O P o t B

I have been reading a number of posts and articles on love, and what I have found is a description of the qualities or attributes that exists when there is love.  Don't get me wrong, I am not for a second saying this incorrect, on the contrary.  The problem lies in the fact that what we are trying to do is to rationalize that which is irrational and the best that can be done is to associate love with its attributes and hopefully elicit the emotion in the reader and by proxy explain the emotion. I have often wondered how I would explain what I feel when I am in love? How would I explain that when I see my loved one the complete sense of elation and completeness I feel? How do I explain the complete sense of contentment?  How do I explain that when I stroke her hair, the sensations that pass through me? How do I explain the tingling that races up from my fingers straight to the heart?  How do I explain that when I take her in my arms, that time ceases to exist? How do I explain t

I have been fortunate enough to have traveled quite extensively, and being a lover of good food I make it a point of finding a place that serves local traditional cuisine.  I have eaten cat fish baked in a pie and pickled herring Germany, clam chowder and fresh crabs boiled in sea water in San Francisco, goat and camel in Saudi Arabia and a whole host of dishes, both savory and unsavory across the world.  Of all this is the one that really stands out for me.  At a restaurant in Mumbai, a stainless steel tray with six small bowls is placed in front of me.  A waiter proceeds to fill each bowl with a different vegetable dish.  A couple of chapatis, papa-dams and a number of spicy pickles are strewn around the tray.  Ghee, or clarified butter is spooned over the chapatis. The aroma of the food fills the air and I salivate in anticipation.  Proceeding from left to right, breaking a piece of chapati and scooping a small quantity of the contents, I taste of each bowl. Flavors of unbelieva

Its 6am, and I slide open the door to the balcony.  The sound of seagulls screeching announcing their presence assaults my ears.  The sky is dark and as the sun slowly makes its way over the horizon, the world is painted a warm golden orange hue.  Kelp, with its feet, firmly planted on the sea bed, bob up and down on the surface encouraging the swell on its way to shore, as it rears up and breaks as white crested waves on the rocky shoreline.  A crisp fresh breeze blows the salty ocean air into the room and permeates the senses of taste and smell.  A ship, anchored close to shore,  strains against its mooring as unseen currents, slowly turn the vessel in the direction of its flow. The memory, buried deep in my subconscious,  of a time when I too was submerged in the essence of the ocean, before being born, fuels the fascination and calmness I feel whenever I am in the proximity of the ocean.  It has been a while since I have been here, and so much has changed and so much has remained

On Jan Smuts avenue, nestled in the gardens of Villa d'Este, a world heritage site, right next to the Camelot Spa is one of Johannesburg's well kept secrets. The house, built in 1923 combined both Spanish and Cape Dutch styles, which, at the time, set the it apart from its neighbors.  In 1955, David Morrison, an architect, purchased the house and spent the next 26 years transforming it to a perfect replica of a Florentine Villa, complete with formal garden modeled in the same style and is filled with statues, sundials and columns.  Nestled on one side of the house, which since 2008, has been home to a day spa, is a quaint little restaurant. Its tables are neatly set, and deliberately scattered amongst the trees creating the ambiance of being in a wide open space.  The cottage like feel, to the indoor part of the restaurant, is further enhanced by the dark wooded counter that stretches almost the full length of the room.  The white of the walls are broken by a few mirrors, a

It seems to me as time has gone by so quickly, and while my body feels a bit creaky, in spirit, I feel like the young man of twenty that I once was. Probably the best indicator, that I am getting older, is when I attempt to engage with the younger generation, when at times I am left completely clueless, but, at times in awe at there ideas which have not yet been tempered by experience.  And it is this attitude that the youth have to life, that encourages me, and makes me realize that anything is possible.  I suppose this is what you could term being young at heart. Make no mistake, I take joy in getting older and I believe that growing old gracefully is the key to living a fulfilling life.  The gray hair that seems to be increasing as time passes is of no concern to me.  I must admit though, that I have on occasion coloured my hair, but rather subtly to give a more "salt and pepper" look rather than the stark contrast of the almost white against black follicles.  I suppos

When I first met her, I never imagined the impact she would have on my life.  Her small strong frame and plaited hair, I must admit, was quite intimidating.  As I lay on the table, with nothing but a towel over me, she proceeded to massage my body.  All the while talking, not to me, but my soul.  And slowly but surely I felt the effects spread through my entire being. Through happier times, she lifted my spirits even higher, through tough times she fanned the dying flames of my soul. Adding the fuel of love, morality and dignity until it burst forth burning brightly with a renewed energy. Turning my eyes inward, to witness my own inner beauty, and to in love with myself all over again, and to recognize the value of just being. Never once judging, or criticizing, forever guiding, forever leading helping me along from darkness to light, from despair to absolute bliss. A true gem that has found a setting in my heart.

