The Spirit of the Wind

Brenda made the reservation with Olivier’s Rust in De Rust. While she was talking and trying to confirm dates, I said, we have to check if we can get kennel space for Nunus and then confirm. Well, the outcome of that was that Susan, the Olivier’s Rust owner, said bring her along. So we took Nunus with us! I was apprehensive, but this was the first revelation—She travelled well, behaved exceptionally, enjoyed herself and appeared as if she’d been doing this all her life.

De Rust was a good choice. Around the corner from where we stayed, on the front gate of The Weaver’s Nest was this plaque: “ It is Here With The Spirit Of The Wind That I Will Find My Soul.”

And we did, each in his own way. In the stillness of the quiet Klein Karroo we could stand back and refocus on the bigger picture, be honest and clearly see the value of the simple life-style.

De Rust is a village of simple life and Donkie Teksies.The Donkey Cart project was started to convert a problem into a feature. Donkeys were verwaarloos and looked it. The carts were held together with wire and make-shift fasteners.

The project saw carts restored, fitted with rubber wheels and painted green. The visitor can now hire a ride. It provides a small income for the owner, the donkeys are better off and what used to be a disgrace has become a feature in De Rust.

Meiringspoort is an experience. It is a beautiful place in nature. But above all, I’m proud to be South African when I see a place like this. It is clean and well managed. There are no plastic bags and beer cans lying around. The stopping places are clean and quiet.

On the Wednesday we took a ride to nearby Uninondale to see Paul and Carol. They were both out and while waiting we looked around the village and visited some of the churches. It was good to see Carol again. Next time we'll see Paul. The Klein Karroo is an experience. I wonder why we are so fascinated with Disneyland and casinos. There's not been a time when visiting this beautiful part of our land has not transformed my thinking and lifted me.

My thoughts on moving towards excellence.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is a habit, not an act (ion).” Aristotle—Parentheses are mine. How do I move from ineffective behaviour, like anger, fear, sulking and withdrawal, the helpless victim, feeling ashamed, feeling I’m totally at the mercy of the situation, which I repeatedly do, towards more effective behaviour? My states of anger, fear and withdrawal, shame, not good enough, are habits. I want to change them. I want to move towards excellence. I want to repeatedly do something different from what I’m repeatedly doing when I feel threatened. I don’t want to feel I’m at the mercy of the situation.

Over and over I find myself reacting to anger with anger, becoming fearful and feeling threatened, regressing into childish victim state when the situation is nothing more than a disagreement over something trivial! Someone calls me a wuss, in a moment of anger, and I hit back in anger or regress into “poor me” state with, “That’s unfair. Give me a chance to explain.” For God’s sake, I know I’m not a wuss! Why do I behave like one when confronted? Where does it come from?

When we are children we do not have the emotional, physical and financial resources of adults. We are little, have no money, very little experience and feel helpless often. We react to perceived threats with childish behaviour, frustration and anger, tears and pleading, wanting sympathy and understanding, withdrawing and hiding. It is all we can do with our limited resources. What’s more, it often works. Although we don’t freely admit it, these threats are frequently caused by the very parent(s) who are our only caretakers. As children we may resort to becoming busy with other activities, withdraw into fantasy in order to escape the feeling of being betrayed by a parent.

The actual situation is of little importance. What is important is that at some stage we habituated certain behaviours because we had no other way of responding. As we all know, old habits die hard. Long after the childhood situation has changed, in adulthood, even in middle age, we find ourselves still acting out the old childhood behaviours although we are capable of behaving more effectively. Something triggers our insecurity, we shrink back into helplessness and we react with behaviour from some primitive habit that’s lying right on top in our toolbox of behaviours, the more effective response lying unreachable at the bottom. How do we move it from the bottom of the toolbox towards the top?

