If you were to ask Aunty Google what a mind shift is, she will tell you: “A mind shift is a change of focus and perception. It can have extraordinary power to make relationships more positive and healthier; to improve your focus and rate of success; and to build self-esteem and overall happiness. A mind shift is an “ah ha” moment on steroids”. That is on a good day. A mind shift to retire, or as in our case, to repurpose? Now that is something no-one can prepare you for. What ever you had in mind or imagined, you can forget. You see, Aunty Google is not human, so she does not quite grasp the impact of human emotions and just how complicated change can be, even to the most flexible of us.

I was chatting to my favourite Blond Friend this morning. Long before we decided to move down here ourselves, they had already bought land and built a house. Unlike us, who still have a Mount Ararat, (there is nothing Meraki about this, our builder says, as he points out his assembled pile of rocks, where incidentally a puff adder was found hiding this week) their house is ready for them just to move into. That is their easy bit. Their challenge however is to make the big mind shift. And there is nothing “ah ha” about that. She shared with me some of their plans for being down here and what they will be doing to find purpose. It all sounds exciting, and I do not want to burst her bubble, but oh boy! Blond Friend: There is one massive mind shift coming your way! My advice to you? Persevere. It will not be easy, but it will be worth it.

So then, once one is beyond the worst of the mind shift, what then? Well, then you wake up on a Saturday morning, and you wonder what to do with yourself. It is time to make a weighty decision. The Whale Festival is on in Hermanus. But then, we did spot that big whale in Gordon’s Bay last week, and maybe he is still there. Then there is the river mouth in Kleinmond that is still open and….make up your mind, Colin says. So I do, and a little later off we go. Up and over the mountain, admiring the view down the Houwhoek Pass, driving extra fast past the farm stall with the delectable pies, winding down the newly built road and into Somerset West to go to the shop with the nice glassware. Having bought glasses (a want, not a need!), we swing right at a T junction, and we pootle down to The Strand, doing what we do best: Going nowhere slowly. I have been to Strand a few times now, it is the place with the supersized licky cones, and I have written about the exceptionally long sandy beach, but I have never actually walked any of it. That was rectified on Saturday, and we walked just a small portion of it. We will have to make a day of it, a quick stop was not enough. Besides, Gordon’s Bay’s whale was calling.

Big Whale, however, was on his tea break as we drove past, but the baboons did not disappoint. Local residents are split when it comes to baboons. One camp will do anything to get rid of them, and the other camp wants to protect. We hope that time will not change our minds, and that we will remain in the protect camp. The baboon families were out in numbers, and being that time of year, there were so many tiny little baboon babies, coddled by their proud baboon mommies. Winding roads lead to places, and by the time we got to Pringle Bay, we were ready for lunch and after lunch, a very long walk from one end of the beach to the other. In a sense, our journey kicked into action in Pringle Bay almost 2 years ago. This was the first spike of our mind shift that was to come. It was after a short holiday there, that Colin said: Time to stop talking about it, and time to make the change. Beaches here can be vastly different from each other. Pringle is the only beach that has those cute little snails that remind me of childhood holidays. Betty’s Bay you will find sea pumpkin shells on the beach, and Kleinmond always has a good supply of cuttle fish bones, which I collect for Younger Son’s cockatiel. On all the beaches, however, were families having fun, enjoying the first of the sunny days.

Driving along the coast, Colin and I deliberated about the strange colour patterns in the ocean. Must be different sea streams, we concluded. We were not to know in that moment when we so idly speculated about what the ocean was up to, that not too far from where we were, two life changing human tragedies were playing off. The sea demands respect, and we must never forget that. This weekend two separate families each lost a child who had too much fun on the beach and forgot the warnings that surely their parents must have shouted after them as they ran towards the surf. Eric Clapton sang “Tears in Heaven.” This sad, but most beautiful song, was written about losing a loved one, and it evokes grieving for the sudden loss of a child. This weekend saw plenty tears in Heaven. A person I was chatting to about the tragedy, clucked her tongue over parents who do not watch their children on the beach. Accidents happen in a flash. Our youngest son fell into a pool as a toddler. I was sitting two steps away and did not hear a splash. Our story had a happy ending, but that is not always the case, and I grieve with the unfortunate families.

Right then, not to dwell too long on these sad events, because: Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, Life goes on, brah! Our journey the past 9 months came with highs and lows, uphill and down hill moments. We often had to make a mind shift, and at times, had to make up our minds. But, 9 months into the journey, I am glad we have come this far. Hindsight is showing me just how warped our reality of a year ago had been. I am so glad that we made up our minds, to make the mind shift.

Persevere. It will not be easy, but it will be worth it.

Colin was up on our mountain (the real one, not Ararat) checking on the building progress, when movement caught his eye. And right there, visible from what will be our house, a whale breached.

God has spoken.