Petit morceau de vie

wordless wednesday

2012-02-01T19:27:00.001+01:00

angels I

2012-01-31T09:07:00.003+01:00

"do you believe in angels?" a friend asked me last night. do i? i believe in this one, flitting through my days, often with her littler companion by her side. i believe in her divinity and her magic, and her earthiness (are angels allowed to be earthy?). "what would you do if you could fly, mama?" she asked me the other day. i thought about it. "if i could fly", i said, "i would try my best not to...". "why?" "because earth-bound is where i need to be, baby... but what about you, my love, what would you do if you coud fly?"

"i would lie down on a cloud and have a little nap, and chat with the birds, and fly to a place where i really want to be in Africa, and i would visit my friend, and i would fly further, i would fly close to the ground, in the midst of a herd of wild horses, then i would land on the back of an elephant to rest a little, and then i would fly high again, until all of Africa was a map at the back of my eye, and finally i would land in an open space with water where the elephants drink, and while i lie there in the sun, i would write a letter to papa, and i would ask a bird to bring it to papa, and throw it through his window, and then i would fly back home to you, mama, and i would lie on the bed with you, and cuddle, and rest from my journey, and read a book together, and be home again."

it sounds tame, my need to be earth-bound. it sounds like a clipped wings answer. it sounds like resignation. but seriously now, do you believe in angels?

insecurity

2011-12-20T06:31:00.002+01:00

one of the gorgeous women in my training programme sent me this story.

Twins are talking to each other in the womb:

‘Do you believe in life after birth??’
‘Sure I do’
‘Really? Well, what do you think it looks like then, this life after birth??’
‘I don’t know exactly. But it will be lighter than here. Maybe we’ll get to walk around, and eat with our mouths…’
‘Walk around! You must be kidding, that’s impossible. And eating with our mouths? How? Besides, the umbilical cord is much too short to walk around with…’
‘I think everything will be different, really…’
‘Well, I think that birth is the end of life. I’d rather stay here and stick with what I know.'
‘But we will get to see our mother, and she will take care of us.’
‘Do you believe in a mother? Really? Where is she then?’
‘Here, everywhere, all around us. We are and we live inside her and through her. Without her we wouldn’t exist at all!’
‘Bullshit! I’ve never seen any mother. And I never noticed her either, so she doesn’t exist!... and besides, nobody has ever come back yet to tell the story…’

racing past

2011-12-19T16:44:00.002+01:00

this weekend, in the midst of a turmoil of things to do, places to go, people to see, and many internal storms, i finally found my way back to the eye of the cyclone. where everything is quiet. as always.

thank you friends for the good words and the good thoughts.

too much

2011-12-15T20:56:00.002+01:00

it's all too much. the children are having their first week doing the lambada between two houses, and they are not coping well, so the nights are broken into pieces and the days are tense and thin. i am totally overworked with the courses of this semester coming to an end and lots of check-up work before the holidays. then there is the flu (and the vile gargle). simple exhaustion.

oh, and i almost forgot, but i am almost seven months pregnant...

so how do you do this again? can you guys remind me? i know there is a way, something about small nurturing steps, little windows of opportunity to be filled with goodness just for me. but i seem to have lost the manual once again. tell me, how do i get out of survival mode? how do i get in touch with the small simple good things?

home-found

2011-12-14T12:27:00.005+01:00

what better time to discover an apothecary vocation than at the start of the flu and cold season. sinterklaas must have known this, because the good man presented me with the best gift ever.

this book, based on the bbc show 'grow your own drugs'. i am smitten. and like i said, plenty of patients around to practice on. but i have not forgotten my grand-father's favourite saying 'physician, heal thyself!' (yes, i know it's not actually his saying, but he's the only person i know who said and lived it consistently). which happens to come in handy now that i wake up every morning with a sore throat and a stuffy nose.

and so, with this particularly scary gargle getting ready in the fridge, the children and i went in search of a neti pot. we visited all the indian stores we know (quite a few...), but the only neti pot we found was copper and cost as much as two weeks of food. frustrated and chilled (as in: they were chilled, i was frustrated), we trudged back home...

... where, as is often the case, it turned out i already had exactly what i needed. a little tea-pot that i have known my whole life. straight from the kitchen of the man who healed himself. a true physician's tool.

hand-made

2011-12-13T14:54:00.004+01:00

this week for the first time since april, I will sleep for more than three consecutive nights in the same bed. and not just any bed. mine. after months of nomadic divorcing limbo, i finally have a space of my own. as i clear out garbage bag after garbage bag of a life no longer fitting, as i move and rearrange furniture, and burn sage in the newly open spaces, i am overcome by sadness, relief, gratitude and an odd sort of tingling aliveness. reading clarissa pinkola estes' version of the red shoes, i am reminded again and again of the value of the hand-made life. carefully, stitch by stitch. i know there are no shortcuts, no instant fixes. but there is this life of mine, unfolding. and it's so worth showing up for.

witching

2011-12-12T11:09:00.002+01:00

we've been witching away in our little kitchen, the witch-in-training and i. we have great plans. so far, we've made this. and this.

but soon, there will also be this. and this. and this. not to mention a lot of bread...

and in search of inspiration, we found ourselves freezing our ass off at the mid-winter fair of the archeon, between the goths, the punks and the story-tellers. it did smell good. of wood fire, and animal hides, and herbs and cold sharp winter air. you can still smell it in our hair.

