I was busy trying to circle back and update the journey towards a place I can call home for the next while, for #MindfulMonday, because the journey got kinda rocky and I was too "in" it to update it around here much. And the rockiness ended up making that part of the journey more philosophy than meandering.
I canned it for now and am currently back to meandering, which suits 
Because, as whoever they actually are say, the best laid plans...
Which is also why the journey got kinda rocky, by the way. It's complicated
I (almost entirely) wrote the post and then the lights went out. Again.
Load-shedding's been crazy around here recently. Ten hours a day for the last bit. Yep. You read that right. Ten hours a day.
These days, though, I try not to fight my current situation and I go with things as they are a lot more. And a funny thing happens when I do this…
Things usually turn out even better than I had planned anyway.
No. I’m not being a smart ass. Granted, I can be if you thought I was They really, really do. And I’ll tell you why I think this is so, in another post in another community that’s more geared towards that, one day.
Eventually.
Maybe.
Because who knows what happens next, right?
So the lights went out again and so did the internet of amazing things along with with them.
But I was a bit more prepared because the deadline was that very night and I'd planned to hit that deadline hard. But...
the best laid plans… or whatever
I’d sent it to my phone to work on in the dark, though. And so I did.
That post ended up being edited twice. Then it grew. And it grew. And then it even grew some more. And then I thought, “Well this is a bit much for one post, innit?” Kinda like this one, innit?
And so I stopped.
And then even more understanding about the situation I was trying to explain expanded in my brain.
And then I just got f*cking tired and confused and thought, “Maybe I’m not ready to write this part of the journey yet.”
Which was both true, and correct, after more thought and a bad night's sleep.
But I haven’t posted for a while and I've been stressing about that. I know you all get this part too. And also.
And dang… did I wanna hit that deadline.
I eventually went to sleep, leaving it unfinished five minutes before the deadline, accepting defeat. It is a great skill to learn to accept defeat gracefully #justsaying
Almost bleeding from the eyes not really, but it makes for a better telling of this story and pretty frustrated. Really!
I then had a dream that night and woke up in tears. Proper tears mind you. The real deal. The hot and heavy tears that come from places so deep you'd completely forgotten them. Those ones.
As it turned out, there was something I was avoiding again and my, not as clever as it thinks it is, brain was trying to distract me into “keeping busy” which for me is always work related to avoid it.
I finally figured it out, did some more trauma processing a.k.a. grieving, which is what trauma processing really is in a nutshell and made some progress unraveling and letting go of more of 2019. Which I’d forgotten by the way.
Six months of my life “gone”.
I’ve not been able to remember what happened between June - December 2019 at all until a few days ago. Zip. Nada. Absolute blank.
This part of the journey that time my mind forgot has been holding me back, from fully moving forward, in many ways.
As things like this and a refusal to even think about them usually do. "I don't want to think about it". My ongoing internal response when I have to remember 2019 in too much detail.
And six months of that year remained completely elusive.
Now I remember.
Not all of it.
But enough to maybe remember the rest as well.
With less fear.
When the remembering happened I decided to stop for a while...
because I also remembered how to work this process most productively.
And, subsequently, most quickly.
What I'm trying to say is....
sometimes we need to stop to progress.
We need to stop being “busy” and (pre)”occupied” in the present, long enough to sit with and (properly) let go of the past.
So I stopped.
And today became a rare day of self care. A day off. Encouraged in a book I once owned called "The Artist's Way", as vital to keeping the creative flow going, or getting it going again.
I always walk every day, however.
Today, when I let go of pushing myself to create and be productive for a while...
I ended up finding something perfectly for me, almost magical in its synchronicity, as a reminder and guidance for the exact pondering I was pondering on my way home.
These are the moments, for me, that make me wonder if there is something up out there after all.
I guess anything's possible.
Or, perhaps, "Nothing is impossible" Alice in wonderland - The Doorknob, as I used to prefer to say before life made me more cynical.
No point in making a point at this point.
It's something we may simply never know for sure.
So why even argue about it. Make music, not war!
I pass the house again on the way back and think, “It’s perfect. It’s adorable. That’s the kind of place I want to live in one day.”
This thought wanders on to the fact that I don’t want bling and opulence. And that most people don't believe me when I say this.
It then moves on to how financial wealth, and the obviousness of it, makes me uncomfortable.
I think about Nathan’s dad picking him up in his enormous, shiny black Mercedes and how I cringed as they drove off as the four barefoot children, only one on a beat-up bicycle, watched them drive by.
The one child’s eyes intensely following the car as he mumbled something to himself. Was that distaste or curiosity? Or was it envy, I wondered?
I only felt embarrassed.
