'T is not too late to seek a newer world

'T is not too late to seek a newer world

'T is not too late to seek a newer world

© 2022, Elin Babcock; Magdalena Brzezinska; Carmen Camilleri; Renske Carbone;

Habiba Chouchen; Robin Cox; Edward Cromarty; Jim Fleckenstein; Romina A. Guerra.; Judith Gutlerner; Aki Halme; Yulia Ivanova; Pasi Kirkkopelto; Anthony Kolasny; Agneta M Lindh; Sole Afra Martinez; Gudny Sigridur Olafsdottir; Renske Oort; Ola Porebska; Deisy Rey; Marjorie Rosenberg; Sonia Roychowdhury; Peter Sansom; Maria Laura Scasso; Cathy Silk; Arevhat Simonyants; William Strnad III; Julia Teplova; Andrea Uhl; Dąbrówka Ujec; Natasha Vanderlinden; Nicole van der Wolf; Mieke van Os; Simona Vasilace; Cynthia Willett No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The title of the volume was inspired by Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Ulysses.

©

Cover Art: Magdalena Brzezinska

Poznan, Poland

2. 11. 2022

Foreword This has been a very special edition of the Linking Worlds project, which has, again, gathered participants from all the corners of the globe, regardless of their ethnicity, gender, religion, or beliefs.

In the times which are not getting any easier, we all stand united by our strong conviction that bridges can be built across any chasm, and all it takes is good will, empathy, and maybe more than a spoonful of art. And you will find exquisite, very meaningful literature and visual art in this volume.

For the curator of this unique project, this year has been marked with transitions, which have also become the theme of the issue. For her, one of the transitions was having to adjust to a “new” post-surgery body; another one was waking up to the reality of a country with over 3 million refugees from war-torn Ukraine; another one still was watching her child leave the family nest.

However, transitions are a theme anyone can – and does – relate to, in a very personal way. A transition can mean leaves turning orange and brown, hair turning grey, a person crossing a physical or spiritual border…

Sometimes words fail; that is why this year images seem to prevail. And yet, we believe that, as Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote in his Ulysses in 1833, “'T is not too late to seek a newer world”

Magdalena Brzezinska

Remembering the Black Moon Pasi Kirkkopelto

I do remember I was just searching for a wrong word wrong things there is so much of them Important to me

things there is

so

Art and poetry by Pasi Kirkkopelto, Finland

Wave Series 3 hydrocal, 46 x 35 x 25 cm, Cynthia Willett, 2022

Inside Leaning closely to make a warm space inside, the two fit together awkwardly until the winds passed.

Now she cowers in the soft folds until...

Art and poetry by Cynthia Willett, USA

Acquiescence For all these many years I’ve kept some of the black earth From the garden where we met, Where you spoke poetry Of ocean wind, and stones, and childbirth.

Tomorrow, men will come And remove the last concrete In which we once dreamed and ate, And drank one another In love cries, the illusion of heat.

Tonight, under clear skies I will return to this place With the earth I’ve been keeping, And draw you with my fingers, On cold dead walls, your body and face.

In the blue light of lamps I will resurrect your speech, Kissing you, your lips ghosted, Giving my mouth to dreams, Longing for magic flesh I can’t reach.

Art and poetry by William Strnad, Poland

Transition In the golden sunset We call the role of remembrance The names vibrate Beyond embracing trees Above the clear streams In Horseshoe Canyon With endless echos Cave Creek Rhyolite With pale volcanic rocks Silver Peak Dacite With precious quartz Through the tribal land That made up your Earthly world You and the ancestors are not forgotten I build a mound toward Father Sky Of Mother Earth and place An Indian head penny From your collection To this reliquary adding A robin's empty nest Lined with fledgling feathers And a spun silk cocoon The butterfly's house of change Like your body's temple No longer needed You are in transition When these seeds I leave From Douglas fir And Ponderosa pine cones Travel with our story When your ashes swirl With autumn leaves Red, gold, violet, umber You ascend to the Elders I continue on our worn Earthly path.

You are not forgotten I am with you and you with me.

