We can’t control every aspect of our lives. This is one of the most difficult truths for me to face. I want to be in control of everything that happens to me, but it’s only driving me insane.

My life was out of control for many years, and it made me feel helpless and worthless. It makes me wonder if my need for control was the reason for my hardships. We hold on to things and people, but it’s futile. Planning your life doesn’t always work out, and the hardest part for me was accepting it.

Even though I meditate and try to calm myself down, I fear losing control. This must be one of the lessons my soul has to learn. To let go and allow life to happen in its own time. Not the way I want, but the best way the Universe knows will benefit me.

I know in my heart it’s only an illusion of control, and that I have no power over my destiny. That thought terrifies me, because then I have to face the fact that tragedy can knock on my door again. Just because I’ve been through hell several times in my life, doesn’t mean it won’t happen again in the future.

The idea of letting go and knowing that everything happens for the best is terrifying. What if it’s not what I desperately want? What if everything goes terribly wrong and life becomes unbearable? What if the choices I’ve made will be the reason everything falls apart?

Life is unpredictable and always will be. The only thing I can control is my crazy mind. Instead of letting my mind go mad with thoughts of what could go wrong, I should focus on everything that could go right.

If my dreams are not supposed to happen, it is all for a reason. Even if I can’t see it now, I will realize the reasons later. God willing, I will accept my fate. I have never been in control, and I never will be.

The key to control is not in controlling external events, but in controlling your own mind.

– Epictetus

This quote will be my mantra from now on. I am the master of my own mind, and it’s in my power to control my thoughts, not the events that happen.

Namaste

I can’t have paid subscribers in South Africa, but you can support me when you

Buy me a cup of coffee

Please be advised that this piece is deeply disturbing.

The day after my son Emile’s body was found in a weeping willow tree, where he died by suicide the previous night, I had to identify his body at the state morgue.

I was contacted on the day he was found, by the Organ Donor Foundation in South Africa to donate his eyes, heart valves, and bone marrow. I immediately said yes. Little did I know that it would all take a horrifying turn. They promised me that his eyes would be replaced with prostheses and we wouldn’t notice the difference.

When they showed me his body that morning to identify, my body ran cold with shock. He looked like a hundred-year-old man with sunken eyes. It was like a scene from a horror film. I became completely hysterical with madness. This was not my beautiful son, not this strange alien creature. That horrific sight stayed with me for the longest time. The Organ Donor medical staff lied to me. They butchered him and left it for me to see. They did not replace his eyes with anything.

When someone dies by accident or murder, in South Africa, their body is kept at the government morgue. At the time Emile’s body was there, they had power outages, and his body started decomposing. On the day of his funeral, one of our friends suggested we not view the body. He saw my son in the casket and urged us to keep it closed.

After the service, the funeral director assured me that he looked beautiful. I asked him to open it and give me time alone with my son. That was the worst thing I could have done. He still had sunken eyes, and a maggot crawled out of his mouth. I lost control of myself and started screaming in horror. What in God’s name did he think?! That was the third worst day after his body was found hanging in the weeping willow tree. I had months of no sleep, because that disturbing image of my beautiful son caused me to have recurring nightmares.

The trauma of that affected my mental health profoundly, and I suffered from dissociation. I had trauma counselling to overcome the shock. I also contacted the investigating officer at the Police to see my son’s case of death. The report included a photo of him lying under the tree. I took a photo of it, because he looked nothing like he did at the morgue or on the day of the funeral. I needed to replace that disturbing memory of him. It looked as if he was asleep, and that helped me get over the horrifying scene that drove me insane for months.

I contacted them when my sanity returned, but they couldn’t explain to me why this happened. My organs were going to be donated, but I decided against it. I don’t want my son to go through the hell I did.

This is not to say that anyone should not donate their organs. A letter from the organization informed me that both his corneas, heart valves, and bone marrow were used to help patients improve their lives. This also helped me make peace with those horrifying events after his death.

