Categories for My story

Live boldly

I was sitting in front of the television this Sunday morning. I thought about this post. On Saturday I came across a link on facebook and was enchanted by the quote on the linked page on Brainpickings. I copied it to a new post. I first gave it another title, but changed it to Live boldly. I don’t even remember the first title. Something with silent.

My thoughts wandered away.

The dream and photo i wrote about in an earlier post, Memories.

My earliest memory came back to me in a dream. Around my twenties i dreamed i was crawling on a short stairs with maybe two steps. It was warm. I felt the warmth in my hands which were resting on the steps. I felt the warm stones beneath my fingers. My mother was sitting in front of me. She pointed to somebody behind me. My father. He was standing there with a camera in front of his face. He clicked. I had the photo. Somehow i lost it. I searched for it quite a few times. I still hope it’s somewhere in a book or a notebook. Somewhere hidden. I do love this memory. I can still feel the warm stones. I was like a year, a year and half old.

This photo was taken in 1965. It is something that really happened. And the dream i had, when i was around twenty years old, happened too. The dream, even with this distance of around thirty years, this dream i can still remember clearly. Pointing to myself, feeling the warm stones beneath my hands and looking behind me. The memory of the event itself, when i was only one year old, has faded away for a long time.

This dream is the counter point of the photo. In this dream i look at my father, with a camera in front of his head. His finger on the button ready to make the photo. I had only turned around a second before that. My mother was pointing at something behind me. My mother with her dark hair in a high knot up above her head, smiling. The sun shining. Warm stones beneath me. I turn around and look at my father. I do not see my father’s face. A mechanical object is in front of it, a camera.


My father is the one not in the photo. He took it. What i see in the photo is me and my mother, still pointing. Me, the one person i do not see in the dream. Me, the one person who is experiencing this event. I feel her, i feel what she feels, but i don’t see her. What i see is my dad.

My dad who has been absent from my life for the past twenty-eight years. My dad who is still alive. Who lives in a older people’s home somewhere in the west, between Rotterdam and the beaches. My dad who is slightly demented. Not sure about the slightly. My dad whose voice i last heard on the phone. You are not my daughter.

As you live your life, you are the only person you can not see entirely. You see your hands. You see your hair, when it is longer. You see your legs, your tummy. You do not see your back. You do not see your eyes. You see your nose only from the side, a bit blurry. You see your mouth only when you make a kissing face and put your mouth way out in front. Still blurry.

You do see other people completely. You see their face. You see their eyes. Their nose, their cheeks, their mouth. Their hands, their feet, their legs, their tummy. You see their backs. The top of their head.

But you can not see what is in their head. You can not see their thoughts. You can not feel what they feel.

They are a mystery.

I made many self portraits. When i was at art school, i started out with drawings. Then photography. My final project was with self portraits.

Making these self portraits was not extremely difficult. I only needed myself, a tripod, a camera and film. I started out with black and white film and ended up with colour. I used 25 ASA film most of the time. Very fine grain. Great colour. I still have all the negatives.

I used a whole film for each set. Looking into the camera with different facial expressions. A smile. A serious look. A look away. Different angles. From above. From the front. From the side.

I postponed seeing the look on myself. I only got to see what i looked like when i developed the film and started printing. Contact sheets gave me an overview, a chance to pick the best photo. The ones i believed to be the best anyway. Very difficult to get to that one.

This situation was very different from my initial photo opportunity, when i was one and a half years old. I was grown up. I was making these photos myself. Picking the right time myself.

For years i didn’t make photos of myself. Or they were hopeless failures. Not good. Not a good look. Not a pretty girl. Not a good photo.

I did make a few in 2010 i liked. And last year i made two great ones. In the sunshine. With the sun shining on the white cd cupboard. With my iPhone camera. I did need to make a cutout. The photo was ok with the entire shot. But a square cutout worked like magic.

I confess, i do like it when i look pretty in a photo. Of course i have so much more ugly photos of myself. But i get to pick the ones i show you. So yes, i show you the pretty ones. Even though i don’t feel i’m that vain, a bit of vanity i don’t mind.

So most of my work has a relationship with my dream of me and my mum and dad when i was around one and a half years old. I didn’t realize this at the time. This dream i still remember. I don’t know why i had this memory dream. I don’t know why exactly i made the work i made. But it did call to me. And yes, it is becoming clearer. I can put it into the story of my life. The story i’m telling you here. Which i forged out of my memories of the fifty two years of my life so far.

