“Any animal that lacks sufficient mind to be flexible in how it responds to its environment cannot be tamed. Jellyfish, for example, certainly cannot be tamed. Earthworms, most likely can’t be tamed. However, some remarkably small-brained animals can be tamed.”
– A quick Quora search.
What about gypsies?
Can they be tamed?
How have you survived the apocalypse lockdown?
I spent three months on a boat before being locked up in South African quarantine for two weeks.
I was “freed” to be locked down in an apartment and then a cottage and then “home” to be locked up with mum.
And then I moved again and after a long-haul repatriation flight, I returned to two weeks of Dutch self-quarantine… The cycle continues.
The Netherlands is relatively free, but after so many months locked up, my mind is still in prison.
I’ve never spent so much time indoors.
I have never spent so much time alone.
I have never been so afraid of the outside world.
I can’t even remember if I remember how to talk to people face-to-face!
When I overcame the fear of tomatoes back in 2012, I knew I could do anything!
I thought I was fearless!
Snippet from my sentiments on tomatoes (2005):
Why would the tomato be classed as an object of sheer evil you may ask?
It is just everything else about them. Every little morselish detail is repugnant. The vision of a simple, rather average tomato should be enough to stop you from eating it, but just in case you happen to quite like tomatoes- their looks, their touch, their taste their smell and the sounds they make as you digest them, let me recount the experience of actually consuming and masticating one.
Every bite into a tomato is like taking your teeth and digging them into an overgrown maggot, which, once the teeth have cut through the fleshy outer skin, oozes masses of whitish red puss which engulfs all that surround it and the mouth is flooded with lukewarm bodily fluids from the specimen. At first, it’s not all that bad but then the taste climbs through the back of your mouth and over your tongue and your lips and spreads through your digestive passages into your nostrils and the smell causes vomit to begin to form at the back of your throat and you feel your breakfast coming back to life and start walking out the way it went in and you start to squirm due to the discomfort thereof and with every move that you make the smell seems to spread and you feel more and more sick and then all of a sudden your tongue, trying to break free, discovers the pips and the texture of them amongst the goo is registered in your subconscious as the sort of feeling one would have when running their tongue over fresh roadkill where the little beating heart continues beating and finally stops- but only after every little pip is eventually swallowed. And just when you think that the entire experience of that first bite is near completion, the tomato pushes your tonsils aside and forces its way down, crashing into the upcoming vomit and the two mix and some splashes back into your mouth and it is as if the two food groups dance on your tongue and while they do it they leave behind traces of remembrance and it is virtually like taking a crap on your tongue because that is exactly what the half-digested food was previously destined to become. And you pick up a glass of water and rewash it all down and then stuff your mouth full of other food so that the taste and the smell and the texture and the sounds of the horrific incident you have just surpassed can be forgotten for all time, and life seems to be stabilizing when your mother or aunt or significant other makes you take the next bite- and now it is even worse as there is far more food to come back up and dance on your tongue with the bits of chewed tomato and this time the gush overpowers and all the perfectly good food that was on your plate awaiting consumption are coated with a thick-coloured slimy-brown mass where the only discernible objects amongst the ooze are the green peas the orange carrots which you ate a few weeks prior to the tomato ordeal.
By overcoming such a fear, I knew I could do everything! Anything!!
And I did… Almost.
The other night I told a friend that I was afraid to have my own boat. That I didn’t think I could captain my own ship.
He thought I was joking!
I wasn’t joking.
I’m petrified of failure!!
Why haven’t I published a book yet?
Because I’m afraid to properly relive the crazy storms life has thrown at me and I don’t believe I can give enough credence to the epics.
Why haven’t I found the one yet?
Because I haven’t believed I am good enough to find him.
(And also, because I have such a legendary group of friends and family that my standards are excessively high).
(Am I the only one?)
Too much time in solitary confinement has probably been good to clear out the cobwebs in my mind!
I have had a lot of time to sort these fears out. A lot of time to negate the lies I’ve allowed myself to believe.
So, why am I still afraid?
I guess it’s because we adjust to new situations faster than we think.
And also because I am the queen of procrastination.
And why am I afraid of corona?
Not because I think I will get sick, I’m pretty sure I’ve already had it.
No, rather because I am afraid that I will infect the people that I love.
I have always been afraid of affecting the people I love!
Whether with disease or by somehow showing them that I am not worthy of their love and time.
Fear should never rule our lives.
A small amount is healthy to keep us from doing stupid.
But fear should be the thing that drives us out of our comfort zones and into new adventures!
I’ve dealt with a lot of self-induced kak of late.
But I think it has actually been good for me!
Now is a new chapter of believing in myself and doing the impossible.
I’m ready to put my story out there and (after some heavy editing) actually publish a book
In fact, I think I’m ready to take the next step and find a home of my own!
Settle down even!
(Perhaps on a sailing boat or in a treehouse or perhaps a rehab centre in Portugal… )
But first I need to get outside a little bit and burn some energy, there’s very little a few-thousand-kilometre cycle can’t fix! (Even if the bike does break in the process).
I’m still working out how to tame a gypsy.
But if you can tame a lion and a tiger. Perhaps you can also tame a gypsy.