Vanuit Die Restory - Gesprekke Tussen Reisgenote (79)

Wilde Heiligdom

Die Gesprek

Elemente Uit Die Gesprek

"Once upon a time, all humans knew their lives, their food, their survival, their sense of meaning and kinship with God or the gods was connected with all their relations: the hawks and soil and ferns and mosquitoes. Like all the other wild creatures, they belonged to the land, and they knew it…. They were part of a grand conversation, a relationship of reciprocity and respect, connecting them with all the other beings and elements of life.

But there came a time when some of the people could no longer hear the conversation…. The wax in their ears became hardened, and their hearts pretended that they were happier controlling the world than loving it. They rushed right past the burning bushes on the way to Importance, missing the message of the doe hiding in plain sight with her newborn fawn. They packed the bodies of sacred forest cathedrals onto trucks and shipped them to mills. They forgot that the thrush songs spelled out warnings and wisdom in octaves. Disconnected little by little, their voices went missing in the symphony of aliveness. The songs of the wild God cascading through the trees no longer guided their lives. And a deep loneliness sunk down upon the people like a heavy fog nobody could see."

Victoria Loorz

Musiek

Mag die pad en die natuur jou tegemoetkom soos wat jy loop.

Met ons liefde.

George & Matilda

Comments

Whistle while you work

Drawing by Ron Leishman When last did you whistle while working? When last did you hear someone else whistle while working? Somehow it bothers me that whistling has become an almost absent element in our work. The sound of a person whistling a tune while busy somewhere in the house or out in the workshop conveys something of an underlying happiness, satisfaction and contentment. An enjoyment of the work itself. The tune need not be flawless. Applying more air than sound won’t lead to disqualification, as long as the intention is there. Whistling can even be replaced by singing in all that I’ve said up to now. The same principles apply. The absence of any of these two activities bothers me because it says something about us doing the work and the type of work that we do. Can it be that our type of labour in this 21 st century is not conducive to either whistling or singing? What type of work is that then – draining, stressful, pressured? Or are our conclusions ...

A likely Hero: Jara Cimrman

As Matilda has already indicated, one of the most difficult things to do after you’ve visited a country is to return and convey something of what you’ve experienced. How do you show a city’s many faces, introduce its inhabitants? How do you tell of the effects a history has on people and of a stance towards life that can actually not be translated into words? In the case of Prague, it is very helpful to have someone like Jara Cimrman. ~ ~ v ~ ~ Petrin Hill, on the left bank of the river Vltava running through Prague, is in many ways a site worth visiting. Climbing the 299 steps of the Petrin Tower, inspired by the Eiffel Tower, gives you one of the most beautiful views of the city. But by going down into its basement, you enter into the psyche of the Czech people. Here, quite unobtrusively, is the museum for the “ Genius, who has not become famous ”. Matilda and I almost stumbled onto it by chance and as we went through the exhibition, our amazement over this brilliant ...

You never can tell

This morning I was out in the vegetable garden looking for signs of sprouting cabbage and spinach that we had sown a week ago. Among the weeds, I did find the tiny seedlings pushing through bravely, but I had a surprise coming. The young Zulu gardener drew my attention to an abundance of ready food growing in the ruins of the tiny stone cottage only meters away: Umbido, a type of wild spinach, and a staple food in the rural areas. I grew up with much the same in the northern parts of the country, but called Marogo in the Sotho language. Enter my new helper and friend, Winnie Nkosi. She lives on the edge of the Zaaihoekdam in a traditional mud house with no electricity. Twice a week she walks the four odd kilometres to help me with all things domestic. She has also taken it upon herself to teach me the Zulu language and culture with optimistic determination. The planned lunch menu was immediately ditched in favour of a lesson in local cooking and Winnie showed me the differenc...

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