You can head on over to the new blog to check it out, and if you like that sort of thing, feel free to bookmark it or leave a comment. I’m trying to make it practical, so adding tips and other resources for stress management and so forth. I am not posting under my real name (because I want to have a ‘free’ place to vent), but you’ll know it’s me.

Oh yes – the design is very basic at this point. Will see about a proper header soon, but for it’s purposes it will do for now.

Mosy on Down to The Quest for Zen

Between a mad work schedule and a total lack of energy, I have been slacking in a huge way over the past few months. “She’s let herself go” is one of the saddest statements ever, but that is pretty much what happened. I let myself go – not only my body and my fitness, but a lot of other important things too. I’m not sure what helped me reach the point where I decided enough was enough, but at the start of this month I got myself a personal trainer.

I loved muaythai and running, enjoyed yoga, tolerated shaolin and didn’t mind pilates too much. Gym is something I never quite got. Before I did muaythai, I was useless. Skinny, but totally unfit – I could barely run a few blocks without dying. My friend Ant (who was a trainer at the time) took me to gym once and the cycling alone was enough to make me never go back. When I was doing muaythai, gym became another way to sweat when I didn’t have class. Or before class, or after class on Saturdays, working out for 2 or more hours. Over the past post-muaythai years, gym was something I did when there was nothing else to do.

So call it a love hate relationship. What I have discovered now is that training with a professional is completely different from gymming on my own. Firstly, it is a commitment. I can change my training days, but I can’t just not go. Secondly, going at lunchtime has given me way more energy than going in the evenings or mornings. Thirdly, being at the mercy of a super fit trainer makes it impossible to slack off.

I go twice a week for now, and already I am noticing small differences. I am feeling stronger, and standing a bit taller. I still cringe in front of the massive gym mirrors, but it doesn’t matter as much. I am still feeling fat and ashamed for letting things get to this point, but that is also mattering less. Because I am getting back into it, and I am going to get my fitness back. The weight will go too, but feeling fit again is more important.

The best part? I have started jogging again. Even if it’s just once a week, it’s a start. With someone to motivate me until I can motivate myself, I know that the hard work will start to pay off over the course of the year. Maybe, just maybe, I will even be able to wear my favourite old jeans again this winter.

I know it will happen, one benchpress at a time!

So much I long to say, and so much that I can’t put into words.

There are still 11 days left to get through this month. Over 300 days to get through the rest of the year. I am already tired. My body is tired from the personal training that I signed myself up for earlier this month. My mind is tired from the seemingly endless deadlines that began the day I went back to work. My heart is tired from the constant battle against the bleakness that is always waiting to pounce. My entire being is tired from a week of dreaded insomomnia.

When things reach this sorry state of affairs, there are only two choices. Give up and let it all consume me, or push harder to find those last dregs of zen that I know are still somewhere inside me.

Quitting is not an option, not after all the hard work I have put in to keep my precious zen levels from drying up entirely. So that leaves fighting. Otters, jogs, Sims 3, vampire books, heart-to-hearts, intense gym sessions, cold Savannas on hot days, laughter, smiles from strangers, Jack Johnson, comedy shows, pink bubbly, purring cats, hope.

Additional, more drastic measures too of course. This may be the time to start looking for an assistant – even if it is remote for now. It’s also time to get realistic with those deadlines. More weekend, less stress.

It’s going to take a lot of effort and energy, and I’m not sure where that will come from. But however I do it, one thing is for sure. I need to find that balance again, and soon.

Today, I finally got it done. Behold… tattoo number 10!

Tattoo number 10!

The new tattoo is the Thai character ‘khomut’, which is used to indicate the end of a story. Being a fan of hidden meanings, this appealed to me… after all, I have come to the end of yet another phase in life, and what better way to mark the start of a new phase then a new tattoo? Also, it is a great addiction to my current collection of Thai numerals.

My ink collection is now nicely rounded off to 10. A good even number me thinks! What are the previous 9 you may be wondering? Have a look… (keeping in mind that some of these pics are very old!)