I wonder if Nathan will feel embarrassed to live with me in a little cottage like this. In simplicity and where I'd feel safe, easy and content. I know he thinks I'm "poor" because he often tells me I am, even though my life is richer than it's ever been before.
I smile at my "weirdness".
I shrug inwardly and walk on, enjoying the unhurried pace, and emptiness of the streets around here, that's still so new it's delightful.
My thoughts wonder wander to why this is so.
That the show of wealth embarrasses me. That it makes me uncomfortable and even afraid. There was a time I never noticed it. Mostly when I had a lot of it and didn't even know I did.
I run through my personal history, as I walk, trying to figure out the exact moment this aversion was set in motion.
I pass a man, outside his home, saying goodbye to a friend in a car.
Grey messy hair. Dressed casually. Shorts and t-shirt. Slightly wrinkled. Fit for his age. He has a handsome face and is clearly not that fussed about getting all dressed up.
I like the people around here.
I’m interested but I can’t see who's in the car.
He looks up as I pass and I feel his gaze.
Out of respect, for whoever is in the car, I don't make eye contact with him.
But I look only slightly down and back to let him know I’m also interested to know who this new person in my near vicinity is.
There are a lot of single men my age around here as it turns out.
One even offered me a ride home last Sunday.
He was driving by and slowed down to rescue me. To ask if I needed a lift.
I was carrying a small bag of groceries and it's slightly unusual to see this, for a woman of my age and skin tone. In South Africa. Most people seem to worry and pity me.
A different perspective
The "Location (location, location) up on the hill nearby, where some people who really should be pitied have to live
I love walking everyday and combine it with life admin. The way the majority of people in South Africa do, really.
I find it hilarious that people work all day to sustain lavish lifestyles and then have to make time to exercise. Most people in my country do their physical training as par for the course just taking public transport to work.
Or as their job. Or doing home admin. As I was last Sunday.
But my hero was someone I’d most definitely like to get to know better and I knew it immediately.
Simply because he didn’t walk drive on by.
I explained I was walking and I do this, every day, because I enjoy it. My new landlady is also worriedly trying to drive me to shop... I happen to like walking, thanks angel
I then thanked him and told him that people like him are rare these days.
He drove off around a corner and, as I walked past the road where he turned, I looked to see if he had gone.
Yes. I “looked back”.
He had parked on the side of the road.
He was also looking back.
I waved and walked straight on towards home, thinking to myself, "Huh! I guess if you want to meet people at a similar stage of life, you gotta go out walking early on a Sunday morning."
Makes sense, doesn't it?
I don't know why I never saw this before. 🤔
No more dating apps for me. Thank f*ck!
As I got to the gate he pulled up beside me again and asked if I’m from around here.
The conversation ended with him offering to show me a smaller village nearby that I’m interested in visiting.
It also ended with me giving him the wrong phone number because I forgot it in my surprise. A frozen brain as I tried to write it on the till slip he gave me.
Yes.
No phone on either of us and old school all the way. We laughed out loud at the unlikelihood of such a thing.
"No school like old school." I quipped, in an attempt to not seem a complete moron, as I scrambled around inside my brain trying to dig the errant phone number out of the correct folder.
To be fair, I know it off by heart. He just caught me off guard a bit. As did the situation in full. I came up with something similar eventually, writing it down while only half convinced it was correct, just because he was looking at me a bit strangely by then.
Close, but I think I substituted a one for a seven by mistake.
I do hope he doesn’t think it was intentional.
He seemed really nice.
Or maybe he did think I was a bit dim for forgetting my own number and was relieved things had been old school enough to be able to lose it gracefully.
The man I see today is also clearly interested.
I’m intrigued.
This would never happen in Cape Town.
In Cape Town there are so many desperate gals “trying to catch a man” that you pretty much have to donate a kidney to one (to the man in question, to be clear) to get him to even notice you. Please don't go exchanging your organs for a hot date!
Here, apparently, I’m a rare find.
A single woman… earthy, makeup-less and usually barefoot.
Miles away from shopping malls, shiny lights and other favourite things.
My mind drifts on to how marvelous it is that I can write these posts in my head as I walk.
How I'm left alone, out here, for my musings to ramble along with my feet.
This would also never happen in Cape Town.
In Cape Town I was cat-called constantly when I walked.
I was cat-called enough for me to cover myself as I walk around these parts. Still. To try and avoid it. But, truth be told, I’ve been cat-called and hassled in Cape Town while I was un-washed and practically in my pajamas.
So I don’t think it’s even about that really.
The streets here are empty though. And my mind fills up with creativity as the silence creates the space for this.
I wonder if I could live with anybody again.
