Fibonacci in love

“How do you manage to live with the pain I have caused you, Karin?”

“I have no choice but to go on loving you, because God has chosen me for you. I can’t fail Him.”

It suddenly dawned on PW, something that had always puzzled everybody, this twenty five year old mystery. He looked at his wife in wonder. “You didn’t want me, did you? You had always wanted Hennie! And who could blame you? He was more of a man that I could ever be, the eldest son and all that. And suddenly, you changed your mind and I wondered why. All the boys, my friends, were saying that it was because Hennie was away on National Service, and you craved attention, so you switched to me. But it had been God all along, hasn’t it, Who was behind your change of mind?”

“Yes, but I learned to love you. And I have no regrets. You are the best husband ever.”

“Even after all I have done to you?” He was incredulous.

“Yes,” she said simply. “You are the best, because you are the only one I’ve got.”

He looked at her in admiration. “How the blerrie hell did you do it? I really believed that you were in love with me! I thought you went crazy for my eyes and my long muscly legs!”

“I faked it until I made it,” she replied airily and they both burst out laughing. “Fortunately, you look better now at forty three than when you were twenty.”

All the love of their shared twenty two years together came tumbling out like their children’s toys from the wicker basket, just like when the boys used to pour out Christmas presents from the sack. Yes, it was the power of her intention that made love appear as if by magic where there had once been emptiness. It is just like the Universe: it only takes one excitation, an impulse, for life to happen.

“Jesus! You mean to tell me all that lust and panting was not real?”

“I made myself think only of you, PW. I filled myself with you. Only you. And after a while, Hennie stopped mattering. He became just my brother-in-law. It was as if our old history did not happen, probably because I am completely focused on my present and future with you. And that is what I have been trying to tell you, PW, that in life, everything has its own sweet place.”

“Fibonacci sequence,” PW breathed. “Of course! There’s such beautiful order in nature that I sometimes wonder if God is a mathematician.”

Ag, PW, don’t complicate things. I don’t know what Fibonacci sequence means, but I know one thing, love is the most efficient law. That’s why it is obeyed universally, and it only brings suffering when it is not obeyed. When people don’t obey the law of love, the whole blerrie system breaks down. Look at our country. It is corrupt, that’s why we are poor.”

“Yeah, like in my case. I broke my covenant with God. And with you. That’s why I am suffering. Nothing means anything to me now, Karin, not even the blerrie accelerator.”

“You are a good man, PW. Like I said, even successful men make mistakes. And I say you are a good man because you tried to spare me. Your protected me as much as you could from the pain instead of dragging me down with you. That’s what most people do, you know. When they are in  a bad place, they try to take their partners down too. But you did your best to keep me afloat. And you try so hard too – I see it in your eyes – to stop my pain.”

PW was curious. ‘How did I do that?”

“You gave me the best you could,” she said.

“Is that enough?”

“I know you are trying to be the husband I deserve, PW, and because you are trying, it is enough. If you set the intention, the energy will follow, and as a physicist, you should know that where energy goes, life follows. I don’t ask for more than your intention, PW, to love me fully again. Yes, I know, it is not much what you have for me now, and of course it hurts. But I say to myself, ‘Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get my husband back, and after tomorrow is another day’.”

He stood up and pick his wife up into his arms. ‘Enough of that talking, let’s go to bed.”

He knew deep down that with his wife, there is spirituality and true beauty in all that they share because they were merely following the set path outlined in Fibonacci’s sequence; in a world spiralling outwards of excitement, ambition and unnatural sex with his twenty one year old mistress, he will always come home to this sameness, to this life in Die Uitkyk, living quietly with his family.  Individuals don’t have an independent existence but rather exist only as part of an ensemble of many. Maybe that’s the meaning of life that he had been seeking, he thought: just to live each day well and love truly and deeply those who love you selflessly, to propagate that love that lies beneath all aspects of Creation.

“Just promise me one thing, PW.”


“Never stop going to church, even when you are far away from here. Because we have to love, like we did in the beginning. All this will pass, and in the end, there is only the love between us that matters. And whatever we have missed with each other in the bad times like now, we possess together the precious, the real, the one true path. So don’t stress, my husband, just love.”

The cynic in him wondered if life could really be that simple: just love your wife and all would be fine. And then he thought, for all the unimagined vastness and unfathomable complexities of the Universe, there are only four fundamental forces that shaped everything.

I am the integrity you lost when you became like her, instead of becoming truly you, she said. And for once in this lifetime, the Higgs field was completely silenced in tribute to the loveliness of this purity and giving, all the particles within it stilled and the four fundamental forces were in abeyance.

(Photograph shows nature obeying the Fibonacci sequence.)

