A few days ago, Duncan, a lovely Twitter acquaintance, tweeted the following quote:
Sometimes you don’t survive whole; you just survive in part. But, the grandeur of life, is that attempt. It’s not about that solution. It is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can. — Toni Morrison
It was Nadine Gordimer’s 100th birthday this year. The Morrison quote reminded me of something she once said: I have failed at many things, but I have never been afraid.
As this year comes to an end, and I was actually planning to be in bed by now but find myself writing instead, I have a lot of thoughts and feelings running through my exhausted head and my brimming heart, but foremost are gratitude and pride.
It has been an extremely busy year, with Karavan Press growing from strength to strength, with insane additional work to pay (un)expected bills, with wonderful trips (on my own and with my love and family), with structural changes to home and life’s bureaucracy, and personal and professional explorations (I have taken on too much, and I did fail and let a few balls fall despite my best attempts; I hope to pick them up properly in the new year again). But in a way it has been the quietest year since André passed away. No reckless behaviour on my part, emotional chaos or accompanying numbness. Mostly calm and stability – both so welcome. I cannot claim to be unbroken, but I am learning to unapologetically take up space, to say no, to fight for what I need and want, to come into my own power and to honour myself – while still remaining kind, nurturing and giving as is my nature. I am trying to understand forgiveness. I have been dealing with complex and heavy loss and grief for many, many years. I am learning to rely on my resilience not only to survive, but to thrive – to see my strength as an ally, not my greatest weakness. I have also finally made the decision to make my home my own; I cannot live in a museum, no matter how precious its legacy. The responsibility has been weighing me down for almost a decade, and it is time to share the burden and joy of it with others.
Globally, there is too much shattering to comprehend. The end of this year has been marked by additional personal loss: André’s sister Marita passed away. My cousin was caught in an avalanche – he survived, but the friend he was with did not. A loved one was diagnosed with a terrible disease. I am haunted by the pain and anxiety of loss.
The Furry Ones are all ancient, but I have declared them immortal, and we continue sharing a home at Driekatfontein. We have many kind and wonderful people in our lives. And laughter. And so many stories.
No one asked me officially for my read of 2023, but it is without any doubt Lyndall Gordon’s The Hyacinth Girl: T. S. Eliot’s Hidden Muse. Here I am reading it in the Kgalagadi during an unforgettable trip to Botswana with my love – we have been together for seven years. May this adventure continue for many to come!
Karina Magdalena 