enjoying today

2011-11-21T14:36:00.003+01:00

the mist, my wee ones, the fun filters on picasa, my mum's visit, an amazing new blog, soup and bread, just being, the mist,

and this.

kitchen art

2011-11-18T10:37:00.001+01:00

his prettiest feathers

2011-11-11T09:56:00.000+01:00

good care

2011-11-06T16:00:00.003+01:00

i've been thinking lately of what it means to take good care of myself. what kind of care do i need? and how can i best provide it?

walking on the beach today i began a list (non-exhaustive as yet, but definitely a good beginning) of what good care means, (aside from the three obvious basics (a roof over my head, enough money to buy food, and not being in constant mortal danger)):

- enough sleep
- fresh air (forest or ocean)
- movement (as in my body moving) (preferably in the fresh air)
- solitude
- the company of people i love
- physical contact with people i love
- inspiring words and images
- fresh water
- fresh food that nourishes and energizes my body
- self-expression (writing, talking, painting, drawing, knitting, making music, etc) (but also crying when sad, shouting when angry, laughing when glad)
- silence
- music

just reading the list makes me feel good. but how much better i feel on days when i spend most of my time engaging in one of these...

secret agents in the woods

2011-11-02T13:33:00.001+01:00

in search of a new language

2011-11-01T17:01:00.003+01:00

november is a month for practicing. 'exercise', it's called on my Nikki McClure calendar. and here is what i have come up with for this year.

for the next 30 days, i want to practice clearing my communication with others. there is nothing like a divorce to make a person realize the importance of limpid communication. the rules are simple:

- be impeccable with your word
- hide nothing
- take nothing personally

the first means telling no falsehoods. which automatically implies no bad-mouthing. of other people, of myself, of the weather, of the authorities, etc. it also means that 'i hate you' would automatically come out as 'i am having trouble feeling how much i love you right now'.

the second means trying to communicate as much as possible of what goes on in my inner world. instead of being silent about the painful shameful bits, bringing them into contact every time i can master the courage.

the third means reminding myself time and again that whatever other people say, they are always saying something about themselves, never about me. even if sometimes it sounds as if it really really is about me (funnily, i tend to interpret everything people say as if it was about me, even if it doesn't sound that way at all. witness the following ubiquitous exchange: "I feel so down" "What did I do wrong?").

deceptively simple. 30 days. long enough for a small miracle to unfold.

halloween

2011-11-01T15:33:00.001+01:00

or what happens when zorro and the devil hit the town...

on eating dessert first

2011-10-27T07:26:00.003+02:00

growing up (a process in no way complete...) i learnt that food and pleasure are a reward. for work, for pain, for the unavoidable unplesantness. eat your cabbagey thing first, then you'll get cake. clean up your room, then you can read your book. as i grew, the tasks changed, but the principle didn't. waking up early and tired on what i know will be a busy day filled with work appointments and administrative circus, my first reflex is still to brace myself, to mentally map my day around all those 'shoulds', and somewhere on the far horizon, hopefully, hopefully before the sun sets, to leave a small patch of peace. maybe i can have a walk then, a cup of tea, do some yoga.

but experience is a wise teacher. i know that that small patch of peace is a mirage. it will disappear before i get there. i know that being tired and cranky while doing a whole bunch of 'shoulds' will just leave me more tired and cranky. i also know that it's not the tired and the cranky that is the issue here, nor is it the fact that there are clouds of 'shoulds' hanging over my day.

would you venture on a difficult hike on an empty stomach and with no provisions? probably not. because that's pretty much what it boils down to. i need to eat first. then i can work. and being tired and cranky means my soul needs food, as does my body. can i really afford to postpone nourishing myself until i am 'done'? will this improve the quality of my life, or my work? nope. i can say this with great certainty. it won't. because it never ever did.

so these days, i try (and sometimes even manage) to practice the other way. yes, there are lots of things i need to do today. but i am going to start right here, in this space that i love. with a cup of tea. and a blogpost. i will have a tasty breakfast. do some yoga. walk on the beach. (maybe even) do some writing. i will take my time. i will meet my breath. whatever it is that makes my tired cranky face break up into a smile. and then, when i am filled with the sense of the abundance, the goodness, the spaciousness of my own life, i will get down to work. (experience is whispering that i just might enjoy that too...).

and yes, i know that some of my 'shoulds' are likely not to make it, they will probably fall off the edge, and crash on the horizon of this day. but i won't be missing them. not today.

unkept garden

2011-10-24T19:18:00.002+02:00

even though we didn't go often enough, and we didn't grow enough, and we didn't weed enough, and we didn't harvest enough, we really enjoyed renting this tiny bit of dark earth in the middle of the green. another year, another chance... to do it right (oops, i mean, to enjoy it all over again)

short list

2011-10-18T18:54:00.005+02:00

of things that made me cry this week: a bunch of insanely daring dahlias, the sight of my unborn baby's unsuccesful attempt to suck her thumb, hearing myself say outloud that i am worth it, this song, this song, this documentary.

oh, and then there is what made me smile: all of the above. and this.

de zee

2011-10-18T16:27:00.003+02:00

de zee (judith herzberg)

de zee kun je horen
met je handen voor je oren,
in een kokkel,
in een mosterdpotje,
of aan de zee.

