That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger

“A great disaster is a symbol to us to remember all the big things of life and forget the small things, of which we have thought too much.” Jawaharlal Nehru

At this time, the C-word is everywhere: dominating all headlines, leading television newscasts, in conversations both intra-personal or digital so the corona virus or the Covid-19 naturally makes up my motivational piece this week. As much as I avoid negative topics, I am forced to face the current one which is inflicting so much fear, panic and hysteria globally. 

As I write, the current world-wide statistics are: there are 168958 recorded cases and 6492 deaths but looking on the bright side, 76585 people have recovered and with more constraints put in place, we hope that that will help to “flatten the curve”.

The good ol’ fellow, Winston Churchill, reminds us that in challenging times we need to look outside the proverbial compass for solutions when he said in the aftermath of the Second World War: “Never let a good crisis go to waste”. The reality of the situation is that whilst we feared another World War to bring us to our knees, we are facing head-on the devastation of “microbes instant of missiles” as Bill Gates prophesied in 2015. 

Inasmuch the landscape has been clouded by this novel corona virus, there are a lot of good things to come out of it too. Around the world, the balconies of Assisi and Sicily are filled with song and dance as the Italians cope with their country’s lockdown, for the first time the once polluted air of Wuhan in China has cleared up to reveal blue skies, South Africa has latched on to another topic of complaint besides “load shedding” and closer to home in Australia toilet paper has assumed a new level of importance in the form of memes and a timely distraction from the recent droughts, floods and bushfires that have saturated the psyche of our country. 

Nationally, the government’s call for clampdowns on air travel, banning of large scale public gatherings, cancellations of concerts and sports fixtures and minimising visits to public places, there is an opportunity to reconnect to family. Rather than looking at the downside of “social distancing”, embrace the precious time to interact with family. For far too long, the hustle and bustle of work and school life have hardly left us with any time to converse, to learn more about each other or to spend time harmoniously creating treasured moments through games, hobbies, crafts or cooking. Maybe there will be such an overload of time that we may indeed get tired of our devices and spend more time with family like in the good old days when life was so simple. Most importantly, there is nothing like a nasty virus to reinforce practices of good hygiene in the home. 

Within our community the so-called enemy virus has set in motion changes that we hope will continue long after this dreaded disease has died down. Concerned citizens in Facebook groups are offering help to the elderly to assist them with their shopping, generous people are sharing their consumables even though they don’t have too many rolls, bottles or tubes themselves, people in the know like health professionals, technology experts and education professionals are putting out important information for families to cope with this new plague and religious organisations like temples, churches and mosques are stretching out their hands to help those that are most vulnerable to the virus. The most wonderful thing though is getting to know our neighbours in a more open and sincere way when hitherto we just nodded or waved in greeting. 

In our industrialised society, factories are closing down and decreasing the rate of carbon emissions, the roads are getting quieter and the air cleaner with travel kept to a bare minimum, new practices are being implemented at workplaces where the idea of working from home is proving to be more convenient, restaurants and takeaways may be losing business but the joys of good, wholesome home cooking has been resurrected, the economy is slowing down and will inevitably push some businesses to bankruptcy but with this a whole new window of opportunity is opened up with enterprising entrepreneurship and creative cottage industries. 

As individuals, this uninvited disruption to our daily lives has been so good to stop, listen and take time to self-reflect. It allows us to focus on the moment instead of racing ahead and paying attention to regular scheduling, work goals, must-meet deadlines and burning ambitions. By no means am I trivialising future aspirations but sometimes we seem to be so focussed with our eye on the summit that we fail to enjoy the joys the mountain roads avail us like the breath-taking vistas, the beautiful wild flowers or the clean, fresh mountain air. 

As unwelcome as the virus is, it reminds one that even in death, there can be the rebirth of love: to love your family by starting new conversations that will improve connections, respect and gratitude to your parents, long lost or ignored relatives and siblings who are often taken for granted, to love your community by offering help and much-needed support, to love your friends by looking out for them and using the time to nurture authentic relationships, to acknowledge the mighty presence of god and the enormous power of nature but above all to love yourself. 

Take time to open the windows of your soul to pamper, preen and pimp yourself in mind, body and soul so you emerge from this whole debilitating catastrophe with renewed vigour and vitality. 