Art & poetry by Elin Babcock, USA

Landscapes in transition oil on wooden panel, 30x50 cm, 2022 Peter Sansom, The Netherlands

Where blurred, luscious light Transforms midnight’s dark thinness – Tomorrows emerge

Cathy Silk, The Netherlands

Metamorphosis 2.0

Let the excruciating pain become soothing music wrapping me up at night.

Let the bitter disappointment change into an unalloyed joyful prayer whispered at dawn.

Let the sorrow transform into gales of childish laughter.

Let insanity convert into soulful balance.

Let me go.

And Vice Versa

Art & poetry by Dąbrówka Ujec, Poland/The Netherlands

Curiosity beckons, insistent: Press forward with courage to be The who-that-is fiercely you In chaotic symphony.

Melding past to future, heed the call: Step into this boat named, ‘Here.’

Cast off, familiar shores fading To a storm of insight where, Like a rose transformed by the day Who-you-aren’t gently falls away, Till alive, tender and new, True essence enchants and debuts This questing, ageless, bold, wild, terrified, splendid: you

Art & poetry by Natasha Vanderlinden, Washington State, USA

from shadow to flesh moving, knowing that substance is in the soul wandering between worlds roaming rambling where no footprints dwell tell the tale of direction of leaving, of returning of transition shifting from shadow into the here and now tall, proud, me— I am here, I am me my feet deep as roots set into the ground the core so strong the heart so big a life well lived is waiting

Digital Art and poetry by Agneta M. Lindh, Sweden

Transición de la vida Hojas secas y cometa, mi niñez detrás del viento: inocente instrumento del arte alma inquieta.

Mi boca selló discreta caudal del tiempo sereno.

Pinté lores en mi seno, encendieron el invierno: creció un halo materno, bendición de vientre pleno.

Life transition Dry leaves and a kite, my childhood behind the wind: an innocent instrument of art, restless soul.

My mouth sealed discreetly the flow of serene time.

I painted flowers on my breast, they lit up the winter: a maternal halo grew, the blessing of a full womb.

Art and poetry by Romina A. Guerra, Chile

The idea for this artwork appeared long ago, and I think that creating it has given me a new strength to continue looking for the light.

My illustration speaks of resilience, of darkness, and of the light that surrounds us (even in the subtle sparks of light you see here). These sparks or fireflies could represent friends, messages, good literature, music, hugs, smiles, or just a cup of tea in silence). It speaks of taking a decision to stand up against all odds and move (even when we feel like covering our eyes with our hair). It speaks of nature, and of a path to be walked. We are the only ones who can walk our path.

Art and artist statement by Sole Afra Martinez, Argentina

Transition There is a darkness always in my life.

Numbing, wounding shards of ice. I believe it’s wrong to have excess when most are denied.

Lies knock on our hearts, make home, never leave.

This world creaks at the seams. All take, few share.

Greed eats us alive. Hope is hard to hold.

Where are my dreams? Not in this nightmare!

Kindness can’t thrive until cruelty is disposed.

I dread losing sight of what’s most important.

What will I condone? Hatred blinds others.

Callous words are blights that tear us apart, my once happy soul needs love. It suffers.

My life bleeds away. Denied perspective I’m fading again, hopeless, dark, pensive.

No! I feel again. My mind, once pensive, chased gloom away, found new perspective.

Love heals my weary soul so it won’t suffer.

It guides through the blight, like hands that won’t part.

No more shall I condone cruel barbs from others.

My focus, sight, stays on what’s important.

It is time to thrive, with fate undisposed.

Make true a dream, and end this nightmare.

Be fully alive, not always on hold, and mend life’s seams by choosing to share.

Star guides my hearts with light that won’t leave.

Heart full to excess, I can’t be denied.

Hope grows from sparkling shards, grows with belief.

It is light in the darkness and my purpose in life.

