The sound of one hand clapping

The sound of one hand clapping
The sound of one hand clapping can be described as loneliness or being still. At times we get confused by the sound of our one hand clapping, as it brings doubt in our lives.
This year has been such experience for me, I often find myself all by myself, and get frightened by the sound of my own beat. I so often enjoy being alone with no one in sight, but get amazed when that frightens me. Is my life is better described by those around me, or can I define who I am by myself.
Could it be it depends on what my one hand is clapping at, that makes my one hand clapping worth my while? All I get when I hear the sound of my own clapping, I sense loneliness and some kind of rejected by the sound of many hands. Am I ready for the silence, for what it is trying to tell me in my life at that moment in time? Perhaps I enjoy listening to other people clapping and escape my own fears. Silence can represent rejection more than being confident and true happiness.
It is true that we need people to help us from time to time; we need more than one hand clapping for the noise is louder and the impact is stronger. When one learns to comfortable with listening to their own sound of their clap, they learn to be still. They learn to be comfortable in their own skin, and being able to differentiate between loneliness and stillness.
Learning the basics of meditation and stillness in our lives is no longer a fashionable inclination; however a necessity since we live in a world filled with so much noise. A world that never stops, a time to listen to the sound of your own hand clapping is needed.

My Afro

My Afro
Who would have thought growing my own natural hair would be such a mission. I look back to last year when I took the decision that I would no longer put chemicals to strengthen my hair. Little did I know what a tangle I had gotten myself into? One might say no you’re exaggerating; it can be that bad, growing your own God given natural hair. Well I’ve got go news for you.
When I first cut all my straightened hair last year, people at the hair salon thought I was crazy. All I could hear were murmuring sounds or “Is she crazy, I wish she could give me that hair” and words like “Is it her own hair or a weave”. I pretended I didn’t hear a word they were saying; hey I had the freedom to do whatever with my hair.
Now it just happened that weekend I had to go to a friend’s braai with my short (boyish look) and a friend, asked with a smile, “Nomsa you like nice, but you’ll do something for my birthday in two weeks’ time”? And my response was oh yes, you have nothing to worry about girl, I have it all covered up for your birthday. Your guessed right I got it all covered for the occasion.
But my struggle hasn’t been what people had to say, but the actual waking up and saying a little prayer. “God please give me the physical strength to comb my hair, Amen”. Oh yes when I have my Afro I need to say that prayer, for physical strength as my hair requires the muscles. After the job is done and my hair looking all so densely populated in my head I walk with pride and acknowledge the complements from friends and strangers alike. There are techniques I need in order to scratch my head when I feel an itch to scratch my hair, otherwise if I’m not tactful in doing so, big path holes can be seen, allowing myself to become a free walking comedian.
Through all my pain, drama and doubt at times, I love my Afro. It gives me a sense of maturity, accepting the way I look despite how the world expects us to look as black women. I have come to accept that my nicely combed Afro with shrink in the early hours of the morning while having a good time at a party. I have come to accept that I would still need some blow dryer to help me enhance its beauty, and that it’s not for the fain hearted. I appreciate it and don’t take it for granted not even for a minute.

so dogs are more than man's best friend

So dogs are more than man’s best friend

It may come as a bore, but I’ll always have stories to share about my beloved late nephew Zolani. In time I’ll share stories of laughter but for now, I what the heavy side of my pain of his loss.
My nephew had a dog; this dog sort of belonged to him and his close friends. After his death the friend request that he takes the dog and look after it, but my cousin (his mother) refused as the dog had some connection to Zolani. So the young man agreed not to take the dog, but promised that he would come visit the dog, every week. So far he has been doing that, taking it for walks and washing it, basically taking care of the dog.
This past Saturday something strange happened when he came with a friend to take the dog as usual; the dog ran away, from them. The boys said the dog become so reckless and over powered them, they have never seen it like that. The boys chased after the strong Alsatian (German shepherd dog), and in their running a man driving a car, stopped to assist them. The amazing thing, about this man, is that he is the investigating officer into the murder of Zolani’s death. He asked the boys what they were chasing and they told him that they are chasing Zolani’s dog. The boy somehow recognise the investigating officer, hence he mentioned who’s dog they were running after.
The man helped in the chase, as they could see where the dig was running to, and the dog gave them a chase towards the grave yard. They got off the car, and the dog, went straight to Zolani’s grave, and sniffed and did doggy stuff. The two boys were shocked with amazement, as the dog has never been brought to his grave before. It was chained on the day of the funeral, but it managed to run straight to his grave. The two boys stood there amazed as they were also trying to catch their breath, then the dog left and they followed it, and was a calm dog again. My aunt says she could still see the disbelief in their eyes.
Maybe some science people can explain what happened, but I call it a miracle.