The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.

Source: Ted Hughes on the Universal Inner Child, in a Moving Letter to His Son

We all make stories. We grow up, from childhood through adolescence to adulthood. All different things happen to us. Happy things. Sad things. Painful things. We meet other people. And things happen. We fall in love. And out of love.

We try to make this story matter. We have so much inspiration. We have all the old stories. Fairy tales. Movies. Television. Books. Myths. Religion. But all the stories in our lives are only pieces of these old stories. Our own lives are a multitude mass of little pieces, each told with a slightly different voice.

But each one of us is also a physical person. A whole being.

Born. Growing up. Walking. Working. Loving. Dead.

There is mystery in each of us. Fractured existence. Different voices. Each telling another side.

Me, here, on, i’m talking about my own existence. Fifty two years now. Halfway. Or slightly over.

I’m trying to make my stories work. For me. To understand my life, so far. To see threads. To make new threads. To tell new stories. To notice new things. Sometimes i fail. Many times i fail. But everything i tell here is true. In a way.

From me to you, i do hope you enjoy it here.

You are welcome.

Published on January 16, 2017 at 6:00 by

On the other hand

Rereading yesterday’s post. Hmmm.

It is straight from my heart, of course. Yet, on the other hand, i’m still happy right now being alone. My mind is racing. Each day is different.

The day i wrote the post True Love, i woke up in the morning with this thought in my mind. True love. So i did spend the day writing this. Finishing it in the evening. Rereading it in the morning and put a quick edit over it. Mainly style issues.

Then a brief moment of panic, a couple of hours later. That is where the thought for this post came up.

Yes, i do feel happy. Right now. Alone.

True love, yes, i do dream of it. And i do hope i come across someone who can appreciate my work, leave me be for when i want to. Someone to talk with, play chess with. Someone who can surprise me, and who i can surprise in the same way. And sex, not unimportantly. And tenderness, most importantly.

But for now, i am alone. Still happy.

Also, an answer to the questions i asked yesterday.

Why am i working so hard on this website?

I could easily make less posts. Once a week? Work besides it. What i have done for years. What makes this time so different? Why do i make myself crazy? Why do i go for the being penniless?


I do mention the sledgehammer moment i had more than two years ago. This feeling of urgency i got. I have to work. Work work work! Make things. Write. Think. Express. Be there.

This feeling is getting worse and worse. I simply need to listen to it.

Now, of course, i can be wrong. I could have a fail safe. It is just, i do not have the time. I need to be ready at a certain point.

This feeling is a very personal feeling. I could let it go, but then i know i will regret that for the rest of my life. And that is something i don’t want to do to myself. I’d rather have a bit of trouble now, than that regret.

So yes, timing.

Salute, dear reader.

Published on January 11, 2017 at 6:00 by

True Love

Why am i working so hard on this website?

I could easily make less posts. Once a week? Work besides it. What i have done for years. What makes this time so different? Why do i make myself crazy? Why do i go for the being penniless?

So many questions. Which i not ask myself, because i simply want to go on, move on. Not care about anything else. Exactly what i do right now.


I have only had sex with one man. Proper sex, penetration and all. And i wasn’t in love with him! Still, ending that relationship, after only two months, was difficult. I had grown attached.

I fell in love a couple of years after that. He was a nice man, but not in love with me. He was in love with somebody else, who was not in love with him. We did sleep together two or three nights, but never had proper sex. A few years after that he fell in love with somebody else. They have two children now. I fell out of love with him.

Before that, i was like everybody else. I fell in love with a guy because he winked at me. Like, geez girl, get a grip. Only a wink. I walked up to his apartment with clean underwear and a toothbrush. Afterwards i was happy he wasn’t home.

The guy i met in a bar, to whom i said i am recalcitrant! We went to the McDonalds and sat there and ate a burger and talked for over an hour. I thought he must be it! When i went to his house and had dinner and went to bed with him afterwards i realized i didn’t feel love. And i said no. Please no. He listened. Not happy no. But still. Of course that evening was the last time we spend together.

At school, this cute guy wearing new wave clothes and listening to new wave music. He asked me to go to a gig in Vlaardingen. I was so excited. And i didn’t say a word to him the whole evening. So shy. Took me years to get over him.