Didn’t German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche eloquently stated: “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger”? I know full well that Kelly Clarkson’s lyric was inspired when her boyfriend at the time ditched her for another girl but with the new terminology like “social distancing”, “self isolation” and “flattening the curve”, this song could very well be the theme song for the corona virus so let’s end this post on a happy note and sing along if you know the tune:

You think you got the best of me

Think you had the last laugh

Bet you think that everything good is gone

Think you left me broken down

Think that I'd come running back

Baby you don't know me, 

'cause you're dead wrong

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller

Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

What doesn't kill you makes a fighter

Footsteps even lighter

Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger

Just me, myself and I

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller

Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone

So while our guest, the corona virus, is here, no handshakes, high fives or fist pumps, do it in the age-old tradition of the Indians: bringing the open palms together and saying Namasthe (meaning “I bow to you”). 

Namasthe, Folks!

“Just one slap?”

I am not a fan of Bollywood movies so when Ayesha Shahzad, who helps me manage my Kip centres, suggested that I accompany her to the movies last Saturday night with the invitation of “I think you will enjoy this movie because it is thought provoking”, I conceded rather glibly. I am glad I went to Australia Fair Event Cinemas to see the Hindi movie, “Thappad” (The Slap) which fortunately came with sub-titles as my knowledge of the Hindi language only goes as far as “Namasthe”. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie that was so anti-Bollywood style: no song and dance, no focus on hero-heroine relationship, no star-studded cast and no exotic locations. Thought provoking, it was indeed.

A montage of domestic bliss plays out in the lead couple’s affluent home with the daily morning ritual of Amrita, the wife, getting up to make the lemon grass and ginger chai for her husband, Vikram, and then dutifully bundling him off to work as he drives his Mercedes to his corporate job. In spite of being a highly educated woman and a talented classical dancer, Amrita chooses to be a domestic goddess selflessly serving her husband who incidentally starts off the movie as being quite an affable chap. He is loving towards his wife, caring to his diabetic mother and respectable to his in-laws. However, halfway through the movie, a pivotal moment occurs with Amrita on the receiving end of a thunderous slap from her incensed husband because she dared tried to quell the quarrel he was engaged in with a colleague at the party held at their home to celebrate his promotion. Since the rest of the movie revolves around this highly charged and humiliating moment, director Anhubav Sinha, takes pain to choreograph this significant scene with all his cinematic prowess. As the camera pans to the shocked faces of the 40-odd party guests, the sound is turned off and a close-up of Amrita’s equally incredulous countenance does not bode well for what is to follow.

“Thappad” is the silent slap that society needed, and a timely reminder for International Women’s Day, that it is not okay to stay quiet about domestic violence even if it was “ just one slap”. It is in the aftermath of this cataclysmic slap that Amrita questions the sacrifice she has made to suppress her own aspirations for her go-getter husband’s ambitions of landing the London promotion post. She questions the wrongness of what transpired despite being told by her mother, mother-in-law and even the high powered divorce lawyer to forget about it and just get on with life - “it was just one slap, right?”

The lead female, Amrita’s life is juxtaposed with sub-plots of other women which adds to the complexity of the storyline. Although these women occupy different spheres of society the thread that stitches the tapestry of the self-sacrificing female’s lot in a patriarchal society is easily recognisable: the servant who is repeatedly beaten by her brutish husband, the corporate lawyer’s submission to her drunk husband who reminds her that she is only successful because of his family name, Vikram’s mother who is separated from her husband and even though Amrita’s parents seem to be happily married, we are reminded her mother had to forsake her dreams of being a singer to play the part of a dutiful wife.


This multi-levelled movie plot does not centre around just on “the slap” but is based on the sacrifices of a woman. It is based on issues like domestic violence, marital rape, and even small dreams which a woman sacrifices for her marriage.  By no means is this a feminist movie as the film doesn’t try to make men look bad. Vikram is a loving and responsible husband throughout but he pays the price for not understanding and appreciating his one thoughtless move when his hand veered the wrong way. He puts it down to the stress of his high-powered job and stubbornly asks why can’t his wife understand and forgive him since he has invested so much of time and effort into his career. This infuriates Amrita even more as she retorts “what about the time and effort I invested in this marriage?”