(uit Beemdgras 1968)

lie-in

2011-10-18T08:17:00.002+02:00

the wind is howling, the rain beating on the pane. i'm lying in bed, wondering what to do with today. maybe a bit of yoga, maybe a walk in the rain, maybe some knitting in the writer's café, maybe a solo visit to the hammam, maybe hanging out with my girl, maybe some work, maybe wash my hair, maybe browse in the library, maybe read a pretty magazine, maybe... maybe just lie here a bit longer, maybe dream a little...

did you see this? and these? and this?

some days

2011-10-13T21:46:00.000+02:00

are more orange than others

october

2011-10-08T02:25:00.002+02:00

every year i forget how much there is to love in october: the colours, the smell, the sudden gusts of wind, the leaves, the fruit. the whole wild, intemperate dance in the face of decay and death. october is a celebration. of what has been and what is yet to come.

(no, it's november that stretches the spirit, december that sends it under, january in which i attempt deep-sea diving en apnée and february which nearly drowns me, every year)

rags

2011-10-07T10:23:00.001+02:00

if my prayers are blown to rags by the wind does that mean they will be heard?

birds

2011-10-06T08:56:00.002+02:00

sometimes on rainy grey days tropical birds come to roost on my kitchen counters and stainless steel water bottles grow feathers

1am

2011-09-19T01:35:00.003+02:00

i was supposed to drink tea with my friend and neighbour. 9pm, as soon as the children sleep. everything was ready: an almost tidy kitchen, an easy knitting project, new loose-leaf tea and a freshly baked apple pie (we went apple-picking, we went apple-picking, we went apple-picking today) (to be sung at the top of your lungs).

she must have given up by now, the friend and neighbour. and gone to bed. and maybe even forgiven me (she knows it's dicey business, putting the children to bed).

and here i am, 1am. re-reading my blog. starting from all the way in 2007, and working my way slowly through the weeks, the months, the years. crying and laughing, catching a glimpse of a different self. where did she go, that funny, honest, raw, sensitive, beautiful woman? did i lose her along the way? i hope not, hope not, hope not.

looking for something else, too, in between the lines, the photographs. looking for what happened. the how, the why, the wherefore. there must have been signs, leading from there to here. warnings. whisperings.

i could not find any. no explanations. only an unfolding.

between september 2007 (new baby in the house, happily married people, joyful children, creativity and love gallore) and september 2011 (new baby in the belly, scared divorcing lonely people, sad lost children, grief, anger, excitement, and shame): what happened? what happened?

in september 2007 i knew so much. i know so little today. tomorrow, i will know less. but i know who i love. and i know how to hold grief (mine and yours). gently. i know where to put my foot down, for the next step. and if i don't know yet, i might know once i lift it.

maybe that's all you ever need to know. Sam's uncle Jim said: "When driving in the dark, you don't need to see further than your headlights see."

maybe. maybe. maybe.

her carriage

2011-09-17T13:37:00.000+02:00

the crocodile he made himself

2011-09-16T18:01:00.002+02:00

note the moving head and the little band-aid where a nail was inconveniently sticking out ("het maakt niet uit, mama, ik doe er gewoon een pleistel op")

her new pen

2011-09-15T20:21:00.000+02:00

37 things i am loving...

2011-06-27T19:45:00.016+02:00

...on my 37th birthday: gipsy music, chocolate cake, illegal scented roses, the summer heat, andrei zadorine, poetry, gentle breezes, swimming naked, crispy clean wind-blown white sheets, playing accordion, eyeore, baking bread, my children, dancing, adventures, new friends, inner quiet, chaos, home-made washing liquid, swooshing skirts, the unknown, french movies, raspberries, writing, men, blueberries, the rain, pakistani mangoes, old friends, the woods, high silvery grass, sex, field flowers, climbing trees, colette, women, rhubarb.

happy birthday to all of you also celebrating your mortality today!

in this one... (a fiction)

2011-06-22T13:06:00.013+02:00

in this one, the sun is shining. it's always shining, the sun of summer photographs. the river in the background is grey dark blue, it blends with the sky, and there are reeds sticking out on either side of my small fat body, turning me into a plump, rather startled lion cub emerging from the high grass of the savannah. i am wearing a striped shirt. horizontal stripes do not suit small plump people. the shirt is loose, yet stretches oddly in the middle, where my tummy would be. i am wearing this striped shirt and not much else besides. my mouth is pouting, my eyes squinting, almost shut, against the glare of the sun.

i can tell that it's you taking the photograph by the resistant, resigned patience of my body. the sun is hurting my eyes. the grass is scratching my legs. where my thighs meet, at the top, they stick together with sweat. my tata is taking a photograph. i am thirsty. don't move, you said. i am hungry. don't move, you said. beyond the black eye of the camera, i can see the infinite stretch of the dark pine forest. no breeze. the river is gurgling in my back. right behind you, there is shade, and coolness, and the sweetness of pine scent. don't move, you said. don't move. so i don't. i stand there, sweaty, uncomfortable, blind. the way i will stand in the world for many, many years to come.

until one day, i'll forget, and i will move, i will run, in a body so lean and so supple i will barely recognize it as my own. i will run straight past you and your black, scrutinizing, unforgiving eye, into the forest where the wolves are waiting to play with me.

poppies

2011-06-19T19:48:00.004+02:00

they grow. between the railway tracks, along the high and low ways, on lost allotments. in all the spaces with no name, the spaces in between the labels. bright, oblivious. hopeful. they grow.

apoptosis

2011-06-17T17:18:00.002+02:00

Keep walking, though there’s no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances.
That’s not for human beings.
Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes you move.