I didn’t work on from 2006 til 2014. I tried. I didn’t let go, but i had no inspiration. At moments the thought came up that that was it. I was done. No more creative work. My life left empty, on my way to death and forgetfulness.

I felt hit with a sledgehammer, now more than two years ago. October 2014. There was this manager i kinda fancied, but who i didn’t know at all. Never got to talk to him. I left the job quite suddenly. I remember sitting in the train in the early morning with all the other people traveling towards Amsterdam. I remember talking to the guy who was playing with the Rubik’s cube. Such a nice guy.

And i started working again on Writing about me. Writing about my future boyfriend. Making presents once again. So happy. So terribly happy.

So yes, i was surprised, only a few months afterwards, when i was making my final present. About. This was the end of my testing trip through internet land, Trying out different options, making flash presents, writing about all different things., which i used for work, but never made a website for, was waiting for me. A proper blog, with a proper schedule. Five updates a week, posted at six in the morning. The possibility to give myself 5 weeks holiday a year. I only took one week in the first year. Three weeks all together in the second year.

Almost two years since i started on this website. It is filled with walks, with photos, with presents, with old works, with stories. The stories of my life.

Working in the garden only started less than a year ago. I love these two days a week.

But the garden cannot fill the emptiness in my life.

So what drives me towards this end? What drives me to this penniless state? What forces me to come clean? To make myself clear. To talk here. At the end of nowhere.

What do i really want?

The answer is simple.

True love.

True Love

Yesterday in the garden we briefly talked about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and their split up. I was a bit sad when they did. I am still wondering what happened between them. What made this lovely couple decide they didn’t like each other anymore. How did they come together anyway? Who had made the first move? I mean, Brad Pitt was married to Jennifer Aniston at the time. In my book that means the man is off the menu. But my book isn’t everybody’s book. And what with the children?

This whole case is a mystery to me. And yes, it does sadden me. They were the glory couple of Hollywood, with their six children.

The whole Tom Hiddleston and Taylor Swift three month romance over the summer of 2016 was baffling.

I don’t follow the news, but this dripped in. Most likely through facebook. These are two people i do not know, but the publicity around the whole circus was breathtaking. It seemed like the whole world was going crazy.

September 6, 2016: Us Weekly reports Hiddleston and Swift have broken up—right before the Emmys, where people thought they’d step out on the red carpet together. Swift ended it. “Tom wanted the relationship to be more public than she was comfortable with,” a source tells the outlet. “Taylor knew the backlash that comes with public displays of affection but Tom didn’t listen to her concerns when she brought them up.”

Hiddleston, meanwhile, is “embarrassed that the relationship fizzled out.” The two have not officially commented yet.

This was hot up until September 20, when the news of the breakup between Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie became mega world news.

This all is very different from the world close to me. Most of my friends do have a relation, for around twenty years or more. Not everybody, no. A few did separate. Went further with somebody else. Some ended up single, with children.

And than there is me. Someone who didn’t have a long term relationship. Rare. Yes.

So yes. True love.

I am at that age where waiting for something to happen is less of an option. The true love bit, the hard part. The chance encounter. Where something completely unexpected happens. Where you heart starts racing, your mind is thinking like mad. Ding dong.

So here i am. After two years of working again on my websites. After talking about so many things, some deeply personal. After showing you my old work, the old self portraits i used to make, the old drawings. The walks i love to make. The garden i love to work in.

This is it. This is what i want.

And i can not claim it. I can not demand it. It is forever out of my reach, it seems.

It seems.

I have not given up hope. No.

The only thing i can see for myself now, is to simply talk about this. To let it out of my system. To look at it, look at the desire, feel the desire burn inside me, and talk about it.

So yes, if there is any reason i should become more well known, should be out there, talking about these things, as myself, completely serious, this is it.

True love

Published on January 10, 2017 at 6:00 by

Off the cliff

My mind is running circles around me. Half the time i enjoy it. But not sleeping does make it a bit hard. For now though, i am accepting it as it is.

I think, i hope, i believe, i pray this is part of all the things happening to me right now. If not, well, than it is the quiet life for me. I will need some time to adjust myself to that, if it is like that. But for now, i’m geared for a public life. Preparing myself. And that does mean going at it with everything in me. Sometimes waiting. Sometimes working in the garden. Sometimes working on my blog. Sometimes, hopefully, sleeping too!