I especially loved the portrayal of Amrita’s soft-hearted father (Kumud Mishra) who reminded me so much of my father who doted on his daughters. He seems to be the only only one except for Amrita’s soon-to-be-sister-in-law who supports her as she files for divorce. The beautiful love that he shows his daughter while expertly masking the anger he feels towards her mistreatment and the poignant scene when he escorts her to court for the divorce hearing nearly (but not quite) brought tears to my eyes. By the way, Ayesha, was a blubbering mess at least for the better part in this tearjerker of a movie.

With the volatile subject of domestic violence, this movie could have easily escalated to passionate, over-dramatisation but it is restrained with its subtle nuances thanks to the superb acting of Taapsee Pannu who plays the wronged wife, Amrita or Ammu as she is affectionately called, as she suffers her quiet hurt stoically. Equally brilliant, is Pavail Gulati, who fits in so naturally in his role of ambitious husband, Vikram. It is a film worth watching for the whole family: for husbands to realise the folly of their chauvinistic and misogynistic ways, for wives to unshackle themselves from their submissive roles as overlooked spouse that have been passed on through each successive generation, for sons to accord due respect to the woman he marries and for daughters to realise her self worth so that she too can stand up and walk away even though it could be a casual “thappad”.

While this movie doesn’t fall into cliched traps like the bad husband, the mean mother-in-law, the wronged wife taking her husband to the cleaners with the divorce settlement, it still manages to so effectively and seamlessly question male entitlement. I think it is about time that more Bollywood movie-makers ditch the escapist formula and instead work on more stimulating, social dramas like this that not only celebrates the dignity and importance of women but also act as catalysts for their improved status.

Why Autumn is my favourite season

"Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all." —Stanley Horowitz

Yesterday, autumn arrived quietly. I like autumn - it is undoubtedly my favourite season. In Australia, autumn not only brings respite from the heat and humidity of summer but it slows down the pace as we transition to the new season. While summer is synonymous with a hive of activity and cacophony, autumn enters silently and spreads her soothing arms to imbue a sense of calmness and peace before the chill of winter sets in.

I like the quiet and clear days when the sun hangs low and makes the trees glow. And as summer’s light dims and the leaves begin to fall, I like autumn’s reminder that a meaningful life isn’t only about transition, but also about productivity, completion and letting go.

One of my fondest memories I cherish is our time spent in New Zealand where we resided in the beautiful, picturesque suburb of Cambridge in the North Island. Most of the residents there were of English descent so had a penchant for growing deciduous trees that changed its colours during autumn. I used to love pushing Kim on her stroller through the tree-lined streets of the neighbourhood to drink in the beauty of Nature’s spectacular, colour palette. As the season progressed and the air got crisper, I would notice the subtle changes in the foliage of the field maples , silver birches and the English oak and elm trees.

In this season of unparalleled colour, the vibrant green of summer soon gives way to the earthly and rich tones of autumn: amber, russet, carmine, carnelian, auburn, crimson, scarlet, sepia and feuille morte. Oh, what a rhapsody of colours as the liquid gold of the late afternoon sun enhances the picture perfect autumnal vistas with its Midas touch.

Tis the season of inner calm and a kindly stoicism etched in memories of joy. Another flashback that warms the cockles of my heart is of the rapturous delight I had when I raked in the leaves shed by our avocado trees in our backyard of my childhood home. As I inhaled the strong earthly and homely aromas, I couldn’t wait to jump on the mountain of withered leaves as it crackled deliciously. The huge frog leap on the mound of rustling leaves at the end was more than ample pay as fruits for my “labour”.

Summer trees are laden with fruit that hang like bejewelled adornments and accessorised with colourful flowers while spring sprouts green shoots of new life everywhere. Autumn, not to be outdone, reacts regally by transforming her foliage into colours of burnished copper, rust, bronze, brass and gold. It is a second chance to bloom, for the green to glow with new hues as pretty as any petal. And as the inevitable happens when autumn must shed this coat of many colours too, she is still breathtakingly beautiful as she stands stark naked in her glory before nature where every limb and ligament of her branches are open for scrutiny. She sashays her final farewell as her leaves of caramel, chocolate and mocha tumble in wistful abandon before the landscape is claimed by a wintry embrace.

The cycle of nature which dictates the forceful letting go of what was new and green only months ago, would be a time of such sadness and mourning if it were not for the parade of the riot of earth-centred hues, shades, tints, tinctures and tones in this carnival of colours. Instead it is a gateway to rebirth, to renewal, to redesign and to rejuvenation.

