Day 52 diary – another Sunday in lockdown

This morning, was another challenging one. I finished off watching Season Two of “Suits” last night. The last scene, in the filing storeroom, with clothes removal and graphic camera shots showing the release of two seasons of lust between the two characters… and all I could think: “she is the Duchess of Sussex”. All my old school, prayerful, hopeful reactions to royal wedding pictures (bearing in mind the whole thing didn’t feel right for me) were gone completely, and replaced with the very ‘not-royal’ images from “Suits”.

 
The frustrations of work relationships in real life, and the reality of working around people having affairs and creating stories that just do not sit well in my gut. I have worked in dozens of work environments and the truth of what goes on has never sat well with me. One affair from back in 2005, resulted in his divorce from his wife and his marriage to the woman who we worked with. Their adult choices are theirs to make, of course, but the discomfort that season caused… and here a television series is promoting lying, backstabbing, affairs and sex wherever the writers think it will boost ratings. Yet, I figured out why it is a good thing that I don’t have TV and the ability to sit there all day. TV, in my mind, becomes reality. I become interested and connected to the story, but the morals I have chosen for my life, the way I have conducted my life story, is the complete opposite of what the media, and programmes like “Suits” promote. Who is correct? Is it a sad journey to become a Christian and not take on affairs and lying and actively pursuing things to hurt other people and make things uncomfortable, or is it just prudish? The problem is, it’s TV, it is not reality, and I haven’t worked out how to separate myself. Like when Rachel says she “isn’t good enough”, that has been my proven space for everything I have put my hand to. I get it. It’s only a writer’s writing for ratings, but that is my life – really. Yet, “Boundaries” states that the ‘adult playground’ is not the place to heal and/learn to love. Yet, the TV series show that it is… why do the writers and TV producers present things that can ultimately hurt people irreparably? How many other people out there look to movies and TV shows to pass the time, and end up picking up on the ways of the characters they are attracted to, or relate to, or connect with? And, even though there is a connection to the character, a real-life application of those character’s characteristics and/or actions could result in seriously damaging ramifications. On a few occasions I have been seriously attracted to colleagues, almost all of them I never said a word about it. Years later, it proved to be the best wisdom of all to just keep quiet… in the moment though, the struggle with myself to make that decision took a lot more than was shown in “Suits”… it has bothered me deeply, how much I am effected by what was promoted in the episodes I watched. I hope the world is more intelligent than I am when it comes to connecting with TV episodes.

 
This struggle, that still hadn’t left me this morning, resulted in a very long journaling session this morning. With God telling me not to worry because He was scripting my story. I listed all the things I have tried and been “not good enough at” – the list was so long, it brought me to tears all over again. Being on my own in this Corona Virus time, trying to figure out, around and through who I am, what I have been through and how I ended up so jealous of successful people. Pride, envy, desire, such extremely hazardous things in my life. So very bad for my morale. God told me to keep focusing on Him. To focus on what I can do now. What I can do with what I have. That turned out to be the laundry in my loud, clockingly bashing washing machine.

 
I went back to Chapter 5 of Rick Warren’s “Purpose Driven Life”. “The way you see your life, shapes your life”, “We don’t see things the way they are, we see them the way we are – A. Min” page 41. “Life’s definition determines destiny”; and the only word that kept coming to my mind was: “wasteland”. The chapter says that your life metaphor (circus, Olympics, race, ocean, mountain climb etc) sets up what your expectations, values, goals, relationships and priorities for your life are… The Bible sets up life as a “test”, “trust” and “temporary” assignment. The test to keep the faith will happen through “major changes, delayed promises, impossible problems, unanswered prayers, underserved criticism and senseless tragedies” #corona!
I went to focus on what I could do – capturing till slips to see where the black hole that is absorbing all my money is, and working through tax in the process. While I was doing that the radio was playing hit after hit in the background… and my soul was sore. Very sore. Every hit that played was by an artist who had succeeded, someone, or group, that had created something that changed the course of history, changed radio play lists, confirmed people’s life memories and gave something of value. All the effort and talent of those people, like the actors, resulted in something altering the course of lives. Publically, music, alive and still giving… I kept capturing till slips through it all… what I can do.
Eventually, a couple of hours later, I went to my room to listen to the morning’s church prayers and reflections. Once again it was spot on, and even referred to people who are encouragers. I was so lost in my own bleakness that not all of the words settled. I was also feeling bad because people from around the world were sending me WatsApps around Sunday vibes, and one a recording about how “wonderful God’s children” are, which just made me bleak too. I don’t see evidence of treasures, of fire and light and amazing things … I just have broken me. I also don’t have proof from the outside that people are all that either. They are promoting hurt, affairs, lies, breaking down the president of our country, moaning about ‘oppression’ which is actually just a little bit of human restraint and self-discipline. If you want oppression, move to the Middle East, or the other side of China… South Africans. Americans. Humans! Me! Ugh!

