Love what you love

Retreats are wonderful things. I mean the ones where a bunch of people go to a beautiful location for an intensive experience of something or other, with lots of togetherness. I’ve been on quite a few. From summer art camps to meditation/yoga/martial arts retreats across Europe. Now I’m finally ready to stop forcing myself to sign up for them. You see, being in a group drains my energy and if I’m deprived of the time I need to restore that energy, I get ill. Surrounded by so many happy campers, I’ve always felt there must be something wrong with me. If only I would be stronger, less sensitive, more relaxed, I would be able to keep up with the others. But there’s nothing wrong with me. Where does it say that growth (or enlightenment) can only be found in this intensive group setting? I understand now that just because something is good, it does not automatically mean that it is good for me. To each her own way and her own prayer. Or as a beautiful voice once whispered in my ear: you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. For me that is doing a little practice down by the river every day.

By the sea

For me living at the beach is paradise. I’ve always had a magical connection with the sea, but it took me a while to get to this place. When I was a child we went Scheveningen once a year and I would play in the water for hours, until my mum would drag me out at the end of the day – blue lipped and shivering – and I would scream my lungs out because I didn’t want to go. In my twenties I moved to The Hague and found a small flat about ten minutes from the beach. How I loved it there! I spend every free moment at the sea side, going for long walks to Kijkduin – come rain or shine. Somehow I still thought it’d be a good idea to move to London. It would take me more than 4 years to find my dream again. Each day I wake up early and go to beach, still wearing my pajama shorts, hair tousled in the wind. I love it when the sea is calm, just a single line to the horizon. Absolute quiet. And then there’s the moment you dive in, into the cool glistening water. You float on your back and take in the blue surrounding you. When you dry yourself, letting the sun warm your skin, feeling rejuvenated, you realise that you are truly fortunate.

Whispers on the wind

As a child I was very intuitive. I instintictively knew things, and often had premonitions. But growing up my intuition got drowned out by other voices. Being an analytic philosopher didn’t help. Because I couldn’t frame any of it in logical terms, I didn’t know how to explain it. My inner voice was still there, telling me things, but I no longer listened to it. Einstein once said: “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” I was a living example of that. But last year I read the beautiful book A Still, Small Voice by Echo Bodine. Once I embraced my inner voice, it became louder. Sometimes it’s so loud that I find myself shouting back: “I hear you, I hear you!” I guess it wants to make sure I never ignore it again. Now that I’m learning to trust my intuition, life is much simpler. Things just happen without effort. Not only did it guide me to the sweetest creature, I found a new home within two days. For the first time in my life I no longer seek advice from others to make decisions. Why would I? I have my own inner wisdom.

Without you

A broken heart isn’t the easiest thing to mend. You can do everything right: find solace with your dearest friends, embrace your new found freedom, sign up for super fierce kickboxing classes. But no matter how much you enjoy your own company or how often you remind yourself that some relationships aren’t meant to last, there will still be moments when you miss the joy of going on adventures together, waking up in each others arms or the way they made you burst out with laughter. There will still be tears. There will still be bittersweet memories that make the pieces of your heart falter. Of course, letting go of your soulmate is hard. But what it comes down to, the hardest thing to admit, is that I am afraid of truly being on my own. Of going into uncharted territory without someone there to hold my hand. But the truth of the matter is that you cannot go back to the past. So you have to be strong. Especially if you want your own light to shine bright. So just send them love and light every time you think of them, and continue on your way. For as a wise person once said: everything you need, is within you.

Spread your wings

Ever since I founded The Oak Tree Factory, most of the decisions I’ve made have been about minimalism. I’ve really taken the motto start where you are, use what you have, do what you can to heart. It hasn’t always been easy, I can tell you that. Over the years I’ve given up on well-paying jobs, expensive holidays, living space, furniture, luxury goods – asking myself at every turn: how can I pursue my dreams instead of status, financial security, and really just more stuff? The answer has always been: keep it small, enjoy the little things. Aren’t the best things in life free, after all? But now, for the first time in years, I’m expanding. Taking a step out of my tiny, but comfortable hermit shell and moving into one that is one size bigger. One that has lots of space for all my creative work. You’d think that would be a blissful moment, after years of giving things up. Yeah, not so much. Growth, as I’ve learned, is a painful process. It asks us to take a risk, jump into the unknown, head first. “What if I fall? What if I fall? What if I fall?” The question repeats in my head, ad nauseam. “Yes, my darling,” a soft voice whispers in my ear, “but what if you fly?”