Roses are Red, when Life is Blue...

Thought I’d escape to a rose garden to find some answers and fresh air during lunchtime. Turns out that all I found was roses. And air so heavily scented with the roses’ perfume, I could almost taste it. It didn’t taste like answers and the roses didn’t talk to me like I almost expected they would. Oh, they were ever so pretty, but utterly silent.

There was no dramatic soundtrack to accompany the moment, and no epiphany to bring peace to my inner turbulence. What do you do when you want something you just can’t seem to have? What happens when the past comes back to remind you of your failures?

Rose gardens are such disappointing oracles of wisdom. All they do is bob around in the breeze and look pretty. 

Epic Soundtracks and Butterflies, Butterflies Everywhere!

Picture my morning: It is 07h55. I’ve had my breakfast – a mixture of cereals and yoghurt – my husband is already charging around the garden outside “sorting stuff out”, as he usually does on Saturday mornings. I am tidying the kitchen and washing the morning dishes, peering out a window that overlooks the back yard.

I’m feeling musical this morning, so I already have my iPod hooked up to my lumo-pink Shox speaker, and I’ve selected the Pearl Harbor soundtrack. I hit ‘Play’, and immerse my hands in the dishwater, scrubbing absent-mindedly at a sticky coffee cup. Outside, my husband continues to charge, back and forth, back and forth.

 To this day, I cannot listen to this soundtrack, without becoming at least slightly choked up... The sound of Faith Hill’s smooth vocals rises from my iPod, and suddenly I am all too aware of the moment. Dishes forgotten, my mind is outside. It is a glorious day. I hate that the phrase “glorious day” has been so over-used and clichéd, because this truly is a glorious morning. Not a cloud in the sky, grass as green and fluffy as… well, grass… the trees heavy-laden with leaves and Summer… and today is particularly glorious because it is the first day of our local white butterflies.

I’m not sure what to call them… South Africans will know this: once a year, from somewhere in the great outdoors, millions and millions of white butterflies take flight from their cocoons all at once, as if in some conspiracy to redecorate the world, spreading beauty and purity across the countryside for days, weeks at a time. Go outside, look around, and if you’re lucky enough to live in such a blessed region, your outside will be a-flutter with pulsating white life…

So yes, I’m having a very girly morning, after my very girly moment. The combination of the soundtrack and the magnificent summer outdoors had my insides all bubbly and googly, and I was momentarily overwhelmed by the urge to abandon the dishes, and rush outside to join in with nature’s festivities. The word “frolic” comes to mind. “Prance”. Oh, if only I were a fairy-tale, free to frolic among the butterflies, grass between my toes, untouched sapphire skies rising triumphantly overhead…

Have you ever imagined an eight-month pregnant lady frolicking in the garden? I have – imagined it, that is – it’s a disturbing image. It involves terrified butterflies fleeing the scene in haphazard panic, indented-grass footprints making drunken paths across the back yard, and the pregnant fairy most likely landing a podgy foot in a large landmine of doggy-doo.

There are certain things that one should not attempt while pregnant. Such as a frolicking. Or riding on the back of a superbike. (definitely not with curlers and slippers)

Right. Glorious day. Back to the dishes – it’s safer to dream these dreams in my head, where they can maintain some dignity. 

Just another example of the way life has it's soundtracks... when you find that perfect song for that perfect time, a moment so mundane can be brought so very much alive. I may not have frolicked, but in my head and and my heart... I did. Music is magical. 

(Some personal history on this soundtrack... In 2001, producer Jerry Bruckheimer released one of hollywood's greatest war films, Pearl Harbor - with it's compelling story, characters both charming and flawed, convincing actors and actresses, and a haunting soundtrack so inspired and so utterly beautiful... This is one of my favourite movies, and a soundtrack that I shared with my BFF during our Hans-Zimmer-crazed teen years. Good times. 

If you haven't watched the movie, you have missed one of Hollywood's finest moments. I recommend it, with a box of tissues.)

Start Counting...

As long as you are always looking back at the way things used to be, you will never be able to appreciate the way things are now. This is not because what you used to have is any better than what you have now, but simply because your head is quite literally facing the wrong way. 
You cannot possibly see all you have in front of you, when your eyes are constantly averted over your shoulder.

Looking back kills gratitude.

Let Go.

Take a look around.

And start counting.

You will find your blessings gradually become un-countable. 

Where are you, Fellow Inhabitants of this Planet?

Living in the past…?

Or immersing yourself in the present…? 

What is wrong with me?

Something is wrong with me.

I have been back at work, after December holidays, for a week and a half. The first week is always a breeze, as many people are still on leave, and most schools still closed. However, I found myself very frustrated, especially getting to work within 40 minutes, when the trip usually takes me an hour and ten.

Due to the lack of traffic, I would not have had a moment to drink my coffee, so would arrive at work, far too early, coffee piping hot and untouched in it's travel mug. I would end up having to drink my precious coffee... at my desk in from of my computer. Horrors.
I would arrive to work, (far too early, I must reiterate) having only listened to half the music I had hoped to hear. Now that is a horror, if ever there was one.
I just felt so.... unfulfilled. Empty.

So yesterday, all the schools were back, most people are back from their holidays and dragging themselves out of bed at ghastly hours to go back to work. Picture it, a groggy Monday morning... roads were treacherously congested, there was an accident, a breakdown, a knocked-down pedestrian (she was ok by the way) and some traffic lights out.

Then there is one portion of road that I usually sit in traffic, for around half an hour, creeping along at 15 km/h. This road runs through the last remaining countryside before hitting the outskirts of Joburg city. I love it.

I wind my window right down, and hang my arm out the window, to feel the cool air.
I make sure I am listening to something truly wonderful on my iPod.
I look at the trees and note how their leaves have changed.
I watch birds and cyclists.
I peer into my review mirror regularly to see what my fellow traveler is doing... usually nothing.
I keep a look-out for my favourite motorcyclist, a man who wears khaki shorts every day, wears a grey BMW Compaq motorcyclist jacket, and rides a BMW. I move over for him and it really makes my day if he waves at me in return.
I sip my coffee. Slowly. Savouring every tongue-scalding sip.
I feel the sun on my skin and breathe in the fresh outside air.

Aaaaah.... Chaos and normality.

Female vocalist P!nk puts it so beautifully in her cheerful new song "Good Old Days". We habitually reminisce the good ol' days, pining after our youth, after the way things once were. Well, P!nk's right: THESE are the good old days. Today may be one of those days we longingly reminisce about in years to come.

Thing is: some things you can't change. The challenge is to adapt. But something truly magical happens when you manage to go beyond adapting, and you find the strength within you... to embrace what you can't change. I love my morning traffic, most of it anyway. I even missed it. And that is why there is something wrong with me.

Or maybe right...?

Happy 2013 Fellow Inhabitants of the Road, it's so very good to have you back! See y'all on the tarmac.