Post Cards!

 Because Postcards are important.  All I get in the mail anymore are Christmas cards and wedding invitations — beautiful traditional things, but nothing casual, nothing quick.  It’s time for someone to step up and start these little post-it style missives circulating.

~ Marian Call

Mission accepted. Unfortunately I will not be able to directly participate in Marian’s cross country mail service (being on an entirely different continent).

But I can be inspired by her idea, and kick my bad correspondence habit in the posterior. So here is the deal. Drop me your postal address in the comments (if you don’t want it published just say so, I have moderation on so I’ll be able to edit it out) and I’ll send you a post card. Sometime in the future.

Love and post cards,
Trisha

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Today – The Story of An Anxiety Attack

Having made the decision to come out into the open and speak about my mental illness, it would be a cop out not to write this post.

I had a terrifying anxiety attack today…well, that’s a tautology, if there has even been one. All anxiety attacks are terrifying. Your heart starts racing. The blood is pounding. Breathing becomes more and more difficult.

You try to focus on something, anything that can keep you from falling apart. Today I bit my lip…dry sobbing…Tears refusing to come. Utterly and totally convinced that this time, is the absolute last straw for those who love you. That they have to get away from you. Knowing that they are going to abandon you.

Hating yourself for being so pathetic…for not being able to just get your shit together. It is hardly significant.

Part of you knows that you are over-reacting and that part speaks rationally. But those rational words are swallowed up by the anxiety and greedily twisted. Made to mean other things – used to further the evidence that your worst insecurities are right.

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Small Actions, Consequences and the Art of Asking

Somewhere along the lines we have started believing the message that strangers are dangerous. That we should believe the worst in people, that we should be alone and afraid in the cave…silent, ignoring our fellow pilgrims.

What if the young girl did not take the risk to put a couple of coins in the hat:

What if everyone else was too afraid as well? Courage is not the huge actions. Courage is the small actions. Courage entails asking for help. Or giving it…unconditionally. Giving and receiving unconditionally are some of the most difficult things I believe.

We have become to believe that everything is a transaction – where favours must be repaid. I don’t believe that it is the true nature of the world, nor do I believe that most transactions are economic.

The truly valuable transactions take place on a level where the exchange is invisible to most people outside of the transaction. For instance, my most profound moment of self acceptance came compliments of Amanda Palmer. It was the week of my sister’s wedding and I had flown back to South Africa from Costa Rica (early February 2010), but I still had not managed to find something to wear.

I think I can speak for the majority of the female population when I say the change room is a nightmare. The fluorescent lighting is far from kind and amplifies our insecurities, and it is not helped by the constant marketing messages in store, the ones that tell us you are not good enough, you are not beautiful, but buy our product and you may be.

I was in an upmarket mall and was in shop five-hundred and twelve and seriously starting to get down on myself, and I was battling to find something special and on budget. Finally I found my way into the shop where I had started and I saw a dress that had caught my eye, but that I had thought made me look fat and ugly.

But I decided to go into the change room and try it on anyway. In the change room I had one of the most profound moments of my life. It was a moment where I turned around and said, “Fuck it! I like me and I like this dress!” and that moment came compliments of me channeling my inner Amanda Palmer (who I had only recently discovered via a blog post by Neil Gaiman). My inner Amanda Palmer allowed me to be confident in and happy with who I was in that very moment.

That transaction was completely invisible. The only other person who I had discussed it with, before now, was Riaan.

Just because another person does not see the transaction does not mean it is not valuable – it can be argued that the most valuable things of all are intangible.

The thing is that transaction, that moment of connection between me and an artist who a year previously I had been completely unaware of was intangible and invisible. The knock-on effects of the transaction have been real, I have answered her call when she has asked for help, not because I am keeping score, but because I want to. Sometimes the help has been purchasing her music from her directly (musicians need to eat too ), sometimes it has been by joining a conversation.

Our economies and ourselves need to realize that their is no shame in asking…or offering:

Love and ramblings,
Trisha

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Spirituality: An open letter from God

Perhaps it is the change of seasons, perhaps it is the occasion  of my nephew’s dedication or perhaps it’s just the way life happens, that has led me to be thinking about religion which reminded me of a letter that I received many years ago. According to the internet, it was written by Bo Lozoff of the Human Kindness Foundation, although I believe the author to be irrelevant, it was first published one Christmas day.

My spirituality, such as it is, is Pagan, but that does not preclude me from finding wisdom in other holy writings.  I believe that the reference in Genesis to God creating man in his own image, refers to our innate spiritual divinity, the fact that humans are innately kind and good.

From: GOD
To: My Children on Earth
RE: Idiotic Religious Rivalries

My Dear Children (and believe me, that’s all of you),

I consider myself a pretty patient guy. I mean, look at the Grand Canyon. It took millions of years to get it right. And about evolution? Boy, nothing is slower than designing that whole Darwinian thing to take place, cell by cell, and gene by gene. I’ve been patient through your fashions, civilisations, wars and schemes, and the countless ways you take Me for granted until you get yourselves into big trouble again and again.

