Countries of the Mind

There's a book by science-fiction author Greg Bear called "Queen of Angels." In the book one of the characters is a psychologist who develops  technique of deep-level therapy in which he enters the mind of his patients in order to correct their disorders - much like the central concept of the film "The Cell," which I believe "borrowed" the idea from "Queen of Angels." Anyway, the interiors of peoples' minds are referred to by the psychologist as the Country of the Mind, or simply, the Country.

I always liked this idea, as well as the name, although I prefer "landscape of the mind." The reason I bring this up is because I've been thinking a lot lately about globalisation, the merging of cultures, colonisation and the like. I've also been thinking about a variation on the Country of the Mind idea; that is, not countries of the mind, as such, but countries of the mind.
I'm thinking here primarily about the mental or memory versions we have of certain places we've lived or visited. For me, my favourite country is the Cape Town of my childhood. That Cape Town is a dream for me, a collection of smells, sensations, impressions, music (see the below post for a link to some), stories, myths, and memories I can't always be sure are my own. Truth be told, it's my favourite place in the world. For years, while I lived in England, my version of Cape Town soothed and comforted me, locked away as it is in a time and space of my own making. I'm not sure why I thought so, but I felt that Cape Town would always have that kind of static, small-town feel, that slightly backward, quirky, almost naive character, flung-out as it is at the edge of a vast continent. It was a huge shock to my system when I came back and experienced a vibrant, progressive, connected, culturally sophisticated and media-savvy city. And I'd been gone for less than four years. It seemed that I was now the backward, quirky and naive one, slightly bewildered at the speed at which Cape Town had in many ways "caught up" to some of the most culturally vibrant cities in the world. Cape Town and it's people - most notably the people I had left behind, the people I had grown up with - had progressed with the city and I felt like I was the one standing still, holding on to my version of Cape Town for dear life. I tried for years after that to keep up, to "get with it," but to no avail. I learned to acknowledge and respect Cape Town for what it actually is, what it had become and where it was going, but I couldn't see myself in that picture. Seems part of me is terminally provincial - and I think somewhat romantic too - seeking the small, quirky and backward in the world. And yet I'm convinced that there is some validity to my choice - and it's very much a choice. My Cape Town no longer exists...except on the back of the howling south-easter, riding the table cloth as it rolls across the mountain; on the sounds of the fog-horn on a misty evening and the smell of fish and diesel heavy in the air; in the sound of the imam singing the call to prayer, echoing out from the Bo Kaap in the early morning; and in the sound of the Klopse singing the old songs, calling me back to memories that aren't mine.

This leads me to another topic, that of The Wave, but that's a post for another day...


I'll leave you with something I wrote just before I left:

On the edge

This city is blind
and its people spectres,
living dreams which shimmer
like silk and flicker
in and out of existence
at the whim of Light.

The longer I stay here,
on this sandy, rocky outcropping,
this land of my making,
the more I look and feel
like a tourist, a weary traveller
dancing to the rhythm of the constant question:
“Where are you from?”

Ghosting through the baked-brick
and tree-lined avenues of the Bowl,
the grey-and-yellow stained snakes
of the train lines and the slick
black ribbons of road that scar the peninsula,
I dance, trying to answer this question.

These avenues, these ways through
and across this enchanted dagger of land
entice me always;
they interrupt my sleep
and invade my thoughts.
       The contours that they describe and
accentuate with their passage
plunge me  into dangerous depths
of feeling, deep as the height
of the mountains they avoid,
cold as the oceans that hold them.

And yet all of this is still surface,
the Light touch on top of things, hiding,
masking the deeper parts which go deeper still.

There are secrets here that I can’t see
because I’m blind,
can’t see because I’ve grown accustomed
to the shallow depth of the surface
and sing songs and dance and tell stories
instead of searching, instead of working
to find out the proper resonance.