Rumi

angel

2011-06-05T09:18:00.003+02:00

dabbling in the tarot lately. last night, before going out, i pulled the death card. end of cycle. transformation. regeneration. then i went out, the church bells rang, the guitars wept, and the past rose up to meet me face to face. there is no such thing as 'dabbling' in the tarot.

and the little ant climbs the foot of the angel of death.
to her, it looks just like any other stone.

doll house

2011-06-04T00:30:00.000+02:00

for a few days of a few weeks of a few months, i live in a very little house. there are roses on the wardrobe. squirrels in the window-sill. cool blood-stained sheets on the bed. a tree to sit in. old graves to stamp on. doors to bang so hard the paint falls off. a shower so hot it will wash away any pain. a wooden floor to twirl on. silence, and music, and real darkness at night.

it's perfect. but it's a doll house. and i am not a doll.

tree life

2011-06-01T19:24:00.002+02:00

my kitchen again

2011-05-30T20:30:00.004+02:00

i was going to wax lyrical, but words are falling short. i just love it so. it's magic.

in my kitchen

2011-05-30T20:29:00.005+02:00

there is now soup, bread, jam, sunshine, home-made aioli, potato pancakes, smiling children with big eyes, and slightly tired field flowers. the only thing missing from my kitchen, is me.

what big eyes

2011-05-29T21:43:00.002+02:00

these children have. and how much they see.

on the return

2011-05-28T22:17:00.003+02:00

all right, so i miss it. i miss you guys. i miss bread-making, jam stirring, photographing, putting words together without worrying too much how 'artistic' they are, tomato-soup making, child-hugging, child-sniffing, floor sweeping, nonsense muttering and bathroom tile cleansing. this is not the only space from which i have been absent lately. but it's through here, as always, that i notice my own return.

and it's good...

adios

2011-03-19T16:17:00.007+01:00

No Other Way said a rather prophetic poster on a wall a while ago. and trust you me, the way i've been trying, if there had been another way, i surely would have found it by now. but it seems the universe rests on laws that cannot be trifled with. and here is one:

the only way to make room for the new is to let go of the old

after five and a half years (five and a half years!!!!!!!!!!), i am ready, my dear, dear readers, to say good-bye to this space. you have been my good friends on the journey of life, you have seen me, heard me, supported me, held me and witnessed me, and i would not be the person that i am today if it had not been for you. thank you. for the love. for being there. take care of yourselves, and may we meet again!

xxx
Véronique

day 9: the little prince

2011-03-17T18:01:00.002+01:00

So the little prince tamed the fox. And as the hour of his departure drew near —

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It's your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields."

And then he added: "Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

...

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, it's very simple: You can only see well with your heart; the essential is invisible to the eye."

"The essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would remember.

"It is the time you have spent on your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have spent on my rose — " said the little prince, so that he would remember.

"People have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would remember.

day 8: japan

2011-03-16T12:37:00.002+01:00

tonight, from 8 to 9, a one-hour meditation for japan., using tonglen. do you want to join me?

day 7: lovingkindness

2011-03-15T08:10:00.003+01:00

may i be happy
may i be safe
may i be healthy
may i be peaceful

may you be happy
may you be safe
may you be healthy
may you be peaceful

day 6: etymology of passion

2011-03-14T18:45:00.008+01:00

from L.L. passionem (nom. passio) "suffering, enduring," from stem of L. pati "to suffer, endure," meaning "strong emotion, desire" is attested from late 14c., sense of "sexual love" first attested 1580s; that of "strong liking, enthusiasm, predilection" is from 1630s. The passion-flower so called from 1630s.

day 5: manifesto

2011-03-13T14:36:00.010+01:00

i am a writer. writing is what i do. it's what i have always done. i wrote before i knew how to write, and i will continue to do so long after i forget how. i write what i think, what i feel, what i do, what i see, what i hear, what i sense. i write what i know and what i don't know. i write the scent of spring flowers and the furry feel of moss under my hand. i write as i speak. i write as i dream. i write awake and i write asleep. i write through pain, through joy, through confusion. i write through the past and the future. i write to see. i write to hear. i write to remember. i write through war into peace and back. i write even, or maybe especially, when i don't write. i write in books, i write in pads, i write on napkins, on old envelopes, on the backs of election lists, on scraps of paper, on toilet tissues, on shopping lists, on leaves, on the bark of trees. and if i have none of these to write on, i will write on the inside edge of my heart, i will write in the creases of my liver. i will write on my skin. i will write on yours too if you let me. i will write on the clouds in the sky and the shells in the sand. and as i write, the world's breath becomes my breath, flowing through my arm, ink off my pen.

and this is the only thing that god has ever asked of me. the only thing, in return for the bounty of life. just this. to sit down. every day. pick up a pen. and write. because i am a writer. because she has made me so.

between days 3 and 4

2011-03-12T04:35:00.004+01:00

(or how going to bed early may not always be the best option)

yesterday was rough. it started in the morning with a fine for burning a red light, moved on right through the cancelled hunt for treasure in the park to the hunt for lice on isabelle's head (those of you who are familiar with the length, curliness and thickness of isabelle's hair as well as the distance between the teeth of a nit-picking comb will appreciate that the biblical camel and eye of the needle expression had some serious competition here), a massive yeast infection, toini's 'hit everything that moves and everything that doesn't' mode, and the start of my menstruation, and ended where all such days end: in a massive meltdown.

as a result of which, and following a long communal cry, we were all asleep by 8.

