I love packages. Send me a letter. A hand-written note. Or something that requires tape and stamps, and I am the happiest person. Today was a good day. I couldn't sleep much last night, woke up all broken, but then... Continue Reading →
So it turns out that even the Netherlands has remote areas without internet access. So when I drafted a blog yesterday during a weekend with church I couldn't upload what I wrote. Now I am in the train on my way home and I am trying bring all thoughts together. I am having quite a few of them, so consider this one a therapeutic rant to get it out of my head and let it sink deeper in my heart.
We always think it's about metaphorical homes. That it doesn't matter where your house is, as long as you are with people you love, it'll be home. I guess that's true. But I realised it could mean something else as well. Your heart is the place of your feelings, emotions, and tells you how your home is doing today.
Good friends are those that can ask you critical questions. I still remember one of those moments. We were getting of the car. Not at a random parking place, but on a boat from the UK back to the European main land. My friend asked me: "Don't you just have too many close friends?" My instant response was no. I mean how can you have too many friends? But once in a while, when I sit down in solitude with a cup of tea and write a letter to a friend far away that I wish I could talk to more often, I start to understand that it isn't always possible to be friends with everyone all the time.
Finding the perfect job. That was sort of my ideal picture a couple months ago. But first I needed a break, even though I didn't realise that back in September, and now I am not so convinced anymore that the perfect job exists. There is no such thing as a perfect job and the sociologist in me says: 'too many variables'. But there is the search, the hope, the dream that at some point, things are going to work out. In the mean time, I'll let Paulo Coelho quotes inspire me to keep dreaming.
A dear friend of mine recently started her own creative company. Okay, a company is maybe a bit of a fancy word, since a living room table functions as her desk and she only just started with her creations. This weekend she is going to sell at her first market in Utrecht. Fur box filled with little bits of a dream is ready to be shared with the world.
A friend of mine sent this picture to me and a couple other friends. She made it over a couple of months of therapy. A brain and a heart. Both with strong hands wearing boxing gloves. Made with clay, sculpted, baked and glazed. A process that takes time, just as therapy does. But she found a beautiful metaphor to express her process through art. I love this little piece of creativity, because it tells me a story and I recognize the artist in it. The thing with art is that there is no right or wrong. No good or bad. It just is what it is.
Why not Ethiopia? It seemed so perfect and fitted so well in my schedule. Yet I've come to realise that really isn't how life works. I still don't know. But I've stopped asking the question 'why' and really moved on to the question 'what now?' It's been about three weeks now. We would have been halfway our research, but instead I find myself sitting in a red velvet chair in my friend's apartment. But that evening in that chair was worth it. Worth it coming back to the Netherlands six week early. My heart is without words.