But on this occasion of My Son’s birthday, I want to let you know about some of the things that are starting to tick me off.

First of all, your religious rivalries are driving Me up a wall. Enough already! Let’s get one thing straight. These are YOUR religions, not Mine. I’m the whole enchilada; I’m beyond them all. Every one of your religions claims there’s only one of Me (which by the way, is absolutely true). But in the very next breath, each religion claims it’s My favourite one. And each claims its bible was written personally by Me, and that all the other bible’s are man-made. Oh, Me. How do I even begin to put a stop to such complicated nonsense?

Okay, listen up now. I’m your Father AND Mother, and I don’t play favourites among My children. Also, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t write. My longhand is awful, and I’ve always been more of a “doer” anyway. So ALL of your books, including those bible’s, were written by men and women. There were inspired, remarkable people, but they also made mistakes here and there. I made sure of that, so that you would never trust a written word more than your own living heart.

You see, one human being to me — even a bum on the street — is worth more than all the Holy Books in the world. That’s just the kind of guy I am. My Spirit is not an historical thing, it’s alive right here, right now, as fresh as your next breath.

Holy books and religious rites are sacred and powerful, but not more so than the least of you. They were only meant to steer you in the right direction, not to keep you arguing with each other, and certainly not to keep you from trusting your own personal connection with Me.

Which brings Me to My next point about your nonsense. You act like I need you and your religions to stick up for Me or “win souls” for My sake. Please, don’t do Me any favours. I can stand quite well on my own, thank you. I don’t need you to defend Me, and I don’t need constant credit. I just want you to be good to each other.

And another thing: I don’t get all worked up over money or politics, so stop dragging My name into your dramas. For example, I swear to Me that I never threatened Oral Roberts. I never rode in any of Rajneesh’s Rolls Royces. I never told Pat Robertson to run for president, and I’ve never EVER had a conversation with Jim Baker, Jerry Falwell, or Jimmy Swaggart! Of course, come Judgement Day, I certainly intend to…

The thing is, I want you to stop thinking of religion as some sort of loyalty pledge to Me. The true purpose of your religions is so that YOU can become more aware of ME, not the other way around. Believe Me, I know you already. I know what’s in each of your hearts, and I love you with no strings attached. Lighten up and enjoy Me. That’s what religion is best for.

What you seem to forget is how mysterious I am. You look at the petty differences in your Scriptures and say, “Well, if THIS is the truth, then THAT can’t be!” But instead of trying to figure out My Paradoxes and Unfathomable Nature–which by the way, you NEVER will–why not open your hearts to the simple common threads in every religion?

You know what I’m talking about: Love and respect everyone. Be kind. Even when life is scary or confusing, take courage and be of good cheer, for I am always with you. Learn how to be quiet, so you can hear My still, small voice (I don’t like to shout). Leave the world a better place by living your life with dignity and gracefulness, for you are My Own Child. Hold back nothing from life, for the parts of you that can die surely will, and the parts that can’t, won’t. So don’t worry, be happy (I stole that last line from Bobby McFerrin, but who do you think gave it to him in the first place?)

Simple stuff. Why do you keep making it so complicated? It’s like you’re always looking for an excuse to be upset. And I’m very tired of being your main excuse. Do you think I care whether you call me Yahweh, Jehovah, Allah, Wakantonka, Brahma, Father, Mother or even the Void of Nirvana? Do you think I care which of My special children you feel closest to–Jesus, Mary, Buddha, Krishna, Mohammed or any of the others? You can call Me and My Special Ones any name you choose, if only you would go about My business of loving one another as I love you. How can you keep neglecting something so simple?

I’m not telling you to abandon your religions. Enjoy your religions, honour them, learn from them, just as you should enjoy, honour, and learn from your parents. But do you walk around telling everyone that your parents are better than theirs? Your religion, like your parents, may always have the most special place in your heart; I don’t mind that at all. And I don’t want you to combine all the Great Traditions in One Big Mess. Each religion is unique for a reason. Each has a unique style so that people can find the best path for themselves.

But My Special Children–the ones that your religions revolve around–all live in the same place (My heart) and they get along perfectly, I assure you. The clergy must stop creating a myth of sibling rivalry where there is none.

My blessed children of Earth, the world has grown too small for your pervasive religious bigotries and confusion. The whole planet is connected by air travel, satellite dishes, telephones, fax machines, rock concerts, diseases, and mutual needs and concerns. Get with the program! If you really want to help Me celebrate the birthday of My Son Jesus, then commit yourselves to figuring out how to feed your hungry, clothe your naked, protect your abused, and shelter your poor. And just as importantly, make your own everyday life a shining example of kindness and good humour. I’ve given you all the resources you need, if only you abandon your fear of each other and begin living, loving, and laughing together.

