Yesterday I raked and weeded, swept and planted, got hugely dirty, took a shower, gardened a whole lot more, then took another shower.
I listened to the news.
And I may have done some yogic breathing.
Then I put on gorgeous clothes and went to a poetry slam. Beautiful young poets, strong and active and feminist, resolute in their belief that they can change the world.
The poetry and the poets were brilliant. They made me feel good. And I loved the moon on the way home, the huge soothing spiritual strawberry moon.
My Uber driver had the radio on. The news.
I may have picked off my nail polish in his back seat. Sorry, Peter, I shouldn’t have done that.
I got home and did a bit more yogic breathing. Had a fairly good sleep.
And today I’m like a scullery maid.
I’ve ironed and scrubbed and swept, changed all the sheets, polished every surface, dusted and scrubbed some more.
It could be very sexy, me, dressed up as a scullery maid.
But I don’t feel sexy.
Because I listened to the news. Protests. Riots. Xenophobia. Murder.
Which means I have to paint my house. Which means I need another bath.
Tonight I’m going to get dressed up. Find something pretty. Wear my pearls.
My garden is looking fabulous.
My house looks great.
And I look pretty good too.
Everything is shiny. Glistening. The pearls, that I don’t own, would complete the look. A calm, controlled look.
Everything that I do not feel.
I think I’m going to garden and scrub and clean just a little bit more. Then I’ll listen to some jazz.
It’s the only thing keeping the anxiety at bay.
http://www.theorbit.co.za Best place in Johannesburg for jazz, poetry, cocktails and good conversation.