Set the Bar Higher

When you set the bar too low—when you tell yourself that dreaming bigger is pointless—you’re basically rolling out the welcome mat for mediocrity. Maybe you think you’re being practical, avoiding disappointment, but let’s be honest: you’re selling yourself short. Worse, you might be relying only on your strength, measuring your potential by what you can do instead of what you can do with God. Going solo in life is like trying to assemble furniture without instructions. Frustrating.

Your mind is your only prison, and the only enemy is the part of you that refuses to be tamed—the doubt, the fear, the voice that tells you to play it safe. With faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains. When you team up with God, doors open that you didn’t even know existed.

A good way to seize the day is to avoid settling. Instead of shrinking your goals to fit your fears, stretch beyond your comfort zone—way beyond—because that’s where real growth happens. That’s where faith is tested, courage is built, and transformation takes root. Set the bar higher than comfort and higher than reason. When faith gets involved, the impossible starts looking an awful lot like your next big challenge. And it’s not always about winning. It’s about learning how to live fully, in gratitude, while rising and staying above the muck and mire of the world.

The Good, the Bad, and the Grey In Between

I want to send a little apology to anyone who sees the world in black and white—because, let’s be honest, life is one giant grey area with a whole lot of messy in between. We all like to think we’re the good guys, the ones making the right choices, doing the best we can. But the truth is, without a little darkness, we wouldn’t appreciate the light. And without the light, we’d never see our own shadows creeping along behind us.

The biggest achievement in life is not perfection—it’s self-awareness. It’s about knowing who you are, quirks, flaws, bad hair days, and all. It’s about owning your mistakes, laughing at the ones that don’t sting too much, and learning from the ones that do. Sometimes, we’re the hero of the story, and other times, we’re the villain in someone else’s story. And that’s okay.

Life is like a game of darts. We aim for the target, the perfect bullseye, and half the time, we miss. Sometimes, we hit the wall instead. Because we’re imperfect, we’ll always fall short. In the end, what matters isn’t the miss, or the fall, or the failure; it’s the fact that we keep trying, adjusting, figuring things out as we go. Taking responsibility when we knock over the metaphorical beer on the counter, and celebrating the moments when we actually land a solid hit.

It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about being open, being real, and maybe, just maybe, having a little fun along the way.

I feel. Therefore I am.

Cogito, ergo sum—I think, therefore I am. (René Descartes)

We become what we think. We are what we think. Each statement is rooted in logic. There’s no denying the fact that we’re constantly thinking. 

Thoughts are fluid.

Thoughts come and go—some barely noticed, others lingering just long enough to spark a new thought. When we obsess, we hold on to certain thoughts and replay them over and over: worry, regret, excitement. And only we hold the power to give them weight and permanence. Thoughts that stay eventually shape and define us. 

I feel, therefore I am.

Today, I’d like to step away from the mind and talk about the heart. I feel, therefore I am. This statement isn’t grounded in logic or reason; it doesn’t try to prove anything. 

Feelings are less about understanding and more about experiencing. Feelings are raw, immediate, unfiltered. They don’t require any explanation. They just are. When we feel, we’re not just observing life—we’re living it. Whether it’s joy or sadness, hope or heartbreak, awe or anger, feelings pull us into the present in a way that thought cannot. 

Thinking questions. Feeling connects. Thought seeks answers. Feeling seeks meaning. And within meaning, there is richness of purpose. It’s not just about existing; it’s about truly being.

Does feeling define existence?

If feeling defines our existence, where does that leave those who feel less—or feel differently? What about someone who is emotionally numb, struggling with mental health? Or someone who doesn’t feel sympathy or empathy in the way we expect? Are they any less alive? The truth is, existence doesn’t depend on whether we feel deeply or rarely. It’s more complex than that.

Can we even separate thoughts and feelings?

Many feelings start in the mind—a memory that makes us cry, a thought that sparks anger, an idea that fills us with hope. Thought shapes feeling, just as feeling shapes thought. They’re tangled together in a way that makes it hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Feelings are powerful.

They shape how we act, how we connect, and how we experience life. But they’re not always reliable.

Learning to control our feelings is important. It’s not about learning to shut them down, but rather learning to guide them in a way that serves us. Anger, if left unchecked, can lead to actions we regret. Joy can blind us to risk. Sadness can trap us in dark places.

Feelings are good, but they can mislead us, overwhelm us, and even paralyze us.

Feelings are the colour of life.

Feelings don’t just help us connect to others—they connect us to ourselves. They remind us that we’re more than just minds in bodies. We’re whole beings—thinking, feeling, experiencing, struggling, and growing.

For those of us born with empathy, who feel the world’s weight as if it’s our own—yes, it can be exhausting. It can hurt. Sometimes it becomes too much. But that same empathy is a superpower. It’s what helps us understand people when no one else does. It’s what drives us to make the world softer, kinder, better.

Feelings enrich existence.

Rather than saying feelings define existence, we should say feelings enrich existence. Our feelings allow us to leave ripples in the lives of everyone we touch.