Being on the Highveld I have heard my share of "Pofadder" jokes.  Its remoteness, its size in both area and population contribute to it being the subject of many a jest.  For me though, it has a different meaning. I remember the first time I drove to the Northern Cape, one December, like it was yesterday.  Starting the journey from Johannesburg, Gauteng, with its multitudes crammed it seems into every corner, through to Potchefstroom and Vryburg  in the North West province, with its wide spaces and grain farms stretching for miles and miles. Lush and green.  Leaving this to enter the semi desert world on the way to Upington and Pofadder in the Northern Cape. You would expect, that the landscape would gradually change, in fauna and flora, so that the semi desert would fade into existence.  However the contrast is much more stark, and the change from from lush green, to semi desert occurs in a few miles.  And a beauty which defies all reason, unfolds before your eyes. The

the reason for living, the reason for being, my love for you is complete. my heart rent asunder, the day you were taken, from the love and security you enjoyed. to a strangers house, to a strangers bed, to the reason for despair. tried to reason, tried to talk, tried everything, did my best. all those who cared, all those who declared, "What of Adam" did there bit too with claims of love with claims of joy with claims of being happy there i hear the longing i see the confusion i experience the clinging and not wanting to go and all i can do is turn to the heavens and declare "WHY ADAM?"

In the bigger scheme of things, when all is said and done, the final destination, for each and everyone of us, is the grave. Yet the human spirit, in spite of this certainty, never ceases to amaze me. Against all odds and trusting the universe, we love, experience happiness, endure sadness and feel every other variation of emotion.  We  take up sport, go to work, travel the world and engage in every form of physical activity.  We interact, adopt a belief system, help those in need, contribute to charities, support and fight for causes.  We engage with animals, plants and those that share the planet with us.  We take up spouses, have children and start families. All of this so that when we reach that final moment, that moment, which is inevitable, that we can let go and leave it all behind, with the knowledge that we have been privileged enough, to have lived life.

I heard a very interesting conversation on the radio this morning while driving to work.  A gentleman called in on the popular talk radio station, which shall remain anonymous, and was concerned at the ruling party's use of the word "comrade".  He insisted that, the use of this word, by the ruling party, gave a strong indication that the party was not willing to embrace the spirit of unity, and instead was out to divide the nation.  While the talk show host, who will also remain anonymous, proceeded to argue why the use of the word "comrade" should not be construed as dividing the nation, I got to thinking. It is interesting that "meaning" can be attached to a word and even more interesting how this "meaning" can affect our thinking. Words of "meaning" have sprung up in every sphere of our lives.  At work, at home, when relating to each other, everywhere.  It is especially prevalent in the youth and its a wonder that we manage t

It is sometimes difficult to look beyond the outer exterior to the inner beauty.  It is easier to get caught up in our needs and what we want then to look beyond them and focus on what we have to give.  It is easier to judge then to see the others for what they really are. And I am guilty on all counts! On this journey of life, I have discovered that my behavior, thinking and action has largely been shaped by my fears and my insecurities. This to such an extent that it tainted my view of the world. But I am glad to say that there is light at the end of the tunnel.  The change, most profound, came when I realised that I was already living my life's purpose, and having realised this asked the question "am I giving it my best shot?".  I realised then, that comparing my life, to how others had lived or are living their lives, created the fears and the insecurities, that I had not found my purpose in life. And this made me forget what I had to be grateful for. And gratitud

Being alone again after almost thirty years, it is daunting to think that I need to start dating again.  The problem really is, that while I am comfortable being in a relationship, the process of getting to the point where I can say I am in a relationship, eludes me.   I try to picture how it was when I was much younger, very much younger, when every young single person of the opposite sex was fair game, but, the only thing that comes to mind are the very pleasant memories of being in a relationship.  So for all intents and purposes I have no frame of reference. When talking to others around me, and trying to glean how does one approach the issue of dating, what I get is "you have to be confident in yourself", "you have to be in touch with your feelings" and a whole lot of other advice along similar lines .  Much of it to vague to be of any use. Somehow I get the impression that the dating game has not evolved much, and is much akin to the mating ritual of birds

Unlike the stereotypical male, I have a love and appreciation for good fabrics, fragrances and garments.  Egyptian cotton, woven so densely and tightly together that it feels like silk.  Cashmere soft and warm against the skin, fibers from heaven.  Fragrances that assault the senses, evoking the emotions and memories of places, people and events. Garments cut and styled into timeless masterpieces allowing you to express your own particular identity to its fullest extent.   But when all is said and done, it is really only a woman who can carry it off. Of all the celebs around the one that, in my opinion, carries it off best is Jackie O.  There was a certain sense of style and panache that radiated from her, and she always looked good no matter what she wore.  The only two I can think of that come close are Princess Caroline and Lady Dianna Spencer. So what is style, in my humble opinion, it is the ability to chose a the garment that expresses who you are without being in your face.

