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Two weeks ago I was finishing the five day Outeniqua Trail in the dense forests of South Africa’s Garden Route. Outeniqua is one of those musical words that has persisted from the original humans that were part of this lush landscape. It means ‘those who bear honey.’ A week prior I was overlooking the Valley of Desolation in the Karoo which the KhoiSan called Camdeboo…‘green pool.’ Thanks for reading Musings! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding — John O'Donohue Where the colonial settlers saw absence (a valley of desolation) the first people saw bounty (green pools). The gifts of our natural world are honoured in these original names — a smidgen of green in a dry place, the bee’s liquid gold prior to the gold rush that brought prospectors flocking from around the globe to our first night on the trail, Millwood. The beautiful old house we slept in was built for an early forester. These wild tangled primeval forests still ring with scars of ‘Timber!’ and ‘Gold!’ haunted by a lonely ellie or two, where once there were oh so many. I laid my hand on the mossy massive trunk of an Outeniqua Yellowwood, it’s crown hidden from view high above my head, and whispered: ‘Thank you for being bigger than us.’ Back in Plett I held my granny’s hand for the last time, while stroking her silver hair, she whispered: ‘I’m ready to let go.’ I am rooted but I flow — Virginia Woolf In the misty rolling green hills of Kwa-Zulu Natal, by grace, there was a profound letting go of the many stresses and anxieties of 2024, while gently being held by the Buddhist Retreat Centre. After splashing in the warmth of Umdloti’s sea, I emerged salty, to find a blue candle washed up on those brown sugar sands…the very one that had been promised me in my Medicine Woman card, pulled at the close of our BRC retreat. The energy of Yemaya, Spirit of Water, Mother of us All, ushered in the next retreat at Sashwa in the Greater Kruger National Park. A Woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself – Maya Angelou Yemaya is the Water spirit of the Yoruba in West Africa. She is celebrated throughout the diaspora as mother of all. And so we began our retreat by singing and dancing around a fire on the banks of the Olifants River. Yemaya assessu; Assessu YemayaYemaya Olodo; Olodo Yemaya A literal translation from the Yoruba language would be: Yemanja is the Gush of the Spring.The Gush of the Spring is Yemanja.The Mother of the Children of Fishes is the Owner of Rivers. This chant celebrates the joining of river to sea, that longed for union where part becomes whole. The drop realises it is the ocean. I floated in Sashwa’s heavenly salt pool watching elephant families frolic in the waters named for them, although the Olifants River is also known as Lepelle (slow flowing) or iBhalule (long stretched out one) by the BaPedi people who have lived here for 600 years. She enters the Indian Ocean at Xai Xai in Mozambique. No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man — Heraclitus Together we walked in the bush and came across many wonders — from the caterpillars that only live on the carpets of squill lillies, to an African Rock Python slumbering on the banks of our river. Darling Storm was our guide to paying close attention to, as was her refrain, Mama. When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy — Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi We practiced Qi Gong beneath the sh
