Fiona Sargeant, who moved to South Africa from England to teach ballet, has very little time left fighting cancer, leaving her ballet school, in an extremely poverty-stricken township, shuttered without our help.
The good news: many are doing what they can to help. The tough news: we have a long way to go to make sure her legacy continues.
Our team is #MishaBearsLovesCherryPieBombs in this year’s GISHWHES – What is GISHWHES?
Please donate on here: Crowdrise Change A Life
Here’s a message from some of the dancers: Zolani Dancers call for help to further their education
Another: Misha Collins talks about supporting Fiona Sargeant’s school
If you’re moved & willing to do this, please use the Crowdrise link to donate & you are so amazing.
I grieve in the morning, before I’m fully awake, the weight of things done and undone open to attack.
I’m as undressed in my psyche as I am on my body, and it takes my beginning routine to shake it off.
Make the bed, start coffee – unsettling thoughts crowd my mind while thinking about the day ahead.
Dreams can be the impetus for the unwelcome feelings as I recall specters of children I might have had, old friends and new, and a parade of strangers helping or hurting.
I had a baby in last night’s dream. She was beautiful, but I couldn’t get to her, I had so much else to do in preparation.
My purpose is the baby, I think, dying from neglect, while I’m desperate to get to her. Perhaps she is my core self, the unblemished bit of me needing attention.
The dream doesn’t account for the weight I’m shouldering, and then I remembered how I shared some of my story to help an interviewer understand the needs of those abused, how we pay even in the telling, but how necessary the sharing is for change and healing.
© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current