enough to live my life the way I want to live it. There is an enormous difference between excess and enough. Excess I can give away and I think we probably have an obligation to do so.

Isn’t the most rewarding feeling the one of giving, and, still having enough? That’s actually a life of abundance.

nothing new – lost in the old

I want new stuff to happen to me.

Specifically new stuff that is part of my plan for my life, – not random, default existential stuff.
I do know for one that it’s good to have a plan. A plan replaces any default, ‘let me make it through another day’. A plan is a vision of ‘something’ from nothing. I plan new stuff not old stuff.
But I question: why does nothing new happen to me? I mean it’s not for lack of having a plan. It’s not for a lack of ideas or wanting.
Seeing there is nothing happening there must be something else.I am puzzled.
This ‘nothing happening’ manifests as a stuck-ness. It feels like the flow of my life is obstructed. There is a lid on my pot.
In search for answers I dig around and sift through philosophies and belief systems and flavours of the month. I listen to gurus, sages, Elon Musk and Steve Jobs. I read Robin Sharma and Wayne Dyer. I change my diet, drink water, sleep enough, get up at dawn, meditate and exercise and stretch. I Feng Shui the house, love my plants, walk barefoot on the dew in the morning and grow my hair, – I change everything for a new start, a new life and for new stuff to happen to me.

But it doesn’t. Nothing happens.
Yeah, certainly, I feel so much better and healthy. I have tons more energy. I am stronger than before.

And then one morning during meditation I found the answer.

I am lost in the old.

Because I am lost I am also clueless of how to change my status quo.
There is so much old that there is no ‘space’ for the new. I have amassed tons of old stuff in my head. I need to do some mind-clearing. House-clearing is of course also not a bad idea while I am at it. It’s like my hangar is full but I want a new aeroplane. My pantry is chockablock but I want a new dish. I can’t even see and I don’t even know what I have anymore but I know that my life has become unbearably heavy. I am chained down by old rules, concepts, beliefs, hangups, mindsets, practices. I can’t fit another thing no matter how much I want it, into my life.

Forthwith, in this realisation, I am asking of myself to make space for the new that I want, by ridding me of the old that has no more purpose going fupwards (forward and upwards).

important as a raindrop

The Giraffe was browsing the succulent shoots from the top of an Acacia tree when she saw an Elephant walking by.
The Elephant was minding his business and decided to pause. He rested his right front foot on the polished, rounded-off top of a termite mount.
It was not the first time he had come past here. This was a narrow path which he and many others had walked before him.
His name was Socrates. Other animals had given him that name because, as he stood there, his pose resembled that of someone deep in thought.
And he was. The depth of his thoughts was enormous just like his size.
The Giraffe watching Socrates from the top of the Acacia gathered her long purple tongue, interrupting her gathering of delectables from nature’s kitchen, and commented,
“Socrates, today it has become very clear to me that I am bigger than you.”
Socrates, unfazed, nevertheless had to raise his eyebrow to find the head of the Giraffe above the canopy of the Acacia and he replied,
“Tallneck, you know, it really depends which way you look at it.”
At that moment a small ant known by the name of ‘Furmiga’ piped up so that both the ‘big ones’ heard it and said, “I am also the biggest, the biggest of the smallest.”

In the meanwhile God, on his journey through existence, had come by and was resting on a tree stump, listening to this conversation of who was the biggest.
He decided to clarify the situation as it had in the past caused heated arguments and fearsome demonstrations of power.
“I made some of you big so you can see the small things and I made some of you small so you can see the big things. But you are all as important as a raindrop.”

Tallneck respectfully thought about that and felt that a raindrop hardly stated her importance.
Socrates sunk even deeper into thought searching for the meaning of God’s words.
Furmiga was satisfied with the idea, because after all a raindrop was quite a bit larger than she was.

God rose from his tree stump, and as he walked away his big feet stirred up some of the fine dust and he sneezed so vigorously that the clouds gathered overhead and rain started pelting down.
Tallneck, with her head stuck above the Acacia, felt each raindrop as it pricked her face. Looking at the dust bowl God had just walked through she saw it filling up with fresh clear water as each raindrop added its importance. Fascinated she watched the sparkling pearls as the light broke into prisms of colour and then splash up in a silver spray in the little pool.
Socrates felt each transparent bead miraculously cooling him down as his hide absorbed the water turning from a dull grey to a glistening black. He realised that if it weren’t for each single drop from the sky he could not survive. In gratitude he reached upwards with his trunk opening it towards the sky.
Furmiga knew that with each important drop the dust and sand came alive in another miracle and she and her clan could eat and drink.

Next time I see a raindrop I know a blessing is on its way.

my breath was everywhere

I was a dove.
A white dove flying through a dark valley on the edge of my memory. The silhouette of my past abruptly ended with the light of the horizon of my future.
My journey was from the narrow shadow land towards the blue sky of my freedom.
I flew. That is all I ever knew how to do. My flying was like your walking. But I had to fly, I could not walk.
All I had to do to fly was breathe. With every breath I stayed aloft another time. That’s all it took.
First there was hardly any light at all as the valley walls towered above me and I was dwarfed by their rugged strength and enormous presence.
Beyond, it seemed, was more darkness with faint lights so distant I feared never to touch them.
As I sat and watched I remembered a time gone by that was even darker than no lights or sunshine.

