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…”

Ready, set... wait.

''Life is a highway...''

This particular song, a song that I have heard many times on the radio, has been stuck in my head for the last couple of days. Given the nature of such things, when one repeats a phrase over and over, new meanings develop themselves within the very fibre of the sound of the phrase.
And every time that I have repeated this song, mostly on my scooter on my way somewhere, the phrase has developed into something more.

Driving in the CBD of Cape Town, to those that live here, can be frustrating. Cape Town seems to have robot after robot after robot and it seems, well, to me at least, like most of them are absolutely pointless.
The constant stop and start is a frustration to any motorist. It drives you insane to stop at a robot and wait for the invisible oncoming traffic to cross.

And it got me thinking about that highway again. When the lyricist wrote that song, he obviously envisioned life as a never-ending highway that can lead you anywhere and that offers you the chance to cruise. Let's explore this metaphor some more.
If life is a highway, then I suppose trials and tribulations that come our way are the flat tires or the overheated engine or the shortage of gas in the fuel tank. Once the problem is fixed, one moves on and the cruise continues. The destination is some far-off, desolate place that only the driver knows of and will never share.
A highway is also (I am imagining the stretch of desert on Route 66) a passage that passes you through places to get to where you want to be.
But, for me, this is where the metaphor ends.

Lately, I've been thinking that it would be improbable to say that ''life is a highway'' and only a highway.
It seems that life can more accurately be described as a network of roads, all interjecting, all crossing one another at some stage.

And at the moment, I am driving in that CBD.

My life has had it's ups and it's downs and it's had it's flat tires and it's overheated engines and it has most certainly had it's shortages of fuel, but at the moment, I am not facing anything so dire. Nothing is preventing me from getting to where I want to be, well, nothing major at least.
It just seems like my life is an endless array of waiting for the light to turn green. I know the light will turn green sometime, but when? That is the question that I am plagued with daily.
Every day that I feel like I'm finally cruising, I face yet another robot, another pointless waiting period.
And sometimes, I wish that life was like a highway, with it's major obstacles that stop a destination right in it's tracks, because at least then I could be sure of the fact that that was the end, or the temporary end. Or then at least, I could fix the problem and move on, and learn from it. Now, I'm constantly faced with short, momentary lapses in my cruising, that stops the vehicle from ever being pushed to full throttle.

It feels like every time that I plan on something, I have to yield or I have to wait for something to come through, or some incident to blow over, or some friendship to rekindle it's former glory.
It seems as if everything that I want is a couple of blocks away and I can't get there yet, because I'm stuck in traffic.

Everyone has their dreams a couple of blocks away.

And yet, it frustrates me to think that I cannot physically do anything to help this. I believe this has to do with my lack of patience in achieving what it is I want to do. And I also believe that the fact that I cannot do something about these lapses, if they can be so aptly called, is playing again on the fact that I hate being helpless. I pity helpless people, resent them even, since I always believe that where there is a way there is, almost always, a way.
Yet, I have the will, I am on my way and I still cannot do anything about the fact that I am stuck – until whoever decides that I can now move on.

Thinking about all of these frustrations made me think a little about the reason we have robots. They are there to regulate traffic, to slow down the speed that driver's are driving and to make sure that chaos doesn't ensue because everyone wants their turn.
So, are robots a good thing, then?

I have come to the conclusion, within my limited frame of reference, that they are.

I have come to realize that: just because I want to get to my destination now, does not mean that someone else, perhaps someone who has been on the road longer than I have, does not have the same ambition.
If we all drove without the regulatory codes and the restrictive rules, chaos would definitely ensue, because we live in an age where waiting is not an option. Where everyone wants everything they want now. And to be honest, it would be selfish of me to think that my dreams and goals are any more important than that of my fellow road-user.

So, I have decided to enjoy the 'lapses'.

Yes, it can be frustrating and yes, sometimes we do wish that we were on an open stretch of road where the only thing that limits us is the accelerator.
But, as Harold Pinter would put it, it is in the silences that life unveils itself more.
He believed that, in drama, the silences between the dialogue were just as important, if not more so, than the dialogue itself. And after three years of drama, I think that I am finally starting to understand that.
When we pause, whether it is because we have to or because we choose to, it is a moment where we can take in every little detail of where it is that we are at that moment. A moment where stories can unveil themself to us.
It's then that we notice the missing teeth of the fruit-seller on the corner of the street, the beauty of Table Mountain framing this magnificent city and the smell of exotic food being cooked in the restaurant that we would never have visited or paid any attention to.

Sometimes, it also serves to remind us that our dreams are not always as amazing as we have thought them out to be.
But, more importantly than that, it serves to remind us that: ''good things come to those who wait.''
That reaching the destination is far more worth it, if you had to wait for it.

So, as I am sitting here with my glass of Pinotage pining for a refill, I raise my half-empty glass to those stuck in traffic, to those who have reached their dreams and beyond, to those just starting out their journey, to those who are almost at the destination and to those who, like me, are stuck somewhere at a robot waiting for it to turn green.
May your destinations be worth the wait, may your ''lapses'' be short-lived and may you always have the will to start moving again, when the time comes to do so.