... and some of us were awake again at 1 ...

so... i read about the earthquake in japan. did some work. took a bath. had a snack. read a chapter of einstein's theory of relativity (seriously, if that doesn't put you to sleep...), and a few chapters of a novel. wrote a poem. had another snack. did some more work. wrote a blog post.

please tell me again: what do you guys do with your insomnia?

day 2

2011-03-10T12:35:00.007+01:00

"Should you want to contain something, you must first deliberately let it expand. Should you want to weaken something, you must deliberately let it grow strong. Should you want to eliminate something, you must deliberately allow it to flourish."
Tao Teh Ching

this quote feels very important, although i am not entirely sure what it means. but whatever it is, it is true. and it is happening right now.

oh, and some beautiful music for today...

lent

2011-03-09T09:20:00.003+01:00

today marks the start of an exciting and scary journey. i am going to do a lent fast for forty days. in practice it means that for the next forty days, i will be following these sobriety practices:

1. Do something good for someone else every day (either financially or through action)
2. Meditate, chant or pray for at least 15 minutes every day
3. Listen to a beautiful piece of classical music every day
4. Refrain from killing (including flies, mosquitoes, etc.). (in this context, i signed up for the 30-Day Vegan Workshop) (... to get over my fly-killing habits...)
5. Refrain from saying anything untrue, speaking ill of another person and swearing
6. Refrain from bingeing, snacking, alcohol, cigarettes and drugs
7. Refrain from stealing, in the widest meaning of the word
8. Refrain from watching television
9. Be very selective with internet (am still working on a list of acceptable websites to visit, and an acceptable frequency...)
10. Refrain from purchasing anything (except the strictly necessary)

it's day one, 9:30 am, and i'm already having a really hard time. then again, maybe that's exactly when this is hardest, at 9:30 am on day one.

women's day

2011-03-08T14:45:00.003+01:00

For all the amazing women in my life, a dare from VisionaryMom:

"Your Dare for this week... Walk Like an Amazon Woman

Whenever you are out walking, whether to the store, on a hike, taking your kidlets to school.... imagine yourself super tall, incredibly strong, powerful. Let that savage bold amazon woman blood flow through you. Hold your head up high. View the world from the perspective of being 7 feet tall. Breathe in the powerful energy all around you. Let it tingle all the way to your toes. Feel the vibration of courage, freedom, boldness moving through your own body."

i really need that today... how about you?

ode to king carnival

2011-03-07T07:39:00.003+01:00

The tender hearts (by Jacques Brel)

there are those whose heart is so wide
that you enter it without knocking
there are those whose heart is so wide
that you can only ever see half of it

there are those whose heart is so fragile
that you could break it with one finger
there are those whose heart is too fragile
to live like you and me

they have eyes full of flowers
eyes on the verge of fear
fear of missing the train
to Paris

there are those whose heart is so tender
that little birds use it to nest
there are those whose heart is too tender
half-men and half-angels

there are those whose heart is so vast
that they are always on a journey
there are those whose heart is too vast
to live without illusions

they have eyes full of flowers
eyes on the verge of fear
fear of missing the train
to Paris

there are those whose heart is on the outside
and who have no choice but to offer it
their heart is so much on the outside
that they are constantly using it

This one here has his heart on the outside
and so fragile, and so tender
That I curse the dead trees
that are not able to hear it

He has eyes full of flowers
eyes on the verge of fear
fear of missing the train
to Paris

magical encounter

2011-03-04T21:09:00.002+01:00

go out into the woods. go out into the woods. go out into the woods.

mist

2011-03-04T08:17:00.003+01:00

here is what to love about morning mist in march: you can be almost certain it will melt under the march sun. on the calendar, march is called 'expect'. that's a promise, isn't it?

drop

2011-03-02T10:17:00.000+01:00

the view from my meditation cushion

2011-02-03T13:40:00.000+01:00

dead fish

2011-01-20T09:14:00.001+01:00

not as morbid as it sounds. it was a lovely, quiet day earlier this week, in the amsterdamse bos. the mist hung over the woods, there was not a sound to be heard, except my own breathing. and they looked so peaceful, these fish, floating with their bellies up.

(i am on an adventure, a real one, but i have no photographs yet. maybe tomorrow...)

graceful moon

2011-01-20T09:08:00.007+01:00

there she was, yellow, soft and round like butter. and this is what she said:

"there is no freedom outside your chains. freedom is dancing in your chains, not breaking (through) them. because your chains are you, and when you break them, you are destroying bits of your own heart. but as you dance, slowly at first, clumsily, heavily, you will discover that what you thought of as chains is nothing but a soft, warm cloak, protecting, holding and supporting your ever widening, ever freer, ever more joyful movement"

i guess that's the recipe then. for grace and inner power.

light

2011-01-16T10:52:00.011+01:00

wolf hunt

2011-01-14T11:52:00.006+01:00

time for a Vysotsky song. it's a rough and raw song, called the wolf hunt. i have loved this song my entire life. but only tonight, in this longest of nights, did i finally understand what it's about. it's about the courage required to do the impossible. the courage to overcome the programming of a lifetime, the courage to choose for life and healing. i am a dangerous hunter. and i am also a life-thirsty wolf. i am this particular wolf.