 

I then watched a TEDX Women’s YouTube Clip – AMAZING! December 2012, one by Caroline McHugh “The art of being yourself”. Such wise counsel, such truth and perspective. She speaks of “The True Mirror”, “where you look for revolution, not reassurance… No-one has anything in common in their Soul-Self purpose… so we all have to sing our own song… The people who know this are full of light and larger than life… They shine and gleam and glow, like they have swallowed the moon. Your only job on the planet is to be the best you you can be’. She asks her audience: “who do you think you are?”
The story about the two houses next to each other, one dilapidated, the mirror image maintained, hasn’t stopped pestering me. I drove out (past the numerous residents having a braai together at the back of the property) to the site of the houses, but the sun was in the wrong place to film my story. So I drove to the petrol station and filled up with the cheapest petrol I have paid for in over 3 years.
I drove back and made a video for my current classes, my previous classes and anyone who wants to see it on Instagram or Facebook. A post advising us all to focus not on the little dot of Corona in this season of our lives, but to focus on the rest of our lives. This is an ‘in the meantime moment’ (Andy Stanley) and we need to use this time wisely to find ourselves, recreate ourselves and be better versions of ourselves when we meet others again. I need to make sure that I am not focusing on “my life is a wasteland”, and I am focusing on what I can do to get better at being me… for if I am not me, if I am not focusing on my own puzzle, then I have no right to speak to anyone else about theirs.
Stay blessed and have a good week.

Day 46 lockdown diary South Africa Monday – no good news…

World cases: over 4.13 million. SA: 10652

World deaths: over 283000. SA: 206

World recoveries: +1.42mill. SA: 4357

(East Coast Radio 6pm News & internet)

I awoke – the usual banter in my head – but a surprisingly positive swing after a weird dream about a race in water tunnels, but the tunnels burst near the end; and apparently this caused a major problem in the grand scheme of the story. It probably helped that one of the contestants was incredibly attractive and I got to chat with him due to the burst pipe. Some of the characters were also connected to news I received of previous colleagues who have resigned from their posts and conquered their fear of leaving their jobs in real life – not so cool they resigned just before lockdown. Anyway, I am most excited for their courage. It made me realise how important it is to have courageous people around us; and that there is always someone who needs a motivational boost.

I managed to find the energy to push the negative morning thoughts out the way, get out of bed and go for a walk. As I stepped out and locked my security gate; second smoking neighbour opened her door to ask me to watch their flat. Turns out it was an uncle (“who practically raised” her) in Richards Bay who passed away. They received their permit to travel this morning and were on their way. I said I would watch their gate, and gave her my condolences. Then I happily skipped down the stairs in excitement at the freedom from cigarette smoke, their TV games and loud TV shows. Yay! I hope that they had the exact coins for the toll booths, like the tolls are asking people to have, to create as little touch as possible. It must be scary working in those toll booths.

Mission walked. On Currie Road, I once again passed a house that is split down the middle (a shared wall down the centre) regarding ownership, but the two houses are mirror copies of each other. Upon arriving home the house had taken on an entire moral story for COVID-19 in my mind; as one half of the house is completely dilapidated and the other well-looked after – the moral is that if you don’t look after yourself and better yourself daily as best you can, then you devalue the gift of life God gave you… I wanted to type the story all day… all day I tried… but the online teaching, the emails, WatsApp, researching for work for tomorrow’s lesson… it consumed me ;(

Then a call from a friend who had to go to the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist for herself and her daughter today. Another message from a friend that a former colleague is in ICU and her new born baby is in NICU, and there is a call to pray – so I did. Then news on the phone of school children dropping out of their schools. Another school’s income has dropped 50%. Schools are considering retrenchments and freezing unfilled roles. Third-party contracts are being cancelled. We are in dark, dark financial times…

Staff morale is low. The GEMS agent never called me. He obviously has lots of work and doesn’t need to call me when he has said he would. Surreal. Fortunately, my aunt and uncle had a look through everything and advised as a third party, which was greatly appreciated.

It has been a long and exhausting day. I have resolved not to sweep or mop any passageways tomorrow. Also that the maggots from the bins should go down the sewerage drain and not the stormwater drain like I was shown before. Humph.

I didn’t get to type my story; or film it as a motivational clip to YouTube, but the thought is there, and the idea that my purpose may just be that of an encourager, a motivator, a person to spread wisdom and positivity in unique ways. I was thinking how some unusual and “different” looking people have created videos and sent them out in these Corona times – it is like a free for all video season – so there is no reason why I can’t at least try to spread the possible God-purpose for my life, that I may have found… one way to find out – leap in faith; and if it all falls flat again; well, I am VERY used to that already.

Lord, please hold close all those who need You so badly tonight in these topsy turvy challenging times. Let them feel, see and know Your tangible awesomeness and love. Thank You Lord. Amen!

Day 45 SA Mothers’ Day in lockdown

Sunday morning – Mothers’ Day morning … when I isn’t a mother (at my age! 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

I awoke around 07h40ish, time to get up and walk… 08h45 I rolled out of bed. Couldn’t find the incentive to get out of bed… the biggest problem with lockdown is the lack of a goal. The deadline (perhaps not the best word in the context) date to get out keeps moving; and when there is no goal date, there is no incentive to do anything. It is ground hog day, every day… I rolled back into bed and listened to our Musgrave Methodist Sunday Session; which, just typical of God, was all about purpose … sigh…

He is a very spiritual and perceptive Reverend… so that hit my conscience. Cue: get out of bed!

I just moved to the other side of the bed and started sending Happy Mothers’ Day WatsApps. Whilst I was nearing the end of sending messages to some really special ladies, especially the ones who are my moms in The Family of Christianity, there was a ruckus outside my window. I got up and saw a police van with an angry policeman pointing to our building. I fetched my dressing gown, and ventured to the window. The gent from the second floor (3 – 5 in the bedsit, who smokes his dagga in his car every morning; the one I got to take out a couple of full rubbish bins – that one) was now outside the police van with the angry officer and another one. A third officer was driving the tenant’s car. They were trying to get the tenant to tell them which parking space was his. The tenant refused and made the police angrier. Eventually the police parked the tenant’s car in a non-allocated area. A fourth police lady arrived. The tenant was put back into the back of the police van. Two police went one way in the van with the second floor tenant in the back, and the other two police drove off in the other direction.