Can we achieve it through better knowledge and understanding? More knowledge can help. What l’ve written here is not new. Most of us already know it, maybe not in these words, but at some level we already understand it. At some level we already have this knowledge. How will more knowledge make it better? I believe that just like we can become stuck in ineffective reaction to problem situations, we can become stuck in seeking more and more knowledge, hoping that one day we will know enough to bring about change. Reflect on Aristotle; “We are what we repeatedly do …”, not we are what we know. We go to school we collect knowledge, we memorise the new knowledge and we recall it in the exam and write it down. We are rewarded with a pass. With that reward comes the illusion that we are competent at the process! Wrong model, we are experiential learners. We don’t become competent drivers by accumulating knowledge, we have to move gradually from knowledge to doing to competence. But we apply the knowledge equated to competence model over and over in other areas of our lives. We don’t even acknowledge that the knowledge equals competence model often don’t work. If I want to turn a chair leg in a lathe, I have to select a piece of wood and prepare it, measure out the profile, select an appropriate speed and tool rest position. Then I have to cut the wood using several of a whole array of chisels. I’ll probably have several failed attempts before I can repeatedly turn an excellent chair leg. We are experiential learners. A doctor accumulates knowledge, then shadows experienced doctors, then does procedures while supervised by experienced doctors. Finally, after doing it several times, he is considered competent. We are experiential learners.

So, more knowledge is, at best, only part of the answer. You know you are no longer a child—Stop behaving like one when you feel threatened or weak. How about compelling yourself into different behaviour when you feel at the mercy of the situation? Come on, you’re a big girl, or boy. Be mature! Snap out of it! We all know that does not work. When you are at the mercy of the problem situation, you are at the mercy of the situation. You don’t even realize that you have regressed into childhood behaviour/habit. Once you feel helpless, you are already in the old habit behaviour. Part of that old habit is there-is-nothing-I-can-do-about-this! You are in the habit and there is nothing you can do. You have to interrupt yourself before you are in the habit behaviour. You have to “snap out of it” before you are in “it”. You cannot learn a new reaction to a scary or threatening situation when you are in full flight or fight already! Your survival mode self does not have the ability to switch mode. In survival mode you are surviving, not thinking. Remember, your weak little self, your angry and frustrated self does not have the resources. I’ll say that again, because it’s important. Your survival mode self does not have the ability to switch mode. In survival mode you are surviving, not thinking.

I had a session recently with a therapist. He said to me, imagine a situation in which you felt helpless, vulnerable. Feel the fear, the frustration, the shame, whatever. Now step away from that helpless, little, afraid child-like you and look at him with compassion and understanding. Look at him from your higher, resourceful self. You have wisdom and you are competent. The little character you have regressed into cannot handle the situation, but your higher self can. Shield the little one. Come between him and the problem situation. What is the adult response to the problem situation? Is the situation as threatening as the little child thinks it is or is the little child stuck in an old habit? It was easy to do because the problem situation was simulated; it existed in my imagination only. I could make the switch.

Practice this every day. Use different problem situations in your imagination, where it is safe. Gradually move towards trying it out in real situations. Experiential learning! Repeatedly do it! We become what we repeatedly do. If we want to move towards excellence we must repeatedly do something different to what we are now doing in problem situations, repeatedly not behave in old, un-excellent ways of handling our problem situations.

“I’ll Always be here in Grotto Bay”

Yesterday when we were sitting on the beach, Brenda said that: “I’ll Always be here in Grotto Bay” and also, “This is my home.” We had a little celebration on the beach, Ruth, Brenda, Nunus and me. Ruth had decided to swim. She always swims. Somehow she persuaded Brenda to go in. The photos tell the story. Brenda left soon afterwards--she swam in her clothes and it was getting cool. When I got home she put her arms around me and said, "I played in the waves! I can't remember when last I did that!" It makes one happy to hear words like that.

The Best Advice I Ever Had

When I was in my mid thirties I had an allergy. I don’t really know when it started. One day I realized I had it. I could not be in sunlight. Even indirect sunlight caused my face to swell up and become red. If I was inside and walked outside I could feel my skin crawling and in minutes I was swollen and red. Once the allergy had flared up it did not subside until the sun went down. Only the next morning would I look near-normal again. It lasted more than ten years. I coped as well as I could.

It affected me in several ways. There was the physical discomfort. That was trivial in comparison to the helplessness I felt. I wanted to go hiking with my children. I wanted to play golf. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to take photographs. I wanted to sail. Any of these things caused extreme discomfort.

