An Innate Resource

AN INNATE RESOURCE 12 October 2015 . Like those massive fluff-puff clouds scurrying past at a rate of celestial knots, bulbous and brush-splattered light-bright white and shadow-shade, my joy is rich and real, vibrant and mobile, dents to the touch, sometimes veiled, but ever-pulsing, ever-changing, ever regenerating. . Like the glorious South African sun it survives . . . everything. It was with me when I first began and I’ll take it to my cremation. . When suppressed, it bubbles up in happy protest. . It birthed my sense of humour, my resilience and yes, my tears. I cannot and will not flee from it. . I adore my joy. I revel in it, feed it, celebrate it, sing it in hallelujahs, dance it in freedom leaps. I wrap it around me in winter warmth, and fling it open in summer heat. . I try to share it with those who don’t want it (it is my pleasure not to learn!) and I offer it with delight to those who do.