My guesses for his arrest would be any combo of the following: No permit, No mask, No SA visa (I think everyone in that flat is a foreign national) &/or driving whilst high as a kite…

So, I opted out of the two Mothers’ Day lunch celebrations I had been invited to. Stayed in my 50m2 all day – again – just for a change, y’know… humph

From there I did a wash load, but I had forgotten my outdoor clothes had been put into the machine, so I had too much dirty clothing for the machine – sigh.

Then down to research / make every effort to try and find my purpose and why God bothered making me when none of me / my story is socially “normal”.

I did the Sineck exercise, but I need another person to interpret it. I told God that He would have to help, because I don’t have anyone who could work with me for the 4 hours of interpreting my stories. God was quite accommodating actually. In dividing a double A4 page into a horizontal half with the top being positive experiences and the bottom negative experiences placed along the left to right middle timeline of 0 – 40 years (half of 1 A4 page being 1 decade of my life). The far left margin hosted a list of the positive and negative influencing people who have crossed my path.

All the most powerful memories of experiences that I have are all God created; experiences/events that happened in ways I cannot explain or justify. The better experiences involved me feeling like I was seen; someone genuinely cared and acknowledged something positive I contributed to their lives. They involved people accepting me, trusting and respecting me, and I felt included. Personal freedom also appears to be something I am passionate about. The women I listed were “real”, candid, honest, loving, Christian, supportive and kind. They have always seen me in a positive light. They are (were in their lifetime) generous and faith-filled women of strong character.

Under my middle line. A great deal of powerfully negative experiences. They all seem to involve rejection of an intense kind for me. Here I had experiences of being judged, frowned upon, belittled, reduced and excluded. Moments I felt worthless. The people in this list I noted as manipulative, selfish, childish, needy and closed-off, secretive and controlling for their own, unknown, reasons.

Although the ideas were there and I can see the thread, I couldn’t put it into Sineck’s little formula. It was gnawing me that Sineck’s formula for life purpose and passion doesn’t open a space for Godly purpose… I went back to my journal entry 26 Match 2020, where God instructed me (pardon my audacity) to be “a role model” and go forth in service by creating my own purpose through my ability to touch lives. The guidance: to touch and help a few souls better their life journey. To create a resource book (like I did at PwC & Careline) to help young adults who are living in fear during this crazy lockdown season. To step up and create whilst relying on God – Hebrews 11v1 “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

Joshua 1v9 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, for the Lord, your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Matthew 5v16 again “Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

Romans 8v28 “In all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

With my fatigue, my inertia, low morale and cluelessness on how I could create a resource for young adults… this is what the day brought to me … with the only line of reassurance being that I will “be able and ok in the strength, provision, power and presence of God.” I need to become the women who I admire…

The task is rather daunting. The purpose seems to be “to be a Christian role model of a unique kind with my good deeds to help young adults live better lives and create their own good stories”… or something along those lines…

It is a bit much to take in and I know I don’t believe I can create something legitimate in this regard; and I cannot foresee a platform to present it on either… Lord, if this is Your Will – motivate me, please open doors and show me how…

I left the books. I phoned some moms, including my own. Sent some motivational Instagram posts and helped a couple of friends … Lord, only You know how this story ends … help me not to let You down

Amen

Day 44 lockdown diary Saturday 9 May

Nothing interesting really … just kept the minutes moving…

Journalled the different medical aid costs. Looks like Government will be the most cost saving.

Baked delicious scones and sent a pic of them to a friend with WatsApp cups of tea. Man I miss my catch ups with friends over coffee. But will people even go into restaurants when doors open again?

Went and studied more of the “Boundaries” book – some hard realities for me in the section on: “conflict boundaries in the family”. Reality was in black and white. The chapter noted that because we grow up not knowing any different, the dysfunctional family boundaries taught are just repeated and things can stay pretty messed up for individuals if they are replicating the dysfunction and they don’t even know it.

Had a long video chat with a dear friend.

Had a span of WatsApp typed chats with other friends. It was interesting to chat with my friend in Portugal (those who read “Eish! London” will recall that I emailed her back in that book) they shut down schools 3 months ago and they are also battling with all the challenges around online teaching. It is just plain exhausting!

Then I tucked into Simon Sinek’s “Find Your Why”. I am hoping between “Boundaries”, “The Dream of Me” and “Find Your Why”; I may just discover some hint regarding God’s plan for me. I would love a memo, docket or brief on what exactly I am doing on earth. It would be helpful to clarify what seems to be a “mission impossible”. So, with immense gratitude to all who have reached out to me in my existential crisis – as blogged over 44 flipping lockdowned days – prayers for finding my way positively through my envious ego bubble nonsense, would be awesome! 😀

Then smoking neighbour number 2, who used my shower, had a complete breakdown. Sounded like her grandfather on her dad’s side passed away and her mom wasn’t letting her go through. From loud voices, money talk, permit talk and lots of tears, it sounded quite traumatic. Shame. Apparently, so rumour has it, a lot of SA deaths are not being recorded as COVID-19, so people aren’t convinced our death toll is as low as it is shown to be…

More WatsApp chats. A notification of an online talent competition, hosted by some local actors trying to get by – I sent it to all I could. I am so very, very grateful to be state employed and receiving a salary. Thank You Lord!