Aki Halme, Finland

Yulia Ivanova, Russia

Transitions of Life At first, I thought of writing about my personal life transitions, but when contemplating deeply about my personal experiences, I realized that all humans develop in similar yet different ways, and go through comparable emotional, biological, and social changes shaped by the uniqueness of each person’s being. Thus, we are all very similar to each other, exhibiting our common humanity within the diverse forms we display as individuals. To talk about my personal life transitions would be too self-centered because we truly do share our experiences with the people around us. As social beings, we are connected through a vast network of human relationships. Our reliance on human relationships is common to all human beings, and by the nature of what we are, we mature, love, and experience in similar ways.

When I think about the transitions that have occurred in my life, I notice that some have occurred suddenly, and some through gentle evolution.

Some I have accepted intuitively without noticing the changes which occurred, and some I have resisted trying to maintain the lifestyle with which I had become accustomed. Some transitions occurred naturally within me, and some resulted from adaptation to the world around me. The natural world changes slowly and would barely be noticed if looking only at the trees, wind, and sun. The social world has a more immediate influence on the transitions of life. Our relationships with friends, family, and the people with whom we interrelate stimulate our emotions and provide the activities and experiences that result in our social behavior. Over time family relationships recede, and special friendships become new family, as our very being regenerates within the human diaspora.

Life is the most precious thing we have as human beings. Every person has the right to life, and all humans have similar characteristics, yet are emotionally and socially unique as individuals. Our growth is shaped by our environment and by our unique biological and personal traits. The concept of transition describes the evolution of our physical, social, and emotional self within the constantly evolving world which includes the growth processes inherent to each one of us. As intelligent beings we make free decisions. Our ability to reason and partake in responsible actions provides us with the ability to alter and respond to our environment improving our lives and increasing our chances of survival. The realization that our decisions affect not only ourselves but influence the lives of the people around us is part of our maturation. We must learn to partake in activities that promote kindness, build a humane society, and inspire the growth of the people we influence.

Our transitions in life should not be a lonely experience, but one we share with friends, family, and the world in which we live.

Edward Cromarty, USA

Transitions Cousin Sylvia grew up in the world of plenty. She lived with her parents and brother in a block of one-bedroom units inhabited by families with children. The cramped space was shared with pets of small sizes. Fish and hamsters were living toys and trading objects, delighting and surprising with fecundity.

Our grandmother doted on Sylvia and happily looked after her on weekends and holidays. Here our paths overlapped, we spent summer holidays at Gran’s home. We roamed sandy pinewoods, snacking on wild berries and observing caterpillars.

Sylvia was a voracious reader, she read all the books in Gran’s house and devoured the local library collection. She was headed for greatness.

Her second passion was animals, especially horses and dogs. We spent happy days playing with little figurines of people and animals, usually tending to various imagined veterinarian emergencies. Sylvia carefully set and bandaged miniature limbs, adding realistic flare to those injuries by lending her own blood from scratched mosquito bites.

She conducted scientific experiments on captured flies, not shy to remove a leg or wing to see how the creature fared on slippery soap surface with decreasing count of limbs. There was no doubt Sylvia would become a veterinary doctor.

My awed view of my older cousin was somehow at odds with what the family was saying, I kept hearing “poor Sylvia” whenever she was mentioned.

She seemed to be buying into that narrative, as a teenager she did not do well in school. Grandmother stepped in and Sylvia moved in with her. On my increasingly rare visits I noticed the books on Sylvia’s shelf were ever lighter and less ambitious.

She struggled to finish vocational secondary course. There was no way this could lead to veterinary school degree.

Sylvia did not give up on her dreams, just redirected them to what was within her reach: she always kept pure breed dogs and showed them at competitions. Her German Shepherds and French Bulldogs won Best in Breed prizes.

When she married and had children she created a lively home and instilled in her daughters the love for animals. Her girls grew up watching the soothing aquariums and playing with puppies.

I have lost touch with my cousin when I moved to the other end of the world.

I know this only through the family grapevine, but Sylvia’s daughter took particular interest in the dog shows and proudly competed, showcasing her dogs. Dominique is a brilliant student, currently studying Veterinary Science.

It seems to me the dream is not only alive, but coming true in an even fuller, more rewarding way in the next generation.