So for you, the final bit of the movie Thelma & Louise. When all things come into focus, and people around you are pointing their guns at you, there is only one way to go.

Off the cliff.

Have a good weekend!

Published on January 6, 2017 at 6:00 by

My bag

Around six years ago i bought my current bag, a black leather bag with every part closed with a zipper. A bright blue cloth on the inside of the bag. The bag is from Fred de la Bretoniere. I have known this designer most likely from the 80s, when i read Dutch magazines like the Avenue, from which i’m pretty sure they published about his bags and shoes.

In 2010, in my holiday, i walked through the Bijenkorf and went through his bags to see if there was any i particularly liked. There is a large variety of bags. The black leather zipper one i thought would be convenient for me. A cross shoulder band, closed good, not too expensive. I mean, around 160 / 170 euros. Still quite a lot of money, but not like other bags over a 1000 euros.

From 2010 to this day i am using this bag. I do have some old bags in my closet. Another black leather, but with no shoulder band. A brown leather one with one main inner compartment. A cloth one with printed flowers. Another cloth one with a orange inside. I liked that one. Sad it got broken.

So yes, this is my current bag, the one which has all the stuff inside which i might need when i’m not at home. Of course my house keys, my wallet, a book for notes with behind it a paper bag for my business cards, my phone, headphones, one moisturizing lip balm, one from Laura Mercier with a berry color, my passport, contact lenses, mirrors, a comb, a small flask with perfume, hand cream.

I love this bag!

Ooh, when i go to the garden i use a neck wallet with only my house keys and phone. Occasionally a debit card when i want to do some shopping afterwards.

The outer compartment, with a shorter zipper than the other side, holds my wallet and my house keys
The broader outer compartment holds my lip balm, hand cream, nail clipper, a mirror, tooth picks and perfume
The inner compartment. There are two small open compartments on one side, one with a zipper on the other
My phone, headphones and a flash drive in the two open compartments
In the main inside a notebook, a pen, some paper handkerchiefs
In the zipped compartment in the inside my passport, menstrual pads (from which i put all but one in my toilet bag after i made these photos), a comb and a little bag
In the little bag, contact lenses, a mirror, pain killer tablets, an old flickr business card and a Scritti Politti badge
The bag
Published on January 3, 2017 at 6:00 by


A bit tired today. Yesterday evening was nice. A bit cold and wet, misty. But good people in the garden, some singing. A good fire. Champagne and Dutch oliebollen.

I did go home around ten minutes after twelve though. Not sure why. When i got home, i put up some water for my hot water bottle. I did watch a bit of television, but nothing much was on. Listened to some music. Then i went to bed.

This morning i woke up around six. Early. *sigh* I did get out of bed and watched an episode of Westworld. I enjoy that show. I did go back to bed and slept a little more, till eleven. Watched two more episodes. Will most likely finish it today.

I did go to the garden to empty my compost bucket and see if i could gather the pots i brought yesterday for the candles. One was broken. It’s ok, i simply save these pots for any use.

I leave this post with this quote. I do feel this is relevant to my life at the point where it is right now. On the brink of being penniless. Yet i do not feel afraid. (That is not entirely right. I still have an occasional eek feeling.) I need to trust myself. I do that most of the time. The people close to me, my family, are afraid for me. But i can not change my path at this moment to satisfy them. I need to live my life for myself. I need to let my life story find its proper setting.

There is a contradiction in wanting to be perfectly secure in a universe whose very nature is momentariness and fluidity. But the contradiction lies a little deeper than the mere conflict between the desire for security and the fact of change. If I want to be secure, that is, protected from the flux of life, I am wanting to be separate from life. Yet it is this very sense of separateness which makes me feel insecure. To be secure means to isolate and fortify the “I,” but it is just the feeling of being an isolated “I” which makes me feel lonely and afraid. In other words, the more security I can get, the more I shall want.

To put it still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet.

Source: An Antidote to the Age of Anxiety: Alan Watts on Happiness and How to Live with Presence

Published on January 2, 2017 at 6:00 by

Life is wonderful

“It’s amazing what you can get if you quietly, clearly and authoritatively demand it.”

Meryl Streep

This quote from Meryl Streep i saw this week, most likely on facebook. It stuck in my mind. Quietly. Clearly. Authoritavely. Demand.

