Musings Podcast

This Is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection begins with a grave and ends with refusal.I was invited to give this lecture by the lovely Prof Nick J Fox of the BSA New Materialisms Study Group, in collaboration with the BSA Death, Dying and Bereavement Study Group, and the Centre for Sociodigital Futures at Bristol University, with very special thanks to my fairy godmother Debbie Watson. Let’s explore grief not as pathology, but as a methodology. A way of knowing-with the dead, the land, and the more-than-human world.Thanks for reading Musings! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.Through Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese’s haunting 2019 film, I trace how African cosmologies, New Materialisms, and somatic practice converge to form what I call a Zombie Methodology — an embodied, relational, affective response to collapse.Mantoa, the film’s 80-year-old protagonist, prepares for death only to discover her village will be drowned by a dam. The graves of her ancestors, the umbilical cords buried in the soil, memory of kinship… all face erasure. Her grief becomes a form of governance, a refusal to let the living or the dead be dispossessed.In Sesotho thought, seriti is the life-force, the invisible vitality that connects humans, minerals, ancestors, and soil in vibrational coexistence. As Mary Twala’s luminous performance reminds us, grief is not inert. It is a somatic relation. A threshold between body and world.Drawing on thinkers such as Nina Lykke, Sophie Strand, and Bayo Akomolafe, I explore grief as vibrant, composting, generative. It opens the secure and the settled, inviting us to live-with ruin rather than rush toward repair.As Akomolafe writes, “Grief is generative. She opens up things that were once bound up and secure… and therefore facilitates change.”This lecture sits within a larger research project on African cinema, new materialisms, and Indigenous epistemologies. Together, they suggest that mourning can be a method, one that resists the “god of progress,” honours the dead as active matter, and reworlds from the ruins.Please join the upcoming workshop (27 Oct, 4pm SAST, online). Free but registration required. If this resonated, share it or leave a reflection below. Your grief and your body is an archive. Together, we might compost something new.Thanks for reading Musings! This post is public so feel free to share it.PS If this tickles your fancy come along to a scintillating discussion on Afropositivism and Digital Culture at Woordfees, Thursday 16 October at 9:30am. Free, so just rock up at the lovely Oude Leeskamer in Stellenbosch. I’m also very delighted to be part of this Afro-presentist Assembly on Tuesday 28 October at 1pm… rsvp to graduateschool@sun.ac.za — Free, online and irl … with lunch… who said there’s no such thing as a free lunch? And let’s not forget a chance to hang out with the tremendously cool contributors of Burning Down the House at the Book Lounge Book Club on Wednesday 29 October at 5:30pm.See you there! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

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'DonohueWhere 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 WoolfIn 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 AngelouYemaya 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 YemayaA 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 — HeraclitusTogether 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-RumiWe practiced Qi Gong beneath the shade of a Jackalberry and meditated on an ancient koppie. We listened deeply to one another and to the natural world.Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day — A.A. MilneOur art making and game drives, our gentle yoga practices and song circles, all brought us deeper into peaceful presence. Water is fluid, soft and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong – Lao TzuWe ate the most delicious vegan cuisine, and were treated with the utmost kindness by our hosts. Darling Sadia gifted us a boogie beneath the stars. And her gorgeous girls. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire— Jorge Luis Borges By the time my family came to collect me I was deeply surrendered to Bush time. The heat was quite a force to contend with, indeed it demanded full surrender. We spent a week travelling through Kruger appreciating the Little Five (or more) as much as the lions with their giraffe kill, the packs of frisky wild dogs and hippos groaning in the scorching midday sun. When it’s 48 degrees the requirement is slowing down. May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children — Rainer Maria RilkeOur next stop was Golden Gate National Park where we sat in ancient caves and enjoyed the coolth of thunderstorms and more than one night in just one place. We met up with my parents in Nieu-Bethesda and soaked up that particular dusty charm before our family Christmas in Plettenberg Bay. Said the river: imagine everything you can imagine, then keep on going— Mary OliverA new year is upon us. Last week we honoured my dear grandpa’s birthday, four years since he departed and I felt his shadow fall on me in the Karoo. And my gran’s last breath just yesterday. The fires rage in my erstwhile home of California, but here in the Cape things are relatively calm on the precipice of a new school year, my daughter’s last. I give thanks for moments of peaceful presence. May we allow all things to move through us. Deeply honouring our course as it unfolds. Take hold of your own life.See that the whole existence is celebrating.These trees are not serious, these birds are not serious.The rivers and the oceans are wild,and everywhere there is fun,everywhere there is joy and delight.Watch existence,listen to the existence and become part of it.— OshoYou can join me for Qi Gong on the Noordhoek Common in Cape Town Saturdays at 8:30am. Any donations will go to a local charity, since I offer this as community sewa (selfless service). We can rotate monthly through the local NPOs who offer so much to so many. Starting with Masicorp who are busy equipping children for the new school year. Human beings are made of water–-we were not designedto hold ourselves togetherrather run freelylike oceanslike rivers— Beau TaplinThanks for reading Musings! This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