To feel deeply is both a blessing and a burden, but it’s always a gift. If we learn to use our feelings well, we will not only live fully, but also light the way for others to do the same.

The Muchness of Life

I love words. I always have. And today, I thought about one that no one uses: muchness. By definition, it means greatness in quantity or degree.

For me, it means the depth and intensity that defies containment – the essence of being profoundly alive in any moment, whether in pain or joy.

I can’t imagine there’s a single person on this gigantic blue ball who hasn’t, at one time or another, experienced muchness: the muchness of a mood, the muchness of a feeling, the muchness of an act, or the muchness of a person.

We know the muchness of a heavy heart – the overwhelming ache that pulls us deep within ourselves. And we know the muchness of joy – the kind that bursts forth, lifting us beyond ourselves. Both remind us that we’re fully, deeply alive.

Let’s embrace the muchness in our lives. When it’s negative, minimize it by focusing on the muchness of what’s positive. Let us always dare to feel, express, and live in all our muchness!

 

The Bare Necessities of Change

The Only Constant in Life

Heraclitus, the Greek philosopher, once said that change is the only constant in life. I never gave it much thought—until recently. Scrolling through Facebook, I came across a post about different life laws. One of them, the Law of Impermanence, stopped me in my tracks. I’ve always known change happens, but I had never considered it a fundamental rule of life.

The Comfort of Familiarity vs. the Push of Change

Like most people, I’m not the biggest fan of change. There’s something comforting about the familiar, the predictable. It feels safer when things stay the same. But, as we all know, life has a way of pushing us out of our comfort zones. And for me, it’s been a lot of moving – from town to town, house to house, school to school, job to job. The only thing that remained constant in all that change was my marriage and my family. And in a way, that made the other changes a bit easier to handle. Life’s changes make you face things head-on, and eventually, you have to accept that nothing stays the same forever.

Resilience in the Face of Change

Change is necessary because it teaches us resilience. The tough times, when life shifts under our feet, are when we learn who we really are. We find strength we didn’t know we had. We learn to bend without breaking. We discover how to keep moving forward, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart. It’s in those moments of change that we grow, both as individuals and as people who share similar experiences with others.

Unexpected Loss

I remember when my friend’s sister passed away unexpectedly. At the time, I couldn’t fully understand the depth of her grief. I hadn’t faced that kind of loss in years. Then, a few years later, my brother died suddenly. It shook me to my core. And all I could think about was how my friend had suffered, how she had found a way through it. It gave me some comfort knowing that I wasn’t alone – that others, too, face loss and come out the other side.

Gratitude in the Midst of Change

While loss is painful, it’s also a reminder to appreciate the small things. The Law of Impermanence helps us see that everything, even the hard moments, is temporary. And if we can embrace that, we start to appreciate the present more. It’s those little moments – like a quiet morning with coffee or a smile from someone we love – that truly matter. Everything is fleeting, so we should cherish it while we have it.

The Peace of Gratitude

But gratitude doesn’t just appear overnight. It takes time, and it often comes through personal experience – the kind of experiences where we lose something or someone. But once we start to carry gratitude with us, we find a quiet peace. Knowing that nothing lasts forever, we can be present and grateful for what we have right now.

Growth Through Change

And then there’s the growth that comes with impermanence. Change pushes us to grow, to become better versions of ourselves. Life throws challenges and surprises our way, and each one shapes who we are. It’s so easy to resist change, to cling to what we know, but if we let go a little, we open ourselves up to life in ways we never imagined. Every change, every new experience, is an opportunity to learn and evolve.

Finding Spiritual Meaning in Impermanence

On a deeper level, impermanence brings a spiritual dimension. When we understand that everything in the material world is fleeting, we start searching for something more lasting. For me, that’s meant diving deeper into my spiritual side and looking for meaning beyond the daily grind. It’s helped me focus on what really matters – nurturing relationships, being present, and living in a way that aligns with my true self. The Law of Impermanence leads us towards a richer, more fulfilling life.

Navigating Change Together

And here’s what I’ve come to realize: We’re all navigating change together. Yes, our experiences are unique, and we each handle change in our own way. But at the end of the day, we’re all going through it. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a career shift, or personal growth, change connects us. It reminds us that we’re not alone in our journeys.

Embracing the Law of Impermanence

If you’re like me and struggle with change, I get it. I’m not here to offer advice on how to embrace it. Truth is, I’ll probably never enjoy change. But what I do know is that the Law of Impermanence isn’t something to fear. It’s a guide that helps us grow, understand ourselves and others better, and ultimately find fulfillment. When we accept that change is a part of life, we can face it with a little more grace and a little more hope for the future.

In Awareness of Keeping the Faith

A profound weariness has settled upon me, its grip unwavering. Usually, it passes like an African summer storm.

I understand the reasons behind this profound state. The loss of my mother has drained every bit of my being. Strangely, I didn’t experience such intensity when my father and brother passed away. I was too preoccupied with the daily toils and tribulations that consumed my life. But now, defeated by this invisible and diabolical illness that forced me to retire from teaching, I find myself trapped in a perpetual state of listlessness, doing mundane tasks, and managing the small “thing” I call a home business. It does little to distract my mind and heart from the void left by my mother’s absence.

