O P o t B

Sitting at my desk, sipping a cup of coffee.  The sky painted a warm shade of orange as the sun starts its journey announcing the dawn of a new day.  The stark white of my life's canvas staring back at me patiently waiting for the first stroke of my brush.  What colour should I start with? What will be the base colour of my canvas?   I thought about my life thus far and the choices I had made that got me to this point. There were many moments like these when I had looked at my life and considered the choices and I had made.  I often contemplated what it would have been like, if I had made different choices?  Would the outcomes have been different?  Would my life have taken a different turn?  These questions remained unanswered and took a toll on my self confidence and my ability to remain positive and hopeful. Not quite the thing I should be thinking of, with brush poised in hand ready to make the first stroke on my life's canvas.  It daw...

As I sat in the coffee shop sipping a very large cappuccino, watching those around me reading, chatting or just enjoying a cup of coffee like me, my mind drifted. Thoughts of friends, family, of things gone by, the present and the future. Random thoughts one leading to another, relaxing and just enjoying the atmosphere and rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Taking another sip of the coffee my mind took a new turn and I thought about those whose birthdays were coming up, including my own, and I felt inspired. A fitting topic for a blog. The question really is, why do we place so much importance on a birthday? Considering that there are six billion people on earth today, surely the birthday of one, in the bigger scheme of things, is insignificant? These and other questions about birthdays I contemplated and thought about and decided thus. What makes a birthday significant in our lives is not the fact that this is the day on which we left the protective comfort of our mother...

How time has passed on before mine eyes?  It seems like only yesterday that I was walking with my satchel to school.  We lived in an area called Mosquito Valley.  It earned its name by virtue of the fact that it was adjacent to a wetland "Oupa Fats", the origins of the name escape me now,  and in the summer months, mosquito's abound.  Tumbling out of bed at some ungodly hour to shower and then dawn on the clothes of the day.  The only stipulation for uniform was a tie and a blazer aptly called the butcher blazer.  Chocolate brown, with a gray stripe bisected by a white one.  The uniform of Nirvana Indian High School.  Walking down the newly paved road to the main thoroughfare to the CBD, and across through an alley, down a paved road right at the Mosque and two blocks down to the pre-fab school.  The school was constructed out of asbestos sheeting sandwiching a layer of insulation and painted a sort of bright green.  Windows wer...

It sometimes feels as if the words in this blog have been strung together in a single story.  This is a story that began as a challenge to write and has evolved to into an expression of me and my impression of things around me.  If, like me, your vision has been tainted by the many experiences pleasant and unpleasant and you have had numerous dialogs where the only participant is yourself than you may appreciate this more than many. I can never explain the joy and elation I felt when my son was born.  It is said that a father develops a bond with his children over time, however for me, the first time I set eyes on my son the connection was instant.  My heart burst forth with love for him and every time I looked at him and into his eyes it reminded me of the love that I had for him and also, at the time, the most important person in my life, his mother.  That she could have born and nurtured a son of mine inside of her, is indeed a gift from the Most High so su...

Events of the day have made me realise that I have crossed over into a new chapter in my life.  What was once familiar, though hurtful, was a source of great comfort for it was known.  Now I have crossed the precipice and like it or not I have to accept that my life has been irrevocably changed.  This is a place that is unfamiliar, where my own company is cherished, where I see myself as I am and where I can enjoy what I am and what I have become.  All the ties that bound me have been shaken off.  All the emotions that held me prisoner have evaporated to reveal the illusion that they were.  All the fears that once were, have faded and the new fears that have attempted to take over have been fended off. I have been set free and I now realize my potential.  The emotions that threatened my happiness, nay my very existence, have no effect on me.  The past and past relationships, which hung over me like an albatross, while unsettling, are fading fa...

He was older than he once was when I met him.  The trails and tribulations of life had chiseled wrinkles on his face making him older than he was.  And when he spoke, he spoke with such passion, that his whole face lit up and it was as if all the wrinkles disappeared in an instant. His voice rich and deep spoke of someone who had experienced life deeply who had found his true self and the light in his eyes reflected the beauty and innocence of his soul. Sitting on the floor with pillows scattered around and sipping some coffee, I turned to him and said, "What is the meaning of existence?". "Existence?", he said, putting the cup down and facing me. "Surely", he said, "you mean, the meaning of life?". "I guess", I said.    "To be a bee and nothing more than a bee when you are a bee is to live, anything else is to exist", he said smiling.   As I contemplated his answer, he finished his coffee stood up and left me alone wit...

The Bedouin wrapped the red and white checkered shawl around his head to protect himself from the blistering sun bellowing its heat across the vastness.   Sand, piled up in endless dunes, stretched across the horizon painting ribbons of gold and brown across the landscape.  Here and there, the light rippled across the surface creating the never ending illusion of water rippling in the breeze.  He turned his back to the west and stepped forth on a path known only to those who had made their life on this baron landscape. Tethered to the Bedouin's lead, a caravan of camels stepping on a path that had been traveled by thousands before. Threading there way towards the journeys end, a smile on their faces with a secret that they only knew. As the sun relentlessly made its way across the sky, so the day gradually became unbearable. He stopped short and instructed his camel to kneel and swung his weight into the saddle strapped to its back and the camel resumed its march. ...