Then some Yoga… oh, I did eventually get there yesterday – and the pain in my lower back today… eish! I am unfit! Eish! Corona 😦

Day 35 … dealing with My Self lockdown diary SA

SA 5350 cases, 2073 recoveries and 103 deaths

World 3,272,062 cases, 1,031,489 recoveries and 231,310 deaths

Sitting with the overwhelming wait of what is going to be required of teachers now… scary thoughts…

I was too angry to sleep last night. So watched a series called “Suits” on my laptop, thanks to a student teacher who loaded a bunch of movies and series onto my external hard drive. Meghan Markle. It is weird I guess. I saw her photos and wedding with Prince Harry, before anything “director” created in studio. I wasn’t a fan of the whole set up, but it was just my personal taste. Watching her in the series, as a drama teacher and perpetual acting critic, my opinion was enforced. Even so, watching a few of the slow scripts and brief episodes helped tire me out.

Brief sleep to wake up early enough this morning. Once again my body separate from my mind. My body still hosted anger in my chest. It is such a horrible feeling. Usually the neighbours aren’t awake as early – this time both were, and puffing away on their nicotine. VOMIT! Anger pumping.

The government decided today that they are not lifting the ban on cigarettes – so I guess we will have more contraband dealers on our property in the weeks ahead ;(

My brain did not understand why my body was still holding all the anger. I journalled; asking for forgiveness for all the words and ugliness that I posted in my blog yesterday. My anger and the negative energy was, no doubt, a karmic energy back to myself. I had the same old cyclic conversation with myself – that earthly comparative conversation in this land of -er (others who are bett-er with their luck, smart-er, hard-er working, pretti-er and the list goes on… into those I judge in some areas as having “less” than I, but who have received so much more) – always a truly dangerous head space; which just gets me asking why God even bothered with a single, odd, different human like me. I still can’t wrap my head around the purpose and meaning of the ‘little’ people… us “mass population” statistics.

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I have dreams and wishes, scripts for my life that play out in my mind; but the reality for them is absurd (people – like Lady Di & Nelson Mandela – have died and I longed to meet them when they were alive – obviously it became absurd). Why would I have the dreams, yet no grit, guts, lucky breaks or blood, sweat and tears drive to make them a reality?

What happened? Other than more unexpected trauma knocking me for 6 in 2010… what force was so powerful that it completely derailed me and left me with post-traumatic stress, anxiety on a new scale, and a serious lack of concern over dying? In fact, the opposite, prayers for permanent sleep and final rest from myself. Something has made my youthful knowing of exclusion and “being different”, into something worse – or is it? – in the more profound space of everything dies, nothing on earth is reliable or constant, so nothing actually matters, so why bother?

Of course, my Spirit wins each time the words pump their earthly truths through my brain space; but it takes lots of effort and energy to get behind “Spirit”; just letting go would be SO much easier. A vegetable in front of movies and series, nothing to it… I just wonder if the day will come when God stops His perpetual grace and supply of energy. Biblical truth is: He won’t, His grace never ends; but God is divine; Grace is out of this world… and: I am not, physically, not… so all this continuous effort to uplift myself and try with “better”; just feels meaningless, because I am of this world, my ego and conscience are of this world and nothing keeps its meaning in this earth space, nothing, but The Divine Not of Earth.

Case in example: the person in the meeting who I battled with yesterday – tried, in a manner not quite akin with my usual etiquette, to assist me today. The results of his efforts have not appeared at all through the channels they should have by now… but he still connected with a phone call; which was at least something. So I retracted in the “now” to less of what I expressed yesterday. So, there you are: my inconsistency, my need to move my thoughts, readjust myself, there is no constant in humans – none. Hence a far higher and constant North is needed as a goal, the focus, The One to direct towards to keep on a constant track; even if it is the road less travelled.

Over today and yesterday I have tried to share photos on “View from my window”; but the one Facebook account was blocked – they didn’t give me the rules… I was being sneaky as only about 5 people read my blog; so my earthly self wanted that selfish attention again… which obviously got me blocked. I tried to join off another Facebook account, but that one showed me the rules and wouldn’t let me accept them. Waste of time and data 😦 from my ego’s innate desire to have “recognition” and “likes” in a space as big as a black hole, a.k.a. “the internet”.

I took my smokers, landlady, trustee, cell-phone, lack of resources, black hole teaching anger and swept and mopped some floors. It was a helpful approach to release the anger constructively.

My grade 11 & 12s. Heart breaking. I have not even achieved relationship with all my efforts 😔 I also realised that one of the random texts I had received, and not very “politely” responded to – was a parent and not a child… but the message from the parent … eish! Ungaaz. I apologised profusely. Sigh. Ugh.

Grade 10s, however, there is hope.

I recalled the last two permanent teaching posts I took up. Both took three years to build up senior classes who trusted me. Somehow, I have to find the resilience, perseverance, motivation and some reason – that I just don’t have now – to keep going… single people don’t have a significant other to cheer them on. We don’t have children to live for, to keep us going; and the older I get, the more I separate from those with their own families, whose time is completely occupied to the point of exhaustion in living for their families… as it should be.