When this silence is so precious.
When this space is so open for me to fully be myself in.
No distractions.
Nothing to confuse the flow.
No drama that depletes the energy.
And it’s at this exact moment…
that I see the door.
It's when I see it and wonder how I could have missed this on all these daily walks...
that I realise I've gotten a bit lost again.
I would never, in a million years, have missed seeing this house.
Frida Kahlo
The woman I would have written about for that Laides of Hive prompt, way back when, about the woman I admire the most
I walk home.
The words of a poem now filling my mind.
I wish I had brought my phone when this happens. It often happens when I walk, you know.
I write things in my head.
I always used to think I'd remember these sudden bursts of creativity, because the words come so easily when they occur. Now I know the things that come this easily are usually the things that slip away again just as quickly. Back into the ether or from whence they came. Gone forever.
I've even considered carrying a small notebook around on my walks.
Old school...
As the gate to what I’m fondly calling “Heartbreak Hotel” opens Levelled up! The last place was either fondly called "the Bates Motel" or "The Hotel New Hampshire", depending on the time of day and the weird sh!t unfolding at the time, I smile wryly at the voice-over for a documentary I scrolled past on Netflix last weekend.
About a “Polyamorous community". *Trigger warning
A “Polyamorous” community he may have said Polygamous but I'm having a Frida day. Also...it's 2023 already that marries multiple young girls off to one man is hardly polyamory, my dear man. It surprises me that such an ignorant thing could have been added to the trailer at all.
Silly of them really. but I could be wrong Frida
I enter my simple, one room for now, accommodation excitedly and grab my phone.
I'm eager to film my walk today.
And I can't wait to write again.
As I pick up the shawl, to cover myself as I leave, I stop for a second.
"F*ck that." I think, throwing it onto the bed...
as I march back outside...
into the sunshine.
'scuse typos if any... madly late and I'm bleeding from the eyes.. almost really
This post is dedicated with love and gratitude to an artist I found on Hive, who's stuff I've been adding to my growing collection - 
I've kinda fallen in love with you already
you know
I mean
I know you're there and I'm here
and she's there and I'm not
and I don't even know you anyway
so this probably isn't any kind of love
worth making official with ceremony
or acknowledgement by society
or cementing in property
Proper-ly
but it's the kind of love worth writing about
I think
as I walk along the empty street
towards home
because it doesn't come with any of those conditions
and so it's going to never end
even though it can’t be true
for them
so it’ll also probably never really begin
or get started up
but I kinda love you already
anyway
because you're me
I know
and it’s okay
you're only me
I'm talking to
until I get to know you -
if I do.
See?
but I'm not allowed to
it might be considered a sin
or something
or just plain old bad
if a person wasn't that way
inclined
I ask you
how can any kind of love be bad?
but I also know
I don't need to ask you this
I walk past the house that’s not a home as I think
too lost in thought
and writing this
all in my head
to see
even though it's usually
when I see most clearly
sometimes you need to stop seeing
so your vision can clear
I walk so far past the gate
that I'm surprised when I see the door
It brings me to a sudden stop
and these thoughts stop as suddenly
have I been here before?
I squint
hoping what I’m seeing is true and right
without my store bought lenses on
it is her
Perhaps I do have some icons left
to remember
after all
I stand there staring for a moment
while I take her in
then I begin to move instinctively again
as my curiosity overcomes
my shame
of the possibility of being impolite
it isn't only her
stuck in the middle
it's her everywhere and all over
I wonder who lives in this house
and I know I’m going to meet them
one day
the door is closed tight
and the house feels
abandoned
perhaps it's a part-time place I think
as I walk on still confused
unaware I'm lost again
but as I look back
I see a window
left open
that reveals she is Home
I know she is a woman
I know she's an artist
I know she's weary of people
I know she prefers her solitude
because she's feels differently
But I also know that's what makes her an artist
and I know she's happy
now
alone in that house
that is her Home
content
to keep the front door locked
up tight enough
for it to say clearly
that it's not worth knocking
anymore
she's left this message on her door
to let people know
who
and what
she is before
they do
she's accepted
she doesn't see things quite the same way
or feel them like that anyway
I hope they hear her
through the busy noise of the pretending
Frieda must have been some kind of something, huh?
Being so much
of who she was
at a time like that in the world
I would knock on her door as well
were I courageous enough
to meet her
where she chose
to Live
Eternal Seeker
Hardened Dreamer
Mother
Warrior
Determined Dancer
and Stargazer
still...
Beyond fear is freedom
And there is nothing to be afraid of.
To Life, with Love... and always for Truth!
Nicky Dee
All images and footage my own
Edited with GIMP and YouCut