We are all born in this world, changing continuously. Some of us are lucky. Some of us are not. Some of us don’t even get born at all. Some die from a disease. Some from violence. The lucky ones? They get an education. They get a job. They get children, reasonably happy.

Our world is actually doing better. The past century the worldwide average life expectancy has risen from 32 to 70. Infant mortality has dropped from 19,5% to 3,69%. We earn more, averagely. We read more.

On the other hand, temperature is rising, the ice on the poles is melting, sea water is rising. Rain forests are being cut down. Animals loose their life habitats.

It is simple, we should control ourselves and our actions a bit more. Not consume that much anymore. Buy things only when really needed. Don’t throw away so many things. Be careful with plastics. Don’t buy that many clothes.


I do try to do this as much as possible. I separate my garbage into paper, glass, plastic and the rest. I bring my compost to the garden compost heap. I make many things myself: toothpaste, detergent, cleaning liquids, body butter. I work in the garden two days a week and get vegetables through that.

But i do understand i’m still part of a rather small group of people doing this. I read the blogs, i watch the videos. I love to see people tone down their life. Doing the things that makes them happy. Not for money.


This is my life now. I have set out this course myself. Nobody is forcing me to do any of this.

And i am thinking. Watching this world pass by. Watch the news, not the whole time, but a little bit at a time. Read the newspapers, not every single day, only once a month or so. Read blog posts, facebook, twitter, watch youtube videos.

There are so many sides we can pick. It seems like it doesn’t make a difference what we choose. But set all together, it does change the world.

I can only do my bit here. And talk about it on this website, of course.


So, what about my life?

Once i had a talk with someone at the garden. I said to him i didn’t feel it would go all wrong and bad with me. I said i felt too stable for that. I still believe that.

I am not sure of why i have picked this path for myself. I’m not even sure i picked it myself. It is just, i talked about it here in an earlier post, i remember around two years ago, i felt a sledgehammer hit me so hard. And shortly after that i was busy posting on That was not my choice. That happened to me. It is like, when you give up fighting yourself, fighting this thing beckoning you. Then there comes an easiness in you, a way to work, a way to communicate. I do feel i was conflicted before, and less conflicted now.

I am not saying that things are easy now, that i make no mistakes. I do make mistakes, and things can be really hard. But inside me, there is no innner conflict, not anymore.

So yes, my life is wonderful. Magnificent. Glorious.

“You’ve got to tell the world how to treat you. If the world tells you how you are going to be treated, you are in trouble.”

James Baldwin

My best wishes to you.

I will see you again in 2017. Enjoy your final days in 2016.


Published on December 23, 2016 at 6:00 by


Talking to people i know, friends or acquaintances, or people i have only just met sometimes gives me opinions i’m utterly amazed by.

I remember having a talk with the girl in the apartment in London i was staying in, for the Scritti Politti gig in February this year. I did talk to her about my plan to give my drawings away. At one point she gave me the suggestion to give the drawings to someone in my family, like the daughter of my sister. I was stunned. I could not see how she would come to this conclusion. How she could suggest this to me. I admit, this suggestion has been on my mind occasionally over this last year. So strange. She hardly knew me, and yet she suggested this to me so easily. Something which i had been thinking about for the past two years, which i had first thought about ten years ago. There wasn’t a moment in my mind in which i took her suggestion seriously. Hell no. But i did wonder how she could think about this so easily, and suggest it to so simply.

Yesterday i talked with a neighbour. We talked about my website for a while, and i mentioned my posts about the man of my dreams last week. There was a short chuckle from him. I was like what? But i could see how i, a fifty two year old woman talking about the man of her dreams, would cause this amusement.

I left the garden early today, this Sunday. I wasn’t sure why. But i felt a distance between myself and the rest. And the thought came up that i would be better of at home writing the post for tomorrow. Which is what i am doing now.

The world don’t need any more songs… As a matter of fact, if nobody wrote any songs from this day on, the world ain’t gonna suffer for it. Nobody cares. There’s enough songs for people to listen to, if they want to listen to songs. For every man, woman and child on earth, they could be sent, probably, each of them, a hundred songs, and never be repeated. There’s enough songs.

Unless someone’s gonna come along with a pure heart and has something to say. That’s a different story.