Namaste

Please buy me a cup of coffee

― Emily Dickinson

Words become magical
When strung together 
They have the power to create
And painfully destroy

When artfully placed
It can create a brilliant 
New landscape of emotions
Never before explored

Words are spells cast
That capture and enchant
Mesmerize fertile imaginations
Catapult us into other worlds

They can move the spirit
Alter the perception
Of the state of being 
Reveal secrets of the soul

Words can create euphoria
And deep longing
As well as agony 
And soul-destroying suffering

They have the power
To heal and restore
May we always choose
To create with beauty

Please buy me a coffee

The future calls from the cracks
Of yesterday’s yearning
Freedom beckons from afar
Across the ocean await my wings

Patience evades me
Time becomes molasses
Dragging on for eternity
Stuck in a forever waiting game

Escape the prison of now
Break the bonds that hold me
The past is dead and gone
Life calls from the future

I threw my wishes out into the Universe
Like brightly colored kites
Waiting to see what it will bring back
A new love, a new life, a new country

Floating away into the blue skies
They carry my dreams on the wind
Pieces of my soul and heart
Sealed with a precious drop of blood

I beg the Goddesses hear my cries
Feel the pull of my aching heart
Grant my wishes with mercy
So mote it be

Please buy me a cup of luck

I miss my crazy diamonds!

Namaste.

My heart hammers in my chest
Bone-chilling dread floods my body
My lungs are constricted
I’m dying

A god-awful terror wells up
The danger is inside me
Exposed to an invisible threat
Nowhere to hide

Like a sinuous snake
Death crawled through
My vulnerable walls
Madness its companion

Sanity is slipping away
Thoughts of escape racing
Away from the horror
The enemy in my mind

Imagination running rampant
Creating senseless havoc
A frenzy of hysteria
With paralyzing angst

Paid subscribers are disabled in my country, instead, you can

Buy me a cup of coffee

Breathe in

Breathe out

I hear voices

Far away

No sense is forming

Fading away…

My heartbeat slowing

Slowing…

My body melting

Into the cosmos

I don’t hear voices

Now…

Silence

The blood

In my veins

Sluggish

I’m fading

No more dreams

No more…

Nothing

Heart beats

The only connection

To this body

Breathe in

Breathe out…

I can’t have paid subscribers in South Africa

But you are welcome to

Buy me a coffee

The road is dark and treacherous, and danger lurks everywhere. You are tired and terrified, stumbling along with no hope. You feel your feet slip on wet stones and your hands fly around to find purchase. Suddenly, you feel arms hold you upright. A thorn snags on our clothes and you feel the hysteria well up in your being. Soft hands loosen the snare, and you sigh in relief. A snarl comes from the foliage, and a horrible mangled face appears with bloody fangs exposed.

A shriek escapes your mouth, but the unseen hands push the monster back into the darkness. Soft whispers in your ear soothingly encourage you to move forward. “You are not alone, we are with you to protect you”. Suddenly, a golden light appears in the distance. You feel dread and hope in equal measure well up inside your torn heart. “We will reach the light, do not despair”, the words fill your mind. You wonder if you will make it to the light, so much darkness and pain surround you right now. You near the light while trying to walk without falling on the uneven path.

It seems so far to go, and you feel the helplessness enter your mind again. “Keep going,” the whispers urge you, “it is not far to go now.” Your foot hooks on a root and you feel your body pitch forward, but hands are there to stop your fall. The golden light brightens and, for a moment, hope soars in your heart. Your mind tells you it is just an illusion, like all other hopes that died in you. “Don’t give up, it is not far to go now,” the soothing voice tells you. Hope starts to well inside you and you walk faster, determined to make it. The light is right in front of you, and you can hear voices sing and praise the Universe.

The songs fill you with longing and wonder. As if you have taken a huge leap, you are in the light. The soft golden love of it enters your soul, mind, and body. You feel glorious acceptance and joy, and your face opens in a smile. You look around for the presence that brought you here but everyone is around you now. Angels with beautiful snow-white wings enfold you and chant the song of love. Your heart wants to burst with the love and joy you feel. The Spirit that is All is here and you are safe now. Peace has entered your mind and you know you are not alone.

The angels are around and guide you on your path. You know you will have to go back to reality, but for the moment, you wallow in the beauty of the moment. Never again will you feel alone and unloved, you know the place that awaits you and the guardians who safeguard your every step in life. The Great Spirit of creation will never leave you alone to suffer, no matter what your mind tells you. This life is but a moment to endure before eternity. The love, peace, and joy of the Universe await you at the end.