Like a step remove, my home eludes me;
it’s so potently present and available
but I wander in fits of despair,
             going always astray.
I try to capture the wings of this bird
with words, try to clip them,
but all I ever come away with is a whisper,
the wish of a feather whisked away by the wind;
    and empty hands are my only treasures,
    spooks and spectres my only friends…

Net so

http://russta.podbean.com/mf/web/agkkd6/10-TakeMeHomeTheCapeTownSong.mp3

Auckland

So, we're back now, in windy Welly, after an awesome time spent in Auckland. We managed to cram quite a bit into the three days we were here. We went to a yoga festival held at the community we're thinking of moving to. We went to Bethells Beach, close to the Waitakere ranges south-west of Auckland. I was in a really good mood on the beach and did a cartwheel, which resulted, I found out quite soon after, in me dropping the keys to our rental car (dubbed 'Dingleberry'). In a panic I rushed back over the dunes, envisioning phoning the rental people to tell them I'd lost the car keys and could they please come out to the boonies to give us the spare set. I ran down a dune and saw a man with a husky and his daughter on his shoulders walking towards me. I asked him if he had seen a key chain and he smiled and held up the car keys. We laughed about it for a bit and he then invited us back to his place for a coffee. We followed him back to his house, which is surrounded by native bush and is pretty much the only house on the road. He's an Englishman who has recently immigrated with his family and two dogs. He had an awesome set-up; raised beds with veggies and about ten chickens in an enclosure with plenty of land to expand. He told us about his dream to have some livestock and we thought 'mmm, this sounds familiar.' Anyhoo, he gave us his contact details and said to contact him whenever. It was a really cool experience.

This morning we went to Browns Bay - which was really nice actually. We had a few hours to kill so we took a drive into the city; again, really great. We went for a walk in the park and saw that there was an art exhibition on. 'Degas to Dali' is an exhibition of a series of impressionist and surrealist artists from the national gallery in Scotland. It was pretty awesome, but we also got to see a bit of New Zealand art, by both Maori and Pakeha; very interesting stuff, but I reckon we need to go back and have a proper look. After that we took a walk along along the main drag of the central city. It reminded me a lot of Sydney, except prettier. There's an interesting balance between old colonial buildings and big, shiny concrete and steel jobs.

All in all it was a very positive experience. This post is a bit insight-light, but that's cos I'm knackered. Here are some pretty pictures instead:

 

 

Mount Taranaki (or Mt Egmont), a dormant volcano, on the west coast of the north island - as seen from our plane window on the way to Auckland.

Bethells Beach on the west coast of the Auckland region

Playing with iMovie. I really like the music though!

Elsje enjoying a hearty cup of Jyoti's magic chai at the yoga festival

Sky Tower as seen from the park

Exploded Raphaelesque Head by Dali - One of the pieces we saw at the exhibition

One of the fancy high rise apartment buildings in Auckland central - I think...

Of scenic routes and things unseen

Seems like this blog, in one way or another, is doomed to always be a travel blog. Elsje and I are in Auckland tonight. We heard much negative about this place from many different sources, Kiwi and immigrant alike. First impressions? Awesome!! Ok it's grimy (or at least grimier than Wellington), like any city is, but I like that, it's real. We came up here because we are seriously considering moving here at the end of the year. Our initial excuse for making the trip was to check out the college of natural medicine where Elsje wants to study next year. The campus is in a beautiful and larny area called Grey Lynn, where everything's organic it seems. It's also crazy expensive apparently. But all that aside, both Elsje and I, after only spending a few hours here, feel as if this is the place we want to be, at least for the foreseeable future. For me personally THIS is what I expected to feel from New Zealand, what I've been waiting to feel. There is energy here, stuff is happening, things are moving! Cape Town has a potent and relentlessly restless energy that creeps into your bones - the only place I've ever felt anything comparable was in New Orleans - and Auckland has something of that trembling sense of anticipation, of possibility, but in a more manageable dose. I feel as if there is real potential for something to grow here, for us to make the kind of life we've been dreaming about. New Zealand is a weird place. Even after six months I still can't shake that feeling. It's so provincial in so many ways, somehow strangely backward and almost isolationist and yet there is so much potential here. It seems that many New Zealanders worry about their country, constantly comparing the economy to that of Australia and lamenting that 'we' aren't as affluent or obnoxious as Australians. I think I've mentioned this before, the fact that traveling gives you huge gifts of perspective and lessons in relativity. There is so much that is awesome here, so much that is weird and offbeat and relentlessly down-to-earth. I feel that there's so much possibility here, but so few have really grabbed it, like it's not in the culture, as if it's an unwritten rule not to. I realise that most of what I'm saying here is gibberish, but that's the effect New Zealand is having on me. I'm constantly bewildered by this place and its people, but in no way that I can pinpoint. I like that so much; it's difficult to get hold of. As soon as I do I'll let you know.