The Long & Winding Road Back to Ourselves2024 kicked my butt. Not gonna lie, it felt relentless. There were plenty of personal struggles and who can deny that the global scene — political & environmental — has felt particularly fraught. I arrived with some trepidation at the Buddhist Retreat Centre via ‘a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it’ (Alan Paton’s Cry the Beloved Country). What would happen when I stepped off the mad mad merry-go-round? Thanks for reading Musings! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.The first time I visited the BRC, 13 years ago, my children were little and my parents were living in Umdloti on the North Coast of tropical Kwa-Zulu Natal. Just about every holiday growing up we spent in neighbouring Umhlanga. My grandparents had a wonderful holiday home and our Christmases were made so special by them and their unmatched hospitality. So I left my little ones with my parents and borrowed my mom’s car to give myself three days self-retreat at the famed BRC, voted top amongst the world’s best retreats, and rightly so. It is also one of the few places in South Africa that truly runs on Buddhist principles. Those three days were important, but not necessarily easy. I hiked a lot, something I missed as a mother of small children, and made some peace with my new reality. Give up to grace. The ocean takes care of each wave 'til it gets to shore. You need more help than you know — Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-RumiAs a visiting teacher, the generosity shown by the BRC knows no bounds. This, my third time facilitating there, I was gifted 10 days to slowly allow my knots to untangle themselves and my mind to become more tranquil. As I gazed at the mist rolling in, basked in the sun, watched the darling troop of monkeys doting on their batch of tiny babies, listened to the birdsong, relished the delicious food, my days started to feel measured, my nervous system began to simmer down. I do not understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us — Anne LamottEvery morning I woke with the dawn chorus around 5. Then enjoyed a walking meditation in the lovely labyrinth, followed by a sit in the zendo. You can have the other words — chance, luck, coincidence, serendipity. I'll take grace. I don't know what it is exactly, but I'll take it — Mary OliverBreakfast brought fruit salad and the world’s most delicious chai along with porridges and cooked goodies served with the mouth watering farm baked breads. The kitchen fairies are tremendously skilled and clearly love their work. All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful. — Flannery O'ConnorMeditation MedicineMy days were spent practicing yoga, qi gong, hiking, reading beneath a tree and meditating, which comes from the same Latin root word (medeor) as medication meaning ‘to heal or to make whole.’ Meditation triggers a self-repair mechanism in our bodies — studies show cortisol and adrenalin production slows while endorphins and serotonin increase. Meditation beside the dam, strolling the rolling hills, circumnambulating the stupa, walking from one sacred site to the next on this blessed land, often while chanting mantras, helped me leave behind a whole helluva lot of mind clutter. There have been times when I've been so angry or so hurt that I thought my love would never recover. And then, in the midst of near despair, something has happened beneath the surface. A bright little flashing fish of hope has flicked silver fins and the water is bright and suddenly I am returned to a state of love again — till next time. I've learned that there will always be a next time, and that I will submerge in darkness and misery, but that I won't stay submerged. And each time something has been learned under the waters; something has been gained; and a new kind of love has grown. The best I can ask for is that this love, which has been built on countless failures, will continue to grow. I can say no more than that this is mystery, and gift, and that somehow or other, through grace, our failures can be redeemed and blessed.