I experienced shame. That may sound odd, but I felt I was abnormal and somehow responsible. There were days I regressed to 4-year old. I hid.

I took cortisone. I wore big hats. I pasted sunblock on my face. It affected only my face. The rest of my body was okay. I saw doctors. I saw specialists. They medicated. Nobody expressed a diagnosis or a prognosis. They evaded my questions.

I went to see a doctor in Seapoint. “You are allergic to yourself. Something, some secretion from your skin is causing this. It reacts with oxygen in the presence of UV light and you are allergic to this oxidised form of the substance. There is no treatment.” I said, “What am I to do?” and he said, “Get a job as a pool room attendant.”

I thought, you insensitive bastard. How can a man, a doctor, be this brutal and tell me to be a pool room attendant and he does not even bother to hear me and that I want to sail with my children and play golf.

Many years later I still have a slight allergy, but I can do some of the things I wanted to do then. But above all I can look back at the pool room advice and see the value, not the brutality. I can see that, were I able to at the time, I could have learnt acceptance of what is. In some way it helps me today. It did not help me at the time, but today I can look back and say, you have a situation, not what you’d like it to be, but live within the limits of your situation—It’s plenty good enough—Enjoy it.

Boesmanland, Hantamwereld and Verneukpan

I was responsible for causing the start time and start place to become somewhat arbitrary. Because I live way north I elected to wait for the group at Ceres. The official start point was the Winelands Service station on the N1. But then those who woke up too late for the N1 start also decided to make Ceres the start point, catching up with the group from behind, but arriving ahead of it in stead. We arrived in singles and pairs. The Johnny Clegg music, “Scatterlings of Africa,” kept running in my head. And it set a good mood right from the start. This is so much more than a riding adventure and a been-there-done-that adventure or a time trial. It’s a social adventure and a different-cultures experience. It’s also about getting to know one another, finding new and special connections and accepting a helping hand when you are tired. It’s setting aside time from the business of what we call “my life” and experiencing living for a few days.

And so the Scatterlings of Africa set off from slightly north of the original start point and slightly south of the original start time in the direction of Calvinia and along the R355.

There were some punctures and runnings out of fuel but we all made it. The road is good. It’s not like punctures are inevitable, but there are stones and wheels can find them. It makes one appreciate a backup vehicle and trailer. Peter provided the backup vehicle. I’m not saying I would not have gone on the trip if we did not have backup, but it made my decision easy.

At Calvinia while waiting for the puncture repair, we met Jan Rossouw, a farmer there. At first I thought he was the repair shop owner; He hung around and chatted with us. It was only later, when we were ready to leave, he said goodbye, climbed in his bakkie and drove off. He’d just hung around chatting and talking because that’s what people do in the Hantamwereld. Jan dispensed with much wisdom and counselled everyone. He had no difficulty asking very direct questions, which I learnt is the Hantam way. To Ruth, “Het jy ‘n man?” and to her negative reply, “Dis goed. Hulle maak net moeilikheid.” He also advised the men, you must take the first woman who wants you. Don’t ever choose one yourself. You will choose the wrong one.

We had lunch at the Hantam Guest House—recommended by Jan Rossouw of course. It is a museum. Well, it’s a national monument and the owners have collected wonderful stuff. I had home made pie and “slaphakskeentjies.” Slaphakskeentjies literally translated into English is “floppy ankles”! I was prepared to order it to find out exactly what I would get. Would you believe, slaphakskeentjies is Hantamspeak for screw noodles in mayonnaise!

There was a dirt road alternative to Brandvlei. I took the chicken run. Ruth and Chrisma joined me. I love travelling on dirt, but this dirt sounded like dirt of a technical variety and I was tired. So, we took the tar road to Brandvlei. I was not wrong. This is hard country. I checked the place names on sign boards along the way; Brand-vlei, Breek-been, Breek-yster. Everything is either burnt or broken or waiting to get burnt or broken.

I was happy to overnight at Brandvlei. The ride to Verneukpan on the next day was not long or difficult. There were a few bumps that had me with all wheels off the ground and some gates materialised from nowhere and required some pretty innovative stopping strategies.