(the way they hunt for wolves is that they chase the wolf-pack into a clearing and then put red flags all around the clearing, and for some reason, wolves simply cannot jump over a red flag, so they are left to helplessly circle around, and the hunters can just take their pick)
(and here is the one where you can actually see him sing it, definitely worth it)

on mothering

2011-01-13T11:32:00.002+01:00

here she is then, the person i want you to meet (still no scanner). she is a little polish-russian girl, 6 going on 7. wise beyond her years. with a heart as wide as the milky way, which refuses to shut down, no matter what happens. and wherever i go, she goes too.

it has only taken me 7 years of mothering to notice the third pair of little hands wrapped around my waist.

birch

2011-01-12T18:58:00.001+01:00

symbol of mother love. in the context of which, there is someone i'd like you to meet, but i can't get my scanner to work. tomorrow...

reflection

2011-01-11T17:23:00.001+01:00

ripples

2011-01-10T22:54:00.003+01:00

did you see the lovely moon, lolling lazily on her back tonight? this january moon is here to teach us about grace and inner power. especially at times when things don't turn out the way we expect/want them to.

hmph.

(you are going to have to take my word for it, but that grunt was infinitely more graceful and filled with inner power than it looks on paper)

karavan

2011-01-09T17:45:00.003+01:00

Мой караван шагал через пустыню,
Мой караван шагал через пустыню,
Первый верблюд о чем-то с грустью думал,
И остальные вторили ему.

И головами так они качали,
Словно о чем-то знали, но молчали,
Словно о чем-то знали, но не знали,
Как рассказать,
когда,
зачем,
кому...

Novella Matveeva

flamingo wisdom

2011-01-08T15:39:00.005+01:00

(i almost forgot to show you the flamingos...)

'So why do i need other people again?' i found myself asking a few weeks ago, on one of the solitary walks i took along the shore. 'If everything i need, all the love, attention, warmth, inspiration, joy, wisdom and encouragement that i crave, if all of these are available at all times and in unlimited supply from the universe itself, why bother with the hard work of loving people? If i don't need others, why go through the trouble of opening my heart, risking having it broken, learning to patch it up, and the rest of this whole relating business?'

that's what i asked the flamingos. because they are the birds of the heart (they say...) (... also because there was noone else to ask).

and you know what they said? they said 'just concentrate on breathing out, and the rest will take care of itself'. it took me a while to understand what they meant. but then i did. and was so very glad i'd asked.

2010

2011-01-07T21:56:00.003+01:00

hhmmm... turns out it's not that easy to let 2010 slide into oblivion without a proper send-off. it's just not that kind of year...

i have struggled with what to say, can't seem to find the right words. so much has happened this past year. and as it reaches its close, i find my life is utterly unrecognizable, yet completely and absolutely right.

this year, magic burst through and flooded everything. this year, i stopped searching, and started finding instead. and this is what i found: love, passion, compassion, power, integrity, understanding, freedom, gratitude, vision, truth, joy, sisterhood, my body, my voice, my soul, my path. this year, i came closer than ever before to realizing my human potential.

and i cannot thank you enough, you who walk in this life by my side, for the friendship and the witnessing. for the laughter and the tears. for all the incredible richness and texture. for journeying with me.

it hasn't been easy, this year, but boy, has it been good!

decongesting

2011-01-07T21:11:00.006+01:00

we went away for a week. to the little beach house up north that some of you know intimately. and which happens to be the only place in my universe without internet connection. a very good thing.

except... that when i am in the habit of posting daily (which i have been for some time), my mind produces posts with the required regularity, internet connection or no internet connection. and since there is no screen to save them on, these posts simply accumulate in my short-term, middle-term, and eventually long-term memory. where they form a backlog. that simply will not go away.

'so', you might say, 'why don't i just post them all when i come back?'

because by that time most (if not all) of them have become obsolete (the new year's wishes), embarrassing (the new year's wishes), inappropriate (the new year's wishes), or nonsensical, inappropriate and embarrassing (the new universe paradigm in which time no longer exists).

'well then', you might continue ever helpfully, 'why don't i forget about those and just write the post of today?'

because i can't. i can't write the post of today until i've cleared the post of yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before. and so the backlog grows. and the silence lengthens.

this has happened before. it will happen again. and it can take a while before decongestion sets in. in fact, it takes until i forget the first backlog post (the new year's wishes). i.e. until today.

hello everyone! and a very happy new year!

today

2010-12-27T16:22:00.002+01:00

tomorrow. tomorrow we will get up before the sun. and take a train. and another train, and another train. and another train. crossing the mountains, back into the cold, the snow, the heart of winter. all the way back home.

but today. today the sky is blue as violets. the sea green as silk. the pink flamingoes are nodding their heads. and the wash is hanging out of the windows.

today it is still the south.

treasure

2010-12-26T21:08:00.001+01:00

prière paienne

2010-12-26T09:33:00.003+01:00

les marrons

2010-12-24T23:41:00.000+01:00

7!

2010-12-23T21:29:00.002+01:00

today my little girl turned 7. she is funny, wise, quick, stubborn, gentle, loving, shy, graceful and grave. but really she is none of those things. she is just her amazing self.

