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We chose to lockdown at our small cottage nestled on the banks of the Breede River. It’s a simple, little thatch house with no frills or fancy finishes. A colourful lounge flows into a big, happy kitchen with terracotta tiles, a wood burner and a huge wooden table. It’s around this table that lockdown meals have lasted longer and days have moved slower.
With big stacking doors that remain open most of the day, nature has quietly welcomed itself into our living space. The curious weavers come and peck at crumbs on the kitchen floor, and on most days a tame, brown mongoose ventures close, in the hope of a bread crust or apple core. This morning however, a less lovely guest slithered under the bathroom door (while I was on the toilet!) I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. I guess I’m not quite as ‘at-one’ with nature as I thought I was!
Apart from a very small supply store, which we call The Top Shop (not for any reason other than that it sits at the top of the hill), the nearest shops are nearly an hour away, so lockdown has really forced us to eat simply and creatively. Lunch can consist of a simple piece of home-baked bread, a ration of cheese and a tomato. Evening meals range from freshly caught fish (if it’s been a lucky day!) to something as simple as sausage on the braai with salad and mielie pap.
Our little cottage has no TV, no uncapped Wi-Fi and a very bad phone signal. We’ve had to simplify the way we live, the way we interact with the world and the way we work. We’re managing, but with only three devices amongst five of us (excluding cellphones), online school and work has forced us to simply share and patiently wait our turn.
Learning to live simply is a beautiful, terrible thing.
It’s hard to wake up and gaze at my shoe selection consisting of takkies, slippers and flops (never did I imagine that we would be here for six weeks!) or learn to prepare a meal without my favourite frills.
It’s also hard to teach my daughter to paint with so few colours to choose from. But as we learn to limit our palette, so we learn to mix new colours. Locking down is teaching us how to work with the most basic and purest of colours. It’s showing us how Simplicity can paint her smooth brushstrokes way beyond just our palette.
Our days have been simplified to the primary tones of cooking, cleaning, working, exercising and eating; and all the time we are breathing - the most essential of all the life processes. Who would have thought that lockdown would have taught me the simple art of breathing … blissful, beautiful breathing.
Before lockdown I moved between holding my breath, taking great big gasps and pausing only to pant. I’m the first to admit that I don’t do simple well. One of my biggest weaknesses is that I’m a supreme clutterer. I clutter my days, my home, my draws – in fact my entire life - with too much of everything!
The other night we all lay on the lawn and looked up at the stars, the moon was round and full.
“Imagine there were six moons!” exclaimed my son.
”Then the sky would be too crowded” my daughter quickly replied.
Lockdown is teaching me that only when framed by space, can beauty be seen and appreciated. So I’m learning to simplify, and in so doing make space - space between each activity, space in my wardrobe, space on my dinner plate and space between each breath.
My palette is simple, but oh what colours I’m learning to create!