Ushpezim!

No sooner had Mr Nielson better known as Sid, stepped off a flight from Hong Kong after 48 hours in transit, then I had him up on a ladder building me a sukkah.

The darling!

I hit the wrong button on my laptop and lost all my pictures of Mr Nielson, and his sukkah building genius. Lovely images of elle, Mr Nielson better known as Sid, and their glorious offspring supping on delicious dinners, along with fabulous friends are nowhere to be found.

Alas.

Only this dark and unbecoming one. Can you see the Ushpezim hanging about anywhere? Our Sages say that every night of Sukkot, one of the Greats ( Abraham, Isaac, Jacob et al ) fills the sacred space with his own particular brand of Patriachal genius!

And all who gather under its humble palm leaf roof, can tap into the nightly portal! No, really it's true. You just have to find the right channel.

You can't tell from these pictures but if you had come upon Mr Nielson's sukkah in our lovely garden, surrounded by fairy lights. If you had seen us gathered around the table, laughing and feasting and sharing, you would have asked if you could join us.

And I would have said, ' O yes, please come in'.

xxx elle

Broken Glass

In September the whales come.

 It happens without fanfare.

Suddenly, one day you realise that they are there.

Just beneath the surface, they wait like a secret and fill the bay. More then a dozen at a time. So that a walk or drive is punctuated with their discovery. All along the roadside, the wonder of the wild in the everyday. Just here. Beside the road.


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Even Baxter is inspired by their presence, racing up and down the beach, feeling the joy of the whale watchers who congregate for a closer encounter.

 Mr Nielson better known as Sid, and I are always moved by this visitation.

On a still, spring day, with the sea a sheet of glass, they are almost unbearably beautiful. It is in these moments of unbearable beauty that you have a real sense of 'broken glass'.

Jewish bridegrooms shatter glass, with the stamp of their 'just married' wedding shoe. Even as we celebrate, we are commanded to remember the destruction of the temple, and the pain of a 'broken world'.

And so as Mr Nielson and I vibrate with gratitude on a spring day beside the ocean, we are sad for those who will never know the quiet joy of our being there together.

For anyone who is hurting now.

 As the whales play

xxx elle

Pikuach Nefesh...a tale in two parts.

My daughter Skye and I were on our way to synagogue on First Night Rosh Hashana

We were running late. And were so busy chatting that I kept going straight, where I should have turned left to get to shul, all of 700 meters away from our home!

On the sidewalk in the dimming light we watched a man fall backwards on to the pavement. We reversed and stopped, then approached him gingerly, not sure if he was a drunken vagrant or someone in sudden distress.

It was the latter. His hand was held up to us beseechingly, and it was twisted enough for us to realise that he was severely handicapped. His crutch lay abandoned at his side, as he motioned to us to open a small cooler bag that sprawled, along with a full size suitcase beside him.

Skye opened it apprehensively, unsure of its contents, only to find amongst the frozen coolers, vials of insulin and other necessities for diabetic use.  She went straight into Doctor mode, knowing exactly what to do to assist him in his efforts to stabilize his insulin levels. To our amazement we soon found ourselves communicating with him, on a clipboard he kept in the side pocket of his suitcase.

He was both deaf and mute.

We were both of us, enormously moved by this brave being, who had offered as an oppurtunity to be of service, on the eve of our annual reckoning! In the closing remnants of the year, here then in the darkness of the night, a last minute offering from the universe to do some good in a 'broken' world. It all seemed part of a Divine plan to allow for 'Tikkun Olam', the healing of the world.

We were soon joined by a young Muslim couple staying in the flat, on whose driveway our mystery man had fallen, and a good Samaritan, young Ernest, who drove by and stopped to offer asistance. He had helped this extraordinary man before.

So there we all were, a little interfaith gathering attesting to all that is good and true in this creation. What better way to start the New Year!

Soon we had him in our car, and having discovered that he had missed his lift to the Transkei, we stopped off at an ATM to draw several hundred rand to pay for the 1500km journey home. We dropped him off at the station. And with a thankful nod of his head he was gone...

The Shul service was by now over, and so we made our way to the friends who were hosting us for the festival dinner, excited to share with them and the rest of our family, the night's events.

Pikuach Nefesh... Part Two.

Mr Nielson better known as Sid, was waiting with Erin and Steele for us outside our friend's home. They were anxious to hear what had kept us from attending shul, and as moved as we were by our tale of  the events of the night.

And so we took our seats at the table filled with a sense of purpose and synchronicity.

I began to tell my friends what had happened, when one said it all sounded very familiar. Some six months ago, she had attended to just such a man who had fallen on the sidewalk in her suburb of Greenpoint. He too was deaf and mute. A diabetic. And a student who had just written an exam. He had 'told' us as much in writing on his clipboard.

And as with us, she had driven him to the station assisting him with 400 Rand to pay for the journey home, since he had missed his lift.

Skye remarked that she had been amazed at his ability to draw insulin into the syringe in his weakened state. His responce to our kindness had also been very casual, as if such acts were commonplace and taken for granted.

A little cloud drew over the evening for an instant.

Then Skye and I looked closer, and the night was just as beautiful.

His motivation had still given us a chance to open our hearts to a stranger.

And who were we to judge a man, whose daily circumstance begin and end with struggle, to have discovered a means to his daily bread.