As the leaves change colour and fall to the ground, we can take some lessons from this season on letting go. By shedding their old leaves, the trees allows for new growth in spring-
what a wonderful metaphor for allowing yourself to let the past go. The past sadness, trauma, anger, bitterness, hatred, unreconciled relationships, old clutter, whatever it is, there’s power in allowing it to go. After all, it’s nature’s way to welcome in the new into your life which will rejuvenate, recalibrate and re-energise you for another year. Just let go of objects, relationships and feelings without any regrets.

Autumn, the season of harvesting nature’s bounty, is also a timely reminder to give thanks: to nature for the riches it gives to sustain us, gratitude for the accomplishments and achievements in the work we have done and the gift of the universe in blessing us with family, good health and happy moments.

So as you seek cosiness and snug spaces with the dropping temperatures and cast away the summer salads to make way for hearty, comfort food, I hope that you like autumn as much as I do when things slow down to make time for inner reflection and spiritual growth.

Stay safe and stay warm as you have another fabulous week, Folks.

The key to long life is to keep working

“Want to enjoy a longer, happier life? Just keep on working”

Isn’t it quite amusing that we spend our whole work lives watching the clock: we get up with the alarm, take our meal times at certain hours, finish work as the clock hands signals a certain hour, scan the time on our wristwatch (for those of us still wearing this) or our mobile phones as we try to fulfil deadlines at work. When we retire and time has supposedly no meaning anymore, we are awarded a clock or a wristwatch for our service. I trust that this observation is an apt introduction to my real topic at hand which is on retirement.

I was reading an online article last week from the South African POST publication about three doctors who were still actively working although they were way past their retirement age: paediatrician, Dr TS Pillay who at 80 years old is now treating grandchildren of his original, older patients, Dr PN Govender, a 90 year old who still drives to work daily and dermatologist, Dr PN Naidu who at almost 80 years old, still balances his work at the clinic and lecturing at the university. There are countless other white-haired citizens who continue to work on well into their seventies and eighties.

Many of my generation peers are close to retirement age which for women is set at 60 and for men at 65. I always regarded this age set as old and never thought I would be tethering on the threshold of this rites of passage so quickly. Where have all the bloody years gone?

With improved living conditions and better medical care, people are living much longer. Japan is the number 1 country in the world where humans live the longest. The Japanese woman’s life expectancy is at 90 years and the Japanese man’s is at 80.4 years. This country is often referred to as the “land of the immortals” where there are hundreds of centenarians - that is, people over a 100 years of age. Many point to their healthy diet of abundant vegetables, heart-healthy fish and rice eaten in small portions.

A famous proponent of longevity, the Japanese Doctor Shigeaki Hinohara worked an 18-hour day right up to his death at 105 years old as a physician, lecturer, author and mentor. This inspirational centenarian advocated that the retirement age should be pushed much higher to the late seventies or mid-eighties. He argued that the retirement age for men was set at 65 when life expectancy was on average just 8 years after retirement. Now that we are living well into our eighties and nineties, we should retire much, much later.

Incidentally, the same doctor conducted a study on longevity where he tried to pinpoint the single factor that increases life expectancy. Surprisingly, it was not intelligence, genetics, social standing, exercise, diet, mental health, socio-economic status, life partner or occupation that ensured a long life. The one variable that was common in all people that lived to be over a 100 years old was that of service. In other words, they continued to work pretty close right until they passed on. Perhaps, like i mentioned in an earlier piece, why it is so important to love what you do as work.

I read somewhere that there are three stages of work life: the first one is when we first launch into our chosen profession and put in long hours to earn money to pay for the car, our fashionable dress sense, travel and our entertainment. We then migrate to the more responsible second stage where it is about funding the mortgage and taking care of family responsibilities. The last stage is in retirement where we can continue to provide our professional service or give off our time in voluntary work.

When you ask the question why do people retire, the general answer is “to take it easy” or to “ have a well-earned rest”. However, as we can see from the doctors, the key to long life is to keep on working; if not in your
chosen profession but in still providing service to mankind.

While on the subject of retirement, did you know Otto von Bismarck, “The Iron Chancellor” from Germany ( also from our history lesson at school) was the one who in 1880 introduced the age 65 be the time of retirement? He shrewdly picked this age because no one was supposed to live past that age. In this way they saved on the social security pension!

