Timeless Loving

Time is perceived very subjectively. Sometimes we can forget time and during loving time gets stretched.

I am sitting at the shore and watch the sea making love to the rocks. Eternal moving and caressing. It never stops. Imagine the rock could feel touch, like we feel with our skin and body.

Each contact with a wave is new and different from the previous one.

The sea is rolling in and the rock is waiting in anticipation. How will she touch me this time.

He is fully anticipating the moment of meeting, feeling the rise of energy just before the impact.

Hardness is born out of the breaking waters. The wave crashes the stone into existence. 

The flowing foam caresses and sculpts at the same time.

Creation is orgasmic joy; an eternal splashing formation out of a billion possibilities.

I am sitting between the rocks and notice this loving.

In my mind I perceive moments and eons of sea and rocks born into reality.

Without reference to observe time, loving will be endlessly slow and orgasmic exploding in eternal unison.

The Edge Man

Sitting high at the corner of the ledge watching sunrise and moon set.

I am the Edge Man feeling:

The man and the woman inside of me, with the watery moon setting in the West

and the blinding bright sun rising in the East.

Today I like to be loved slow like being a woman seduced and tomorrow I let the wild animal out.

I am:

King and Subject

Bushman and scientist

Native and colonist

Lover and Family man

Dreamer and Conservative

Healer and Destroyer

Spiritual and lazy bum

I am the performer walking on a tight rope between balance and falling and I am the audience watching in suspense.

I am brave and shit scared

Life is a dance between holding and letting go, knowing to be held.

I am the Edge Man, loved as I am.

Loving Darkness

This Easter weekend I attended a retreat. Valentina created a dark room with all light blocked out to meditate in darkness.

I was surprised about myself, that I was not scared of darkness and disorientation.

To the contrary, it felt like coming home. I felt a deep relaxation of nothingness.

Even with many other people in the room breathing, the only sensation was inside of me.

In the darkness I met a Lover. Accidentally touching fingers. Becoming aware of the other and that this lover only exists in the sensation received on my skin.

Tiny vibrations making up a body to explore and discover. There is only touch, the sound of breath and scents of the other.

And the Lover exits inside of me. The boundaries become fluent. Am I being discovered or am I discovering?

Sometimes a new person enters the room, or someone is leaving. A tiny bit of light enters the space.

Darkness is so vulnerable. 

We step apart and loosing touch not be seen together.

Must this creation of each other stay in the dark? I experience deep encounter in a fleeting fragile moment.

In the light I am bombarded with images and sensations. Its difficult to distinguish between reality and imagination. In the darkness it becomes clear: Everything is imagination.

Reflections on Easter

Last night I attended a beautiful autumn bliss dance ceremony.

The day was overcast and grey and I carried this mood into the space to share with the small group of dancers. We were feeling the autumn introspective and a deep sadness was welling up.

Memories of my mother and people I love, past and present made me tearful and soft. We gently held each other in deep love.

This morning I reflect on Easter while listening to some Christian chants. I feel into the deep compassion of God with his creatures. As a Tantrika this God is in me and I am like a holographic image and so is everything and everybody around me. We are all a fleeting manifestation of the vibrations of life.

Overflowing with compassion for life I feel into this day. We had glorious rain wetting the earth with the tears of the sky. This Good Friday with its soft dark mood is the low point of suffering of life.

The rain brings new life. In the northern hemisphere Easter after Good Friday is a festival of resurrection and new life in spring.

Here the rain brings new life, the relentless heat and deadly dryness is broken, new life can arise.

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.