petrifying and calming at the same time…
I’d like some Rain please…
in case someone is taking requests…
Roberta Flack - The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
Mommy <3’s Amy <3’s Mommy
Every week sitting in court waiting for your turn, you listen to hundreds of eviction applications, and you are likely to see at least 20 people sitting in the gallery trying to stop the situation from happening or at least another 20 people protesting outside, because they say they’ve been paying their rental etc. (A lot of the time it’s true: they have, and the person they were paying it to, has disappeared with the money, or doesn’t pay it to the landlord).
One element of an eviction application is that the City of Johannesburg has to be cited as a party to the proceedings, in order for the City to state whether or not it has adequate places for the people to move or be moved to, in order to fulfil or give effect to the constitutional right to housing . Most of the time the City will state that it doesn’t have buildings or places for people to live, which then makes the following REALLY interesting :
There is an artist/activist (or probably a huge bunch of artists) going around central Jozi doing this ^^^.
Using water soluble paint, the artists are protesting the abuse of resources (particularly buildings) in the Johannesburg CBD by using art interventions to LITERALLY highlight the fact that there are a WHOLE BUNCH of potentially usable buildings that have been standing abandoned and derelict, which could be refurbished to give people places to live, but instead are going to be flattened into a place for people to park. That sucks. (The parking lots I mean…,) in light of the current housing problems in Jozi.
The art itself is an incredible way to point out to everyone how wasteful we’re being, and how warped our priorities are.
A gold star for making it through the day for whoever needs one.
Well done you.
Now let us consider the soul. We have seen that movement is essential to existence; nothing that has life is without motion. All creation, whether of the mineral, vegetable or animal kingdom, is compelled to obey the law of motion; it must either ascend or descend. But with the human soul, there is no decline. Its only movement is towards perfection; growth and progress alone constitute the motion of the soul.
Divine perfection is infinite, therefore the progress of the soul is also infinite. From the very birth of a human being the soul progresses, the intellect grows and knowledge increases. When the body dies the soul lives on. All the differing degrees of created physical beings are limited, but the soul is limitless!
Because one pair isn’t enough…(and also I pressed the upload button too many times and then didn’t delete the extras because I like how they look)
Consequently (with regards to my previous post) I will try not to be depro etc - there will be things that will floor me, and it’s obviously not gonna be business as usual, but I will continue posting things that are on my mind, pretty things, nonsense things etc. yeah…you get it.
[I had initially written this after the first week had passed, and then reconsidered it entirely, deciding to “do it” much later]
It’s been one month since the most important person in my life changed station. I like looking at it that way – someone (out of hundreds) put it that way, and I really like it. Other words one would use would be to say “my mom passed away”.
Between June 2013 and April 2014, I got my heart broken twice. Or so I thought. I thought I knew what love, or loss, or heartbreak was…I was sitting talking to a beloved friend about it, and she managed to capture the perfect word for it – perspective. Hahahhahaahahha. What an idiot.
She was also able to verbalise something I hadn’t been able to articulate – void. There is now this space, but what is the strangest is that it’s only sometimes that I realise that it’s there…
I catch myself saying things out loud in past tense, and I hate it. I hate thinking things in past tense “my mom loveD this….my mom DID that….” I hate saying and hearing things in past tense. I am not in denial about what has happened (present continuous) [or maybe I am, what do I know?] I get what has happened. Initially, I hated hearing “My condolences” or “sorry for your loss”. If one more person had posted that “do not stand by my grave and weep” poem I would have gone hulk. I’m done with hearing things I already know like “she is so happy” or “stay strong” (what else am I going to be??) or “she is always with you” - I know she is always with me. I’m being ungrateful now I’m sorry. (and that’s also difficult and a lie because I’m ok with hearing them from certain people, and not from others).
I’ve noticed that there are so many people in this club, this “half-orphans” club, this “no-moms” club. This club sucks. How did you all do it?
To be honest, I am overjoyed for my mother – I am happy that she is happy (I KNOW that she is). I am happy that she is free from the limitations of this world and that now her legend and gigantic soul is no longer bound by everything.
When I cry, it is not for her (although….maybe… I should explain this better). When I cry, it is for me - my own stupidity; it is for my own selfishness (irony), and idiotic idiotness, it is for my own complete self-centred-and-absorbed-wrapped-up-in-my-self-ness, my lack of attention, and my insensitivity. I had initially set out exactly what it was that had upset me, but I’m editing that out now. Instead I want to ask you, to squeeze your people, sit with them, pay attention, and above all, make sure that they KNOW, unequivocally and without a doubt, how much you love and admire and want them and need them around. This certitude…
Face-tsunamis are triggered by small things; songs, smells, places you had planned to go to, handwriting or colours. There are sinkholes of memories, things you’re dying to remember that wont come to you, and are instead engulfed again by a void. It’s the permanence of it, the physical eternityness – that’s the suckerpunch right there. And yet, at the same time, (and that’s why I specified it), it’s merely the physical eternityness of it, it’s NOT permanent. The Baha’i writings and perspectives bring such a sense of chill, a sense of “well-that-makes-sense” relief. “This separation is temporal; this remoteness and sorrow is counted only by days.”
What I have learnt and continue to realise is that pain does not preclude contentment. My mother was/is the most solid example of never letting pain, or size or energy or age or anything, stop you from serving, and smiling and being content. Even when she’s not “here” she teaches me lessons. Everything has a new layer.
There is a tenderness, and a violent shell of solitude all at the same time.
This is a special kind of ache.
Everything is going to be OK.
The view from 10 floors up at my favourite place to watch the World Cup - The Skyline Fanclub in Braamfontein., 17 Wolmarans Street.
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