Safe. Not Saved.

It has been too long. But, today, as I logged into my blog account, I had one of those sentimental sensations. You know, in the movies, when two people haven’t seen each other in a very long time. The long hug, the longing look. The works.

This reunion was not one of those that I had planned for weeks to come. It was more like a spur of the moment, irrationally impulsive decision. And, as I have always said: I will only write when I have something to say.

I recently read a quote by Bob Dylan that really fascinated me. No doubt the man was a genius. He certainly was a poet and he obviously had some profound knowledge of the world around him.
The quote read:
“Don't matter how much money you got, there's only two kinds of people: there's saved people and there's lost people.”


And at first, I didn’t think about the quote, then later as it started to mill around in my head, and as I was contemplating the depth and the complexity of that particular statement, as I riding around Cape Town on my trusty scooter, as one does, I started to really understand it. And, perhaps quite inevitably, I started to ask myself which category I fit into. And it started to become very apparent to me that I don’t fit either category. I’m not lost, well, not that lost, but at the same time, I am nowhere near ‘saved’.
(I don’t mean this in a religious manner at all, so those of you starting to worry about my soul: stop)
The idea of being ‘lost’ to me, always has a strong connection with being lost at sea.
For some reason when I find myself metaphysically ‘lost’, I garner up strong images of a floating raft somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic.

But first, perhaps it's important to talk about being 'lost' first.
At the moment I am participating in the Waterfront Theatre School’s version of ‘Hairspray’ the musical, where I am playing the role of Edna Turnblad. Playing this role has, for me, opened up a lot of fears about myself that I didn’t really know previously existed. Or maybe, I was just hiding them that well. But regardless, I found such a resonance with the character that I am now facing every method-actor’s predicament: that thin line between illusion and reality has become a lot thinner. And I find myself repeating this one line that she says in the musical over and over.
“I am like a half-filled book of green stamps, beyond redemption.”
And so I decided to look at the meaning of “beyond redemption”, because it is quite a profound thing to say.

Essentially, it boils down to: I cannot be saved or redeemed anymore.

I thought, wow, how far must one go into the abyss to get to a point where salvation has become a fairytale?

And it’s exactly this that brought me to my next argument, which, in a sense, if I understand Bob Dylan correctly, will contradict him ever so slightly.

I am neither lost nor saved.

I am neither on board the Titanic, hearing the soft humming of “Nearer my God to Thee”, and I am not drifting at the bottom of the ocean, yet. nor am I home, tucked into my warm soft bed.
So where do I fit in? As usual, with me, this question will have a very complex answer.
(Another Bob Dylan quote: All I can do is be me, whoever that is.)
But, I suspect I might not be the only one whose answer might be a little more complex than the usual

So I thought about the movie “Titanic” and I remember the scene where Jack and Rose are floating on a door in the middle of the ocean. And then I remembered the scene in 'Poseidon' where the entire group was sitting in the red life raft.
And I realized: that is where I am now.
I am in the life raft of my life. I am not lost at all, I am nowhere near the darkness, but I certainly have not been rescued.
I am safe, but I am not saved.

And I am not too sure how I feel about that. Is it nice to know that you are far from danger, but at the same time, still not that far from it?
If you find yourself in the same boat as I do (sic), the only advice I can give is to clutch onto hope. To live in the moment and to, I don’t know, enjoy the scenery.

And that sucks.
But, as always, there are worse things.
I would rather be safe.
Because as much as being ‘safe’ sucks because you have been rescued, being lost sucks infinitely more.
(The most times I have used the word ‘sucks’ in any piece of writing.)
I shall now hop onto my scooter and continue to contemplate the meaning of life.
How bohemian is that? Ha!

Till then.
P.S Be sure to check out my new blog: filled with my favourites in Afrikaans poetry. It's named "Gegrif" as in the Afrikaans word for 'engraved'. (loosely translated)

Would you have walked?

Sometimes the most mundane things can fascinate me.
I find often beauty in tiny details.
Examples of these are: the way a soft fabric, like silk, moves in the wind; the way a flame consumes a match stick; a bird floating effortlessly in mid-air; the ambience of a single candle in a dark room; lanterns on a veranda or walkway.