Namaste

I can’t have paid subscribers in South Africa, but instead, you can

buy me a cup of coffee

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

Emily Dickinson

I lost myself in the darkness
On a moonless night
Trying to outrun the pain

I stumbled through a dense forest
Hands out in the black night
Missing from my own life

I wandered off into hell
Without coherent thought
A soul forgotten by God

Nobody turned out to search 
Not knowing I was lost
My body performed as usual

Lanterns held high 
I roamed my nightmare
Searching for my beloved soul

I found her in the darkness
Wrapped her tight in my arms
Took her home to heal

Please buy me a cup of coffee

Subscribe now

I want you so bad
Longing fills my being
Every desperate breath
Every racing heartbeat
Every atom of my body
Yearns for your presence

I want to feel the contours 
Of your face with my fingertips
Hear your voice call out my name
Husky with emotions

I need you so bad
To lose myself 
In the madness of love
If only for a moment
Only for a second
Let go of all inhibitions
Forget myself in your arms

You are unknown to me
I long to know your fears
Your impossible dreams
The roads you traveled
That broke you wide open

I want you so bad
Every feverish breath
Every soft flutter of my heart
Every vibrating atom of my being
Please find me…

Please support me with a cup of coffee

“Most people think that their memory operates like a video recorder, replaying events as they originally happened. But memories aren’t static and objective like a recording. Instead, they’re associative: our brains link together the relevant details of experiences to store and later recall.”

Erin Kendall Braun ’09GS, ’18GSAS, a cognitive neuroscientist and memory expert with a PhD in psychology, was interviewed by Julia Joy for Columbia Magazine, Why You Can’t Always Trust Your Memory, published 2025/2026. Why you can't always trust your memory

This reminded me of a drawing my son, Emile, made. I wanted to do a post about the disturbing images in his art book. I went through everything, and can’t find it. That made me wonder if my memory of it is real. Did I really see it, or did I imagine it? Emile died by hanging himself in a weeping willow tree next to a little stream. The picture I remember is a strange little creature with a noose around its neck. All the other drawings are still in his art book, the way I remember it, but not that one.

When I read this article by Julia Joy, I concluded that the way he died must have shaped that memory. Nobody would have removed any of his art, so I must have made a mistake.

My cousin and I were caught in the crossfire of an armed robbery in our mall. Her recall of the events differs slightly from mine. I remember crawling on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. She remembers I stood in the middle of the store, laughing. They almost had to wrestle me to the floor, because I was frozen to the spot. The same event, but different memories of it.

I had a dream when I was 18 years old that I died in a car accident. At age 33, that really happened. I have no recollection of the accident, and I only remembered the dream after the accident. This makes me wonder if perhaps I remember the real event as a dream. The dream was precisely how the accident happened.

Now that I know I can’t trust my memories of events in my life, I wonder how many of them are false or distorted by other events.

Namaste

Please buy me a cup of coffee

Subscribe now

― Alan Wilson Watts

Madness wants to overtake me
Waiting in the dusty road 
Dreams died in this place
Arid and stripped of beauty

The devil rides my back 
Whispering warm breath
In the shell of my ear
When the skin peels away

Blood blooms in flowers
On the cracked, dry gravel
Giving life to the unconscious
It spouts from the dead

Words form in the beating wings
A cacophony of crazy voices
Created by the imagination
Fall on the receiving page

Emotions too profound to name
Race from neurons to neurons
Sending messages of unmet desire
The body responds in confusion

The insanity that’s in control of the pen
Exposes the racing thoughts
Every chosen word that cannot be named
Find its place in fragile poetry

Please buy me a cup of coffee

Subscribe now

Everybody knows
The masks are slipping
Evil is making a public appearance
It can’t be contained much longer

Everybody knows
They sold us out to the highest bidder
Power and greed play the leading role
In this farce they want us to believe

Everybody knows
Depravity dressed up as human
No crown can hide the grotesque 
Evil needs evil deeds

Everybody knows
We’ve been put under a spell
By their ritual incantations
Lies told and believed for centuries

Everybody knows 
Helel won’t be denied recognition
The obscene desires worship
Exposing the liars kneeling at his feet

Everybody knows
We are mesmerized by the debauchery
Their wicked ways slowly unveiled 
Mammon demands a sacrifice

Everybody knows
The fights are fixed, the outcomes rigged
The masks are slipping 
Everybody knows

Please buy me a coffee

Subscribe now

Make a crown of flowers
You're a queen, you know
Deserving of worship

Beautify your being 
With nature's abundance
A regal halo on your head

Colors of the cosmos 
To frame the masterpiece
The Universe created in you

Tender petals 
                   Fall like confetti
                                         From the crown
Of your head
                   Mother Nature adores you

Her sacred creation embodied
In every precious inch of you
Birthed from her holy womb

Braid a crown of flowers
For your cherished head

You're a queen, you know!