I felt the break of dawn.
A clear line was emerging between my past and the present, unfolding with every breath.
My spirit lifted. My soul prepared for flight. My body breathed a deep breath and floated into nothing.
Slowly, the little dot that I was, gained height and I flew in the ‘V’ of the valley towards a light that magically attracted me.
I knew not what was beyond the ‘V’ but light, and the only way to get there was for me to fly.
I took a deep breath of imagination and cleared the rim of the valley into the blue nothing.
Suddenly there were no walls, no cliffs and no more ‘V’ that I had to carefully navigate in.
For the first time I could fly unobstructed as I left the valley behind.
I filled my head with golden views. I breathed the air of infinite beauty. I soared and dived and tumbled. I floated, rose and merged with all of nothing.
I knew suddenly that my breath was everywhere and I was in every breath.

align & cure the stuck

I am stuck.

Stuck in the mud with my 4X4. Stuck on the runway with my aeroplane. Stuck with these friends. Stuck in my life. Everything is stuck, stuck, stuck.
I am stuck in my circumstances.
The circumstances that I can be stuck in are endless. Stuck taking drugs. Stuck drinking. Stuck in this town. Stuck in this job. Stuck in a relationship.

I could be stuck for the rest of my life. Without a vision, no more dream, – nothing. Hopelessly stuck.
There are many pictures of stuck-ness. We have all seen them. We have all wondered and we had no answer either.
And, you can’t really help unless that spark to want to get unstuck exists within. Unless the will to change and make a different choice is there.

As always I can only talk for myself and what I have observed and experienced.
I have been horribly, super-glue like stuck. Not just for a moment or a while, no, for years of my life. You feel like you are stuck in a rubber cell because no matter how much you fight and rant and rave, absolutely nothing, nada, zilch happens. You stay stuck and you think the devil is having fun watching you and you can’t beat the devil and get unstuck. It’s a terrible experience. Being stuck means the energy flow of my life is severely restricted. When I am stuck I seem to make it even worse by denying, resisting and ignoring what I really should be doing.

Why am I stuck?
I am stuck because I am contrary to the flow. I am like a log wedged across the flow of the river.
If water flows and air flows then it is likely that our life also flows, – or should flow.
If it doesn’t then I am out of alignment with the flow of my life.
Yes of course I can blame everything and anything from my childhood to my boss and the government and God for my stuck-ness, but that doesn’t unstick me. I have to do something.
Because as human beings we are quite resourceful at adjusting to circumstances, we sometimes don’t even see this misalignment that obstructs our life’s flow. It might take quite a while until we start thinking, “Heck this is not going the way it was intended to.” Perhaps we have even accepted the contorted flow of our life. We might have even ended up on a trickle of what used to be our stream and we still find some reason why it should be like this and not like the river we have left.

After enough self-pity, finally, sometime, I acknowledge that I am stuck. I suddenly know it and I want to change it.
Now I see myself unstuck. I feel unstuck and I consciously Align. I re-align. My vision is filled with the flow of my life in the stream of my choice to the goal of my dream.

Alignment is non resistance. In alignment things roll and flow. In alignment I can achieve. In alignment I can be and I am.

 

observing without mind

When I take time to observe, – do I in fact observe the spinning yarn of my mind or do I actually recognise what is presented in front of me?
Do I see what I want to see or what is there? Do I listen or do I hear what I want to hear?
Can I observe without dictating my observation?
Can I be, for a while, an observer not influenced by my ego, my mind, my emotions?

My racing mind has been in overdrive most of my life. It has conjured stories, distorted facts and has often been like a runaway train. Plenty a times my observation happened with a glass in my hand or through the green smoke of a reefer. Instead of letting impressions sink in, I was, or became, too emotionally involved to see the moment. I was not an observer. I was a participant on some drive towards a forced outcome of my determination.

But what is observing really?
I have watched a Bushman in a remote region of western Botswana that I was fortunate enough to have shared some time with. Bushmen are the people who inhabited southern Africa long before others migrated down from the northern interior of Africa, or before explorers anchored their ships along South Africa’s Indian ocean coastline. I have always been fascinated by these people who can survive and live a life entirely in nature, understanding the purpose of each plant and animal, living completely without any technology whatsoever and who are (largely) untouched by modern life.

I saw how he observed the land below him when he sat in a shady spot on a cliff or some lookout point, patiently waiting for something to happen in what we westerners would describe as a world filled with lots of nothing. And at a glance there is nothing that happens. It all looks the same. Acacia trees, bush and sand as far as the eye can see. The real observer however, who doesn’t focus on what they want to see, like wishing for an Eland or an Elephant or a Springbok, they wait, and they will eventually be rewarded with the sight of a Bateleur eagle and circling vultures, skittish duiker and Gemsbok, a snake and much more, and wont walk away from that scene saying that they saw nothing. The Bushman would sit there and let it happen upon him with the patience of Job, – he would observe. He came to look, not to put there with his mind. And, while he looks and observes, he doesn’t think because then he doesn’t see.

