Billion Year Old Carbon

Thankful that the bus strike is over.

Perplexed that I’ve lived with an earworm of epic proportions for the entire strike.

Don’t know what it means to have this constantly going through your head?

Welcome to my world.


Earth, Water, Air, Fire – Today’s Musical Earworms

Covering the compass today with the songs which are stuck in my head.

For Air and Earth:

Dust In The Wind by Todd Rundgren (1972)

For Fire and Water:

Fire and Rain by James Taylor (1970)

..although the Tim Hardin version is good, too.

These are two very similar songs, written less than 2 years apart. I was faintly surprised that the Rundgren song was later, as the Runt was often a groundbreaker in styles, sentiment and sound engineering.

But you can segue from one song to the other in your head with hardly a pause.


There’s nothing quite like the Samhain tide to open your emotions.

It is said that twice a year, at Samhain and Beltane, the veil between the worlds becomes tenuous and crossings from one to the other are more common. But in my case, I reckon it’s just that at these times I’m more aware of the existence of the veil, and other worlds, than at more mundane times.

And so I am dreaming, and nightmaring, enough to keep me for the rest of the year, it seems.

My loved ones and ancestors are featuring quite heavily in my dreams – sometimes unrecognisable by their appearance yet completely known for who they are and were to me – old fears are playing themselves out and connections are being rebooted.

Head tipped back into the (finally) winter-blue sky this morning, I watch a fairy crossing above me.

No…not a fairy…a locust, with its rainbow wings whirring. I remember that I am quite averse to locusts on the ground and step out of its flight path quickly.

Music is getting stuck in my mind, so I switch my electronic collection on to shuffle and listen to Joe WalshCorvus Corax and Tim Hardin. Ah, the poor heroin-addicted boy who never managed to claw his way out of the poppy’s grip before it killed him.

Emotions are raw yet surprisingly manageable in this season of other-worldly connection.

I view a house a friend (and teenage sweetheart) used to live in as a boy – 4 doors down on Arthur Road, long since sold up as the matriarch’s health failed.

I reconnect with the Covenant of Hekate, thinking to honour Her Fires again this year, when the Moon is right.

I miss the Gautrain Bus, the drivers of which have been on strike for almost a week now, and don’t fancy the stress of driving in a car through Sandton traffic this afternoon – never mind what stress it must be giving Warren to do the actual driving.

I remember my Mom, who, when last seen in the dreamworld was wearing a different face, whose last-incarnation-birthday it is today.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I miss you still.

I’m thinking the tide will be gentler this year, as I get older and possibly more able to handle it. The retrograde motions of both Saturn and Pluto in Capricorn seem to be helping this softer view along. We introspected our immediate daily souls last month with the Mercury backtrack, and now a slightly higher portion of our collective Self will be pondering the tracks and ruts of time and space.

Hopefully. As past the veil we slide together, holding hands, some of us shrieking, some of us crying, some of us looking about in wonder and awe.Tides.

“..But There’s You and There’s Me”

I love riding the Gaubus to work and back. The off-peak uncrowded, air-conditioned splendour affords me the opportunity to relax and listen to my own music while commuting through Joburg’s northern suburbs. It’s the perfect start and end to every work day – in the morning, swooshing through dark streets and hushed suburbs and in the afternoon, huffing along through the after-school traffic while seated far above it all. All this and an audio backdrop of Bowie, Supertramp, Gaia Consort and Resident AntiHero.

However, yesterday’s reprise of Crime of the Century was – pretty rudely, I thought – interrupted by the acting out of some real-time cops and robbers a couple of meters from the golden flanks of the bus.

We were coming to a stop at the huge, complicated intersection of Main and William Nicol when the sharp reflection of flashing blue lights actually managed to catch my attention. By the roadside, mere feet away from the portside passengers on the bus, was slewed a really expensive-looking BMW – slewed right into the hard shoulder, that is, with a lighted SAPS vehicle right behind it. I’m assuming (and was told by another passenger, later) that there was an unmarked car cutting off the forward escape route, too.*

Even over my headphones – over Rick Davies declaring “Who are these men of lust, greed and glory? Rip off the mask and let’s see”  I could hear the police loudhailer telling the occupants of the BMW to get out of the car and put their hands up, or they would be shot. And I’m not kidding, for from out of the SAPS van stalked a lean and fit young policewoman with what I can only call (in true peasant style) a “semi-automatic” gun cradled professionally and pointed (only temporarily, one readily assumed) at the ground.

My very first thought after removing my earphones was that I should perhaps be looking for something to duck behind. Not out of any gripping fear – it just seemed the sort of thing I should be doing in this fresh mini-playlet.

My fellow passengers, however, had all rushed to the left side of the bus, many waving smartphones at the spectacle of 5 men – 4 small, frightened-looking yellow-complected men and one much bigger dark-skinned Black man – getting out of the luxury vehicle, quite slowly and raising all their hands in the air.

We started babbling at one another, and a Sir Juice 200ml bottle rolled and bounced down the gangway as one young woman apparently lost control of her hands. The man who had been dozing in the well below me awoke and looked confused.The lady sitting behind me noted that the driver of the BMW looked guilty. I asked for someone to get the footage up on Twitter. Supertramp continued opining on corporate greed from my now-dangling earphones. Men stood around, meters from the Gaubus, with their hands in the air. A policewoman brandished an assault rifle in everyone’s general direction….

And then the bus moved off, leaving a little tableau behind in the afternoon half-sun.

Image: Mises SA


*Addendum: I have since learned that the bus, after changing lanes to go around the SAPS van, then swung sharply inwards again, making an effective barrier to the supposed crooks. The bus is evidently in training as a superhero crime fighter.