The 9 o’clock phone call from the trustee never happened – instead I received a WatsApp to babysit her parking space because the new owner might pop round as he is renovating his new bathroom. Dear Lord, please let him be a positive and helpful influence in this block. Please lift this block into a peace it has not known as yet Dear Father. Please. Thank You Lord.

Another trustee WatsApp’d that I must go and find the neighbour in the next house to discuss his health complaints against us. I email the managing agents – they know nothing. I message the trustee to send the documents. No, is the reply: The neighbour told the tenant and the tenant told her. I replied that I need the documents and proof of the charge to move the bins. Seriously.

Enough. I watched the movie “Hotel Transylvania 2”; about people living in harmony, no matter what. Arrogant male obviously never watched the movie.

Then I tried to watch the live feed on YouTube for the media conference hosted by the Department of Education. The reception through the phone was good. Many minutes and too much data later – nothing had actually been said… So here I type instead – surprise, surprise, not caring.

I have booked an appointment with a chiropractor tomorrow, so at least I can escape this space and the smokers. My posture has been straining badly with all this cell phone typing ;(

I am so so glad this was a three day week. Dear God, help me with online work next week. Help all of us.

Thank You Lord. Amen!

According to one of my WatsApp groups: teachers return to school 18 May 2020.

Grade 12 & 7 : 1st June 2020.

Dear Lord, hold us close. Thank You Father. Amen

Sunday Existential Vacuum – Right here – I’m getting life wrong – you?

So, is it only because I have been in contact with the literature on “Existential Vacuums” that I am going through this? If I had no idea what this “Existential Vacuum” was, would I still have experienced it/be experiencing it?

The kuck thing about being a human with one life and one perspective, is that I will actually never have any definite answer to my question, because I can’t live two lives at once, and I can’t see two perspectives when I am on my own either… and if I were chatting to someone about my Existentialist Vacuum on any given Sunday morning (set to last the whole morning – usually – and be done by the time I have survived it into late afternoon and there isn’t much day left to force myself to live through), then they would know about it, so they would be knowledgeable and that would then make the investigative point of ‘if you didn’t know’, unobtainable. Ugh.

People getting up to serve others this morning – consider yourselves blessed indeed! You have purpose, you have something to genuinely moan about, or celebrate, or take your mind off yourself. You have the choice gifted to you by having somewhere to be, with the off, or on, chance that the person/s you are serving will care about you. Waking up on your ace, waking up 24 years into professed and confirmed faith, wondering where the heck you went wrong with your life to end up where you are, just sucks. There is time, in the wonders of the comforting love of a big duvet, to assess all the years before, all the decisions before, and try figure out, where you, where I, went wrong. Sorry for assuming anyone else on the planet is, or has been, where I am. I look back, I see what I did (I know animals are REALLY lucky, because they don’t have this gift of imagination or conceptualisation of the past or a future without themselves in it),  and I rehash the decisions I made, the contextual factors, who I was at the time, how I made the decisions, and, well, for who I was, with what I had to deal with, with what I knew, I would still make those decisions… so how did I end up so isolated, cut off from everything, unable to force myself to go against my ethics and morals (that’s from brown-nosing the boss to producing fake and easy ‘better’ work results, or being ‘fake’ amongst family and/or friends, to not forcing myself into a guy’s space when he likes someone else, or dating a colleague, for example), and goal-less.

The worst of it – 38 years I have run around and done things. Taking up the Christian idea that God made Adam and Eve and Adam’s first job was work, not love, work first, then the love comes afterwards. “DO SOMETHING”. God provides. Have faith, trust, be honest, noble, good and true. Live a life pleasing to all that is good and of eternal value. Push on through the difficult times, being a lighthouse to God and goodness, seeking and being for something better than brokenness, ignorance, fear and hate – and then – the worst – I feel like I have ended up worse off. No purpose (because I don’t have biological children, which is ‘apparently’ the purpose of a woman, according to some humans I have had to have conversations with). A room full of ‘stuff’ (I can’t even afford to live in my own home, so someone else is doing that for me). Stuff that won’t mean anything to anyone when I am dead. I achieved so much in the last set of years – published, worked in seven career areas, performed on stage in North London, learnt to dance, paint, write, enjoyed traveling to different countries – and it really doesn’t mean anything… except in the times it makes a good story, that helps someone else, or helps me deepen the ‘chit chat’ I detest…

Sitting here though, with no-one to tell any story to, I type out into cyberspace with the gust of: “Get it Out”, don’t hold the loneliness in – get it out… get out the angst… the mundane purposelessness of waiting for the thousandth load of washing to finish in the machine, as per all my decades of doing washing…

Yet, deepening the purposeless of what’s created, I know there may be only one or two ‘reads’ of this post, and I’ll never know who, or why, or if they got to the end or not… and it doesn’t matter. I will still be 38, sitting in a passageway of a boarding house corridor (because of faulty Wifi), wondering why the heck this was where all my decisions were supposed to take me, and why I had to have such low motivational levels, and such high fatigue in the process; so that the very idea of even doing anything makes me more exhausted… but without any goals, and in the confusion of why God hasn’t given me any goals anymore… correction – why God hasn’t given me the motivation or tangible, refilling-me-love-and-support to achieve the goals of Love and Light through teaching and writing which He expects of me … I don’t know … I have gone wrong somewhere and I don’t know where… Show me Lord, please show me and motivate me to keep going …  Lots of love, Shannan, Amen.