— Madeleine L'EngleAll of life is a meditation, in that it calls us to pay attention. In curious mindfulness we find our playful connection to Life itself.I hiked out to a waterfall the one day and then up to a village where I met friendly children and grannies hard at work in their kitchen gardens. I met the founding mamas of Woza Moya, created by the BRC in 2000 to provide the local community with support. I simply adore their sock monkeys of which we have a little family that grows every time I visit. Last year’s retreat on Joy had a bright pink monkey sporting a wild afro as mascot and this year we welcome Grace into the fold. The RetreatAs humans we live here amongst the ‘family of things,’ yet somehow separate. This illusion of separation the Tibetan Buddhists term Maha Bekandze – the Great Suffering.The Peace of Wild ThingsWhen despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. — Wendell BerryWhen you make a pilgrimage, which is what coming to the BRC entails, it requires that you give yourself the gift of REALLY being present. I turned my phone to airplane mode and within 24 hours my monkey mind had quietened significantly. The invitation is to do less, to slow down…all our habitual ways of doing doing doing…and invite in more presence. Mindfully walk, brush your teeth, eat, speak (probably the most challenging).In pairs we shared the quotes on Grace you find littered throughout this piece and tied a white thread around our partner’s wrist in the Thai Buddhist tradition of Sai Sin, as a mindfulness reminder. Then took to our journals, ever a kind listening ear. Why am I afraid to dance,I who love music and rhythm and grace and song and laughter?Why am I afraid to live,I who love life and the beauty of flesh and the living colors of the earth and sky and sea?Why am I afraid to love,I who love love?— Eugene O'NeillJournal prompt: I am afraid to… because…The most common form of despair is not being who you are — Soren Kierkegaard Journal prompt: Who am I? The Medicine Buddha Mantra Mantra helps soothe and focus the anxious mind. This particular one is for clearing negativity and helping us heal. Since I first did the Medicine Buddha puja with dearest Lindi, South Africa’s OG sound medicine mama, at Kagyu Samye Dzong while grieving the loss of my grandparents (and so much else) during the Covid pandemic, it has proven a balm. TAYATA — ‘like this’ — carried beyond samsara & nirvana, samsara meaning ‘wandering’ or ‘world,’ meaning the cycles of birth and death, the suffering caused by karma that ends in nirvana when we gain insight into impermanence OM BEKADZE BEKADZE. MAHA BEKADZE BEKADZE — Bekandze means ‘the elimination of suffering’ and is repeated three times for the removal of suffering on the physical, emotional and Maha Bekandze, the great suffering, which stems from the illusion of separationRADZA (Divine King) SAMUNGATE (wisdom as wide as the ocean) SOHA (so be it/ pure devotion & intention from which all manifestation arises)The Medicine Buddha Mantra comes from the Mahayana Buddhist tradition. For more on the different schools of Buddhism here’s a lovely article in Tricycle Magazine. If you like, you can visualize Medicine Buddha sitting, looking at you. He is depicted as having a dark blue (lapis lazuli) body, this being an archetypal color of healing. It also happens to be my lifelong favourite. With his left hand he holds a bowl of healing amrita, purported to be produced by the body during deep states of meditation. With his right a medicine plant called myrobalan. In your visualization, he is at about the height of your forehead, a few feet in front of you, gazing at you with so much love. Buddha (the Awakened One) is everything beautiful gathered into one.We had Deva Premal and the Gyuto Monks support us in chanting 108 rounds of the mantra. Gyuto was founded in 1475 and is one of the main tantric colleges of the Gelug tradition. In Tibet, monks who had completed their geshe studies would be invited to join Gyuto to receive a firm grounding in vajrayana practice. These monasteries used to be in Lhasa, Tibet, but they have been re-established in Dharamsala, India. Today, there are nearly 500 monks in the entire order. The Gyuto monks are known for their tradition of overtone singing, also described as chordal chanting.Grace means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you — Frederick BuechnerWhy 108?According to Vedic teachings, there are 108 nadi or lines of energy that extend from the heart to the rest of the body. Each repetition is of a mantra is said to flow along one of these lines.Although there are some differences in how the Sanskrit language is standardized, many experts say there are 54 fundamental letters. Each of these letters have a masculine and a feminine component, bringing the total to 108.The letters of the Sanskrit alphabet are said to correspond to the petals on the lower six chakras. Reciting the Medicine Buddha mantra 108 times would stimulate each of the petals for these chakras: root chakra, sacral chakra, solar plexus chakra, heart chakra, throat chakra, third eye chakra.The number 108 is also said to have astronomical significance. For example, the average distance