But as far as songwriting, any idiot could do it… Everybody writes a song just like everybody’s got that one great novel in them.

Source: Bob Dylan on Sacrifice, the Unconscious Mind, and How to Cultivate the Perfect Environment for Creative Work

I read this quote through a link on facebook. It spoke to me, the pure heart bit. I’m not sure i have a pure heart. But i do know it is purer than two years ago. I look into myself, see the way i respond to people and their thoughts and what they say; sometimes it hurts me, but i struggle through it.

To me, living like this is invaluable. It means the world to me. This is my life. This is my chosen life. I can not see another one so promising. Promises of living truthfully, in connection, in the world, endlessly. Until of course it ends.

Withdrawing is not for the time of now. Now i need to move forward. I need to speak of these things. I don’t mind if i speak to anyone listening now or later. I simply have to get it out of my brain. Not that i know what i’m gonna write. I don’t. But one sentence leads to the next. And all together they do make the story. The story of me.

This all is so sharp in contrast with our present world. It is hard to look at it clearly. I try to when i go out and go into the city center and look at the people’s faces and their expressions and their loneliness. The occasional hello. The occasional smile.

I try to make myself still, quiet. To look out into the world and see it, to give myself a good position and move from there.

Or i could simply fool myself. Yeah. Not too sure about that.

I am not sure what posts i will make this week. Well, i know two of them. One is a video with me singing. The other is a post i started in February this year. Life Is Wonderful. This post, Amazement, is a surprise to me. And that makes me happy.


Source image at the top: Amaranthine – Pencil Illustration

Published on December 19, 2016 at 6:00 by

The man of my dreams, part 2

Some parts of the post i wrote earlier this week i felt were true. At least, they were inside my head. But i do feel the post did not resemble what i wanted to write.

Yesterday, Wednesday, i listened to an interview with Bas Heijne, in Dutch. Some quotes are interspersed in this post.

Can art play a roll in finding that big story? That big story we need to keep afloat our civilization? If you want to pick a position in this world, as it is today, wouldn’t the best position not be the one with ambivalence, with ambiguity? Isn’t that the domain of the arts?

The past two years i felt very erotic. A new experience. Not that i never felt erotic before, but not this severe, this extreme. There have been weeks that i didn’t masturbate, sure. But sometimes this erotic feeling would overflow me. There was nothing i could do about it, but to let it take over me. This was all felt only by me. I never had the thought of finding someone to help me with this. Not really.

These past two years are also the happiest time of my life. I started to work again, on my own website. First on, where i somehow found a good way to end it. Something that was always in the back of my mind, but which i never could imagine happening. I remember that feeling, that thought cropping up. “Is this the end?” That it was an about page did feel fitting. And then starting with this website, With the first day the About page done and a first post: Hello World.

My life has taken a different turn over these two years. Money is an issue. I have given myself this year to try and find a solution for this. Still one week of posts to go. I have started to work in the garden, the Peace Garden. I have met many new people through this work. Good people. I’m looking around myself, making walks. I started to sing. Not terribly good, but i do love it. I started to make videos. Not terribly good, but i do love it. I started to do all these things from my dreams, from way back, hidden away inside myself. And i do love it.

I have only had one boyfriend my entire life. I wasn’t even so much in love with him. But it still hurt when it was over. I remember feeling that i should be more careful with myself. Which i did. The next boy i fell in love with, didn’t fall in love with me. That was hurtful. It took me years to get over it. To look into that experience and see it, clearly. To leave it behind me.

This year, the one thing i am most happy with, is giving away my drawings to Green Gartside. It took all the courage i could muster to do this. Thirty years i had these drawings. Twice i had given these drawings away, to close friends at the time. Both times they had given them back to me. I do hope they are in the right place now. I do still think about them. But i don’t need to see them.

I do remember that feeling of sorrow when i got back home and nobody asked me how it was. Nobody. The people from the garden i only just met this year. And my older friends, i don’t see them anymore. Everybody is busy, everybody has his or her own life. I understand that. But it was still hurting a bit. So when i met an old old friend and talked and talked about many things, when these drawings and giving them away came up, i felt happy for a while.

We need to enchant this disenchanted world once again. We do stay human beings. We do want to fall in love. You can say, love, love is a chemical process in your brain. That is possible, that is the case. But, when you fall in love, you do not think i am in a chemical process. That is not how we work.