And the washing is done … next load – whites

2019 – Gonna try make it better than all the years before

I look at this blog’s history and how I have entries for the whole of 2016, then only 5 in 2017 and only 4 in 2018! I love writing (not that many read it – but hey, isn’t the 21^st century all about “SELF” – not that I agree with that approach to life), and here I am doing like none of it, because I am trapped in a ridiculous 24-7 hour job, lack of motivational levels and morning depressions, like every morning. It is literally only through God’s strength and prompting that I manage to roll out of bed. Something has to change! 2019 – Dear Lord, help me – has to hold something worth more than the slog and grind of devotion to things that melt away and eventually disappear… and often without appreciation in my Love Language 😦

So 2019 – what’s not going to disappear? Faith. The Word of God. Bloodline photographs. Family.

Efforts need to go into those things.

Resolving to:

• Pray that my ego and my selfishness go to sleep, go on vacation, disappear to leave me to build myself up to a higher level of truth and purpose.
• Live the purpose I have found to be mine – BE LIGHT – BE THE JOY – BE THE SMILE that that person needs.
• Once again – ego please go on holiday so I can fulfil number 2) and stop wishing that someone cared about me in return in a way that is genuine and not forced or duty-bound.
• Write more (and shorter – I bored myself with that last post on the 10th November – seriously, what tosh to write so much), especially plays.
• Sing more
• Dance more
• Paint more
• Move my Soul to end the routine and safety net of holding on to unrequited love and absent males.
• Laugh more – I still don’t have that one down – and I REALLY do not want it to be drug induced
• Carry on building my ever struggling trust with myself and MY FATHER in Heaven.

I can only pray that none of this is wishful thinking and that small steps to work towards each will happen. Focus of it all: BE LIGHT – SHOW LIGHT – COLOUR EVERYTHING IN LIGHT AND LOVING LIGHT AT THAT…

Dear Lord, You are so going to have to help me with this and be my self-discipline so I don’t end up a miserable pile of tears so often this year; 2018 was a mess indeed. Amen

(Can’t believe I had even forgotten my username to get into this account – so bad!)

is there any ‘supposed to’ at all?

It is a pity that a certain dance many moons ago, gave me a tangible feeling of what it could be like to be held in safety and comfort and protection, held in a way where the numerous, tough, challenging and debilitating factors of living this earthly life are absorbed and lessened, halved and reduced as they are overtaken by something more precious and beautiful – unconditional love, tangible presence and hope… in music and dance…

Are those factors of ‘hope’ delusions though? Merely made up feelings to help us purposeless beings keep going through this undefined, unqualified, birthed & die existence?

Are we just Spirit energy playing around in these earthly bodies, because we need the earthly bodies to feel and be? “Floating around as energy” alone would mean we couldn’t experience anything at all, but ‘floating’… Is this ‘earthly time’ all just one big playground of delusions and illusions?

Brokenness created so that we have a contrary and a foil to the otherwise ‘perfect’ existence of ‘floating Spirit’ only?

If we are just playing, experimenting and experiencing, then it is all truth and it is all ‘right’ – alright – because the Way, The Truth and the Life, is just to be. Down here on ‘earth’ – travelling this ‘playground for Spirits in physical matter’ in our earthly ‘costumes’; some on a journey of love, others on a journey of adventure, some for Spiritual Enlightenment, some on personal level attainment – like computer games I guess – where each ‘life’ can be lived on a new level, if you have completed the level before. . . and like all travelling holidays, afterwards, you go home…

So my question: What’s my travelling holiday here all about? What level am I on? What am I supposed to be doing to be content in this holiday from my ‘floating energy home’? Am I on a holiday / is it an envoy mission? Are people taking too long to work through their levels? Is it creating a backlog for other players/Spirits? Is it creating frustration for Spirit that no ‘Greaterness’ has been reached with so many players?

“Lean not on your own understanding” – the hardest quotation I have ever had to deal with. I want to understand, I want to step up and do and be whatever it is that I am supposed to be and do – but then, is there any ‘supposed to’ at all?

 

Are teachers-in-training making themselves redundant?

This is a fairly long article for the just: Student teachers live on their cell phones, even in the classroom. Who needs a person dedicated to their phone, more than the children they are teaching, sitting at the front of the classroom? With projects like ‘Hole in the Wall’ taking off and granny clouds of retired individuals skyping en masse learners, should the upcoming teachers be so attached to their phones, that they actually can’t give the learners the 100% attention they deserve and need? If the phone is more important than the educator, why have an educator there, when Google can supply information? Why hire teachers who don’t focus 100% on engaging learners, when children can be given phones / tablets to stare at too?

It has been terrifying over the last decade to watch the new student teachers coming into schools to do their teaching practicals. Not only in South Africa, but around the world. Upon chaperoning a trip to Europe this year, along with my other international teaching experiences, it was evident that this is an international wave, not just a South African one. I also read an article recently at how high the new teacher drop-out rate is overseas.

Looking at the London schools I taught in and the metal detectors I had to go through. Listening to a teacher at a school in America where children get marks for arriving in class, and for putting the correct information at the top of the page they hand in. Hearing at one point that Australia had the highest teenage suicide rate in the world. Having our Greek Tour Guide tell us that she believed we were good teachers and that there weren’t many of those left. Has left me despondent at where the ancient practice of teaching is heading.