(and i bet you'll never guess what she got for her birthday...)

yule tide

2010-12-21T23:13:00.010+01:00

for the first time since 1638, a lunar eclipse coincided with the winter solstice. at the sun's darkest hour, the moon's full face was veiled.

the moon and the sun granted me three gifts tonight. the gift of trust. the gift of inner fire. and the gift of seeing that which is invisible for the eyes.

all gifts that can only be found in the dark. thank you.

(and here is a beautiful yule song:

Enter the night and you'll find the light,
that will carry you to your dreams.
Enter the night, let your spirit take flight,
in the field of infinite possibilities.

On the longest night we search for the light,
and we find it deep within.
Open your eyes to embrace what is wise,
and see the light of your own soul shining.

Wrap up in the cloak of starry darkness my child, and you'll find the center of all things.
For from this place of the deepest dark space,
life eternal does spring.

So when you find that spark.
When you dream in the dark,
hold it close to your heart and know.
All that you see is all that can be.
When you give birth to the dreams of your soul.)

almost

2010-12-20T19:16:00.001+01:00

walking on sunshine

2010-12-20T09:42:00.001+01:00

rooftops

2010-12-19T13:44:00.001+01:00

dashing through the snow...

2010-12-18T22:02:00.000+01:00

paris, paris

2010-12-16T19:31:00.002+01:00

short stop-over on our way south. long enough to remember the love. long enough to see some beauty.

reflection

2010-12-14T19:08:00.006+01:00

now that the moon has entered her second quarter, the sun is shining on the sea, and i am smiling again (see above for evidence aimed at reassuring my worried readers), i'd like to sit here for a while with my cup of tea (and you) and ponder this whole 'feeling bad' thing.

just imagine for a moment a world in which the following conversation would take place between two friends:

- i don't know what's wrong with me... for weeks now, i wake up every morning, and i am just feeling so happy. it's crazy. and it goes on all day, too. i wake up with it, i go to bed with it. i've tried all my usual tricks to get rid of it, but nothing seems to help.
- oh honey! how awful! i'm sorry to hear it... remember i had more or less the same thing last year? i thought it would never end...
- yes, i do remember. what did you end up doing?
- oh, i tried everything: books, movies, walking, running, talking... nothing helped. i even went into therapy for a while... in the end, i just took pills for it. couldn't see any other way out.

crazy, you say? yet, replace 'happy' with 'miserable', and you have a perfectly 'normal' conversation. working on the assumption that the people i don't know (many many many) are not altogether that different from the people i do know (a few dozens), i would say that the human condition involves more or less as many 'bad' mornings/weeks/months/years as 'good' mornings/weeks/months/years. so what are we doing, turning up our noses at half of our lives?

(note in passing that it's really hard to talk about feeling 'yucky' in neutral terms, since almost all the words for it are either of the clinical disorder type or, well, 'yucky').

so what's so bad then, about feeling sad? some say it hurts. in my very limited, subjective and personal experience, however, it is not feeling sad (when feeling sad) that hurts. not crying when your throat is full of tears, that really hurts (incidentally, trying not to laugh when you have to is just as painful, as any parent watching their young child perform a theatre play will be able to confirm). but a good deep long cry relaxes, soothes and calms. in fact, it's right up there with the full-blown spa treatment in terms of recharging your battery.

and it's not just a question of physical benefits. sorrow has a softness to it, a gentleness, a compassion, that joy sadly lacks. when terribly sad, i always feel so connected to the rest of humanity; seeing people walk on the street, i can feel their pain alongside mine, and i am overwhelmed with compassion for us all. everyone is me, i am everyone. we are all in this together. and sorrow makes me appreciate the little things, the small daily gestures of love, the smell of my child's head, the one rose courageously braving the frost. there is something very grounding and soothing in sorrow.

some say sorrow is dangerous, if indulged in for too long. that's probably true, but isn't everything dangerous, if indulged in for too long? true, depressed people are more likely to take their own lives, but insanely cheerful people are more likely to have crazy accidents because they think they are invincible and immortal. as for daily health benefits, again, i'm guessing being joyful all the time is probably as bad for you as being sad all the time. it must be exhausting on the kidneys...

anyway, let's face it, for most of us, there's no question of 'insanely' and 'all the time'. it comes and goes. some days are more tumbly, others more quiet. some days are more out, others more in, some days have more laughter, others more tears. and isn't that just lovely?

imagine feeling cheerful all the time. the thought alone is exhausting. i'd turn into a duracell rabbit, a never-blinking robot.

and then there's the other thing i often hear (... from my own mouth): 'yes, but i want to be happy!'. so, does 'happiness' necessarily equal 'joy', or even 'equanimity'? i don't know how it is for you, but last week, i was lying in bed, crying my eyes out for the third time that day, with the cat on my feet, and a loving arm around me. i was really really really sad. a seemingly bottomless pit of sadness. if someone had asked me, right at that moment, 'are you happy?', i would honestly have had to say 'yes, incredibly so!'.

so maybe happiness has less to do with avoiding pain and sorrow, and more to do with being where i am, feeling what i feel, and letting what there is be. loving the sadness, loving the joy, loving everything in between. i mean, are endings less beautiful than beginnings, are decaying flowers less pretty than fresh ones, is dying less of an amazing life-changing experience than being born? why not embrace the whole of existence?

there. i've almost convinced myself. what do you think?

dark

2010-12-14T10:11:00.009+01:00

(i am not supposed to talk today, but does posting here count as talking? what do you think?)

the big cloud in me has shifted enough that i can see it for what it is: a big cloud. in the process of shifting. as clouds invariably do. i was reading my own blog this morning (such a wholesome way to start the day...), and it all looked so dark. the words, the photographs. i thought 'why so hopeless, so grief-stricken?'. three answers came rushing in.