We went to Die Windpomp for supper. If you ever go through Brandvlei, have a meal at Die Windpomp—“Die beste pomp oppie dorp.” Some of us tackled the Windgat burger single-handedly—Check the photos—This is not a matter to be taken lightly. This is a burger that’s afraid of nothing and needs a big appetite. I’m writing a lot about food and eating places, but it’s a big part of what makes the trip memorable. I was sitting in the bar at the Brandvlei hotel and a goat came in through the window! I was drinking Coke, so I know it was a goat. “He shares the back yard with 3 Great Danes and he thinks he’s a dog,” the proprietor told me.

We made it to Verneukpan! I’ve travelled past there before. But I’ve never been and I’d all but given up hope of one day riding on the pan. So, this was a big moment for me. There are no trees in this world. We had gazebos in the backup truck and I had visions of a dozen people sitting tightly together to get some shade. I worried unnecessarily. The camping facilities are absolutely practical and a wonderful sight in this flat and hard land. There’s shade and windbreak and all that’s needed. Look, I have a healthy respect for the Verneukpan surface after trying to sleep on it, but it’s not an ordeal. My frame resists hard flat surfaces and it gets cold at night!

Gustaf got a shade past the 200 kph--Measured by GPS nogal! I tried a run myself. But it's scary; When you travel on tar you "know" the road goes on and on, but on the pan it feels so much faster because you can see the "end" It feels like you're going to run out of surface.

We were fortunate in the context of mishaps and injuries. Nappy rash was about the worst that happened!

Despite being tired, I sat around after the meal and drank coffee, not too much because one doesn’t want to get up in the night. We chatted while we had wood for the fire. Gustaf said to me, “You are privileged to have your daughter ride with you on an adventure like this. I hope one day my daughter will ride with me.” Yes it is a privilege. It made me think back to an incident in my childhood. My father and I were travelling somewhere in Namaqualand. In those days all roads were dirt roads. In fact I saw tar for the first time when I was about 8 years old. We stopped in a small place, it could have been Bitterfontein, and he bought a few bits of meat at the butcher. We stopped later and we made a fire at the side of the road and braaied and ate. My father had a beer. I had a lemonade. I remember he added about two spoons of beer to my lemonade so I had a shandy! I was pleased my mother was not there. I was pleased that I was the focus of my fathers’ attention. It was a small, special moment for me. Sixty years later I can still see the smoke curling, the color of the sand and I can still feel the specialness of being there with my dad! I wonder what it meant to him. We should never trivialize moments spent with our children.

Would I do it again? When you’ve shared some difficult moments and some fun moments with a group of people, you become closer, know one another better and the warmth and camaraderie that grows out of such an experience is something that you can only get by doing the thing. Does that answer the question?

Wilderness--Week Away

Brenda had her cell phone in her lap. I was driving. The phone rang. As she answered I realized that we had both jumped at the first beep like it was a shot going off. That was about two months ago. It made me aware of the stress we had both been absorbing. We had become used to reacting to things. It was almost like our routine had been reduced to either handling the current crisis or waiting for the next one—somewhat exaggerated, but that’s how it felt at times.

When Stephen called and said he was unable to take up his week at the Wilderness Dunes time share, we could have it, won’t cost a cent, it seemed like the Great Mystery had intervened. Brenda especially had been under severe stress.


The units on the south side, the sea view side, had all been taken. We were very happy with our north facing one. I will add at this point that October had been a Rubicon month, Brenda’s words. We reached the decision to stop reacting to things around us, things we could not control, and begin to live our life. If it had not been for this realization the time away could have been as stressful, same old stuff, different location. We took only my cell phone and that was turned on twice a day only. The significant thing is that we were both comfortable with the decision to deliberately be not-available.



Saturday—The Day of the Trampoline. We woke up to a “blop-pause-blop” that went on for hours. We discovered that there were two kids who, apart from meal times, and occasional drinks breaks were going to spend the weekend trampoline-ing! Maybe we’re getting old and crotchety. Well, at least one of us may be heading that way.

We went to the Sedgefield Farmers Market in the morning—a nice community thing. They allow dogs. It’s relaxed and unhurried and makes one yearn for down-to-earth stuff.