1. Taurus symbol - cos that's what I am!

2. Thai numeral - 5 (my lucky number)

3. Hammerhead - I love sharks, what can I say?

4. Heart - the only big ink I have (with monkeys!)

5. Thai numerals - 1980 (my birth year)

6. Star (my sister got a matching one on her collarbone too)

7. Stars - behind the ear

8. Star (a 30th birthday present from the lovely Chris Mills!)

9. Heart - behind the other ear

An old co-worker may have described my tattoos as being like ‘stickers on a teenage girl’s notebook’, but I love my small scale approach. Each one of those tattoos has a story, and with my new one, there is a sense of linking those stories and all the phases I have been through over the years.

Here’s to the start of a fabulous new year… and a fabulous new tattoo to kick things off to the right start!

P.S. I put this post together on Sunday. It took over an hour to hunt down old pics, but was fun taking a trip down tattoo memory lane!

I finished last year on a burnt out note – literally. Exhausted, over-worked, unhappy yet hopeful. Somewhere on the amazing NYE spent in Piketberg with family and very old friends, maybe even before we cracked open the Moet, I decided that the next year would be different. While 2011 was not without it’s challenges (some of them almost too big to process), it was certainly different.

So without getting all retrospective and pensive about the year that was, instead I would rather look back on some of the best moments of this crazy, interesting ‘growth’ year… in no particular order.

A Few 2011 Highlights

* Getting my very first set of business cards
* Finally going shark cage diving
* Getting a Kindle
* Getting a washing machine
* Watching my hair finally start to grow, and changing colour often
* Going back to muaythai and starting yoga (even if I never stuck to either!)
* Vampire books
* Lost, American Horror Story and Breaking Bad
* Growing my business
* My amazing clients
* Client office party at Moyo
* Mangoritas at Cactus
* Getting a new heart tattoo behind my ear
* Redecorating my lounge
* Getting a wonderfully kitsch, authentic Trechikoff print
* Oysters
* Midnight sushi indulgence
* Yankee candles
* Great friends
* Epic shopping trips
* Letting go of a life’s worth of baggage
* Learning how to smile, even when things are shitty

There were many other highlights of course – I am on full holiday mode at the moment, and these were the best I could think of in my current blissfully dazed state.

A lot to look forward to in 2012, and although I am happy to finish off this year, I think it has been a big one in many ways. Hope you all have a fabulous NYE, and may the year ahead be all sorts of epic!

Today, I found out that one of the Aghmat brothers passed away last Sunday. Zakkie was 16, and had been a fixture on Long Street for as far as I can remember. I’m glad I heard the news from my sister – it was marginally easier hearing the news from someone who loved him.

I met Zakkie and his brother Mogamat about 7 years ago, through my sister. She was working on Long Street at the time, and had ‘adopted’ these brothers. She would take them home and feed them, take them to Long Street Baths for swimming and do what she could to help with their social workers and family. They bought her presents – a tortoise they had ‘found’, and later, a kitten they had rescued, which my parents still have.

Hard Knock Life

While Mogamat grew as the years went by, Zakkie still looked like the same 9 year old he was when I met him. Small, scruffy, and always hiding his hands in jerseys that were much too long – even in summer. I once asked him about that, and he blushed and told me that he was embarressed by his mangled hands. When he was wearing shoes, they were always falling apart. They got stolen so often it was easier for him to go barefoot.

Despite their challenges, and despite a lifetime on the streets, Zakkie and his big brother would always have a smile for those who knew them. If you were their friend, you would get security – whether you were walking to your car on Long, or walking home after dark from Kloof. They never asked for anything – only a bit of company and a chat. Even when it was clear that Zakkie was using crack, and even when he was clearly out of it, he was still the same smiling, cheeky-faced kid he was before.

The Face of Cape Town’s Street Children

Last I heard, Mogamat had a fairly secure job and was doing well. Zakkie on the other hand, was just never made for this life. I would see him more and more often – he was one of the little gang of kids who often slept at the end of my road in the Bo Kaap.