So, whether you are already retired or on the brink of retirement, here’s hoping that you are involved in a profession that you love so much that you can continue way past the bell toll of 65 or at the least have a cause that you can dedicate to or champion for to make the world a better place than when you entered.

So, like some unknown author once said, and to which I concur, Retirement is not the end of the road. It is the beginning of the open highway.

Have a fabulous week, Folks, and be on time!

Try to follow the flow of life

“Love and work . . . work and love, that’s all there is.”
– Sigmund Freud

I recently had to deal with a mum who asked me to coach her daughter for a scholarship entrance exam. This is something I do as part of my work as a professional tutor. However, when I assessed this particular child’s abilities, it was quite clear that she was not ready for the upcoming exam and neither would she be even if she had double or triple the preparation time. I politely refused to take on this student but it made me think of how most often people are engaged in study or work that goes against the grain of their natural talents or flow.

If you take a look at the enormously successful celebrities, they all have one thing in common. They do what comes naturally to them. Oprah Winfrey has this magnetic personality where she can connect with people so has evolved into this incredibly talented talk show host, Warren Buffet is patient and disciplined and has accumulated great wealth through his investing, Walt Disney had a creative mind and went on to make magical movies that has mesmerised audiences the world over, men like Steve Jobs, Richard Branson and Donald Trump rely on their connections, intuition and opportune moments to strike deals. Each one of them are stars in their own fields purely because they do what comes naturally to them.

When I was in Standard 8 in high school in South Africa, (equivalent of Year 10 today) we had to choose a subject set that would lead to our chosen career path. Ever since I placed big stones in my backyard to serve as “ students” whom I “taught” when I was merely knee-high, I always cherished the dream of becoming a teacher. I chose the general course that included the two languages, English and Afrikaans, as I wanted to be a language teacher. However, my principal at that time, Mr V Rama, pulled me out of my class and instructed me to sit in the “A” class which was the Science class as he reminded me “that you have the potential to be a doctor, what are you doing in this music class?” When I disclosed my childhood dream of being a teacher, he quickly retorted “anyone can be a teacher, you get to the Science class”.

If you know me well, no amount of money nor mana could entice me to become a doctor. When my own children got bruised or bloodied in childhood, I promptly ran in the opposite direction. I squirm at the sight of blood and needles and gag on the anti-septic smell of hospitals. Anyway, in those days, you obeyed your superiors and I sat meekly and dispassionately in that class until my father intervened by writing a letter to the principal to allow me to do what makes me happy.

I have been a teacher for the last 35 years and beyond any shadow of doubt, I have honestly loved every minute of it. I have blue ink running through my veins. I consider myself extremely lucky to be working in a field that comes naturally to me. They say if you love what you do, you don’t have to work a day in your life. As for earning a doctor’s salary, I think my three tuition centres not only provides me with a tidy income but such an enviable flexibility in terms of lifestyle and being engaged in work that I would do for nothing. I wish my former principal could see how happy and blessed I am to have discovered and capitalised on the talents I was born with.

This is the secret to leading a good life: find your natural strengths which will lead you on the path of least resistance so that you will inevitably excel in your chosen field. When you expect a fish to climb a tree, you are setting yourself for a lot of frustration, disappointment and heartache.

It doesn’t matter how old you are. There is still time enough yet to learn, understand and know your unique gifts, your strengths, your talents and your abilities. Work becomes really meaningful when it expresses your strengths, ignites your passion and is aligned with your core values. Once your strengths, passions and values are present, work becomes deeply satisfying, personally fulfilling and fully energising – something that makes you jump out of bed each morning to kickstart the brand new day.

In most cases, people are stuck in day jobs to earn a living but how wonderful it would be if they could commit full-time to what sparks their joy which are usually their hobbies like coaching, woodwork, fashion, socialising, singing, cooking or sport. We are indeed blessed to be living in a time where talent is not solely recognised by academic ability like it was in the past. Nowadays, you can follow your dream in whatever field you choose. You don’t have to look much further than little nippers making millions with make-up tutorials on YouTube or cute dogs boasting and monetising their zillion Instagram followers.

