Ruth's Real Life

  Two Saturdays ago, compliments of the lovely Carel Nolte, I found myself at the Zwartkops Raceway. Ahead of me was a ‘Ferrari experience’, this meant driving a Ferrari F360. I love driving and I love adventures but I have to admit to some trepidation as I perched on a stool listening to the roar of the cars hurtling around the track. The driver’s briefing was brief! Back out at the side of the track, I was pleased that I had the first of my fears behind me – the fitting of the driver’s suit. I’m not small and I was convinced that there would not be a suit to fit me. I didn’t have to wear a suit – easy! Helmeted and ready, with a number of young men watching, I manoeuvred myself into the car and was strapped in. I was so concerned about my next fear – stalling in front of everyone – that I didn’t notice the technical hitch. My feet didn’t reach the pedals. As the seat couldn’t be adjusted, I had to move to the second car. I casually levered myself out and sauntered no...

It's time to adventure again. Last night, I dreamed I was lost on the Great Wall of China. I was climbing a never-ending stairway alongside which a magnificent river rushed into a dark green gorge. Even in my dream, I knew it wasn’t the Wall. I have climbed a section of the Great Wall and it was nothing like this. In 2005 I undertook, what in my head, was a pilgrimage to China. I was in a state of flux in my life and when the opportunity to go presented itself, I  didn't  hesitate. I went on my own, knowing very little of what awaited me. One thing I was determined to do was to journal my experience and to try to extract a lesson from each week that I was there. I came away with my eight China lessons but after my return I understood that I had journeyed  26 000  kilometers  to learn the power of just two words. Let go. And I did. I let go of toxic opinions of myself. I was able to see myself in a more powerful way. I felt a newness of ...

Sucking on the Sun Perhaps it’s the change of season that brings a sense of restlessness with it. The garden is thick with fallen leaves. The sky is held on the blue fingers of empty branches. The late roses are in bloom – not because I have tended them – but because they have life and they will be what they are despite my neglect. I can see the deep orange of a Johannesburg Gold rose through my window. It looks as if it has sucked on the sun. It will drop its petals when it needs to and not before. My father, 91, holds onto the last fragments of his blooming. He will turn away when he has to. I was struck by the wisdom of one of my Grade 12s today when she said: “Everything turns to nothing.’ She’s right. But there must always be the possibility of something more between the appearance of the first tight bud and the fall of the last petal. Here I am, on the possibility path. I’m certainly not in my first bloom, but I’m not ready to shed the last petals yet. I fee...