Our Greek Tour Guide spoke of the many school tours she had guided and how the unruly children usually had teachers who did not care, or teachers who were just there to do a job and take home a pay cheque. She spoke of how the teachers even went to nightclubs with the children. Yet, there we were, three seasoned teachers with a group of teens who had a Greek Town ice-cream shop giving them free ice-creams because the owner was so thrilled that they were so friendly, polite and well-mannered! Our Greek Tour Guide told us that this was only because of the teachers, us, taking our roles seriously and being dedicated to our role as role models, thus creating the well-mannered learners that we had brought with us. Of course, the trip was not without the usual need to curb teen behaviour, but for the most part, times were kept, discipline was maintained and education was happening.

From our side of the conversation, we were confused, because being a teacher was a calling with a purpose to be role models and upskill young people to be the best that they can be. We knew our role was to be the parent in parental absence (and not the ‘friend’), so discipline would be issued when the need arose and rude behaviour would be dealt with immediately. Our Tour Guide told us that few of the tours and teachers she had encountered saw their roles as we did. As we listened to Ancient Greek history, we were told that the Olympics were for the body, the Universities for the mind and the theatre for the soul and moral teaching of the nation. As a drama teacher, I know that Dramatic Arts is always on the bottom of the selection list for learners (and budget for schools), yet that is where morals are discussed in depth through text and empathised on stage. As I watch new teachers making themselves redundant through the umbilical cord to their mobile phones, and their inability to empathise with the learners wanting to engage more, I am terrified at what the future holds. Machines to teach a textbook, no discussion. An elimination of the Arts as they aren’t ‘reason’ subjects, but reality-empathy-internally focused subjects, creates an environment for computers alone. A creation of a generation of individuals who are unable to engage with others; and their inability to engage is affirmed by their teachers, horrifies me.

The Tour Guide’s opinion was then confirmed on our ferry ride to Italy, where a teacher with another group left the teenagers to do what they felt like, include pester our young boys, right next to our teachers’ cabin. We literally went out of our cabin numerous times to ask them to leave us alone and go to bed, but they were relentless in being annoying and showing themselves as desperate to get to the boys, it was a horrible experience, especially as one of our boys was badly seasick in the process – the foreign girls, however, felt nothing, and have probably never encountered the concept of empathy, their teacher did not assist us or even check on any of his learners once. Having seen illegal refugees climbing under the trucks boarding the ferry and later having things stolen on the ferry (not that these two things are connected, by any means), we were surprised that the other teacher really had no interest in the safety or behaviour of his learners.

In having worked through other situations, and having personally seen the power a teacher has to create the entire ambiance and ethos of their class’s behaviour; I know the great power that one human being has to change the way an entire class of children see, face, deal with and encounter their daily life. How can this happen if the teacher’s focus is “self” and “phone”? An example of my ambiance point from many years ago: One group went through our high school starting in grade 8 together and moving on up to grade 12 through the years. In the one subject, there were two classes, each with a different teacher. The one class entered a final practical examination supporting each other and sharing information and helping each other, the other class held onto their information, wanted to ‘be the top student’, and were underhanded in some of the things they said and did. After observing what I had, I spoke about my observations to a colleague as I couldn’t figure out why the two classes were so very different: what would cause such discrepancy, when they were all of the same year? My colleague told me to move my thoughts to the teacher in charge. When I did, it became clear to me what she meant. She said that our classes become who we are as we lead them and those two classes had each had the same teacher for that subject for three years, thus they had taken on the life approach of the respective teachers. The one teacher being a sharing, caring, let’s do this together teacher, and the other being a controlling, competitive teacher who preferred to work in isolation. The realisation scared me. Who was I as a teacher? How were the learners be manipulated, and changing their approach to life, through what I was subliminally teaching them? Which was the better approach to have? Looking at the classes, the sharing and caring ones were undoubtedly happier and far more relaxed than the ones who were fearing failure and building up insecurities they may never even realise they had.

This influence that a teacher has, that goes beyond the intellectual and academic, is very real. What would a computer-taught child thus become? Human beings who are becoming teachers just to get a pay cheque at the end of the month are fast becoming a norm in the classroom. Student teachers came in to a school do their practicals a couple of years ago and some of them slept in the computer room during the day. On several occasions they ‘forgot’ or ‘didn’t know’ that they were supposed to teach a class. Even with a bare minimum timetable, they were unable to be prepared enough to teach the lessons. I have even had student teachers where I have had to correct them because they weren’t teaching correct factual information because they didn’t understand the concepts themselves. There had been no initiative to find out, only the thought that the children will believe whatever they were told.

My honours lecturer came into one of our lectures the one evening ready to break things because about 50% of her education major undergraduates had sat messaging their friends on their phones throughout her lecture, not even looking up to read the presentation slides on the screen. New teachers and interns are continually asked not to be on their phones in class. I have had observation lessons where a student has spent about 75% of my lesson distracting me as they sat on their phone at the back of the room, barely even lifting their head. Showing no desire to learn, no desire to grow, no respect for the teacher and no respect for the children.

In an altercation at yet another school: the live-in student teachers / stooges / interns decided that they shouldn’t have to do night duties in boarding and that the school should give emergency phones between the duty student teachers’ area and the boarding house, so that if there was any emergency, then the children could phone them. What shocked the experienced staff even more than the idea of leaving children without an adult present, was the self-orientation of the future teachers. It was like all the years of devotion and sacrifice of the older teachers to create helpful, considerate and giving individuals, who put others first, were a complete waste. The new era of up and coming teachers were showing them that the safety of the children was less of a priority than their personal comfort and the use of a phone. That knowing the children had an adult present was less important than the students being able to be where they felt like being. That behaving like an adult / a parent / a person who can be trusted to look after children was less important than being a teenager themselves. Thankfully, the ruling remained and the duties stuck so that the children would have adult presence 24-7, but even so, the shock of the truth in the approach of these soon to be teachers was like a punch in the stomach to those who teach out of love and sacrifice to make the world a better place for all and not just themselves.