Those kids broke their former social worker’s heart, and anyone who knew them understood why. It was them who inspired me to find out more about the Homestead Projects, and them who inspired me to support the Western Cape Street Children’s Forum. I knew it was a long shot that both of them would make it out of the streets, but even so, it is gut-wrenching to hear that little Zakkie lost his battle against his hard life.

Zakkie has become the face of Cape Town’s street child epidemic. It may have been too late for him, but there are still so many other kids just like him out there. They may not have won over so many hearts as Zakkie did, but they still need our help.

How You Can Help Kids Like Zakkie

* Don’t give them money – this only makes the cycle worse
* Visit the Homestead and learn more about the amazing work they do with street kids
* Visit the Western Cape Street Children’s Forum and find out more about current projects
* Educate yourself on what to do and what not to do
* Don’t treat these kids like they don’t exist – they are OUR problem, not someone else’s problem
* Start talking to the kids you meet – get their names and let them know someone cares

While many people who knew Zakkie will be grieving for a long time, I hope that his story will have a happy ending. If even one person takes something from this tragedy, then Zakkie will not have died in vain.

Farewell Zakkie… I’m glad I had the chance to know you, and I hope you knew how many people cared about you.

My shark cage diving experience began at the ungodly hour of 5am. I woke up at 4.30, and was up and waiting outside in time to catch the sun setting over the city. Once the bus arrived, and the rest of the group was collected (including a lovely Brazilian girl and some hungover Brits), we began the long drive out to Gansbaai. When we arrived, we had a safety briefing and then boarded the boat. It was a lot smaller than I expected, and a lot faster too. Soaring over massive waves, we got to the dive site in record time and got into wetsuits. This was a lot harder than you’d think – the wetsuits were damp, my fingers got raw pulling it up and we had to suit up on a rocking boat in hectic currents.

Watch the Shark Cage Diving Video!

Then came the exciting part – getting into the cage. 5 divers went down at a time, armed with masks and weightbelts. To ensure that the sharks weren’t scared off, no scuba was used. When the dive master spotted a shark, he shouted ‘DOWN!’ and we held our breaths to watch the sharks cruise past. There were about 4 or 5 sharks coming past individually every few minutes, and as Great whites are surface feeders, they could be seen from the boat and in the cage.

A few lessons I picked up during the course of the day:

* Sharks are not easy to photograph – they move very fast, and my camera less so
* They are so much more chilled than I imagined – some were curious, but mostly they were rather blaise
* Shark cage diving is quite a workout – yesterday and today I woke up stiff and sore all over
* Great whites are so much more beautiful than you would think – more than any picture could show
* Thank god for on-board camera man – the DVD of the dive captured all the sightings I missed
* Gansbaai loves their sharks – they even have shark Christmas lights!
* Everyone takes something different from the dive – some were doing the tourist things, others were content to view from the boat, and others were shark lovers like me
* I love fast boats - forget that every time… need to go on boats more often
* I can’t understand why people hate on sharks – they are so peaceful and beautiful, not monsters at all!

I got home in the late afternoon – exhausted, salt in my hair, raw patches on my fingers and happiness in my heart. I really can’t sum it up any better than that… it was an experience I will never forget, and hopefully one I will do again. Except maybe next time I will finally finish my PADI scuba course and dive with other sharks, sans cage!

Huge thanks to White Shark Ecoventures for an unforgetable day, and another thanks to the on-board camera dude from 2 Oceans Films. He made an awesome DVD of the shark cage dive – click here to watch!

Oh yes – you didn’t think I would forget about the pictures, did you? As I said, sharks are effing hard to photograph, but I got a few ok-ish pics…

Setting off on a rough, choppy sea

The cage

Shark checking out the cage

Getting a bit closer to the cage

Splashing down after a mini breach

Seagulls hovering around the boat for scraps

My first introduction to the new wave of revolution sweeping across the world was the protests in Iran a while back. Twitter was ablaze with incredible footage of angry people who were fighting for their lives to keep their freedom. Then came Egypt, which was even more amazing. Images of Christians standing in a protective ring around Muslims as they prayed have remained in my thoughts for a long time. When the army decided to stand with the people, the world realised that maybe there was a way for peoples voices to be heard. Libya was perhaps less of a success story, but by then it was clear that social change had given regular people the chance to stand up against dictatorships and regain their freedom.