A sweet introduction to Fibonacci sequence in nature:

The song, Lateralus by Tool is also about Fibonacci, please do watch to be blown away:

(1) Black,
(1) then,
(2) white are,
(3) all I see,
(5) in my in•fan•cy,
(8) red and yel•low then came to be,
(5) rea•ching out to me,
(3) lets me see.
(2) There is,
(1) so,
(1) much,
(2) more and
(3) beck•ons me,
(5) to look through to these,
(8) in•fi•nite pos•si•bil•i•ties.
(13) As be•low so a•bove and be•yond I im•ag•ine,
(8) drawn be-yond the lines of rea•son.
(5) Push the en•ve•lope.
(3) Watch it bend.





Strength in a man

It is said that women feel sex emotionally. Maybe that’s the reason why porn doesn’t inspire women generally, except if it is personal and we become involved in the act. The most desirable porn star for a woman is always the man she desires.

What inspires me? A strong man, because with strength comes an unshakeable confidence, a courage of conviction, fearlessness and vulnerability. He dares. I love it when a man dares. Also, I am a very physical person; thus I find physical, mental and emotional strength very attractive in a man. When a man has all three and at 100% load, it’s nuclear fusion in the chambers of my heart, a reaction which cascades like wildfire and it spreads everywhere.

I think we are all narcissistic in nature, thus we subconsciously are turned on to some aspect of a person that is a reflection of our inner selves (for weak people, they seek who they wish they could be, because they dare not themselves). For me, the best is when there is a collision of strong matching pairs, like the matter/anti-matter reaction which yields tremendous amounts of energy (E=mc2 equation). Yet religion, society and logic say that the best pair is when both complements one another like the yin-and-yang symbol. All very good in theory, but the physicist in me knows that E=mc2 explosion is simply mind-blowing. But there has to be honesty, or it is just weak fantasy. When it is real, it gets real powerful, just like using pure reagents instead of watered-down versions.

I am religious, thus I love it when the carnal and physical becomes emotional and spiritual. This is simply too beautiful for words, the moment when a man’s body is on fire with his lust for you, yet his eyes light up with a spiritual fire and he calls out your name with the depth of his emotions, and you know you inspire all this, that you brought a strong man to this.

The protagonist of the story of course has it, of course 🙂

Do you notice how similar our eyes are?

We are reflections of each other.

There is no one on earth who could match us, strength for strength.

You are a big strong man – yet I rowed you from A to B across the stretch of blue. How many women would? But more importantly, how many women would you allow to? None. Only me. Because I am the female you – your Cambridge to my Oxford.

Jedi, I match you, strength for strength. That’s why we fight.

The ferocity of my passion matches yours, fury for fury.

You rise to meet me each time, stronger, until I finally yield to you.

I yield to you, because you are helpless yet unafraid of my onslaught. A lesser man would not have been able to withstand it – that’s why I show the full expression of myself only to you. The best and worst of me is only for you.

That is your power over me.

Because in you, I have finally met me.

The most erotic word

What’s the most erotic word in any language?

Your name. When someone says it again and again, in ecstasy of you.

It hits some primal spot deep in you. It awakens the inner being within you. ‘She’, that inner being that is you, rises to his voice calling out your name. You are no longer a nondescript, functional person but this desirable goddess celebrating her bountiful sexuality. Your flesh catches fire; you are alive, dancing and burning. For that someone who calls your name in his ecstasy. Sweet music in your ears, yes it is the most erotic word in any language, when you hear someone calling your name.

I have written six non-fiction books before this. Catching Infinity is my first novel. For months, I approached writing my first novel as I did my six non-fiction work. But my writing came out dry and soulless. It was only when I connected my deep, inner sexual being – that creative energy – to my writing that it began to flow. Yes, I am writing about theoretical physics! But read on, you will see how it is all interconnected, this “we are massless, dimensional beings here for the human experience, not human beings here for the spiritual experience.” And our sexual desire is the strongest physical feeling we can hope to feel, for that ultimate in human experience.

The protagonist in the story is a Professor of Theoretical Physics, from the ages 36 to 43. He is an academic, but he is a very sexual person – strong but also sweetly vulnerable; he was pious yet hungry. The sexual part of him has to feature prominently in the storyline, because I believe that we come alive for our sexuality rather than love. Love keeps us in faith and all the good things, but sexual desire, it is what that makes us human and alive.

Never lose touch with yours. Writing this book made me realise that it is from our sexuality and desires that the font of our creativity is filled.

Kissing you

(Excerpt from Chapter 15, Space-Time Love)

I want to kiss your eyelids gently, hold your face between my hands and feel your strong body tremble in my arms. I know that you want me above all, and that your body responds so beautifully to mine, as mine does to yours.

