The Restory Retreat Centre

Photo taken here at Barrowfield by Marinetha Naude “How are things going on earth?” Leo, an elderly angel, asks God. God smiles and fondly thinks back on the seven days of creation. A difficult, but fascinating task. “Now that you ask, I think I must go and have a look.” And God comes to earth on a sunny September day. The birds are chirping, a little stream is running downhill to a small village. In the fields, women are working who sings cheerfully. Songs about the harvest, about love, songs about wine. And God thinks: This must be Tuscany. And looks satisfied across the landscape. Walks along the road, down to the village. In the middle of the small town square, stands a peculiar building. A dome of bricks with a tower and on top of the tower a golden cross. God walks up the gigantic stairs in front of the peculiar building and comes into a cold, draughty space with, on its walls, all these remarkable figures, mourning women with floating little hoops above their heads, an awful

Photo by R du Preez This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be cleaning you out For some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from the beyond. Rumi

The sunset of 19 December 2013 at Barrowfield, exactly one month since our move. On February 9, 1922, Rainer Maria Rilke writes to his publisher Anton Kippenberg on completion of his book, Duino Elegies, which took him ten years. "Dear friend, now at last I can breathe. Everything is doable now. For this was huge beyond imagining... That I survived it! That I survived it. Enough. It is here." I read this in a book of daily readings, A Year with Rilke, on this day, the 20th of December. It is exactly one month since we moved to Barrowfield in Wakkerstroom.  It therefore seems no coincidence. We feel pretty much the same. Though we don't have a book to show(yet) and there is still a lot to do, it somehow feels doable in the light of what has been achieved. Up till now and for the past year, we could only focus on the task of getting here with all its complex logistics. That we survived it. Enough. We are here. What next? We don't exactly know. Ma

Our picture perfect windmill. Now to get it actually pumping water... Matilda

Photo taken by our dear friend Ralie who braved the first chaotic days after the big move with us. But for the tractor and slasher, to be delivered as soon as road and weather conditions allow, the move to Barrowfield, Wakkerstroom has been completed. We can hardly believe it ourselves, but what seemed an impossible mountain to move, had been relocated, one exacting piece at a time, leaving behind only the empty shells of the buildings that had housed us for many years. What I found most daunting, was that every single possession, be it dust bin or darning needle, had to be decided upon: would it be kept and thus moved, sold, given away or discarded? And every decision had its according consequences in seemingly endless chains of actions that seemed to have no end. It is a massive relocation consisting of both George's wood and machining workshops, my pottery studio, both our homes, as well as George's father's. Now the next phase is at hand: to settle everything i