So with all of this in mind, why is it that I have been less than moved by the Occupy Wall Street and subsequent Occupy movements over the rest of the world?

Part of it is the fact there is no clear point or message. People are not fighting for basic rights or even their lives, and for the most part, they seem to be fighting against The Man instead. These are people with smart phones and jobs for the most part, who are trying to save the world from corporations and those evil rich folk. The 99%, apparently.

What really bothers me however is that the media hype, huge turnouts for marches, massive amount of time, energy and funds that have come with this latest movement is pretty significent indeed. All for a movement with no clear end, and no clear objective other than to try and change a world that has been this way since the beginning of time.

With the vast number of NGOs and causes out there, and the millions of people who are starving to death in Somalia alone, not to mention the millions of people who have no food, no jobs, no home and no hope. There are cancer patients as young as 4 years old, and people taking to the streets to protest against no water, no houses and no help. Rhinos are being poached into extinction, township animals are being abused and abandoned. Children all over the world do not have access to even the most basics of food.

The biggest threat to humanity is not corporations, or even government – although they are doing their bit to add to the state of our planet. The biggest threat is that all of this is happening around us, and a large number of people are choosing to use their time to make a statement rather than actually doing something constructive.

Yes, social change is vital. But what about real change, that involves more than a sign purchased from an online store? Surely we are losing sight of the potential that we have to do something huge?

Maybe I have missed the point. Or maybe, this just isn’t a revolution that can free an entire nation.

Tattoo #9 - the heart

I haven’t been this excitable on a Monday for ages, but it’s been a good one! Despite a lot of work to get through, and not the best sleep I have had lately, I woke up feeling full of beans. Actually, a dude from Absa Life woke me up to offer me a credit card insurance plan, and he soon had me in hysterics going through the various claiming limitations.

A walk down to Kloof Street to do some lunchtime missions with my favourite guy friend was tainted only by Vodacom refusing to let me do my upgrade at the 22 month mark (long story). Woolies missions, laughs at hipsters and tourists in the sunshine and a discussion about Josh Holloway aka Sawyer appearing in Community that fell totally on deaf ears… it was a good break.

When I got back, there was an ambulance outside my block of flats. Soon, two firetrucks, a medic car and a smaller fire truck arrived on the scene. There were medics everwhere, and most people in the area stopped to check out the drama. I still have no idea what happened, but someone in my block was wheeled out on a stretcher. Such drama on a Monday afternoon!

To cap off the rather interesting day, an iBurst issue I had over the weekend was resolved quickly and painlessly. Better still, they bumped up my package (which I had downgraded for some reason a month or two ago) from the 5GB package I had to a 10GB… at the same price.

I’m off to a blogger bash on Thursday, getting the new first Dexter episode soon and I have a brand new tattoo that I got on Friday. Goodbye Serene September, hello Osum October!

From as far back as I remember, my mom used to quote the Serinity Prayer. Even though I knew the words however, the real impact is only coming through now. An ex boyfriend of mine even gave me a fridge magnet with these words on it, which is still sitting on my fridge. Maybe it’s that old ‘can’t see the woods for the trees’ thing, but lately, serinity is something I have been thinking about a lot.

For a very long time, I carried a world of hurt with me. All the loss, anger and sadness that I have experienced in life was carted around, like a monkey on my back. I would forget about the load during the good times, but as soon as the bad times rolled around again, there it was. Choking me, stifling me and suffocating me. It has taken me this long to realise that letting go really as easy as it sounds – even if getting to that point was far from easy.

Even then, it’s only been this year that I finally understood what serenity really means. It isn’t about pretending to be fine, or about putting up with the bad stuff. All it really is about is letting go and accepting that being strong is not about fighting off the universe – it’s about having enough faith to believe that things will be ok.

True calm comes with the acceptance of our lot in life. And with that acceptance comes a certain kind of peace. Right now, that peace is exactly what I need to weather the storms. A pinch of serenity, and a dash of faith.

It’s a good feeling.