Sunday—The Day of the Damp Squid. Having enjoyed the Sedgefield farmers’ market on Saturday, we went to the Sunday market at Wilderness. Bad idea. There were other days too that did not pan out the way we intended. We had a power outage, so no TV. We went to the Garden Route Mall, most of the shops were shut because of the power outage. So, the highlight of the day was lunch at Victoria Bay!

Monday—The Day of the Big Tree. There’s an Outiniqua Yellowood not far from the Wilderness Village. It’s 800 years old! When we arrived at the site there was a small group of women there. You know how kids can sometimes just walk up to strangers and come up with an outrageous remark? Well, that’s Brenda: “Are you a Tree Hugger?” Well, guess what, it works! She got a quick 4 point lesson in tree hugging!

Tuesday—The Day of the Movie That Wasn’t. We want to see Nights in Rodanthe. We get to Wilderness Mall—It don’t start till Friday! So we ended up having lunch in Knysna. Not eventful? Sure, but we’re getting used to doing nothing and not feeling guilty about it.

I did spot the most amazing form of transport at the mall though! It’s a two wheeler chariot-like thing. Two wheels on one axle! And it don’t fall over! It balances itself while standing still. It goes at about three times walking speed! See the photo. I guess we will soon have one wheeled motorbikes!

Wednesday—The Day of the Ghost Town. Would you believe, late in 1800’s there was a gold rush in Knysna—Didn’t produce enough gold to sustain the diggers and the infrastructure. We had another big tree, also an 800 year old Outiniqua Yellowood. But this one has been tail-dragging. It’s not even half the size of the one near Wilderness.

Thursday—The Day of the Ring. November 4 is our anniversary. I suggested we go shopping for an anniversary present. Well! It was a joy to see Brenda’s delight. We shopped around and found a very elegant sapphire ring. I thought she can have it sized in Cape Town and on November 4 it will be ready and we’d have a celebration and then … Well! Moenie glo nie! She had it made smaller right there and then, put it on and that’s where it stayed! Can’t blame her, it is a beautiful ring.

Friday—The Day of Return to Base. Throughout our stay we repeatedly spoke about how necessary and appropriate and enjoyable the away-from-it-all had been. We had been shown the importance of our life and the value of living it rather than reacting to crises. It was enlightening and wonderful and we thank God for showing and opening the possibilities and opportunities we have been “too busy” to take up.

We were returning to base, but we are different—we have a changed attitude. Brenda drove most of the way back and I took some shots through the windscreen, something I’ve not done before.

My Thoughts on Detachment

Detachment is not “totally cutting off from” or “putting distance” between me and the problem. Detachment is ending identification with the problem, ending being one with the problem. If I merely put distance between me and the problem, the problem persists. I take it with me or it resurfaces when the distance is reduced, when I return.

What do I mean by “being one with the problem?” What is the problem? Is the problem that which I don’t like, but which is? Or is the problem my inner state of discontent about that which is, and which is in fact different to what I want it to be? Is the problem my negative inner state or is the problem that situation or person that caused my negative inner state, that something which is “wrong,” not how it “should” be?

Logic tells me the immature view is that the problem is that which caused my negative inner state and that the more mature view is, get a hold of your inner negativity, it is the only part of the situation you can control--Restore your serenity, accept that which you cannot change. Yes, it’s more mature, but is it the answer, to accept something that may not be acceptable?

I don’t have to accept it. I don’t have to like it. But I also don’t have to be completely engulfed, swallowed up, consumed by my negative inner state. That’s what I mean by “being one with” my inner negativity; to let it take me over completely. When a part of me can stand back and observe, see the whole, I’m no longer at one with the problem, completely identified with it. There is a part of me that is observing all. This higher self sees the cause as a trigger, something I cannot control. It sees my not liking it as an inner state. But it also knows that these two things are not me. They are a part of my life and of now and of being. There are other components besides these, things that are positive and enjoyable and I am all of these, not just “problem” When I’m there, I am detached from the problem and I’m in touch with more of me and with now—I am free to choose to focus on something that pleases me and that I enjoy—I am not tied up in my negative inner state.