Since her passing, I’ve assumed an emotionally stooped posture as I await the arrival of the next possible tragedy. It will undoubtedly engulf me. Exactly one month after her death, my mother’s eldest brother passed away. The last of the de Wet siblings are now gone. With their passing, my mother at 79 and her brother at 82, I find myself standing at the precipice, questioning whether I am on the cusp of entering the last decade of my own life. I’m turning 58 this year. Surely, I have more time? Why then does even the notion of a decade feel presumptuous? Is it the pain that intermittently surges through my body, often rendering me immobilized on the floor, gazing at the ceiling? Every time I lie down, grounded but not dead, I wonder if I can endure another week. This and the weight of the potential loss of anyone else dear to me hang heavy in the air, casting an unnecessary shadow over my days.

And then wonders upon wonders! Amidst the darkness, light has a way of filtering through.

Yesterday, a peculiar sensation of contentment washed over me, causing me to pause. My dear friend, Joekie, who is in the Cape had planned to meet me this Saturday, but unforeseen obstacles thwarted our meeting, leaving me disappointed. So, the unexpected feeling of contentment was a surprise.

It became a lesson. Each encounter, missed or realized, carries significance, serving a purpose in our personal growth. Through disappointment, I found comfort in knowing that time and unforeseen circumstances are out of our control.

Can there be any regret if we aren’t the masters of our own destiny?

The idea of having complete control over any event is ludicrous, a fleeting illusion. After all, I’m merely a traveller on a short and unpredictable journey. Circumstances will mould me, but no matter how far I’ve come, I’ve never been in control. I’ve walked in faith to get here! So, I need to continue walking in faith, even when the burden I carry is too heavy to bear.

And this is it! This is what brought the moment of calm (contentment) yesterday. Faith! Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about faith and strength and endurance. Psalm 23 and the words of Paul in Philippians have carried me through thus far. Paul’s words, “For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength”, often made me wonder: With the right amount of faith, can I truly overcome the hardship of death?

Right now, the depth of my emotions feels immeasurable. It’s as if layers upon layers of feelings have accumulated, forming a towering mountain of rubble that needs to be cleared away. How do I even begin the daunting task of calming the emotional turmoil?

Oh, I try to be positive. I constantly reassure myself, saying, “Once I’m rested, the mountain of emotions will become nothing more than a small heap, quite easy to clear up on my own.” But alas! Reality stands firm, defiantly challenging the optimism within me. What is rest? Time has long been hailed as a great healer, capable of mending many wounds and soothing the pain of various hardships. Yet, death is an abyss so deep and unfathomable that the passage of time offers little comfort. It gets easier, “they say”, but honestly, we continue to live with the void, don’t we?

I believe Paul understood that no one in his world could grant him the strength to endure or conquer the challenges he faced. The support of others came in the form of empathy and encouraging words. But it was through faith alone that he found his strength. This realization holds true for me as well, irrespective of who I am or the people I have in my life. While it is true that faith is a deeply personal and individual journey, I am reminded that I am not truly an island unto myself. I’ve been fortunate to have friends like Marcelle, Daryl, Karen, Joekie, Mariëtte, and even my cousin Madeleine, who have extended their support and understanding. They have reached out because they too have experienced the profound pain of losing a mother. Even Ginger, a family friend, has reached out to me. He understands the sorrow of losing a loved one, as he recently experienced the loss of his wife. My sister shares my loss and is my closest friend. I know I can lean on her for support at any hour of the day. And I am grateful for this bond. I also have the support of a loving husband, and two adult children, who understand me better than I sometimes understand myself. Where would I be without them? Their steadfast love fills me with a deep sense of gratitude, which seeps through every fiber of my being. Love and faith carry me through.

The reality though is this: I can have all the love in the world, but if my faith wavers or diminishes, no matter what others do or say, I will sink into the depths of life’s turbulent waters. I will drown! And so, it is through the awareness of “keeping the faith” that I will continue to be strengthened to endure.

Mother Dearest, How?

The voice of truth, the call arrived,

A shock indeed, my soul contrived;

Though hindsight’s gaze has gently shown,

My inner self had aways known:

It couldn’t be anything less, my Dear –

For in the hours before dawn,

I witnessed your strength and breath drawn,

As you fought against Torment’s chains –

There was no solace for its strains …

And I, frozen in the face of Fear,

Stood helplessly, fraught with despair,

For I did not know how to take care

Of Frailty; Oh, that fateful day! 

Death snuck in and took him away –

Death isn’t welcome here again!

Yet, watching you gasp for new air,

Your struggle became mine to bear;

You fought to swallow a sip so small, 

Your thirst a relentless dry call

To be set free, free from the pain.

If I could breathe for you …

If I could bear your pain for you …

There is no healing …

How will I live without you?

Oh, Mother Dearest,

How?