The Restory Retreat Centre

My suster stuur vir my ‘n e-pos met interessante woorde wat basies onvertaalbaar is en net so in die oorspronklike gebruik word. Eintlik is dit leefstyle wat in woorde saamgevat word. Onder andere Hygge. Die Deense woord vir ‘n leefstyl wat koesterend, sorgsaam en intiem is. Wat vra dat jy die oomblik waarin jy is, hoe eenvoudig ook al, sal geniet en die waarde van “dit stadiger vat” nie onderskat nie. Ek sit ‘n lang ruk daarna en kyk. Is dit net iets in die lug, deel van die groter “collective consciousness”, of bloot ‘n nuwe gier? Iets wat deur stylghoeroes herontdek en afgestof is? Sy weet nie dat ek nou al vir byna 2 weke materiaal versamel oor Hygge nie. Aanhalings, foto’s, artikels. Ek het effens teruggehou omdat ek gedink het dit mag half onvanpas wees om hier aan die begin van die lente daaroor te skryf; Hygge is baie tuis in die winter kom dan tot sy of haar reg. Waarskynlik is dit waarom dit my reg van

“You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile.  It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see. And the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.”                                                                               - St. Vincent de Paul It is the annual knitting marathon of the CMR (English: Christian Social Council) of Volksrust. Quite a big do with the whole community involved. Teams, with each member being sponsored, enter under specific themes, complete with décor, war cries and costumes. As proud members of team Funky

“Who do you suppose carves canyons for the downpours of rain, and charts the route of thunderstorms That bring water to unvisited fields, deserts no one ever lays eyes on..?”                                   Job 38:25-26(The Message) Greyia sutherlandi Natal bottlebrush. At the start of spring, even before the rain, when everything is still dry and brown, remnants of winter, it blooms. Not timidly. Not obscurely. No! Loud shouts of red higher up the mountain across the river. Putting up their display in plain sight. Flaunting it. Red, red, red. Right on the lip of the cliffs, flower arrangements in mid-air. They keep so well in pots, last for days. If you can get to them. If you can lean over far enough, stretch your reach to its absolute limit. The dogs who follow me everywhere look at me perplexed, then back off from the edge. What exhilaration when you hold the

The antipodes as depicted  in a manuscript  of  the "Topographia Christiana" (Kosmas Indicopleustes, 6th century AD) For some inexplicable reason the adults of my childhood were all in agreement that the end of any tunnel started in South Africa will be somewhere in China. How often have I heard: “If you keep digging here you’ll have to start learning Chinese. When you pop out on the other side of the earth all those Chinese will be standing around the hole looking in and you’ll have to explain to them what you are doing there.” Suffice to say that I kept my holes fairly shallow. It is the sort of information that you put away as you grow up only to be taken off the shelf again when you have children or grandchildren digging holes in the garden. This week I discovered that we are all a little off the mark with our calculations. By a few continents actually. And such digging through the centre of the earth right down from where you stand has a very fancy name.