Ola Porebska, Poland/Australia

Andrea Uhl, USA/Germany Renske Carbone, The Netherlands/Australia

Go for it, girl!

About five years ago, around the time when our children started to move out, I felt I needed a new challenge… or two. What if I expanded my rediscovered hobby of playing basketball and get a trainer’s licence or if I started a two-year follow up study in the field of education? Hesitant about the choices and seeking moral support, I asked my family members for advice.

“Sure, do it,” they replied. “Yes, both!”

I admit I needed quite some encouragement. When I told my 17-year-old son that I might go to the women’s basketball training one evening, from his reaction I understood how silly it was to ask for affirmation. He smiled cheekily and said: “Go for it, girl.”

When the study year started, the tutor that guided a group of eight students including me had us think about our goals. Initially the goals that we came up with were all a bit similar: we would like to understand the learning difficulties of our students better so we could improve our teaching and meet their needs in our lessons. Our tutor came back to us: nice, but I want you to dream big. What do you ultimately want to achieve?

Improve teaching more profoundly and strategically, and not only your own but also of colleagues, of the whole school, take the lead! We were all a bit in shock and stammered all kinds of buts: but this is not what I wanted to do, but I just wanted to improve little things, but I am not a leader, but this is impossible in my school, but...

We needed her push to go on the road to big dreams. And the road was long, often steep, rocky, there were cracks and hills and mountains, pits and sometimes even canyons, but mountain tops too. We struggled, fell, helped each other stand up over and over again. One of the things we learned was that the deepest learning, the socalled transformative learning, usually happens during a phase of life with big changes or a personal crisis, such as job loss, divorce, or a career change. I worked part-time, my children were older and didn’t need that much care anymore, but most fellow students worked full time and some had young children, and the demands and deadlines of the study were harsh. It felt like transformative learning indeed.

Do you wonder what happened with the basketball trainer’s licence course? Nothing heroic, transformative learning in a different way. I was by far the oldest in the course, my basketball skills and knowledge were clearly not up to date and as far as they were there, they were very rusty. I learned how it feels to be the slowest, to be the last to be chosen, to get pitying looks, to fail. Far fewer mountain tops, far more rocks and canyons and tears shed, luckily for just a few weeks. It did not matter in the end because I was not going to be the trainer of promising NBA candidates, just young neighbourhood children, so they gave me the licence after all. Maybe I needed this experience as well; it surely helped me relate to my less talented young basketball players and understand their needs better, and all this learning was transferable to school too.

The trainer career did not last long, but the big dream that seemed to be a castle in the air, a pie in the sky at school, is coming closer and closer. The girl is going for it.

Renske Oort, the Netherlands/Germany

Transitions Music, music was always in the air Singing was a release and a joy The world opened up through opera and the fascinating roles one could play.

Being on stage was thrilling and slipping into a role was all-encompassing.

Reality came later when auditions didn’t go as planned.

But determination still won out.

Teaching shared elements with performing.

Learning to impart knowledge became the goal and holding success in one’s hands was still possible.

Step-by-step the teaching repertoire increased Creativity and fun were all part of the act.

Learners were the audience and responded as hoped.

A new career was launched and loved.

Looking back the road not taken is still there but more for others than for me.

No regrets, only thankfulness that the opportunities existed.

Looking ahead there is still a path a job that isn’t just a job.

The joy of working with others while having the chance to grow as well.

Poetry and art by Marjorie Rosenberg, USA/Austria

Gudny Sigridur Olafsdottir, Iceland

Life is made of permanent changes, we change with age, with experience, with deception and with joy also. The human heart and emotions change as well, when you have a goal in your mind, you dream of it, maybe for years; you put your efforts into it and sweat for it, but once achieved, you go chasing another goal and another dream... I think this is the secret of life, transitions and differences, this continuing longing for improving life and situation. Change is the spice of our lives, we cannot stay in the same situation forever, it's human, it's in our blood... the best thing we can do is follow our love for moving and go chase every new challenge to fulfil our dreams....

