The Restory Retreat Centre

   Being Still The Conversation As much as we love Barrowfield and our space, we are careful not to create the impression that you can only become quiet and be on a contemplative journey, in an isolated place, in nature, far from any human contact. To become still is possible for everyone, wherever you are. And it is not so much dependent on a quiet, peaceful environment (although it is definitely helpful), but it is more connected to a slower pace in general and an inner stillness. A disciplined daily practice, like meditation, is important in cultivating the latter. This past week we've been in Gauteng where we've experienced that firsthand. Also in the city garden of our friend, Elmarie. Different sounds, like traffic and power tools, can be heard in the background, but the experience of God is just as strong. In this week's blog post, we are saying the minimum. We want to encourage you to become quiet, wherever you are. If you want to use our videos in the process, you ...

Poppy outside my window Photo by Matilda Today I'm going to start living like a monk not allowing the god Critic to dictate my song but to hear the gentle call of the Bird God, saying "Look outside your window! There's a second poppy blooming." It has exploded, pink shrapnel hanging in tatters from its detonating core. Another little bomb sits waiting to shake my world with a colour explosion. Being monk I will tend the plants that exploded like an orgasm. Taking deep delight in the birth of its seed and the beauty of its short life. Being a monk I will look out for love letters all day long, Listen for the Lover's song and stand naked and trembling for a touch, a soft wind hand stroking my face. I will explode like the pink poppy and bloom under this Spring Sun. Matilda

On our recent visit to Knysna we took a short trail through one of the magnificent indigenous rain forests. Aptly called The Garden of Eden, one cannot help but gape at the immensity of it all. Something happens to me when I enter into this type of cathedral: I become quite unaware of myself but feel myself totally immersed, totally one with Nature in her green skin. I am a cell, a branch, a leaf, a stream. I come home to this place of moistness. What strikes me as I flow through the arteries of this great Being, is how the main themes of life play out here quietly and beautifully. The birth of a fern leaf, bathed in a sliver of filtered sunlight beneath an ancient yellow wood tree brings me close to tears. From the decay of a fallen giant and the life forms engaged in this process, to the air thick with moisture and the sounds of the rain forest musicians: birds and frogs endemic to this place, I am reminded that everything is as it should be. Everything belongs. I belong. ...

The house It grows larger wall after wall sliding on some miraculous arrangement of panels, blond and weightless as balsa, making space for windows,alcoves, more rooms, stairways and passages,all bathed in light,with here and there the green flower of a tree, vines,streams casually breaking through- what a change from the cramped room at the centre where I began,where i crouched and was safe, but could hardly breathe! Day after day I labour at it; night after night I keep going- I'm clearing new ground I'm lugging boards I'm measuring, I'm hanging sheets of glass I'm nailing down the hardwoods The thresholds- I'm hinging the doors- Once they are up they will lift their easy latches, they will open like wings. Mary Oliver from Dream works 1986 I came across this poem by Mary Oliver in 2009,long before any thought of starting a new life elsewhere came to mind. I thought it beautiful and loved its spaciousness. I felt m...

I love this ache. For too long I have felt nothing. But then, the Spark (See the post Caught in the amber ) . And now the Ache. What to do with all this beauty?! It drives me to distraction: A Rapunzel sun spinning wintry grass to gold; the textures and colourways of story book stone walls; Katryn's amber eyes; Mily's purr and silken weight on my lap; the single new purple flower on the rosemary bush; the Zaaihoek dam under a sapphire sky; salad greens on a simple white plate; the huge supermoon rising just beyond reach; the puffed and perfect fiscal shrike on the fence, the huge open roses of cabbage; the icy crispness in the air; the cattle's curly winter coats... The impossible beauty of the Zaaihoek dam in winter.  Photo by Matilda It's too much to handle. So I knit. In the colours and textures of this winter. Maybe to somehow catch it in a scarf, a cap, a pullover. I don't know. I should do more with this, but I'm not yet sure precisely what. So I kn...

OK, in order to get the bigger picture and compare the "before" and "after" you have to go back to the post Beauty longing . I was busy restoring the huge old dining room table. Oregon with teak legs was my guess at that stage. This is my first big woodworking commission since we have moved to Barrowfield. In order to complete it I had to do quite a lot of repairs on the machinery that would be needed in the process. The belt sander got damaged during the move. I welded the cast iron table where it broke at the base. Two weeks before our move down here, they broke into my workshop at Rietfontein and stole the electrical motor with its particular bracket off my table saw. It was no mean feat to replace it. In the process I got to know most of the electrical suppliers in Newcastle, drove to Alberton to get the bracket components, made adjustments to that and put in a bigger circuit breaker at the distribution box as the new motor kept tripping the previous one. ...

All the beauty that's been lost before wants to find us again.                                                                                                         U2, Ordinary Love  Our landlord Johan and his wife Debbie are destined to become our direct neighbours in a few months’ time. They are moving into the house of his late father close by which will make it easier for him to tend to the cattle side of their farming activities. At this stage the old house is being renovated.  By mere coincidence Debbie recently got an old table back that has been in the family for generations and was given to friends years ago. The size of the table (2.75 m x 1.14 m) provided an ideal surface to work on in the ch...

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

“I saw God the other day. He was a builder. I saw him plastering a wall at the coffee shop Nino’s in Rosebank, Johannesburg, at about eight thirty at night. I stopped for a good five minutes and watched him plaster. For that length of time, nothing mattered in the world. Not the conflict in the Congo. Not HIV/AIDS. Put it this way, if a truck came shuttling down on me at that very moment I would hardly have looked up, even if the driver were hooting. God was busy, you see?  And I was watching him. It occurred to me there and then, as that white man’s image reminded me of my late black father, that there is no better way to make colour acceptable than to do what you do extremely well. There is no quicker way to shut down prejudice than to be an expert at what you do. There’s no quicker way to bring out the God in you than to do what you do with intense honesty, love, focus, passion, concentration and total spiritual commitment. You see, Mandingo, God exists i...