When I look at these now, it is evident that I have two common denominators within these examples: light and air.
It’s true.
I’ve always been fascinated by light and its rare capabilities. The amount of light that’s essential in creating atmosphere, the direction of light that’s important for creating visual images or effects, the quality of light that creates or removes ambience.
How often do we see the phrases: just follow the light; the light at the end of the tunnel; look into the light? Is it because, as opposed to darkness, light brings warmth and gives guidance? In daylight, we can see and know everything, but in the absence of light, we are vulnerable, alone and uncertain. There is no road ahead and the path you take will only be revealed to you when the morning comes.
Light also saves lives.
Lighthouses around the world have rescued many a wayward ship.
Also, in the middle of the night, when life is uncertain, light is a guiding star or a lit candle far away in the distance.
Light is hope, light is comfort and light brings clarity.

I need some light.

In a recent devised project that we performed at college, ‘The My(d)us Touch’, we experimented a lot with the notion of light being a beacon of hope for the future, a sense of security, a lasting legacy, an adornment to what seems almost ruined to begin with. We played around with the contrast of light in darkness; the ambient feeling of lanterns in a soft glow. Stark, bright lighting that reveals all details and even all flaws.
The lyrics to the song ‘Light’ have become a sort of anthem for what I am experiencing right now, in this space, in this time.

And slowly, I am realizing that I am drawn to light because I feel like I am lost.
I am without.
Light.
The cave of my mind has become an endless plethora of darkness and confusion, uncertainty and fear.
Without wanting to sound self-indulgent: I am lost in the caves of my mind and I’m afraid that if I continue walking in these circles, I may become too fatigued to want to find the answer.
And here is where I need the light.
I need something to guide the way.
Sure, I often light a lantern that helps me to see two feet ahead, but that is never enough.
Here is where I find that I need that all-encompassing light that reveals all, that answers all questions about the dark. This is where I need to see the light at the end of the tunnel. This is where I cannot walk around in darkness, possibly in circles, anymore.
Here is where I need direction and focus. To see the road that I need to walk, the route I need to take.
How have I come to find myself in this darkness you ask?
This is what happens when the little lights and lanterns that you used to have to guide you along the way, fade away or come to the end of the wick.
There is something worse than finding yourself in complete darkness.
Being surrounded by pure light and THEN complete darkness.
At the moment, sinking into darkness seems easy, manageable almost. Letting darkness absorb and consume me seems to be so much less trouble than trying to walk on.
I then started thinking of ways to ‘see’ the light.
A new career choice, perhaps? A new hobby? New friends?
What will enlighten me and make this journey easier?
And nothing is coming to mind. Nothing is offering any solutions.

So, I keep treading through swampy caves, step by step, with one or two lanterns to help me out, lighting two or three feet in front of me.
And as I’m walking, I’m suddenly reminded of the song ‘Light’ that has become my anthem.

“We need some light.
First of all, we need some light.
You can’t sit here in the dark, and all alone,
It’s a sorry sight.”

And I started thinking about the actual meaning of the lyrics, especially the opening line: “We need some light…”.
She never asks for all the light she needs. She asks for some.
Because, some light is all we need, isn’t it?
Maybe we are only supposed to be seeing two feet ahead of us?
Maybe it’s better for us not to know where the road may lead us ~ truth be told, if many of us had known the road we’d be walking, would we have continued walking?
I would argue, no.

I am going to continue walking.
My lantern in one hand, my faith in the other.
Yes, I won’t know the whole journey beforehand, but what’s the fun in that? Isn’t that part of life, finding your own path, step by step?
I will only be able to see two feet ahead of myself, but that’s okay.
Being lost is okay. Being uncertain is okay. Being worried is okay.
Sitting all alone in the dark is not okay.
So, my dear reader, I am walking, now until the day I die, as should you.
And I pray that one day, when we do find the light, it will be worth struggling through darkness to get there.

“People don’t drown because they fall into water, they drown because they stay there…”