                                  

You can become a paying subscriber by buying me a monthly

cup of coffee

“No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell.”
― Carl Jung

When you’ve fallen into the abyss

Where the demons battle over your soul

Your mind obliterated by insanity

Almost welcoming death’s ultimate call

~~

Tortured by soul-destroying anguish

Stripped to your core with madness

Where nothing makes any sense

Reaching for the raging fires of hell

~~

That is where you will find your soul

Where the spiritual journey starts

When you have been laid bare

On the altar of consciousness

~~

When you realize the veil between

This world and the next is ephemeral

Heaven isn’t a place to strive for

But present with sacred doors wide open

Namaste

Please buy me a coffee

Subscribe now

Flames lick at my toes as they stretch towards the heat
Shadows move between the trees, playing hide-and-seek

I hear my heart beating in the stillness
Like an ancient rhythmic drum in tune with the night

An owl hoots from the dark woods
A lonesome sound accentuated by the quiet

I wish you were here on this autumn night
To bid the last warmth of summer farewell

As the sickle moon drifts across the sky
Ethereal clouds obscure its silver glow

Stars flicker in the dark-blue night sky
Like candles lit by celestial hands 

Your name emblazoned on my heart
Embedded in its chambers for infinity

Far-off lightning flashes across the sky
Distant thunder rumbles as sleep claims me

The scene, set for magical dreams 
Where you dance me to the end of time

buy me a monthly cup of coffee

Hope you enjoyed my photos!!

Namaste

The knowing of something unknown
That crawls through my thoughts
As if I’ve lived it before

My spirit holds truths
That is written on my bones
Knitted in my pulsing veins

Clarity in upside-down and
Inside-out moments 
Presence in the chaos

Feral ancient knowledge
Forms itself in darkness
Comes to unbearable light

My soul carries fragile wisdom
From the spirit world
Into my consciousness 

Secrets from the Cosmos
Engraved with stardust
Onto my beating heart

Unspoken truths 
Scrawled on my tender skin
With blood-red ink

Become a paid subscriber

Subscribe now

Christianity can really fuck us up. My father was an atheist, and when he died, I was terrified that he was in hell. I had crazy anxiety attacks because the thought of my papa burning in hell for all eternity drove me insane.

That’s how Christianity fucks us up. According to them, not many will go to heaven. After his death, I tried to commit suicide several times, and ended up in a mental asylum. The psychiatrist also thought I was crazy. He dosed me up on anti-psychotic medication. Thank God I survived that madness.

After my son died by suicide, I didn’t want to land up in a mental institution again. Every therapist or psychologist I visited had to answer one question. Did they think my son was in hell for taking his own life? If they answered that they didn’t know, I was out the door. I didn’t want to listen to a Christian judge him, while trying to help me.

During a Catholic silent retreat, I visited with the bishop for advice. He assured me that my son and father weren’t in hell or limbo or whatever they wanted me to believe. He was the only Christian whose God wasn’t vengeful.

When I was a child, I thought I was going to hell one day, because that’s what I was told. I even had a dream of Jesus coming to earth on a cloud and refused to take me with him. Can you imagine how indoctrinated I was, that I dreamt of Jesus coming to tell me I was too evil to go to heaven?

The Christian God is a vengeful, jealous, and crazy old white man. Sitting on his throne, judging all of us. I can’t worship that image. It goes against everything I know in my heart.

My spiritual path started when my son, Emile, died by suicide. All the hateful rhetoric by Christianity meant nothing to me. The pain of his death broke me wide open, and God touched my being with love. I started seeing everything completely different. Dewdrops on grass, the birds singing, sunrises and sunsets, lightning and thunder, were God speaking to me.

Churches are not my places of worship. The ocean, mountains, rivers, all of nature, are my cathedrals. Birdsong, my hymns of praise. God is not in my heart, I am in the heart of God. We aren’t going to hell, we are going to heaven. All of us, sinners, are loved.

Namaste

Please buy me a coffee

(Image artist Omalik)

“This is my letter to the world

That never wrote to me.”

― Emily Dickinson

You stood by when my life fell apart
You never said a word
You saw me struggling 
But you closed your doors

Judgement was all you could muster
You pointed your finger with glee
From your throne of righteousness
Altruism is only practiced in church

First, do no harm
With drugs you dish out like candy
“Just take your medication”
While my life spiraled out of control

Death walked me home several times
Patiently wiping my tears 
Not yet, not yet
A few more lessons to learn

Mother Nature healed my destruction
When you turned away in disgust
Touching my soul with sacred love
Empathy and unconditional acceptance

I only feel pity for you now
Ignorant as you are of mercy
I pray you never walk in my shoes
And need that mercy from others

Namaste

Please buy me a cup of coffee

Subscribe now