A Moment in Time – 2

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Standing in our garden on a Friday evening and looking out across our village, I tried to catch the moment in these brief words:

EVENING

Evening falls and the village lights pierce the mellowing glow. Pink wispy clouds stretch themselves across the sky. Like a bright jewel the evening star gazes down, shy, but attentive. A traffic light in the distance blinks green, orange and red, a frail attempt at control in such vast beauty.

A Hadeda, as if voicing its sheer celebration of the past day, arrives, cries out and spirals down to roost. Then, the faint aroma of a braai (barbecue), and I am filled with gratitude and joy. It’s good to be alive.

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Propaganda and Smallmindedness

I’m watching a particular form of propaganda being pushed in the very structures of our nation. As I watch, it’s insidious tentacles are extending and taking hold of people,

I constantly ask myself, why? Why is propaganda so much more efficient and effective when it sows division and hostility than when it tries to sow unity, togetherness and compassion?

I suppose because the promotion of unity, togetherness and compassion can never be called propaganda. These qualities transcend and refuse to be held captive in the divisive and hostile prisons of disinformation and boosterism. People who hold on to and live these qualities are profoundly disturbing people. Thank God for them.

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From My Sketchbook – 28

A small farm house in the Northern Cape. I did it with pen and water colour.

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Back From My Break

I finished what I needed to do, so I’m breathing the blogging air again. Good to be back. Missed you all. :)

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A Break From Blogging

This is hard for me, but I’ve decided to take another break from blogging. Not sure how long it will be this time, but it’s going to be a complete break. I’m just busy with something that, at the moment, is going to need most of my time. Keep well and enjoy your blogging. :)

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From My Sketchbook – 27

A small hill nearby where I live. Again done with graphitint pencils. I love the medium.

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Pretence – Is It Needed?

I read a marvellous quote on Rogene’s blog, Espirational. It was by Meryl Streep. She said, “Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility. Pretending, or acting is a very valuable like skill and we do it all the time.”

It’s one of those quotes that invokes in me a kind of “Yes” and a “No.”  Yes, because I think pretence can be used for coping, protection and the imagining of oneself in to possibility, but No, because it does have the constant and insidious capacity to alienate us from true identity.

Is there then such a thing as necessary pretence, and does it assist in the journey towards true identity, or is it simply a barrier that must be dissolved at all costs? I’d love to sit down with Meryl Streep and talk to her about it, but more so with the brilliant and tragic Robin Williams.

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The Yellow-Billed Kite

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Image – Courtesy of RONCORYLUS

This time of the year I begin to scan the skies for the arrival of the Yellow- Billed Kites, my favourite bird. I always have the feeling that something precious has returned with my first sighting. It’s a beautiful bird and spends the time between August and March of the following year with us. During this time, virtually every day, they make these low level passes over our homes hunting for all sorts, their sharp eyes working and scanning the ground and their magnificent wings and tail skilfully steering them through the air.

Right now I’m filled with a wonderful sense of expectation. It can be any day now. :) I wrote this Haiku for them. I wish I could read it out to them when they arrive. :)

Wings mounting the wind

Eyes searching the ground

In them, heaven and earth are one

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An Earth Tremor

An extremely strong tremor shook our country yesterday. Many felt it, but strangely enough there were many others who didn’t. I was one of the latter.Twitter was alive with responses and so was our local radio station.

I couldn’t help but chuckle when one young woman called in to the station and said quite seriously, and I mean seriously, “I’m so sorry I never felt it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The earth never seems to move for me.”

She only realized afterwards what she’d actually said. :)

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From My Sketchbook – 26

An abandoned farm in the Orange Free State. People used to live there.

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