Habiba Chouchen, Tunisia

The Fountain of Life

Oil painting on aluminum, 2022, 70 cm b x 90 cm h x 0,4 d

Mieke van Os, The Netherlands

Changes I have passed the age where adulthood makes children's bones rattle like the bars of a cage. What I leave of myself from that time cannot be taken back. What's behind me stays there.

Tipping point, dividing line, conflicting wishes: live, die, go back and redo my life and change everything, repeat my life and change nothing. Tipping point, where in the past I can put a sign that says 'here, this is where my flight started' I don't know. The past - traversed so recently - has not yet settled down, as if it still foamed in its wake.

I look ahead and there is the horizon. I look back. There is also a horizon there. I am naturally connected to my future. Each course is dictated by the previous, drawing an erratic, unbroken line of reactions through one's life. Most of what we do, nobody sees. No one knows more than a fraction of what we think. If you continue, everything will evaporate. The earth, the truth, is hidden behind a mist of oblivion. Like the Northern Lights, like the moon hanging by its sides. The stars, lanterns hung by the past, so that the lost can find their way back.

Sometimes I want to escape the system of the past, from all the chain reactions. I want to be the big bang. However, a beginning is not a fixed point, it is fluid.

Without us even noticing it's there, it's happening all the time, it is there.

I find an answer to the question I can search for. Balance, the thrill of tilting back and forth, without racing speed. Willpower returns like a wayward hawk to the gauntlet. I come back from a slumber, trusting myself. As if a blindfold has been taken off, everything feels lighter.

I examine the difference between where I'm going and where I want to go. That's where I'm taken by surprise by a ball of sparks that explodes like a life force, like blown dandelion fluff. There is no better reason to go back than to keep going.

Life is in the gap between them. Turn and face the strange.

Admittedly, I don't know if love is something you can find. I think love is something you believe.

True, the future does not wait.

Mieke van Os, The Netherlands

Transformation Onward Oh how I love the changes in life, Out with the old, the baggage and strife.

Yes, I’ll never forget what has brought me to now, Many years of hard work, the sweat from my brow.

The joys of today are built on that history, The loss of old friends, who’s memories fade into mystery.

While I cherish the past, the good with the pain, It’s the future I strive for, with dreams of fresh gains.

Like the leaves in the forest that lose color and drop, Followed by Springtime, forged ahead by life’s eternal clock.

It’s on to the next thing, a child-like secret not yet revealed, Confident that the best will come, it’s splendor momentarily concealed.

For now…

My time in life has come as I gently store away any sadness from the past, And bravely encounter the wonders not yet crossed, with plans to explore and with goals not yet surpassed.

Art and poetry by Jim Fleckenstein, USA

Every person has some major changes in their life.

Passing through them is equal to a desert, not a paradise.

Sometimes it feels that fears can destroy your heart and soul, But you are getting stronger, even tall.

You will receive experience that can be great.

So live your life, don’t simply wait!

Thus, if you see a gorgeous butterfly, Remember, it was a caterpillar before it learnt to fly.

21.09.2022.

Art and poetry by Arevhat Simonyants, Uzbekistan

A rice field, a photo series Simona Vasilace, Romania/Japan

Julia Teplova, Ukraine/UK

United. Come on, come on, let's stick together Acrylic on Hahnemuhle linen 380g/m2, 2022, 41.8 cm h x 29.6 cm b x 0.1 cm

Mieke van Os, The Netherlands

Falling victorious Upheaved by the ludicrous conviction of invincibility We soared towards the sun And halfway through like Icarus we plunged, with apathetic onlookers partaking in our downfall Yet We were falling victorious– Heartened by the certitude That it’s better to crash united Than to linger apart

Magdalena Brzezinska, Poland

Yulia Ivanova, Russia

Ponder, Marvel, Wonder It starts slowly, creeping, from the outside silently - no signs there to be acknowledged It isn’t something consumed, it isn’t anything assumed it just lingers, there, cautiously, unafraid of obliviousness. Heedless, like a predator in disguise waiting in ambush.

And then it strikes, violently, coercively, flagrantly disturbing, demanding action, change, transformation.

