A fuchsia lining

A going nowhere week was what it felt like. Stuck between the almost over winter winds and nearly there sunburst warmths there was nothing specific or exciting to work on. There were no interesting book launches to attend or new directions to explore. It was just one foot in front of the other trudge through that cracking project and sorting through folders of writing for suitable additions to a larger piece.

On the home front there were several maintenance niggles that we have not been able to find solutions to. A blocked drain in the laundry room has resisted two attempts at flushing it out. A persistent leak in the main shower has not dried up after three attempts to fix it. A puzzling surge that keeps on tripping our solar system has eluded our attempts to discover its source.

Health issues in the extended family, although not severe or a crisis, bobbed like heavy clouds in our skies, recurring reminders that not all was as well as it could have been.

Fragile and heavy

Matthew spent the week wrestling with Claude, coming off second best more than he desired. A bit like a bipolar savant, Claude, arbitrarily deleted an entire set of files on Friday morning. Just because. That’s AI for you.

The week had weighed heavy on Matthew for no reason that he could pinpoint. For Chantal there has been a tenuousness about the air. Life felt both fragile and heavy.

“It feels like I am standing on a spider’s web,” said Chantal to the person she had been paired off with at an online meeting. “I have to step so very carefully otherwise it may snap.”

This imagining spread into the ether of the country’s sporting efforts on Saturday. The Proteas lost the cricket, the Springboks side swiped and stumbled their way to an eye watering loss against the Wallabies and Dricus du Plessis, our mixed martial arts UFC Middleweight Champion, succumbed to his Russian-Emirati opponent Khamzat Chimaev.

Hit us the hardest

The rugby result hit us the hardest. After all the hype and anticipation, the predictions of overwhelming strength and dominance, we gathered on the couch with our friends, Rachel and Ilona, to sing the national anthem.

We settled in for a great game. The first 20 minutes did not disappoint. It was a sublime feast of fast paced ball handling and two tries. We were 22 points up. Yes!

No. It was all downhill from there. The dial that had been turned right up initially, was turned right down. Groggy and unfocused, the team could not get another move, play, scrum or lineout right. They made mistake after mistake, costing the team enough penalties to warrant a yellow card warning.

We squirmed in frustration and squealed in horror.

“What the hell are they doing?” gasped Matthew incredulously.

“Come on guys,” urged Rachel, the ever- positive cheerleader.

Chantal bent over her crocheting and shook her head in despair, “Oh no, oh no, oh no!”

There was no oomph, no drive, and certainly no direction coming from the individual team members who threw the ball into convoluted spirals. At one point they ran into each other, overcooked with the clumsiness of the incompetent. It was farcical but not funny.

Happier topics

After the game we moved to the kitchen to prepare an easy supper of veggie burgers and sweet potato fries. We were downcast and gobsmacked.

“Let’s talk about something else,” suggested Rachel.

“What movies can you recommend?” asked Ilona.

The focus swung to happier topics and the mood shifted markedly. The evening ended on a connecting high, the rugby debacle tucked away, the day of losses left to stew in a closed cupboard, ignored in the dark for the moment.

Things always feel better in the morning. As we woke to a bright day, the edge had been taken off our disappointment.

“In reality, they were trying too many new things, nothing was sticking”, remarked Matthew.

We don’t like to lose, but if we want innovation then we can’t expect to be winners all the time. How are we supposed to improve if we are not allowed to make mistakes?

Who knows what will happen at the next game. Maybe they will click, maybe they will still be stumbling. Who can tell? It’s what happens when there is change. It can be chaotic.

A fuchsia lining

We set off for our Sunday walk. It was quiet and calm. Not for long. As we reached the top of the first hill we were welcomed by an avalanche of pink t-shirted runners. We had forgotten that the Totalsports Women’s Race was taking place through our suburb.

The sea of hot pink brightened the weekend morning as we cheered the ladies on. Ladies of all shapes and sizes huffed and puffed up the hill. Not many were running but they were all taking part.

Thousands of women had chosen to wake early on that day of rest. They left their sleepy children with sleepy husbands or other caregivers and found their way from all over the city to Marks Park in Emmerentia. They had chosen to run instead of relax.

They ran their race with throngs of other women in a community determined to do differently and do better. They had trained and planned for this race and did not give up at the first steep hill. They wanted to get fitter, faster and healthier. And to have some fun while getting there.

It was inspiring to be witness to their toil. Their decision to show up became a fuchsia lining to the heavy clouds of the week. A reminder that change does not come from doing the same thing. Change does not come without effort.

Even though change may not immediately be noticeable, we are called to trust the process and not lose hope. Given time and commitment the transformation will manifest and become visible. Possibly with a wink of fuchsia lining.

Until next time.

Yours in feeling,
Chantal & Matthew

Credits for this issue — Images: 5th Place