My friend Stella Viljoen and I co-teach a very cool Honours seminar on Visual Intimacy at Stellenbosch University. The gorgeous exhibition she curated with our dreamy colleague Ernst Van der Wal for The Slow Intimacy Conference in 2022 was an outgrowth of that work. Thanks for reading Musings! Subscribe for free.As part of the exhibition I chose to interview Ghanaian filmmaker Nuotama Bodomo. I’ve been teaching her Afronauts to my first year students for the past 5 years and feel deeply indebted to her visionary work. Recently my colleague-supervisor Lize and I were chatting about Afrofuturism and I remembered this conversation with Nuotama. Then her latest film collab with Solange Knowles popped up on my Insta feed yesterday. So I cheekily asked her if I could share our interview and she immediately agreed, because that’s how generous she is. I love that this new piece is interested in exactly what I’m writing on for the ol’ PhD (the reason I’ve been a bit quiet on this platform)— object oriented ontology. It’s just been one synchronicity after the next of late. And I’m alllll about that. I want to thank Adriaan de la Rey who filmed and edited the interviews for the exhibition. Through the process we became good friends. While he was briefly visiting from Zambia earlier this year, he jumped in and covered a seminar on documentary for me when I had to dash to my dad’s hospital bed. His work is so beautiful. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

I only learned her age after her death. And I only learned of her death last night. Hella was not a fan of ageism and certainly never let her growing blindness and unsteadiness in the wake of a stroke and a whole heap of years (almost 80 of them, shhh, don’t tell her I told you) get in the way of adventuring. I’ve been missing my dear friend a lot lately.https://charisselouw.substack.com/p/3aaaf433-cfcc-4e69-8209-537b74a8add6(Thanks for reading Musings! Subscribe for free)The last time we spoke was in December when she dropped a tantalizing invitation. Have a listen and please let me know if you have any idea who this Moroccan Sufi Mystic might be. You can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be making a pilgrimage for Hella at the soonest opportunity.We met at the beginning of April 2021 at Medicine Buddha puja, held every month at the Tibetan Buddhist centre here in Cape Town by my beloved Medicine Buddha Mama, Lindi. In the sharing circle Hella mentioned that she was delighted to be there as a longtime Zen practitioner who hadn’t managed to find a Zen sanga in the Mother City. I whispered in her ear at tea time that I belonged to just what she was looking for…and so began our honeymoon.We met just about every weekend after that. She offered me Alexander Technique in return for my lifts to Zen practice. Her knowing hands were just what my sad body needed. I was grieving the loss of too many people. Four friends had just been felled by Cancer and my grandparents passed at the height of the second wave of the Covid pandemic in December 2020.You’ll hear her speak of a Congress that she’d attended in Germany a year or so ago. This was her wonderful quest to always deepen her practice. She made documentaries about Alexander Technique, the San (she grew up in Angola and visited her beloved Namibia often) and recorded her experience sitting sesshin with Sekkei Harada Roshi, abbot of a Soto Zen monastery in Fukui Prefecture, Japan.Hella’s sharp mind and great enthusiasm for life was just the tonic I needed. She had studied widely and had degrees from several universities (BA from UCT in Philosophy, Library Science at Stellenbosch University, in Munich a MA in Art History and German followed by years of teaching) but was more interested in the wisdom of the body, in travel and her art practice.Our paths were intertwined. She injected me with some hope about how to forge ahead in this sea of troubles. She generously introduced me to her people and really touched my heart by inviting me to her birthday luncheon just a month after meeting.During my long lonely trek over the Himalayas she offered a warm regard via voice note that I sorely appreciated. When I couldn’t reach her this year I thought that it might just be that she was in a farflung spot. Besides, she had messaged me from Berlin, the Arctic circle, Greece and then planted the seed of a quest to Morocco in her last words to me. But on her birthday last month, after I failed to reach her by any means, I began to fear that she was no longer within telecommunicative range. Last night a google search pulled up that thing you hope never to see, her obituary.Hella graced quite a few of my circles and retreats and I know that all who met her, lay on her therapy table, sat Zen with her, will miss her dearly. She never married or had children, but they say friends are the family you choose and I really do feel that dear Hella is that. A soul sister.It seems she may have died in Germany on the day we experienced magnificent bioluminscence here. After a day of Song Church and Sound Medicine with my friend Ames (who is half my age), I found myself splashing in the mysterious waters on Muizenberg beach. Laughing, growing quiet. Ever since I read Lord of the Flies as a young teen, I have associated bioluminescence with the death of sweet Simon. This scene had me sobbing on my green Girls High uniform in my bedroom.Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness….Somewhere over the darkened curve of the world the sun and moon were pulling; and the film of water on the earth planet was held, bulging slightly on one side while the solid core turned. The great wave of the tide moved further along the island and the water lifted. Softly, surrounded by a fringe of inquisitive bright creatures, itself a silver shape beneath the steadfast constellations, Simon's dead body moved out towards the open sea.― William Golding, Lord of the FliesI would say rest in peace, but knowing Hella, she is exploring the furthest reaches of whatever unfathomable energetic space-time-mattering is unfolding. She touched so many lives with her vivacious inquisitive energy. Thank you Hella for your example of how to be truly alive.Thank you for reading Musings. This post is public so feel free to share it. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