Puzzling maybe, but certainly forceful.

No return, a point of inflection.

It just is. Not good not bad. There to stay.

A new lodger until the next tide slowly advancing on the sand and then, strike again.

A maze, a labyrinth, a spiral private, lonely, uneventfully perverse?

A cure, a healer, vast, immensely helpful?

Ponder, marvel, wonder.

María Laura Scasso, Argentina

Gudny Sigridur Olafsdottir, Iceland

Transitioning Reflections Don’t look in the mirror, There’s nothing to see, That old wrinkled face Is definitely not me!

Those puffy brown eyes Are not really there, Nor is the color of That washed-out white hair.

When did my beauty disappear?

Was it now or maybe last year?

When I pass the mirror by, Does it reflect a lie?

But wait!

Look again at that reflection, Try it from a different direction.

The mirror will confine.

You are who you define.

I may appear wrinkled and old But there's more than an image to behold!

Transition to White I always thought I’d look a fright If I let my hair turn all white.

I tried it during COVID lockdown, Stopped dying it a dark black-brown.

Now when I peer at my mirrored reflection, My gaze goes right to hair inspection.

Framing my usual face, White looks out of place, Light reflects it as moonglow, Bright and glistening as fresh snow.

I wonder if I’m different inside, Without colored locks I can’t hide.

Do I suddenly look ancient and old?

The color is striking and bold, The symbol of youth disappeared, Replaced by old age much feared.

I still feel like me with a head of white.

Actually, I think it’s a very cool sight!

Judy Gutlerner, USA

How I wish I had more done - I have had such a year (and it's only October yet).

But this year has definitely been transformative!

In terms of making, I started with a very simple line of drop shaped chain (necklace/bracelet/earrings). Not complicated, but just for the sake of getting making again after a long hiatus and all the trauma of separating from my husband of 26 years. The teardrop shapes are sad, but rather than seeing tears, I choose to interpret them as water droplets / splashing water as a result of having fun sea swimming and Stand-Up Paddle boarding, or the simple beauty of raindrops splashing on the water surface - light and bouncy & catching the sun.

Then on to a slow process of "finding my wings" and starting to fly again.

Based on visual research that I did a long time ago (even before we met), I created a ring and matching earrings. At the time I drew this, it was transformative as I was finding my inner artist and conquering the misconceived notion that I was not creative and couldn't draw. Now it represents me finding myself and beginning to live my new life with optimism & strength.

Now I find myself working on a series of gem-set necklaces and earrings based on honeycomb. Having come "back to centre" it is amazing to be properly busy again at the bench and making jewellery with gems for the first time in a very long time. The Bee - such an industrious beasty - is a symbol of me back living life and working at what I love to do.

The transformation from my world collapsing and feeling so, so lost, to having found my confidence to rock life is absolutely incredible. I don't know where I found the strength, but it is there in me. Don't get me wrong, my life is still far from easy, but somehow I am happy. How do I know? An incredible array of toothy grinned pictures (yes, braces and all) or pictures of me roaring laughing, head thrown back, and looking beautiful.

Art and story by Nicole van der Wolf, Ireland

For over 30 years very little had changed in the home. There was an occasional painting of some rooms, pictures gradually added of children's art, some furniture updates, and more bookshelves but much remained the same as when I first walked through the door. There was a 70s vibe with the rust-colored shag rug in the family room, dated cabinets in the kitchen, some plastic fixtures, buffed brick around the fireplace, and wood paneling in certain rooms. In the process of time, historical markings appeared such as children's fingerprints unnoticed by most in hidden corners. There were carpet stains not totally removed from birthday parties and holidays. The third step of the stairs became a bit precarious and was sometimes avoided.

Things had gotten old, worn, and in need of repair.

Renovating was considered several times, but timing never seemed right. In February of 2022, a real estate agent called. I told him that I wasn't interested in selling but if he knew someone to renovate it would be appreciated. I described the project, and he knew a perfect person for the job. The contractor visited and we toured the home. The kitchen and bathrooms needed updating, new flooring, fixtures, trim, and paint.

