Metamorphosis (Short Story)

The Myburgh Kloof waterfall is a hidden magic place just above the Phakalane retreat centre in Hout Bay

It’s one of my favourite magic places. This side of the mountain has a special micro climate and showcases an enormous variety of flora.
This night I couldn’t sleep and woke up around 4.00 in the morning.
Spontaneous I decide to walk up there.
It is a safe place. The wealthy property owners have put up a fence.
You need a code to access the path.
At the gate, I called the number on the sign.
“Hey, please give me the code and one question. Am I going to be alone?”
“Yes man” the voice said. “It is going to start raining soon. Nobody will go up there this morning and nobody stayed over this night."
Great I thought. This is the right morning.
The upcoming sun was painting the sky in a pink colour.
A quick ascent to the contour path and I could see the lights of Hout Bay sparkling in the shadow of the mountain.
The ravine was full of indigenous trees. In the twilight, they took on all kind of alien forms. I felt like coming home.
Scrambling up the narrow path, I felt my way from tree to tree. Touching the different textures of the bark, I knew the different tree species well.
The sound of the falling water got stronger and stronger. I was nearly there.
The falling water was falling a fine mist. “Exactly the right atmosphere” I thought.
Looking around I was drawn to the one tree closest to the water.
Slowly I climbed up, hooked myself into the fork of branches and started spinning myself into the warm cocoon I needed for the final part of my journey here on earth.

Wisdom of the garden

Last week I visited the garden of Phakalane in Hout Bay to look for images. If we take time to feel, see and listen we can find that this garden contains so much profound wisdom. 

Life is happening regardless. 

It is an energy which pushes through, shows beauty and opens.

Flowers are not hiding under the grass, they are being outed in a shameless competition.

They don’t have to think about this. They know it is their purpose to show up.

Life finds a way without reasoning, worry or fear in total abundance.

Finally, a flower is unfolding in total beauty and what was holding her back is supporting her stem.

What seemed to be a chaos of hindrances turns into a supporting web.  

The secret is to let it happen regardless.

The Messenger

Writing is magic. A few magical signs drawn on a piece of paper create an image or a whole story in our mind and might even let us have a body sensation. This is true magic.

David Abram once wrote that there is no difference between the indigenous Navajo listening to a rock and us reading a written story.

Today I encountered this little bird. Curious he was looking at me instead of flying away.

Maybe he was telling me something in a language I cannot understand anymore. Maybe I have forgotten its words and symbols.

Maybe it was in a different life, that I would remember it in an instant and its magic would have been as real as words on a paper.

So today I met this little messenger.

Was he bringing me a message from a long-lost lover? He was waiting there for me knowing that I am drawn deep into the indigenous part of the forest. Something is pulling me there, to this place at the bubbling stream under the ancient trees. Something feels as if I have been here before, long before I was born into this present world.

I have been here before when I was hunting buck. I was looking for its tiny footprints in the soft earth at the edge of the water.

I cannot forget that I saw you when I was looking up.

Beautiful bright patches of light were moving on your brown skin. As our eyes met, you were caught, unable to run away.

I am drawn forever to the place where I met you for the first time. I wish I could understand the birds message. But I know it is a message of unending love.

The Photographer

The camera does not lie. Different from our human perception, the camera just collects data.

This collection is not clouded by preformed conceptions and ideas which we have in our minds.

Our mind sees with predictive images, like the predictive text in on our smart phone screen.

The photographer is an artist and magician, a shaman who can see through the camera.

A shaman who makes the invisible visible. He cuts through the predictive perception by selecting which data and how the camera collects it.

A few weeks ago, I stayed at the camp next to the Slangkop lighthouse.  I went out to capture the Lighthouse against the beautiful sunset.

A group of photographers had gathered at the base of it to just take the sunset. I was wondering why they were so close to the lighthouse. They obviously did not, or did not want to see the image I had in mind.

It is the choice of the photographer what will be painted as an image in the mind of the viewer.

As a photographer, I love this magic. Playing with the rules of composition is playing with the mind of the viewer.

Hardness in the dark

We are growing on the outside like little leaves. Fresh juicy new green is bordering us.

The Leaves are a manifestation of the unfolding feminine. Shakti is constantly pushing outward creating and multiplying.

But there is hardness too. From the sunlight, water and CO2 the leaves are forming cells.

Under each leave hardened twigs from lignin cells are formed to hold it and carry it up.

This hardness gives direction and strength.

It is hidden in the dark not visible at first and it seems unimportant, dead and dry.

Along the hardness it carries the lifegiving water and nutrients up and the stems therefore give essence and direction.

This simple plant in the harsh coastal environment mirrors and expresses the basic principles of life.

Life as a constant dance and exchange between feminine and masculine.

In this dance, both are not taking from, but feeding each other and growing together.

Morning on Low Tide Beach

We slept between the rocks. A night of slow and gentle loving, moving with the breath of the sea. Dancing from inhale to exhale with the waves rolling in and washing out, surfing close to eternity.

The morning was cold and fresh. As the light changed from dark diffuse blue to glittering brightness, as the sun rose over the mountain, we were waking feeling the warmth of our bodies.

Suddenly you left me. I saw you running through the gap between the rocks, your feet splashing the shallow water.

An ancient instinct awakes the wildness. I must catch you.

My feet are stirring up the softness of the waves. My heart is pounding, I see the mermaid jumping and I fear she will disappear forever in the sea after the sin of loving a mortal.

But she lets me catch her feet, to let me play with her in the crystal waters. 

A Limpets Meditation

A limpet on a granite rock at the edge of the sea.

Sucking for life, holding fast, growing a hard shell.

Staying alive between a rock and a hard place.

Washed over by waves, dried out by the wind baked, by the sun.

Soft and juicy inside, contracted for protection.

Between the waves, when the tide changes there is a time of uneasy calm, a time to relax. This is the time to grow and stretch out little feelers.

Very tiny at first, growing longer and more eager with every sensing.

In between crashing movements and washing waters there is a time when the water is still, before it floats back and the rocks are bare. This is the time to relax and feel.

As the sensations come in, the limpet will be loosening its grip and start to move.

Contracting, holding, relaxing, feeling and moving with every breath of the sea, this is the meditation of the limpet.