Not all who wonder are lost

Not all who wander are lost
It is my believe that we are all wonders in our own life time, every time we wake up, we go on a journey to discover what the day has for us. I read a book some years ago, and it stayed with me for a long time. The book explores the journey of a young Sharped boy, while reading this amazing by PAULO COELHOL I was taken into the world of my own, I was yet to discover.
The Brazilian author Paulo Coelho was born in 1947 in the city of Rio de Janeiro. Before dedicating his life completely to literature, he worked as theatre director, actor, lyricist, and journalist. His fascination with the spiritual quest dates back to his hippie days, when he travelled the world learning about secret societies, oriental religions
A Quote from the Alchemist: As the alchemist himself says, when he appears to Santiago in the form of an old king "when you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true".
"The Alchemist". And isn't it true that the whole of humankind desperately wants to believe the old king when he says that the greatest lie in the world is that at some point we lose the ability to control our lives, and become the pawns of fate.
His book called The Alchemist has touched me a great deal, and the journey of this young man, gives hope in following your dreams. The Alchemist is the magical story of Santiago, an Andalusian shepherd boy who yearns to travel in search of a worldly treasure as extravagant as any ever found. From his home in Spain he journeys to the markets of Tangiers and across the Egyptian desert to a fateful encounter with the alchemist.
The story of the treasures Santiago finds along the way teaches us, as only a few stories have done, about the essential wisdom of listening to our hearts, learning to read the omens strewn along life's path, and, above all, following our dreams.
I love the magic the story has; sometimes we need magic in our lives.

Nomsa the blogger

Nomsa

Funny enough writing about me is never an easy task. I guess one’s life is diluted by others along the journey of life. In attempting to write down about my life, I always find it so utterly boring to read about. OH my word, I was born, had my school years, then the marriage and children came along. Then came along the moment of looking back as to if I am happy. Yes maybe that’s how I look at my writing about myself. More like seeking for self-pity or something to that effect. Yet when friends talk about me they remind me of a Nomsa I totally forget exist.

First of all I am a child of the soil; born and raised in the blazing sun of Africa, to be exact I am South African. I was born during a time when South African Youth of that day, decided to say enough is enough. So I regard myself as a child of great importance. I also believe that because I was born during this period, I am somehow interested in the affairs or our country. I may not be an active politician, but I take interest in what is going on.
I am also a proud mother of two sons and a wife to a wonderful man. For once I shall not dwell much on my family life, as they make talking about myself an easy task.
I’m a soft loving person, and at times I’m in conflict with this soft caring person. It seems like such people are coming into extension, however I am that kind of person who scarifies the last piece of bread to a stranger. At times I confuse my gentle character with being lazy, and I’m still on a quest to fight for what I want. To go out there and prove what I’m worth. Well I know how that one needs to be a go getter, but I always fear rejection of what might become. I fear that I’m not good enough, there’s obviously someone better than myself chasing for the same goal. So that’s My big challenge right now, as I’ve already fell in comfortably in the motherhood and wifehood roles, not I need to find feel comfortable in going out there. It’s a decision I took, no one forced me, and so I owe it to myself.
I have also found a new love, which is blogging, there’s still so much to learn about blogging, but I’ll keep on writing until, I find my niche. Blogging is a new phenomenon to me, and it just helps me squeeze my creative juices, which are still sour. I know with time, sweet juices are to come out.
I have come to a point in my life where I appreciate life and acknowledge the challenges at hand. I love looking at myself in the mirror and appreciate the woman I have become. All I need is to go out there and be the free spirited person that I am, and learn as much as I can. Life is not to be taken seriously, it’s about having fun, while learning. It’s a journey to be enjoyed, with all the stops we make along the way.
That’s me; I hope I didn’t go all emotional on all you lovely people.
Peace out…

How do you step from the top of a 100-foot pole?

A 100-foot pole is mighty tall, however is has been done before.
Looking at how to get around a challenging situation, we always have to remember there are ways and means of getting around it.
Strategies are always in place to assist us, in taking that risky leap into the unknown of feared danger.
When deciding to take that brave decision that you’ll take that brave step, there are people who are waiting and ready to help you from it.
All you need to do is have a plan in place, and know why you want to get of that pole.
You might not have a clear idea of the safety, but trusting that you did your calculations properly might also help.
So your plan is ready and you asked people to assist you on your way down, know what is let is one to take that brave step.
As much as one is aware of the help from people, also put room for disappointment, that the landing might not be as comfortable as you have anticipated.
Although these plans are in place the challenge is always executing the plan, because taking a step is a daunting task.
You eventually take the chance, and step from the 100-foot pole, after so many considerations, knowing very well, that anything might go wrong.
But the greater focused being able to take that step, is more rewarding than the doubts and fears along the way.