Essentially, everything. The contractor smile, nodded, and understood. I gave him the freedom to do what he thought was best. He sent photos of previous work and an estimate. We agreed to move forward on a handshake.

When the work started, I left the "old" home for vacation. I didn't pick out a single item. The contractor, with suggestions from one of my daughters, started the work. In transition, there is always the unknown. You have not arrived at the final destination. There is a trust and a hope that the future will be better in some mysterious way. There is a leap of faith. During the time away, I'd occasionally received messages from my daughter about the progress. A photo of the kitchen appeared as it was ripped apart. She sent, "the rest of the home looks like this." Over three dumpsters were filled with the past.

The transformation was complete, and I entered the new home. Months of labor, attention to detail, freedom to do what's best, the contractor's work was better than I imagined. Now is the time to make fresh memories and add some new historical markings.

Anthony Kolasny, USA

Carmen Camilleri, Malta

The Call The toughest decision my family made was to move from South Africa to New Zealand in 1999.

Why the move?

I was enjoying my eighth year as a school principal at two different schools, which were at the cutting edge of non-racial education, with a majority of students not from the ruling ‘white’ class.

A history teacher raised in a family actively opposed to apartheid, my passion was to guide teenage youth to reach their potential. I taught in Zimbabwe as it transitioned from Rhodesia to Zimbabwe, learning much from this amazing experience.

I dreamt of the day apartheid would disappear, we would live in a non-racial, democratic country, and I would be a change-agent in education. My research warned of a challenging transition process.

In the mid-80s I moved out of my comfort zone organizing non-racial youth symposia, attended by students from throughout South Africa. They rubbed shoulders with one another over a weekend, were challenged and inspired by a variety of well-known public figures, and when they clambered onto their buses at the end of each symposium, new friendships had been formed, a group willing to destroy the apartheid barriers.

Change came. President Mandela was appointed to lead the newly democratic ‘Rainbow Nation’.

My school was a member of a collaborative network of independent (private) feepaying schools with the potential to make a significant contribution to the ‘new South Africa’, leading the change. Sadly, this did not occur. Most of the wealthier schools in our network focused more on themselves, self-interest overshadowing visionary calls to create a new education narrative.

The ruling African National Congress (ANC) Party lacked the visionaries necessary to transition into this new democracy. Some neo-Marxist education leaders were out of touch, while others happily practiced apartheid in reverse i.e., what would my white face (the oppressor) know about a non-racial democracy?

My Christian faith was deep and strong. My surgeon commented that my healing from cancer as a nine-year-old boy was a miracle when my family had bumped into him one day. God knew my heart’s desires. I cried out to Him in frustration and desperation. He called us to New Zealand. We miraculously gained entry, arriving without jobs.

My wife found a job quickly, but I could not find a school management position.

My focus shifted to the development of life skills, youth mentoring, and peer mentoring programs. Our children completed their schooling and the call came to move to Australia where we enjoyed twelve happy years, eight of which saw me as an Assistant Head of a large co-educational school in my dream job. Retirement and a return to New Zealand to be closer to family.

I often reflect on this journey. Before we left South Africa, I turned down another potentially exciting school principal’s job for reasons already mentioned. My education passion developed in new ways living in different cultures, writing thirteen published books.

God called me to New Zealand. True to His word, He has walked behind, besides, and ahead of me in His faithful way every step of this journey.

August 2022

The full story is on my website: www.yess.co.nz

Robin Cox, New Zealand

Magdalena Brzezinska, Poland

The angel stands on a pier, deep in thought Handsome head tilted slightly to the side, his body has found the peace his mind sought the clouded sky of wind and thoughts stays wild Gentle strength and quiet self-confidence the still waters of the bay are his heart The strong stone pier, which today does present Lures with false whispers to delay his start One step, two, and there is no solid ground Just the distant shore, the bay, and the sky Murky depths try to frighten and confound But can’t deter the angel from his way Angels don’t stumble when faced with the unknown they walk across the waves, and never drown

Aki Halme, Finland