Here’s hoping that you are one of the lucky ones to be in your “natural flow”. If you still feel that you are the square peg in the round hole, then maybe it is time to get out. As the inimitable Jim Rohn charmingly said: “if you don’t like where you are, move. You are not a tree.”

Have a super week, Folks.

Repotting a plant gives it space to grow

“Repotting a plant gives it space to grow. Repotting ourselves means taking leave of our everyday environments and walking into unfamiliar territory—of the heart, of the mind and of the spirit.”
Heather Cochran

After a full-on, hectic week at work, there’s nothing more therapeutic on a Saturday afternoon than relaxing with some chore or other in the garden. With the heavy rains of the past few days, I couldn’t get out so decided to tackle something under cover that needed my attention for awhile. It was time to repot my plants - a good two hours or so that was made doubly pleasurable as I engaged in conversation with my son from Sydney for the entire time.

You can recognise the signs of distress when a plant signals to be repotted: poor, lack-lustre flowering, stunted stems, dropping, drooping or wilting leaves, dried out soil, roots poking its way through the drain holes or matted roots that have become twisted in their confined space. Plants give these signals because they’re not able to draw enough nutrients and moisture from their current root situation. The root bound plant whose roots have clogged the whole pot because of lack of space, also does not allow for the plant to be watered. Therefore, to sustain its existence and ensure the plant a second life, it needs to be repotted.

This involves carefully prising the plant from the pot, dusting off the dirt, unravelling the root mass delicately, clipping away a fair chunk of the roots with sharp secateurs, separating the mother plant from the pups and nipping away any dried or dead stems or leaves. Then, the plant is introduced into a new pot, not much bigger than the old one, with fresh potting soil and it needs to be carefully nurtured until it is thriving again in its new environment.

This activity of repotting resonates with people too. When you realise that one inconsequential day morphs into another, you have stopped laughing, you don’t jump up out of bed as you used to embrace the promise of a new day or your dreams have been buried deeply by the daily grind of every day life, when you have nothing to look forward to in the next week, month or year, then perhaps you need to be repotted. You need to untangle the roots of your confined existence, you need to dust off the soil that have lost its zest for life and you need to move to a bigger space that will kickstart your regrowth.

Just as the new pot must be not much bigger than 2-4cm in diameter than the old pot, so too, the changes we make does not have to be drastic. Just simple ones like getting some painting supplies and rekindling your love of art, getting a music coach or picking up a new instrument, joining the local theatre group and once again stimulating your love of drama and acting, dusting off the sewing machine and starting a cottage industry, joining the rotary club and reviving your passion for public speaking and debating, venturing out of your town to do some travel or making some moves to explore your dream career.

Just as the plant whose life is being strangled away by its root bound, claustrophobic container, needs deliberate intervention to loosen its rootball, you too need to take deliberate steps to add some spark to your life. It is not just going to happen. You got to untangle the twisted roots, clip off the dead and yellowing stems, snip off the dried and decaying leaves... reinvigorate the mind, body and soul.

One of the great benefits of repotting is that you get to redesign your life instead of letting someone else do it for you. I am a serial “repotter” - having relocated from South Africa, to New Zealand to Australia, from making the transition from high school teacher to businesswoman to professional writer and to committing to a lifelong pursuit of learning whether it be travelling, gardening, art, communication or technology. Admittedly, change does come with its associated discomfort but like the plant that recovers from its trauma of being repotted and thrives in the freshly potted, nutrient-rich soil and buds its new blooms in wondrous beauty and delight, so too you will feel so rejuvenated and energised.

In the weeks ahead, I wish you growth as uncomfortable as it may be but with the promise of so much joy that will spark your soul.

Have a bloomingly, beautiful week, Folks.

Parenting is a limitless well of love

“When they’re little, they sit on your lap; when they’re big, they sit on your heart”

I had always cherished the thought that your kids are an integral part of your life when they are little but when they are older and take flight from the nest, your mothering instincts can take a well earned rest. After all, with the better part of two decades dealing with kindy and school drop-offs, cheering on the sidelines for the endless footy, soccer, hockey and cricket matches, cooking and serving up countless meals, helping with homework and doing the bed time rituals, tolerating their hormonal changes through their teen years and enduring the agonising periods of decision making regarding future study directions; surely at some point all this worrying and taking care of your offsprings will come to an end? As a parent, you think that the older your children get, the easier life will get. But how wrong I was. No matter how old they are, you constantly think about what they are doing. Are they all right for money? Do they have enough warm clothes? Are they managing with uni life? Are they eating well? Do they have friends to hang out with?

