Skip to main content

Mind games

I find the Silence unsettling.
It feels strange; almost like a once favourite jersey that has shrunk in the wash and now doesn't quite fit.

Got used to the D: Disturbance! Drama! Demons! Discord!
And in this D-state:
  • Operating on automatic
  • Doing in thoughtless bursts
  • Acting on impulse
  • Feigning interest
  • Half-listening, half-hearing
  • Empty emotions
Peace & Quiet: I'm not used to this.
It's unexpected coming on a Monday in the heart of Winter. I don't like Winter, it grates me, the absence of light; the lack of warmth. It leaves me cold, chilled to the bone, iciness settles on my heart and leaves me frigid.  I miss the sun, basking in her glow. This D I love, the "sunshine"vitamin, it feeds every nerve ending, every sense; every feeling is heightened and I am super-alive.

A melancholic tune drifts down quiet passages; a song playing quietly in the background, it's almost softer than a whisper. I have to cock my head to hear it, to draw it in. I find the soft melody smooth & sweet like honey, it lulls me against my will. My head zings,  thoughts are free to rummage around in an under-active brain like the steel ball in a Pinball Machine, it zips from side to side till the bulbs on the table light up and the machine goes crazy.

My thoughts zero in on you, threaten to settle on this painful target. But I don't go there, huge red signs flash furiously warning me off. Your face flashes briefly, that wicked grin enticing me, drawing me in to better days, happier times when that smile preceded pleasure. A smile followed by laughter, laughter from both of us: spent, satisfied, smitten.

I nudge and try to dislodge thoughts stuck on you. The tilt loosens the shiny ball from your grip and sends it on it's way to seek more rewarding chapters.

My office chair creaks under thick thighs, winter has left me lethargic. These thighs were cushions for your weary head. You told tall tales from here, spinning stories and plotting our future...

Tilt, dislodge!

Damn, defenses are down. I urge the ball towards the drain, leaving the flippers open.

The shrill ring of the telephone jolts me.
I act on impulse.
I pray for the D:
Deadlines! Duties! Developments!
"How can I help you?" I ask in a level tone, thankful for the call, grateful for the interruption.
"No problem," I say, "I can have that ready for you later today!"

Dashboard engaged!
Mindset shifted.
System Recovery in progress.

Popular posts from this blog

Right here, Right now.

The wind whistles & howls, shaking up Cape Town ; waking her weary chidren.

Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…


Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

The Road to Al Dhaid

I wake up from a deep sleep, startled by silence and a bed devoid of him. I lay spread eagled, entangled in white cotton sheet, a sense of solitude overwhelming me as soon as I open my eyes.

The desert heat clings to my body while a pale moon tries it's best to break through thick, brown silky drapes. I drag myself up, feeling a twinge in my lower back and pull the clawing nightdress down thick hips and thighs.
Middle age bringing unwelcome changes.

My feet hit lukewarm tiles as I stumble the short distance to the window, hanking the brown open to reveal the the mosque the colour of sand.  In the distance it's soft lights are alluring against a dark sky.
The call to prayer begins as I stand silently staring out at University City Road. No screeching tyres, honking horns, or irate drivers to disturb the peace. Only an ocassional early morning traveller making his way along the quiet streets of sleepy Sharjah.
The adhan is soothing and I am instantly alert, a sense of urgency gu…