I create with my mind what I want my life to be. I also control and I dictate. Seldom do I take time and observe. Seldom do I relinquish control of my mind and watch what the rest of my being has to say without the ‘boss,’ my mind, constantly interfering and adjusting and knowing better.

How can I observe in this busy, tumultuous life full of demands and stress?
I take time out to meditate. In my meditation, once my mind has calmed down through focus on breathing, I have a phase when I observe. In that phase I become like a Bushman. What I see happens upon me. It comes from within, undirected, un-choreographed. It is different for every meditation. It is the source of a perennial spring that is fascinating. Every session, every observation reveals something born from deep within my soul.

Next time just observe, you’ll be amazed what transpires.

 

trust who?

Hah, should you find time to think about it, in this frantic life we have gotten ourselves into: who do you trust?
Trust? You can’t trust anybody these days. You can’t trust anything.
Family and loved ones can deceive you. Buildings can collapse. Ships capsize. Airliners crash. Storms wreak havoc, hackers hack, wars start…
Goodness gracious, in this light can I really talk about trust?

You’d be lucky to get through the day unscathed and then you have a whole life to navigate still. That’s days x days x days cubed. Huh.
It’s not like I can say, “Stop,” I need time to think. Once I live life, it demands all my attention.

But what has puzzled me for so long is that I can’t give attention to all of life all the time, treading over it as if it was a path full of thorns. I mean, I have to get on with living and split my attention between a lot of things and sometimes focus to such an extent that I haven’t got time to concentrate on living. What do I do now? What do I do now most of the time?

I hope.
I hope all will be well. What’s this all? Well, everything in my life. Health, security, income, kids, house, dogs, cats, loved ones. Boy do I hope a lot. I’m a hope-machine! I do more hoping than probably most other things I do and the stuff I am hoping about is dearly important. And then I hope for other stuff too, stuff I don’t really have yet. I hope for a new …, a better …, a stronger …, a faster …. Much of my life hangs under the umbrella of hope. It better be made of titanium-silk and be enormous because I have a lot of hopes.
Where does this ‘hope’ thing come from? Who coined it? Why on earth would I want to hang my life onto something that gives no guarantee?

I have decided to stop hoping because there is no certainty in hope!
I mean look at it this way. Would you fly with an airline that tells you, “Mr Nothing we hope …,” or would you not prefer an airline that says “Mr Nothing we will …!”
Too many times I have sat in an aircraft seat being told “We hope …,” or thinking “I hope …,” and I have accepted it because statistically that hope is like a guarantee. But it was still only a hope. A hope in the sky. Pie in the sky?

Hoping throughout my life is a ‘maybe,’ or ‘maybe not’ affair. Yes an affair. Not a serious relationship. With it I can’t be 100% sure, but I want to be sure, – for sure. I actually want to know unequivocally. This barrel-organ of hope which I wind up all the time is a royal pain. I don’t know who taught me that and it doesn’t matter anymore either because I decided I’m over it now.

I concluded that from now on I will trust. Hope is out. Trust is in.
I’ve evolved from nothing. That means, for me to be here now there have been many before me in my lineage. I’ve come a long way. We all have. Apart from everything else that this ‘greater history’ of me has produced it has created an instinct of survival. An instinct to make the right decisions. A capability to trust myself.
I trust. I trust that I know. I believe. I can see clearly. I expect without doubt. I can and I know. That is certainty. Everything else is a ballon that can pop. I don’t want to embark on something and it go’s pop.
Now I have a guarantee. That is positive living. I trust me. Not some ‘hope promise’ out there which I have no control over.
I have been confused by hoping instead of trusting. I am here because I can and all that ability is within me and it is underlined by my trust in myself.
Modern life has confused or even obliterated that ability to trust, that inbred instinct to do the right thing, that gut feel.
I don’t trust my mind and it’s bubbles or my heart and it’s aches anymore. I am getting back to trusting that feeling in my middle. That is my center, my core, – my gut-feel.
I trust me from now on!

 

standout & shine

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Even in the nothing of darkness I have a vibration that announces my existence.

I am.

I am not just by fluke. I am because I choose to be who I am.
I stand strong and I shine.I am with nature. I am part of nature. I am nature.
I bend only enough so that I don’t break but otherwise I am.
I am regardless of the storms around me.
If I don’t stand out then I am not, and I am unmistakable.
The many parts of me are all that I am.
I am filling the nothing with a presence so you know who I am.
Regardless of what you think I am, I am.
I am another way of being, a way you might not have known before.
Crystallised nothing is what I am.
Nothing is everything and everywhere and still I am that I am in that.
I am even in your ignorance of me.
There is none like me. I am unique.

I standout and announce, “I am!”