Meaning can be found in random events
Meaning can be found in random events.
In May my recurring rhinitis, sinusitis and asthma developed into a mild form of chronic pulmonary obstruction disease when my lungs stopped working. My blurred recollection of ICU includes now a vague memory of what I can only describe as alien abduction. In this instance, the aliens were entirely terrestrial; nurses and doctors who routinely visited my bed as machines breathed for me. I remember wondering whether I had died. I remember agreeing with myself that I had obviously not, as I was still bound to my body, though drifting in and out of consciousness. I was alive.
From a ward in the George public hospital I could see a portion of the Outeniqua Mountains towering above the city of George. The mountain gave me the strength to eat, breathe, walk and finally recover. The mountain, and my dearest friends – you know who you are – and lover, because without their frequent visits and good cheer, I may have drowned in self-pity. Four months later and I’m breathing normally, have regained my strength and slowly re-ignited my sense of awe and wonder at the world around me and in which I live. During my hiatus I’ve made a number of important changes in my life. I have resigned my position as Director of the South African Pagan Rights Alliance (SAPRA). SAPRA remains in good hands under the stewardship of its new acting Director, Dr. Retha van Niekerk and an experienced Executive Committee.
I have begun a new chapter in my life. Like the Ranger’s Toad who has taken up spring residence in my left gumboot, I’ve embraced new experiences by banishing old habits. In folklore frogs are masters and purveyors of transformation. Whether wielding wild mountain weather magic in their bones, or being transposed in fairy-tales from human form to toad by a witch’s curse, a very human leap of familiar faith can indeed bestow healing and good fortune, if you let it. It’s the little things that count in the end.
My new blog will be devoted entirely to the little things that count; the extraordinary encounters we have with spirit in the ordinary world. The extraordinary always hides in plain sight, waiting to be acknowledged. As an activist I often forgot to stop resisting the dumb tide of willful ignorance and prejudice to simply enjoy the moments of living between each imposed or assumed struggle. Mountain and frog where always there, waiting…
May your encounter with this spring-tide be fruitful and sweet.