In fact, if anything, right now somewhere in the city, he may be giving others a chance to do some good.

And that is still a glorious thing!

xxx elle

Spring

To live content with small means...
To seek elegance rather then luxury, and refinement rather then fashion...
To be worthy not
respectable,
and wealthy not rich...
To listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart...
To bear all cheerfully.
Do all bravely.
Await occasions, never hurry... in a word, to let the spiritual,
unbidden and unconsious,
grow up through the common...
this is to be my symphony.

William Henry Channing.

xxx elle

Storm in a tea cup

It's the month of Elul.

For my tribe that means a time of introspection and accountability.

A little spring cleaning is called for. Or a lot.

Our sages say that Elul is actually an acronym for 'ani ledodi ve dodi li': I am to my Beloved and my Beloved is to me, which is a verse from the Song of Songs.

The Zohar teaches that at this time the Light of the Creator is as ready, open and close to us as It is possible to be. And equally if we are awakened to our soul there is an answering need for closeness to the Divine at this time.

If you have been foolish, now is the time be wise.

If you find you have fallen, now is just the right time for standing up.

Perhaps you have made a storm in a teacup. Stop stirring now....

xxx elle

Hurry now...

The time allotted to you is so short that if you lose one second, you have already lost your whole life, for it is no longer, it is always just as long as the time you lose. So if you have started out on a walk, continue it whatever happens, you can only gain, you run no risk. In the end you may fall over a precipice perhaps, but had you turned back after the first steps and run downstairs you would have fallen at once - and not perhaps, but for certain. So if you find nothing in the corridors, open the doors, and if you find nothing behind these doors, there are more floors, and if you find nothing up there, don't worry, just leap up another flight of stairs. As long as you don't stop climbing, the stairs wont end, under your climbing feet they will go on growing upwards.

Franz Kafka 'The Advocates'

Found on Memory Green

xxx elle

Think now...

from the 'bottom of the ironing basket'.

xxx elle

Teachers

I can't help thinking, as the teachers strike seems to be gaining momentum of all the teachers who touched my life in some small way.

Like Mrs Penny Humphries, who taught me with just the right blend of affirmation and reproach to keep me happy and inspired in her grade four class!

Or Mrs Stewart-James, who kept a small carpet offcut under her desk which she had clearly vowed to never lift her feet off! For this reason, most of our history class did open book tests even when they were not called for. Especially when they were not called for.

And Mr and Mrs Norris, now happily ensconsed in New Zealand, who made my life hell for most of grade five!!!! 

xxx elle

Karoolkie!

Finally!

Mr Nielson better known as Sid, and I joined our dear friends, Carol and Gerald ( aka Ca+Ge ) at their country house in Barrydale.

Lest you imagine some little bolthole along a village lane, you are clearly unfamiliar with the delicously avante gard 'CaGed' ones. Other people purchase a holiday house at the seaside, they buy a small hotel. A suite of offices in town? Why not put up a whole block! Spot a building going up as you float on an early morning swell, dry off immediately and go ask them to sell it to you!

And so it was perfectly reasonable for the CaGed ones to buy up every piece of land in the centre of this little town, in order to plant a vineyard, an olive grove and a series of eco 'klip huise', the likes of which a hobbit would be proud of!



Here I am looking suitably enchanted, if a little strangulated by my tightening clothes after yet another of Gerald's addictive breakfasts. Poached eggs on a bed of spinach with lightly smoked salmon and toasted rye.

Sublime.
The garden at Karoolkie is unconventional and contemplative.




As you sit under the arched stone covered roof, and look out at the elegant poplars that line the river bank, wild hadeda call from the branches and peacocks waltz serenely amongst the Zen statues.

Ever the romantic, after more then 40 years together, he still puts his hand on her derriere whenever he gets a chance
!

We drove through the shifting passes of Montagu and the Tradeux Pass, as if encased in a virtual world of psychedelic intensity.

We drank cold water from mountain springs, and watched a troop of Baboon thunder up the craggy rock face when we ventured too close.

Cape Leopard have been seen in these hills, and the reserves are a desperately needed refuge for the flora and fauna so threatened by the 'progress' of man.

It's hard not to wish that you were one of the lucky few for whom Gerald built a little Karoolkie dwelling. Separated by vineyards and olive groves, the land is peppered with these unique retreats.


Mr Nielson better known as Sid, felt moved to don his 'teffilin' in the vineyard outside our bedroom, so moved was he by the splendid silence of a country morning.

Then, a spot of lolling about on the patio under the watchful eye of Udu the Kudu! Gerald found him lying on the pavement in Kloof street in a decidedly disheveled state, rescued him and brought him to Karoolkie where he has been watching over the place ever since!

Later in the afternoon we walk down to the local hotel to watch the rugby.

And we are unprepared for its stylish panache.



Nothing like a touch of 'camp' to keep the country fires burning. This chair had a female twin, and both needed that little turquoise cushion to keep the old ladies from their smelling salts!


An everchanging display of art and objet warms the space.



And every reception room has a vivid beauty and sensibility of its own, all adding up to an eclectic whole...

After dinner at The Mez, we walk back to Karoolkie Kelders along the bullrushes beneath a plump country moon.

And then, not surprisingly we enjoy a divine performance of our favourite acapella group 'Not The Midnite Mass' in Ca+Ge's very own Karoolkie Wine Cellar!



Ah, life in the country....

xxx elle