My soon-to-be 25 year-old son left home three years ago to study and work in Sydney. My almost-23 year old son graduated from uni and is now in Canada working on the ski fields as he enjoys his rites of passage overseas experience(and who has no definite plans for returning home). My 18 year old daughter (thank goodness for a laatlammetjie) still lives at home and is studying at university. They are all fully functioning adults but not a day goes past without you thinking and hoping that all is well with them.

When kids are little and they are stressed about things not quite going their way, as a parent you quickly jump in and fix it for them. Irrespective of the short notice, you pounce in and help with their school homework or project. You scoop them up and kiss them when they hurt themselves, when their bestie is being mean to them at school, you arrange a play date with another friend, you sit with them and share their anxiety through their exam stress bringing them warm cups of hot chocolate (for some reason my kids don’t drink tea or coffee), when they had a bad game at footy, you reassure them the referee mucked up the match and there is no situation big enough, that you as a mum cannot smooth over with your proverbial magical mum’s wand. As long as you hugged them and served up good, comforting food, everything was going to be okay. Your home was a safe haven where they felt protected, secure and immensely loved from all the bad stuff that was whipping up a frenetic storm outside.

The bumpy road of life does not straighten out when they are older; it still exists but you can’t jump right in like you used to. You have to sit in the sidelines and watch and wait with bated breath for the blimp to sort itself out. The problems are still there but these take on other guises. They stress about submitting uni assignments by the deadline, they are struggling to muster the cost for the concert they wish to attend in another city, they are disenchanted about the shifts they get for their part-time jobs, some of their friends don’t hang out with them as much as they used to as they are now courting seriously, should they continue with their electives at uni at should they branch out into a new direction of study and the list goes on.

My eldest son suffered a particularly bad year last year where he was hospitalised for almost a month and this had a domino effect on his study semester that he couldn’t complete, he couldn’t work part-time because he was recuperating and he was generally so down because of the traumatic effects of his illness. As a mother you feel so helpless when your adult children are hurting because you can’t jump in like you used to when they were little and make everything okay. You watch in agony from a distance and you feel their raw pain and there’s nothing you can do physically to take away their suffering. You know they still need you like crazy but you discover the help you were learning to give out for the past 20 years or so, does not cut the mustard now. For the first time you feel helpless as a parent, because the pains and disappointments they are experiencing in adulthood are clearly out of reach of your helpful intervention. The kiss, the cuddle or the bear hug somehow lost its remediating powers.

However, just as they proved as children, they are a resilient bunch. Your heart ache with theirs when they call and tell you they are down in the dumps when this or that happened and while you are still languishing about strategies to advise them on how to deal with that particular obstacle, they have moved away and are in the clouds a few days later talking ten to a dozen about this new thing that has taken precedence in their life.

What I have come to realise is that this new adult phase of their lives, offers us as parents another opportunity to feel awed by our children’s beauty and their uniqueness. It is time for us as parents to exercise a balance between reaching out and helping but at the same time giving them the opportunity to deal with their problems so that it can build their resilience which would allow them to take their rightful place in this world as responsible adults.

While my kids were growing up, I have never been a controlling parent. There were not many rules in our house about study time or bed time or meal times ( thankfully we did not have to deal with screen time then). I had no illusion about me as a parent being in complete control. Instead I allowed them to make mistakes and face the consequences of their decisions but always lurking in the shadows to lend a supportive hand if they reached out. In this way I suppose I trained them to make the right choices even when I was not around. The reality is they get to choose and forge their own life paths and the hard yards we have put in as parents when they were little is the moral compass that gives direction to their lives now.

Being a parent is one of the hardest roles you take on but what a superb pay-off it offers in the form of according you the gift of unconditional and selfless love that you would have not otherwise discovered. There is some truth in what I read somewhere that you’ll love your children far more than you ever loved your parents, and - in the recognition that your own children cannot fathom the depth of your love - you come to understand the tragic, unrequited love of your own parents.

Here’s wishing that if you have kids far away, your smile will light up your face when you reach out to answer their call.

Have an exceptionally, fantastic week, folks, as we cruise along on the new month of love.