I know you want to prolong it. You told me many times. So I will read Shelley to you,

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea;–

What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

Do you know, how similar our eyes are to each other’s? That’s the spirituality of us, the spirituality that raises fierce carnal lust into something beautiful. People would say it’s an unhealthy obsession between us, but I disagree. How could it be? Your wanting of me makes me feel like a woman, the most desirable woman in the world. I come alive for you, just for you, PW.

I kiss you, slowly and deeply. I can taste your desire for me in your mouth. Do you know how many years I have waited to do this? To touch you like this, to touch you in wonder and awe of the perfection of your body that I have wanted for so long. I worship your body for the pleasure that it gives me. And now, I am holding you in my arms and you are trembling.

I love sitting like this, face to face with you, with that part of you buried deep inside me, your power barely leashed. I love it that your body has such power and rawness; you are beautiful, do you know that? The most beautiful man I know. I love licking your ear and stroking your neck, taking my time to taste and caress you until you could stand it no more. I love your back. The strong trapezius muscles that defined your body as a man’s. My man for now. No, you are always mine, aren’t you? As I am always your woman, your lover. Because we satisfy each other on all levels in a way that no one ever could. Not because of beauty or special skills, both of which I do not possess, but the fire that burns in me for you. You know that I burn exclusively for you from the very core of my being. I want you so much, so much, so much, sometimes I think, more than I want life itself. For that one moment of holding your trembling body in my arms, I would die a thousand deaths.


They were lovers till the end, his Ouma and his Oupa. PW thought of Ouma with her papery-thin skin, her rivers of prominent green veins and her sparse white hair, the remnants of a once-great beauty, and of Oupa’s daily happiness for the simple privilege of waking up with her and waiting for her rheumy blue eyes to open.

For Oupa, she will always be Rose Koetze, the young widow who ran Die Uitkyk with an iron hand after her husband died, who gave him a job and a new life. To him, she was always the great Voortrekker beauty with a fierce spirit but who came to him soft and yielding in the night. We never see things and people as they really are; rather, we see them as we ourselves are.

Today, she was sitting on the wooden rocking chair on the stoep when PW arrived. PW ran up the steps and kissed his grandmother’s hand reverently. In her persence, he always felt like a boy once again, in his short trousers and wearing oversized tackies, feeling awe-inspired and nervous-excited about the day ahead. Everyday was still a great adventure then.

“Ouma,” he said.

Ag, PW,”  she patted his face fondly.  Her favourite grandchild. “Have you come to tell me about the blerrie English girl?”

Invisible Music

He listened more, pressing his ear against the cold stone of the square tower of Magdalen College. More music came to him, disembodied, but real nonetheless. Like fire, music is critical to our survival. It predates language and is more than a just frivolity that we often carelessly assign it to. Early Paleolithic humans invested a lot of effort into making music, probably because music touches us all at a very deep level. There is a possibility that music predates bipedal walking, and why not? To communicate, like to procreate, is a fundamental driver of life.

But what is music?

It is a vibration of molecules following a certain, beautiful, established pattern and this sequence of energised molecules works with neurotransmitters, opening up cortical circuitry in the brain, opening up our minds like a chemical flower blooming in its osteoblast cage.

From its source, music travels out spherically, directionless, losing energy along the way. Thus, music gets fainter the further away it gets from its source, until the energy dissipates to the extent that the molecules no longer hum to the beat. But in Alice’s world, these molecules reach him with their message across space and time, and the message that it carried was the beauty of the Magdalen College Choir singing Mount Up, My Soul. Mount Up, My Soul was a little known song, written by Joseph Straphan in 1834 that PW used to play on the piano in the veld to the tempo of crickets singing. How did she know?

“I loved you since forever, PW.”


When I first approached a publisher about Catching Infinity,  he told me that nobody would pay to buy a PhD thesis. I had to simplify it, and more importantly, I had to craft a story that  readers can be emotionally involved with.

Lust is the strongest emotion, no doubt, because throughout history, countless marriages have been destroyed and lives lost because of this inane drive to procreate. But lust for a person seldom last a lifetime: it could be strong, but is never more than transient in the lifespan of a person. We can’t be excited for 10 years about a toy. That’s not realistic, and that’s what lust is.  It leaves you empty when satiated, devoid of meaning and promise.

Love, on the other hand, is something completely different. It fascinates me because I have seen so many guises of it – as we all have – both the good and the bad. I want to write about Forever-Love because it is something real, normal, mundane and ordinary, but it is also incredibly beautiful in its strength, optimism and dedication.

View from the tower, Portchester Castle
View of St Mary’s Church from the tower, Portchester Castle

Forever-Love in Catching Infinity