The first time I met Izzy she was a 15 year old student of mine at Imhoff Waldorf High School and reading one of the classics…for fun! In other words, not your average tenth grader, but exactly the bookish creative soul that I was at that age. We went on to have oh so many adventures together — trekking in the mountains, grabbing all the accolades on stage, navigating the rich waters of the Waldorf Main Lessons together. After graduation she was a regular at my Flow circles. And those early days of moving, meditating and making together are probably my favourite memories of my entire life. The tremendous healing that took place in those intimate sessions are very dear to my heart. Our Izzy moved to England, studied Eurythmy (this was Izzy’s Grade 11 Eurythmy performance as choreographed by Sandise Richie Lingani Ngxumsa).……met a guy and came home for a last hoorah before becoming an exceptional mom. Getting to meet my godstar Juno and his lil bro Judah this last December was a life-light. So grateful for this precious time together. Gallery hopping wasn’t quite as seamless as in the past, but what fun we had! Artists like Izzy help me feel happier about being alive. Or as Wendy Cope puts it in The Orange: The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all the jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I’m glad I exist.If you prefer listening to your podcasts, rather than watching them (as I most certainly do) they are available on all platforms. Your subscribing, rating, sharing is greatly appreciated. SpotifyAppleYoutube & Pocketcast too. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

Chelsea and I met at the Burning Down the House Symposium at the beginning of April. It was love at first Feminist New Materialist quote. To be fair, she wasn’t just poetically patching others insights together, but very much embodying the ethos of this avenue of inquiry most eloquently. A dream of an afternoon followed where I had the tremendous pleasure of introducing my supervisor/colleague/soulmate to the enchanting Chelsea…it was, of course, a match made in heaven. Quite literally…the Dylan Lewis Sculpture Garden is an actual heaven on Earth. Chelsea is no stranger to the podcast milieu and you can let yourself be soothed by her dulcet tones at Tea Cake and the Cosmos.This podcast is available on all platforms. Your subscribing, rating, sharing is greatly appreciated. SpotifyAppleYoutube & Pocketcast too. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