That's a point actually. We are staying in a place called Albany, which is on the North Shore of Auckland. Over the hill to east is Brown's Bay where you'll find upwards of 40 000 South Africans, which I find both disturbing and intriguing. It seems that Kiwis have mixed feelings about the 'Saffers,' who have in many ways made certain parts of the North Shore into a South African suburb. I don't really like that and I have no interest in living in a mini SA, but my point is that the South Africans have got hold of this place somehow, but in a typically South African way, that is, they've stamped their particular presence on a somewhat neutral cultural landscape and made it home, but, it seems to me, in the most functional and utilitarian way. I don't want to do that, I want to see what else is possible in terms of 'lifestyle.' We didn't leave South Africa just to escape the crime - though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a factor - and to live the middle-class suburban 'dream.' It's too LCD. We didn't so much leave South Africa as come to New Zealand, it was more pull than push. And yes many expectations of this place were dashed, but thank god, because I think perhaps for the first time we are seeing this country and it's potential clearly. It feels like we are slowly - very slowly -  learning New Zealand, exploring its smallness one tiny bit at a time and for the first time in a long time I'm excited again.    :-)


- pics surely to follow...

Wow, this must be one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read!

TO A CHILD by Christopher Morley

The greatest poem ever known 
Is one all poets have outgrown;
The poetry, innate untold
Of being only four years old

Still young enough to be a part
Of Nature's great impulsive heart
Born comrade of bird, beast and tree
And unselfconscious as the bee-

And yet with lovely reason skilled
Each day new paradise to build
Elate explorer of each sense
Without dismay, without pretence!

In your unstained transparent eyes
There is no conscience, no surprise:
Life's queer conundrums you accept,
Your strange Divinity still kept...

And Life, that sets all things in rhyme,
May make you poet, too in time-
But there were days, O tender elf,
When you were poetry itself! 


 

This is one very relaxed and funky kitten!!

Here's to tears and turning corners

Hello. It's been a while - feels like an age - since I did a blog post. It's been a heavy few months indeed. I've had my head down, grafting away in survival mode I suppose, both of us have. It's been a difficult transition moving to New Zealand, much more so than I ever could have anticipated. It's deep-level stuff, psychological and emotional, unseen and thus unexpected; certainly caught me off guard. So much of what we expected has been dashed or severely reevaluated, and yet ultimately, what a positive experience.

I remember just before we left the states I wrote a post about negative spaces and the like, but it seems as if I had it wrong somehow. Silence, like shadow, is the true negative space, the no-thing that defines the some-thing, and my absence from this blog has been its expression. I used to be the kind of person who would never proclaim a positive experience or a fortunate turn of events for fear of jinxing it, but thankfully I'm not like that anymore. During the past week or so it has felt like Wellington, the land here, has begun to open up for us, slowly, but definitely surely. It's an awesome feeling, like taking a huge deep breath after climbing a particularly nasty mountain. I don't want to make a big deal out of this, I just wanted proclaim the turning of a corner, there on the deep, unseen level . And also to say hey and hi and wow and thank you.

'On the surface there, where eyes shine like midnight pines and smile saw-tooth grins.'

P.S. There's a song if you click the title.