Sometimes it hits me like a bucket of water just how fortunate I have been. I truly over the years have crossed paths with some of the most amazing people. I may not have realized it at the time, but trust me, if you were one of those who crossed my path: hindsight has made me realise just what a charmed life I have lived. This is of course enhanced by the fact that I have a remarkable memory and can recall these incidents. The only other reason I could offer is probably because Mars crossed Pluto square in my 10^th House of Reflection, precisely at the same time as it aligned with the North Node. I agree. Complete gibberish! But back to some of those remarkable people that I want to share with you.

In my early twenties, around the time that this little (as I used to be then) birdie got booted out the nest, I found myself working in a town, absolutely miles from anybody I knew. It was an international community, at a guess what? An International School! What this experience did was to open my little, hooded, South African eyes to people I never knew existed. People who had not only traveled the world but had experienced life as I did not know it. They had photos on their coffee table of them swinging from a tree after a gorilla or snorkeling some great reef and finding an extinct species of ugly fish or meditating from the top of a temple with too many stairs. One evening in conversation, one of these enviable new friends asked the question: how do you put all that into a CV? How do you paraphrase that you attended the University of the World? Being a little older myself now (mature around the lips and full bodied as a well-aged wine should be), I will sometimes share an event or experience I had, and I can see the doubt in my companion’s eyes. Yeah, right. The Talented Mr.(s) Ripley. Tell us another tall story. But you see, life has taken me down some interesting paths.

But talking of going down interesting paths. my long suffering, trusted steed Colin, did a spot of path finding himself in the week. He got sent off to Kleinmond in the week, to have a key cut. He could of course had it done right here in Hermanus where we live, but no. Mr. Trusty Steed had to drive all the way to Kleinmond to have it done. Now, one of the many differences between Hermanus and Kleinmond is that with Hermanus being the pretty younger sister, her shops are more predictable. They actually keep to generally accepted business hours. Kleinmond not so much. Things there happen when people are ready. Seriously. Next thing, I get a WhatsApp photo from Colin, who clearly is pleased as punch with himself. The photo is at the top of this story, but the caption with it was: Go watch the sunrise, “kuier” with the locals and remember why we are doing this and realise how privileged we are to be doing it. OK, so we are talking about the Cape, and sunrise here in winter does happen a little later. Which is also why the locksmith was having no intention of keeping to the business hours displayed on the shop window. Or maybe he was one of the locals Colin bumped into down by the sea. So, who did you chat to, instead of doing the items on your to-do list, I asked? Well, first a Border Collie came by, so we had a chat. Then two chaps walking along the Cliff Path stopped for a natter. Once they moved on a seagull settled on a rock opposite me, so I said good morning. Oh, and the local Bum – the one we always spot talking to his Secret Friend? Well, he came by as well.…. Until finally, much later, Colin thought it a good idea to check on the locksmith. Now how does one put that into a CV?

My eclectic friends over the years served a purpose. With their help, I have enjoyed experiences, places, events, trivia, and free education I would never have imagined for myself. I have been exposed to a life I never imagined. Experiences I would never have had. I have travelled to places few other people have been to. Along the way, I met my other half, the one who makes me whole again, even when he plays truant and talks to seagulls. All this is the essence that in the end gives one stories to tell. But, before I realized how charmed my life was indeed, I had to get past, what I could not get over. This too served a purpose. It has helped me to become a better version of myself. Now unlike you-know-who, I do enjoy talking to people. The universe gifted me the ability to find rapport with people. This in turn took me down a path where I could apply this gift in helping others. Some years ago, I got involved in Trauma Counseling. It is one of my passions. Now, being a new girl in town, one must be careful not to step on toes or to scare the locals, and so, I have kept some of my talents to myself. That was until two weeks ago, when by chance one thing led to another, and now I can concur with Colin: Remember why we are doing this and realise how privileged we are to be doing this.

You see, for the past two years I have wondered, at what point does one become “local”? Does it happen when you give up on your hairstyle, the one that gets swept away by the wind? Does it happen when you start to chat up seagulls? Now I know. You become a local when you reach that point of knowing that you are now grounded enough, to be able to extend some of your being into reaching others. That moment, when like Cher, you can skip along and shout to the world: I am strong enough! You want the rest of the song? Not today. Go find it wherever you go to listen to music.

And know that you too can get past what you cannot get over. Occasionally, with a little help from a Trauma Councilor.