I have been staring at the blank page for some time now, unsure of what to pen.  Thoughts and emotions fight for the right to be expressed but I cannot seem to find the right words.  Words, at times like this, seem so inadequate, to express what needs to be said.  Knowing that they will be interpreted by others based on their own experiences, makes it more difficult.  How do I convey, in words, those things that have touched my heart, brought a tear to my eye, instilled a sense of gratitude or brought a sense of joy so great it lit up my entire world?  How do I assemble the words so that they  resonate with you, so that you too may be touched as I was touched? Are songs the ultimate proof that words alone are inadequate?  That we have to enhance and reinforce the words with music to convey its full spectrum of expression? What about video, where words are further fortified by moving pictures? I don't know.  But what I do know is that right now, right at this moment, these wor

Walking through the streets of Mumbai, you cannot fail to notice the abundance of places of worship. While mosques and Hindu temples dominate, there is no doubt, a place of worship for every religion practiced by mankind today.  Even in the slums, with its huge population of people, most living below the bread line, you will invariably find a place of worship.  These are marked by either a red flag, indicating a Hindu temple, or a green flag, indicating a Mosque. These places of worship, unlike their counterparts in the west, are constantly filled with people day and night.  There is a great sense of God consciousness. Most impressive though, is the Haji Ali mosque and shrine.  Situated on an Island a couple of hundred meters from the mainland, it can only be reached at low tide, when the path leading to the mosque is exposed by the receding waters.  Walking to the mosque you are assaulted by the vendors selling silk scarves, shrouds and garlands of flowers.  Offerings to ensure the

If there is one thing I obsess about it is good timepiece.  I cannot say that I have ever owned a Rolex, TAG or Breitling, but I do appreciate them.  The movement consisting of tiny little wheels, cogs and springs all fitted together to measure the passing moments.  Absolutely incredible.  To imagine fitting the pieces together, a cog here, a spring there, a crystal here. Perfectly calibrated.  An incredible feat of engineering, which we take for granted. Even more impressive are handcrafted timepieces.  The master clockmaker carefully constructing the movement, an eyepiece clinched against one eye, carefully and with steady hands placing the pieces together. Calibrating adjusting until it is just right. Honing and milling the casing, polishing it to a shine, fitting the movement into its well deserved casing and finally adding his mark to the finished timepiece. Something worth obsessing about?

I was chatting to an old friend, that I have not seen or heard from, in the last thirty odd years.  Catching up and discovering what we remembered, of a time long gone, brought smiles, laughter and an unexpected flood of emotions.  These emotions had, for all intent and purposes, been buried deep under the auspices of "growing up".  The feeling of invincibility, daring, lust for life, and all the rest that gives a certain sparkle to the youth. It felt so good to feel that way again and, it seemed as though all my trails and tribulations had vanished. And when this had passed, I saw the world in a new light. While basking in this light I recalled what a very wise man told me a couple of years ago.  I was about to go on pilgrimage and was looking for some material that would provide a deeper understanding of the journey.  Two days before my departure, I was visited by this wise man, who sat with me giving me an insight into the pilgrimage that could never be gleaned from any

Have you ever wanted something so much that you took the leap of faith and wished upon a star? Have you ever had a dream you so wanted to come true that you took the leap of faith and wished upon a star? Have you ever loved so much you wanted it to last forever that you took the leap of faith and wished upon a star? Have you ever felt so deeply and so strongly that the only thing you could do was to turn your head to the heavens and wish upon a star? I have and it feels real good!

Ever since my mom brought home the first tube of stripped toothpaste and I squeezed some on the end of my toothbrush, I have been fascinated by it. Finding out how its done has not caused my fascination to fade. Does it make our lives easier to live? Does it do the job better than none striped toothpaste? Does it contribute to reaching some higher state of being? I guess the answer to all these questions is probably “No”.  But what it does do is highlight mans genius for being able to make even the most trivial of things more aesthetically pleasing. So imagine what can be achieved if we are able to harness this genius to the more challenging problems facing the world today? We may not solve these problems, but improving the aesthetics of them may be enough :-)

While walking the streets of Mumbai, a city of great paradox I came across a family who had made the sidewalk their home.  A piece of plastic had been placed from the top of the boundary wall to the edge of the sidewalk and anchored with stones and bricks to form a makeshift tent.  On the wall, inside the tent, hung a number of photographs of Hindu deities and portraits of, I assume, family members.  The thing that caught my eye though, was not the state in which the family was eking out an existence in a city without mercy, but rather the expression of total love and joy on the little boys face as his mother poured water over his body to wash away the soap suds of his early morning bath.  The love and tenderness with which his mother wiped him down and proceeded to dress him.  This in total oblivion of their condition or their surroundings.  I realized then, that love, not any love, unconditional love, gives us the power to transcend all obstacles material and spiritual.

The first time I came across this acronym was at a demo for some new technology.  Like all demo's that work perfectly when setting up, there were a few challenges, but once resolved the demo proceeded without a hitch. When thinking of a name for this blog, the acronym came to mind.  I thought that this would be an ideal way to express my views on the wider world out there.  My thoughts on life, the universe and all things that matter at OPotB. Now we have to come to an agreement, that while many things matter to me, these same things may not matter to you, but never the less I hope they provoke some thought and bring a smile to you on this magnificent journey we call LIFE.