This beautiful soul and I walked together in the mountains behind my home a year ago. Rakhee has blessed my life ever since with her generosity. We get together to discuss the student uprisings in America after discovering that we were both studying at NYU at the same time…a different time, but also a time of war. Some of the protest action sweeping across America at this moment as shared by Rakhee on her Instagram: We wrangle with how to participate in the struggle for a more peaceful planet. After I stopped recording, Rakhee suggested that we regard mindful resistance as a relay race — rest when we need to, trust one another to keep the flame of hope alive, with our awareness ever attuned to the greater good. We agreed that speaking vulnerably about how horrified we are by the devastation unfolding and how difficult it is to know how to navigate these waters, was very helpful. We hope you find it so. I am constantly moved by the graciousness of those who help walk us home. Rakhee, thank you. Since we discuss the Tik Tok ban — here’s a lil vid I made on that app of us frolicking in our mountains, but if you prefer your Evil Empire Americ(t)a flavoured…here it is on Facebook. Last but not least, the Carl Sagan meditation Rakhee mentions:If you prefer listening to your podcasts, rather than watching them (as I most certainly do) they are available on all platforms. Your subscribing, rating, sharing is greatly appreciated. SpotifyAppleYoutube & Pocketcast too. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

I have an impromptu chat with embodied ray of sunshine Lili who is a skateboarding, crochet kween…and also a physicist in the making. Because apparently you can do it all! Our small talk looks a little like this, when in our natural habitat, Noordhoek beach:As usual our conversation roamed into the metaphysical. Thank you for allowing your bday brunch to be hijacked and for engaging in the unknown with such openhearted gusto. Love you Lili. If you prefer listening to your podcasts, rather than watching them (as I most certainly do) they are available on all platforms. Your subscribing, rating, sharing is greatly appreciated. SpotifyAppleYoutube & Pocketcast too. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

I have a lifelong friend. This is not something I take for granted. We were both born into devout Mormon families in Pretoria and were besties from the get-go. Both great lovers of the performing arts, we loved the stage and went on to teach, Natalie in Dance and me Drama. Then as teenagers we were split up when she moved to Ecuador. We were later reunited when I studied at Brigham Young University in Provo Utah. One of my most precious memories is of how I had but one tragic potato left on my shared kitchen shelf in smelly student housing. I was feeling desperately out of place in this new culture and waiting on my first paycheck from my legally allowed minimum wage 20 hour a week on-campus job, sucking the revolting food waste from the University cafeteria drains. I wasn’t sure where my next meal would come from and was too proud to ask anyone for help. I came limping home from another endless night shift to discover two fresh baked loaves sitting on my kitchen table with a little note from Natty who was then working at a local bakery. I sat down in the morning light and wept. My friend had my back. She didn’t know, but she knew. Isn’t that friendship in a nutshell? When I was pursuing my graduate studies at New York University she came to stay and we got to meet up one last time in person in Washington DC where she was house sitting for her eldest sister and I fell in love with her firstborn Byron, who is now 23. It is midlife that has brought us back together with almost daily conversations that are honest and helpful. We value our love so much that we wanted to share it with you. If you prefer listening to your podcasts rather than watching them, as I most certainly do, they are available on all platforms. Your subscribing, rating, sharing is greatly appreciated. SpotifyAppleYoutube & Pocketcast too. I hope you enjoy our chat. We did. And if you are keen to have a little natter with me on Musings, please just let me know. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

I had a meeting with my brilliant student Shakeelah Ismail this morning. She had given a(nother) presentation that blew me away at our Burning Down the House Symposium earlier this month and I wanted her to teach me her ways. In the end we spoke about so much more than that. This is a snippet of her impromptu wisdom for the benefit of us all. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com

I tried to start a podcast (again) at the beginning of the year. It’s now 4 months later and my bestie from childhood is egging me on. So here’s Take 1 from the first week of what has turned out to be a proper shitshow of a year (Is it the Dragon? Eclipse? Late Capitalism? or simply Life…specifically the middle passage…?) The idea is to engage in friendly conversation with my lovelies about how the hell they keep on keeping on in the face of the madness. There may be a few soliloquies, because who doesn’t love a ruminater (don’t answer that!). I’m hoping it will help. The people I love are VITAL, they are really living. So let’s let them inspire us, shall we? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit charisselouw.substack.com