Finally, My Children everywhere, remember whose birth is honoured on December 25th, and the fearlessness with which He chose to live and die. As I love Him, so do I love each one of you. I’m not really ticked off, I just wanted to grab your attention because I hate to see you suffer. But I gave you free will, so what can I do now other than to try to influence you through reason, persuasion, and a little old-fashioned guilt and manipulation? After all, I AM the original Jewish Mother. I just want you to be happy, and I’ll sit in the Dark.

I really Am, indeed, I swear, with you always.

Always.

Trust in Me.

Your One and Only,

God

 

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#Iblameapartheid for bullying

I’ve had some thoughts buzzing around for a while, not quite coalescing into a cohesive whole. South Africa has recently made headlines for the wrong reasons, firstly with the rape and murder of Anene Booysen and secondly with the tragic death of Reeva Steenkamp.

I’ve been thinking a lot about our country’s culture, and it seems to me that we are a country where bullying is normal. And it makes sense, we a culture where we are supposed to be okay with being “teased”. For me the essence of bullying is dehumanizing another person…the bully sees the bullied as someone less than them, an object worthy of their disdain.

Unfortunately, I think we as a country think deeply in terms of otherness, if someone is other it is the first step to treating them as less than we would like to be treated. This is complicated by our diversity, and the fact that in essence, apartheid was government sponsored bullying…bullying on a huge scale in every manner possible.

As a country, we could definitely do with being more compassionate, with treating each other with respect.

Love and ramblings,
Trisha

 

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Silent Scream

Fighting with the shadows in your head
~ John Mayer, Say what you need to say

Every once in a while my black dog comes to visit, not gently lying in the corner, it arrives and demands that I give it constant attention. It gnaws at my soul, telling me persuasive lies. It speaks of worthlessness. It is filled with vitriol juvenile hatred, but so difficult to dismiss.

It’s arguments are superficial and childlike, but that’s what makes it so difficult to refute. The energy to argue with a persistent toddler shouting at the top their lungs: I hate you! You are worthless! Nobody could ever love you!

And so I retreat…keep silent. Dig deeper into my burrow…screaming silently. Afraid of the words that I won’t say. Afraid of the emotions that I am not fully feeling. Afraid of finding the triggers, or worse not finding them. Petrified that one day the black dog will win this fight.

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Dear Statistics South Africa: I am an African (A rant about categorization)

Dear Statistics South Africa,

I was reading the University of Johannesburg’s Style Guide this afternoon and I learned that your organization uses the following classification for population groups:

  • African
  • Coloured
  • Indian
  • white.

I find these categories to be highly inappropriate because I am a white African. I was born and bred in South Africa, my ancestors have lived here for over a hundred years. This distinction creates an unnecessary tension, if you would like a classification based on racial tendencies perhaps a tribal division would be more appropriate.

I sympathize with the challenges that your organization faces, we are a diverse country which must make putting us into boxes quite difficult. Perhaps, you should rather simply have an option for nationality, with the options:

  • South African,
  • Other African country,
  • Other (please specify).

Yours faithfully,

Patricia Cornelius
South African

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Time in the Library

Living with mental illnesses like anxiety and depression are strange, because everyone once in a while you get a day where it just turns out to be really good. Where nothing extraordinary happens, but where it is just a really good day. I think those of us who have experienced the dark storm clouds we learn how to savour the rainbows, and one of the best ends to this day was a post by Jenny Lawson, about this year being the library.

Last year was an introspective year for me and it was a year where I would not share a lot of the book that I wrote, it was a private and somewhat insignificant thing, and yet, this year I suspect will be so much more than that for me. Riaan and I are in the process of starting a new company which will hopefully be registered within the next couple of weeks (hopefully, the people at the companies office are well rested and attack all of the paperwork from the end of last year with vim and vigour).

I am not a fan of new years resolutions, especially since they encourage us to wish for the future instead of acting in the present, but I must say that I look forward to spending time in the library. For me, the library is associated with greatness and achievement.

Love and the library,
Trisha

 

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Random scenes from an ordinary day

Hello,

The year has certainly flown by and I am looking forward towards 2013. I am not one for resolutions as a general rule but I have been reading the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey and by happenstance I ended up writing a personal mission statement last night which is probably as close as I will get to a new year’s resolution.

I did however have the opportunity to take some pretty typical snapshots from my life today and so I present to you today’s random scenes:

Electra (Black and White Cat) drinking in the basin

Nothing like some fresh water to start the day.

Riaan holding algae

“I went fishing and this was all I caught”

Fish swimming in a fish pond

A touch of zen

Love and happy new year,
Trisha

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Snapshots from an urban jungle

To say that I am not the most diligent gardener would be a bit like saying the moon is a large rock, true, but rather inaccurate, I am a terrible gardener. So when I looked out my study window and saw an explosion of roses I was rather delighted. So I present you with snapshots from our urban jungle:

Rose bush among a rather neglected garden

The jungle at the bottom of the garden

A close up of a rose bush that has run wild

Running wild and pretty

Pink flowers

We have an impressive collection of weeds, just like this one.

A close up photograph of an agapanthus after an afternoon rain shower

A bonus agapanthus

Love and our urban jungle,
Trisha
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