My life has been so quiet. All my loves have misfired. All the loves directed at me i didn’t respond to. I feel like i was cocooned in my life, not hearing what was out there. Happy, yes. But also closed.

It does feel to me that i have opened up these past two years. I’m still me. Of course. But when i’m outside my house, i do feel my attention focused on the trees and plants and buildings and people surrounding me. A good feeling. I am watching the people in the city. So many are not paying attention to the outside at all. Hiding away.

For Freud love is a way to deal with reality. The most beautiful way to release the tension between the inner and outer world.

To me, my life and the world i’m living in has profoundly changed. My life has slowed down. I do see myself. I also do see how other people see me. Or don’t see me at all. Most of these people i do not know.

So i am sitting on this little hill here, watching around me, looking back on my past, seeing the patterns that brought me here.

And yes, i do hope to meet someone who i can be together with. The man of my dreams. Someone to love. And be happy with.

But first of all, i am with myself. I do have work ahead of me. Which i love to do.

And money? I still believe that money is one of the last things i need to worry about. Still.

One more week in 2016 is left to work on. Five posts.


Enjoy your weekend.


Quotes translated loosely from a Dutch interview with Bas Heijne, published on the Correspondent.

Published on December 16, 2016 at 6:00 by

The man of my dreams

The first party i voted on, when i was eighteen years old was the Dutch Communist Party. I remember a couple of years before writing in my diary that i felt the communist system was the only honest system with an equal load for everyone. I was still very young then. When i grew older my voting pattern changed. Most of the time i voted for the PvdA, the Dutch Labour Party. I think i have also voted for other left wing parties. I never once voted for a right wing party.

The home i grew up in was a left oriented home. We had a Rotterdam newspaper, Het Vrije Volk. We listed to the radio show In De Rooie Haan each Saturday, from the VARA, the main Dutch left wing broadcasting association.

The next elections are in 2017. I’m not sure yet for which party i will vote. I do need to make some background research. I have downloaded the party program of the Partij van de Dieren, the Party for the Animals. I do like the main drive of this document, but i need to read it a bit more carefully before i do decide about the party i will vote for. My work in the garden this year, the people i got to know through working there do have an influence on my vote next year. A large influence also is my work on and the time to write about all different aspects of my life.

I’m not an intellectual. I am an artist. I live my life through feelings. Through emotions. It is hard for me to get to a thought, clearly formulated, in language.

I have always adapted myself to the crowd i’m in. I see it happening to myself in the garden people community. Not the way it used to happen to me, where i could feel myself disappear. But still, i need to fight it. Keep it distant. Hold it and study it. To do something with it in the end. But not to swallow it whole without asking why. Not anymore.

So i’m not sure if i will celebrate old and new with them. For the past ten to fifteen years i celebrated it by myself. And enjoyed it. Well, a bit anyway. I’m still thinking about this invitation. Not sure yet.

I do try to be nice. To smile at people and say hi. Today, while i was sitting close to the library i watched all the people walking by. Most kept tightly into their own world. I watched a man trying to talk to them. He had a bunch of papers with him. He could be a part of the religious group standing there. Most people said to him they didn’t have time. Something i could see myself doing. I said hi to a woman passing by. First i caught her eye, then i said hi. She was surprised. Talked to the other ladies walking with her. I called to her, saying i didn’t know her. She sort of laughed.

Yesterday i said hello to a man. When i was a few meters further on i discovered he was following me. He was walking the other way when i had said hi. He asked me where i was going. To the supermarket i said. I don’t remember fully what i said after that. But it was something like “i simply said hi, i wasn’t after anything”. The man turned away. These men must be so lonely. To follow a woman saying a simple hi to them. I came across man like this before. A simple no is enough to keep them away.

So, the man of my dreams. When i first had the thought of this post i had a whole story in my mind. But the truth is, i’m me, i’m on my own, i’m happy. Really, it would be great to fall in love with someone i think i can spend the rest of my life with. Someone to share my thoughts with, someone to laugh with, someone to lean against, someone to sleep with in the dark of night. But i’m still on my own, and i know i can not force anything from this world. And yes, i am happy. Right now.

I end this post with a video. I still have to watch it myself. More like a bookmark. Bas Heijne today got awarded the P.C. Hooft award for his prose. Congratulations!

Published on December 14, 2016 at 6:00 by