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February 28 2007 - My Home Is A Tent In Africa!
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Well, I'm back in London with all that that involves. Freezing cold - not that it bothers me - far from it. I love snow, and it snowed the night I returned. I opened the curtains at 5.00am in order to let Caspar out for a pee, and there it was, a magically transformed world whose beauty took my breath away. Caspar gingerly walked up the steps leading to the garden, leaving a trail of paw prints in the previously virgin snow, which I found very moving. Yes, I do realize that it's probably an odd thing to be moved by, but there you go; I make no apology! Casp did the quickest pee in the history of feline urination, and re-entered the house in record time. I banked up the fire, Casp settled on 'his' chair, and as the flames flickered softly, I lay in bed caught up in the magic of this enchanted world. What a wonderful welcome! In my previous blog, I wrote of my need to make a decision as to where I was going to live, England or Africa, and this was causing me a certain angst, but in the event, the decision was made for me. Vicki has an elderly mother (84) who had been gradually losing her marbles over the last few years. She's a widow and lives alone in a flat outside, but not too far from London. Vick is her only child, so when she received a call from her mother, asking if she could come to London, Vick of course agreed, (she's a good girl) but was left in a terrible state because in order to accommodate a mother suffering from senile dementia, she had to tell her best friend that she had to leave. What a position to be in! I've lived here for almost 7 years and absolutely love it. I'm in the basement of an 18thc house, and despite the destruction of a lot of the original features, it still retains a great sense of history and I do feel as though I'm living in another century, which I love. And so, at the age of 63, my only home will consist of a tent in Africa! How cool is that?!?! All my life I've searched for security, for a place I could call home. My need to belong, to be a part of, has dominated my life; and I've latched onto other peoples families and tried to convince myself that being part of some-one else's extended family was enough, that I was safe, that I belonged. This of course was self-deception on a mammoth scale: when the chips are down - your mother needs a home - I quite understand that 'family comes first'. Accepting my essential aloneness has proved very difficult for me throughout my life, and contributed greatly to my profound depressive episodes. I've been glued together by a combination of doctors, anti-depressives, sleeping pills and tranquillisers for many, many years, and prior to Africa, I felt very afraid of the future, because I knew that I was unable to continue living in such circumstances - being so dependent on prescription drugs - in order to make life viable. But then, I went to Africa, and the security and sense of belonging that I yearned for was all around me. In Africa, I live pill free; I walk around with a huge smile on my face, saying 'I'm so happy, I'm so happy,' over and over again, like a mantra. Security isn't a place or a person, it's a state of mind, and I appear to have achieved that state of mind in Africa. Living so closely with Nature, as I do in Africa nurtures the spirit, it is impossible to be cut off from ones inner life while living with the elements, with animals and with like-minded people. And that is how I live and I am profoundly grateful to have discovered my Sanctuary so late in my life. And so next month, I shall return to the Dark Continent, to the monkeys, my tent and my friends, with a heart full of gratitude that finally, I have the peace, security and sense of belonging that I have searched for all my life. x
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