Maybe, if the future of education is now in the hands of selfish and immature individuals, then maybe this idea of electronic education with no unsuitable role model on their phone at the front of the classroom, is not a bad idea after all… I know I had teachers who changed my life through their love and selflessness, and I’m not sure real teaching can happen without those gifts.

I can’t figure out why #frustrated #stuck

Friday 23 June 2017

Well, here I sit. 18h27 in a classroom on a far off farm, 20km from ‘civilisation’. Where the bore holes have run out of water. Thank-You Lord, for my showers when I get them! Amen!

And what am I thinking: “Why? Why did I end up here? Like this?” I know ‘how’ I got here, what decisions I made, the course of progress that brought me here. BUT, I can’t figure out the ‘why’.

I can’t act out here, there isn’t even a group of people to start an Amateur Dramatic Society with. In addition to that, if there were, my 24-7 workload between teaching and boarding keeps me so exhausted I merely function. My writing has gone out the window to stress and over-work. My poetry has dried up with the drought we are having. Voice overs are not a thing that anyone here has even heard of. There is no staff bonding, no staff development as human beings, no staff Spiritual upliftment or get-aways like my ex-colleague has at her school. Nothing. It’s just meeting, meeting, meeting, do, do, do, emails, emails, emails, work, work, work 😦

It is a spot in the world from which everyone seems to perpetually try to escape. All because it’s like they want to drown you in work and deadlines and expectations that are super human. The only way to keep up is to be at work and doing work ALL THE TIME. And you aren’t even getting a tenth of what the bankers and execs get paid for all their hours and hours. We haven’t even signed off reports for the second term and I have to put together budgets for 2018 (bearing in mind the 2017 budget was only received last month and my department lost the money because our performances were in March!). I also have to set my entire timetable for five grades by next week, along with my testing timetable! All this for over 5 weeks away!

So I sit here – shattered from all the work. Demotivated for never having any quality human adult time. Sending email after email after email to parents for irresponsible learners. Wasting my time – literally. Literally wasting THE MOST PRECIOUS resource I have. Wasting it, like it means nothing, like I mean nothing. Like every word and every request from me, means nothing. It’s so very depleting, especially when I am doing the best I can without actually falling apart (God is the glue right now). I have told ‘those in charge’ and then get told I’m not working quick enough? I have to kill myself more and mark faster! … Wait for it… so marks can be ready more than 9 school days BEFORE reports go out! Never mind that my Grade 12 work meant having to take my Sunday afternoon to another teacher 150km away from the school to get it moderated… (Thank-You Lord for her help!)

So why? Why am I in a place where I can’t write, I can’t act, I can’t do voice overs, I can’t sleep in case a knock arrives at my door because I am on duty. I can’t get to a church, purely because I can’t actually find the physical energy to do so. I’m hesitant to drive the 20km to get to anything in town, as the trucks and traffic on the street-light-less freeway is just not the easiest to drive.

How do I force myself out of fatigue and overwork to do anything, when everything seems to be pushing against me? I know I am not to lean on my own understanding. I know that I need to trust God. I know that He is good. I know that He won’t leave me… But now, here, so often it crosses my mind that I am not a believer. That I missed some prayer somewhere, or some dunking under water, or something that would make me know why. (And my gut replies that this is not the case…) Know what I am doing here, when it feels worse than the Ancient Guy who was doomed for eternity to push a boulder up and hill and watch it roll down again; and repeat; and repeat; and repeat…

I have been here a year now. I have not written what I wanted to. I have not settled in to find any joy. I have not found anyone or anything here to be a source of inspiration for anything: I have not made many crafts, I have not coloured much or painted or made any “Pass It On” books. I have not been inspired with any projects like I used to be. I have not created poetry, I have not been invited to join any social events I could attend, and I have not written anything of substance, or meaning, or relevance to anything in the world at all… It feels like a waste being here, like my precious time is literally being wasted… Yet, another force seems to tell me to stay, seems to be wanting me to be here, right here in this place…

So Why? Why am I on this farm far away from everything, frustrated and believing that God is saying “Wait through this”… I do not understand – AT ALL.

I never imagined this. I never forethought anything like this. I never manifested anything like this. I absolutely do not recall anything in my mind or past that could have created where I am now, nothing. So why? If not manifested, if not pre-created, if not visualised, if not prayed for, if not desired, why? And then maybe back to the question I thought I could answer: “How”? How did the options that arrived with me and led me here, arrive with me in the first place?

I’m only blogging this because I have nothing in me to blog. I have nothing in me that is inspired to be created or dying to be written. Not even a Twitter Poem 😦 Inside me is a blank nothingness of the frustration of not understanding why all seems to have been taken from me, to now make me be just an unappreciated servant.

Dear Lord, for whatever reason you have placed me here, or need me here, please let it be short-lived Father, please. For You know the plans, but I have reached unmotivated, duty-orientated nothingness where all my time is draining away with nothing being achieved or created. Lord? Oh, Lord 😦