I am a woman,before I am a wife

Just because a woman is married, it doesn’t give her a right to look down on other woman.
You are always worried that ‘the single woman ‘will snatch my man right under my noise.
Always worried that the single woman, is not to be trusted.
Is it a curse not to be married and is it every woman’s purpose to be married.
Oh yes, we all grew up playing with dolls, pretending and dreaming of the man would side and rescue us from our misery.
Is is the single’s woman’s fault that she never fulfilled the long lost or even childish dream of becoming the MRS.
If marriage is your ultimate goal and is nothing by total bliss then why is the single woman bothering you so much?
Why are her walks, the way she dresses, the way she laughs irritates you this much.
You got what you want; you got what you believe everyone woman deserves to have at the end of the day.
I thought you would be happy, and not so bothered about what the single woman is doing.
You forget that you are woman before you are wife.
She is your sister and not after your price possession, she simply laughs the way she does because she is a woman.
Be happy for her, because I bet she was happy when you met your happiness, this is her happiness.
Oh no she is not cursed, she is a woman.

We are what we do

This is no understatement, for we are the results of our own actions.
When we do good, then that reflects back on who we are. Our actions are not always thought out, however when we get to do them, the end result comes back to haunt us, in a good or bad way.
I don’t believe in wrong or right; however I do believe that we do suffer the end result of our actions. If you do well and respect those around you in your actions, than the refection of you to those around you is a satisfactory one.
As a mother, what I do in my everyday life is what my two sons see in me. They judge me according to my actions. Be it my actions were pushed by anger, then I would be an angry mother for that moment in their eyes.
When joy fills my heart and they see peace and harmony in my, then it those emotions they see in me, that they see me by.
If you go round hurting people, then you are seen that way, because we are what we do.
This might not be a fair statement to other, but it carries a lot of truth, we are faced with decision making every day of our lives, and we need to be clear when making those decision, because they come back and haunt us.
For after all is said and done, ‘We are what we do’

Friendships lost along the way

In this journey called life, we meet people that touch our lives.
They come into our lives like seasons and touch us in different ways. Some are hard to part with when the time comes, but we find ways to let go.
We meet friends, and we all shower each other with love and experience heart aches from time to time.
Some friends are there to stay through all seasons and some only for a season.
Even those who stay for a season have added something in our lives or taken something in our lives.
Some friendships disappear with no notice at all, they vanish.
Some friendships do give notice when they see that it’s time to move on.
The heart aches when a friendship is lost, however a new one is also comforting.
We lose friendships along the way, just like autumn loses leaves.
However the beauty of spring blossoms again and brightness is upon the once gloomy dry leafs.
Like seasons, let us celebrate friendships while they are in our midst.
Let su hold those hold those bright colourful friendships dearly and celebrate the brightness they bring into our lives.
For tomorrow they will be gone, and forgotten.

We are afraid of the wrong things

We are afraid of the wrong things.
What we fear most of the times is what we are supposed to go after or do.
But we go ahead and fear it anyway. One of the greatest things we fear is standing up for what we believe to be right.
We then fear society and their judgement on our views.
We are afraid of our own amazement, we fear of the wonders that we are capable of.
We get trapped in our own world of fear of the wrong things.
Going back to school after you’ve started the foundation of a family life, you fear what people might say about your decision.
You fear if you have made the right decision by going back, the fear ends up holding you back from doing wonderful things.
We fear showing how great we are, and how big we are, as if staying behind the scenes will give us credit.
We make life this one BIG OCEAN of fears and that we might just get stuck in the middle of it and get lost for ever, so we stick to the ends that we know, and cling in there as long we can.
How can one fear the greatness that is within, greatness that is yours to show and share?
For when you come out of your shell, you inspire the next person, to do great and in return they too inspire those after them.
We are afraid of the wrong things, we fear sharing our gifts with others.

A shared Identiy

A shared identity
It has been over 15 years, and still, John is pulling to the South, Thandi to North, Piet to the East and Tshepo to the West.
What happened to pulling to the same direction, so to gain more strength?
Peoples of the world are looking at us and wondering what happened to the temporary identification of the Rainbow Nation?
We don’t have to like or love each other to have the same vision for our beautiful country.
But we have one thing in common and that is the love of this beautiful country.
If each and every one of us could behave like it was the world cup every day, then we would at least have an identity.
Right now South Africa is faceless. Never see a people in one Nation so dived to a point that Patriotism doesn’t exist in our vocabulary.
A nation that gets dived by outside affairs, as long as there is colour, South Africans of every race, will be first to have a voice, and that voice is sure to divide us.
We don’t have to like each other, but we have to love our country, take pride in the richness it gives us.
We need an identity, something that would make us believe in our own dream.
We don’t see our Country; because we are so blinded by race and social groups.
We are filled with hate, I place of love