'it is as it is because it is as it is. and it's absolutely perfect that way'. hhmmm. where have i heard that one before?

'because these are the darkest weeks of the year'. these weeks in which the cold has seized, and the light is disappearing further every day, and there is serious reason to doubt whether it will ever in fact return (just because it did last year, and the year before, and the year before, and the year before, does not mean that...). weeks in which sleep is a blanket too heavy to throw off, and the night-mares come galloping over children's heads in the small hours. if you are to grieve, and doubt, and fear, and lose, and feel the breath of death, as you must, being human, then when would be a more appropriate time than now?

'it isn't all so dark. look better. listen more carefully. close this computer. go out into the woods. go find the light.'

sad

2010-12-12T11:53:00.005+01:00

i am sad, sore, broken-hearted and empty. as much so, if not more, as a couple of months ago. as if all these weeks of healing, strengthening, growing and learning never took place.

last night i dreamt of a friendly old man. i asked him what the medicine was for a broken heart, and he said i should insert a live eel into my heart. so i looked it up on internet. turns out eels stand for a 'great journey into oneself, from which one emerges transformed beyond recognition'.

sounds great. in the meantime, there is just good old same me, with my good old same ache, and my good old same inability to do anything with it but hurt...

treasure

2010-12-11T11:11:00.000+01:00

where are you?

2010-12-10T09:34:00.000+01:00

Where Are You?
Do you know that the heart has a dungeon?
Bring light! Bring light!

Mary Oliver

music

2010-12-09T18:45:00.001+01:00

the sheer impossibility of bringing some things across.

pearls

2010-12-08T19:58:00.003+01:00

in an attempt to let silence play a more prominent role in my life, i have decided for the rest of the winter to not speak on tuesdays.

(you may laugh now)

(for as long as you like)

(and for those of you who wonder why anyone would laugh, just ask the others)

(whenever you're done...)

so, as i was saying... silent tuesdays. yesterday was the first attempt. it was remarkably hard work. and not that silent either. much much white noise in my head. on the other hand, i did find it deeply relaxing to never have to wonder what i should say next. definitely worth exploring further...

moon of the tide

2010-12-07T21:27:00.002+01:00

bone-tired

2010-12-05T21:15:00.003+01:00

so incredibly tired, i can hardly move. all i want is to curl up against the warmth of sleeping bear, with a good book (proust?) and a cup of tea (lapsang souchong). i want to lie on a thick carpet and slowly dangle my feet in the air. i want to watch the sun make light bunnies on the wall. to doze and dream thick creamy dreams, filled with unicorns and porcupines.

i want to stand very still, deep in the winter woods, and let the white silence settle on me, let it seep right into my being until i too am only white silence, until all i can hear is the beat of my own heart and the whispering of the tide of blood in my veins.

mostly, i just want to sleep.

2010-12-04T19:50:00.001+01:00

2010-12-03T22:20:00.000+01:00

how can it be so dark, in the midst of all that brightness?

oysters

2010-12-02T22:32:00.001+01:00

clarity

2010-12-01T21:18:00.000+01:00

winter's promise

2010-11-30T20:45:00.000+01:00

crackling

2010-11-29T21:41:00.005+01:00

i walked home from yoga tonight in a flurry of white flakes, and the crackling sound of fresh snow under my feet. winter is no longer 'on its way'.

gifts

2010-11-28T23:17:00.006+01:00

the gifts of autumn: tears, sadness, loss, space, peace, connection, quiet, intimacy, strength, rootedness, grounding, compassion, kindness, joy, tenderness, faith, magic, inspiration, the ability to let go, music, colour, commitment. serenity, trust, gentleness, a glimpse of the road ahead. and gratitude.

cold

2010-11-27T21:34:00.002+01:00

impossible to photograph: the first snowflakes of the year.
the sea is almost too cold for my feet.
winter is on its way.

mist

2010-11-26T21:18:00.005+01:00

new song

2010-11-25T17:41:00.002+01:00

to practice on my accordion. as soon as i play it as well as this gentleman, i'll post a soundbite. don't hold your breath though, it might be a while...

fall

2010-11-24T20:21:00.005+01:00

i sat with my back against a tree, and watched the leaves fall. no two of them fell in quite the same way: some plummeted straight to the ground, as if weighed down with lead (or worries), some floated slowly, some drifted away on the wind, some flipped, some turned, some procrastinated, some hurried, some danced, some sank, some loved it, some clearly didn't, some were graceful, and some clumsy-looking.

they all had one thing in common, though. with each other and with me. they had all recently (very recently) learned to let go.

the two-headed monster...

2010-11-23T20:49:00.003+01:00

... that's what toini calls us. bare feet in front, whooping cough at the back.

(and not much sleep for anyone in the last ten days, so the monster thing is not that far off...)

frozen november roses

2010-11-22T21:37:00.001+01:00

blue moon

2010-11-21T20:20:00.003+01:00

thank you.