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?

The Profound Loss of My Mother

Life has a way of unfolding in unexpected and unpredictable ways, throwing us into a whirlwind of emotions and challenges.

My beloved brother passed away in October 2022, and I haven't fully come to terms with the loss. And now, adding to the weight of this grief, I have recently lost my mother.

It all began in the latter months of 2022 when my mother, who was living with my sister, started showing signs of fatigue and disinterest in her daily activities. Her energy waned, and she increasingly spent her days sitting and doing nothing. She complained about pain in her hips, shoulders, and various parts of her body; it was especially bad in the mornings. She also battled to sleep through each night because of the pain.

Because I suffer from Peripheral Neuropathy and we've shared the same symptoms for years, I wondered if it was the cause of all her pain.

Her condition continued to worsen. Late January 2023, she experienced new symptoms. Her right eyelid began to droop and she soon lost a great percentage of vision in the eye. The left side of her body was weaker than the right side, and her pain became worse!

We took her to a doctor, keeping things like a stroke or Parkinson's in mind. We were desperately hoping for answers that would bring clarity and a path to healing. The doctor examined her and said it was the general aches and pains associated with old age and arthritis, and her eye problem was sinus-related. The medication didn't help and so we took her to another doctor for a second opinion. He made the same assessment and gave similar treatment.

Over the weeks of March, concern and unease settled within us as my sister and I watched her health decline. Simple tasks like walking became arduous for her. She walked with a walking frame from her room to the lounge and back again but spent most of her days in bed. She ate less and started losing a considerable amount of weight.

By mid-April, she was frail. We had a nurse come in twice a week to help us look after her. My mother lost control over her bladder and bowel, and her left forearm and hand would swell for a day or two, recover, and then swell again. In a matter of weeks, her ability to move had declined to the extent that she was confined to her bed. She started hallucinating, was constantly thirsty, and had difficulty swallowing.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, we contacted Dr. Appelgryn who made a late evening house call on 16 May. The next morning, as requested by the doctor, my sister and her husband took my mother to his emergency room for monitoring. My mother had an irregular heartbeat, low blood sugar, and high blood pressure. Dr. Appelgryn diagnosed her with what he believed was lung cancer that had metastasized to her brain. He also believed that there was a tumor behind her right eye.

He referred her to Somerset Hospital in Green Point, where she was admitted on 18 May. X-rays were taken the same day revealing a mass in her chest. She stayed in the hospital for further evaluation and on May 23, a CT scan was performed. We were then given the devastating news that she had stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to her liver and brain. Even though we had heard the initial diagnosis from Dr. Appelgryn, we were left in a state of shock when it was confirmed.

She was transferred to the Vredenburg Hospital for palliative care on Thursday, 25 May. We knew our time with her was painfully limited, but we didn't know that it would be so short. Despite her incredible bravery and determination to fight, her weakened body could not withstand the aggressive progression of the disease, and she passed away on 27 May.

As I reflect upon this heart-wrenching journey, it serves as a powerful reminder of the fleeting nature of time and the importance of looking after our health. My mother was one of the healthiest women I know. She never went to doctors for flu or any general ailments and never had any operations. She was confident in her health and never went for any check-ups.

While the pain of loss is profound and may endure, I find solace in the knowledge that she is finally free from the suffering that plagued her for so many months. I hold on to all our cherished memories to give me strength.

It was my mother who inspired me to be a go-getter. She also inspired me to start writing novels in 2003. Her unwavering love will continue to inspire me to embrace life fully.