Sometimes, I will ask someone for a topic for my blog. You know, a casual what would you like to read about? More often, I get given an idea with which I can work. Today was such a day. My friend started off by sharing that her children were doing a coastal hiking trial over a few days. Oh, she went on to say, they will see the most beautiful mountains. And the sea. The sea is always so spectacular. Unfortunately, they will have to deal with baboons, she lamented. There are many baboons in the area where they will be walking.

Now, here is the problem with my mind. My mind, at the best of times, consists of 5% mental reminders of things I need to do, 3% compiling a shopping list for next time I go shopping, 2% stuff I should know and 90% song lyrics. Have you any idea how much easier it would be to sing this blog, rather than writing it?

If there is one thing there is no shortage of in the Cape, it is mountains. No matter where you look, where you go, there is always a mountain. And believe me. Not all mountains are equal. I had to live here to appreciate that the Matroosberg looks nothing like the Helderberg. Lion’s Head and Seweweekspoortpiek are not related in any way. In fact, this mountain with the very long and hard to pronounce name, is the highest peak in the Cape Fold Belt. Hermanus itself, meanders along the Western cove of Walker Bay between the magnificent sea cliffs at the foot of the Olifantsberg Mountains. You can tell the name of a town from a photo, by just looking at the mountain shape in the background. I will not confess for how long I believed Cape Town only ever had Table Mountain.

And all the time, while writing to you about mountains, what do I have chasing about my mind? That other 90% of song lyrics. While my left brain is singing Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s: Ain’t no mountain high enough? There is only one thing worse than having to listen to a question you never asked in the first place, and that is your right brain answering it. Marvin was still asking about his mountain, when Tina Turner piped up in the background Something about River Deep, Mountain High. Rocky Mountain High, John Denver reminded me. Shush, all of you! This is not a time to play karaoke in my mind. I have to apply the remaining 10% of my available mind space to saying something about the sea.

Friend’s family are hiking around Cape Point. In our hearts, Cape Point is where the Atlantic and Indian oceans meet. That, like Table Mountain being the only mountain in the Cape, is myth. Technically, the two oceans meet at Cape Agulhas. What is the difference between the two oceans, you ask? Now, I am sure there are many differences, some of them quite intellectual and impressive- anything from the size of sardines to the nucleus of a single cell plankton. From where I am standing, however, the difference is how much of your foot you can stick in the water. Indian Ocean? All of your foot. Atlantic Ocean? One toe at a time. And only once that poor toe turns completely numb from the cold, will you submerge the next one.

Ha! I thought. Now what song about the ocean will pop into my mind? Surely Boney M and Coombe Dance Band will launch their best effort to compete? Strangely, no. What popped into my mind, was a song – originally by Lynda Randle, called One Day at a Time. (One toe at a time/one day at a time. Do you make the connection?) Allow me to idle here and share this song with you. The chorus goes like this:

One day at a time, sweet Jesus. That’s all I’m asking of You. Just give me the strength to do every day, what I have to do. (Here we can skip a few lines and catch up with the lyrics that say: ) Lord help me today, show me the way, one day at a time. Oh, no, Sjarlene. Do not get too heavy here! Surely, there is another song about the ocean? Do any of you remember ABBA’s Move On? It is one of their lesser known songs, and goes like this:

Like a roller in the ocean, life is motion, move on. Like a wind that’s always blowing, life is flowing, move on.

At this point, I should be writing about baboons. Oh, I said to friend, in designing our house, Colin made it extremely baboon unfriendly, in order to make it baboon friendly. That 10% of my mind that should still have capacity to reason, tried to explain how the house will have no place for a baboon to pause and play. Also, I said, we have a plan B. What would that be, she asked. Oh, it involves a bag of oranges. The moment we spot baboons approaching, we will toss oranges into the neighbour’s yard. That will distract the baboons.

As I write this, we are getting ready for all that the Easter Weekend holds in store. We are planning to spend some of our time in spiritual contemplation. We are also planning to visit our children in that other town with a mountain. We are planning to remember that other mountain, Golgotha, that is centre to the Easter story. My hope is, that at the end of this very spiritual time in the Christian liturgy, that Colin and I will emerge, taking everything one day at a time. That we will roll with the punches like a roller in the ocean.

And on this note, I will end my writing, in a way that I have not done for quite some time, and that is to wish for you to…

Remain Blessed.