The acorn theory

A year later I found myself at another crossroads. Before I could decide to go to left or right, I had an accident. Somebody BOUNCED me off my feet! I found myself beneath the leaves again. With all this time on my hands, I read The Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling. The book is about the question “What is it, in my squirrel heart, that I must do, be, and have? And why?” To answer this, the acorn theory is presented. It’s the idea that each life is formed by a particular image. Just like the oak’s destiny is written in the acorn, your destiny is written too. Besides genetics and the environment, everyone is also given a character upon birth. The theory refers to Plato’s idea of a ‘daimon’ (a nature spirit who cares about you). You might call it your guardian angel. Even what seems like an accident belongs to the pattern of the image and helps fulfill it. It reflects the blueprint that gives direction to your life. You may postpone your calling, but eventually the daimon will make its claim.

Finders, keepers

A few weeks ago I cycled past a shop called Normal Gets You Nowhere in The Hague. Seeing those four simple words painted on the shop window made me smile. How awesome, I thought. I had a similar sentiment at the book presentation of Ilona Verhoeven’s Voor de Eerlijke Vinder at the Torpedo Theatre in Amsterdam. It was an evening of stories by Ilona Verhoeven and music by Hans van Koolwijk and Danibal. I felt incredibly inspired by this celebration of individuality, uniqueness and eccentricity. By the time I got back home, I had finished her book, and felt like a skylight had been added to my roof. Her short stories are fantastic, both literally and figuratively. They are miniature tales about humans, animals, and inanimate objects – like a flying poppy seed challah. I particularly loved finding sensical nonsense (“Mogelijk”), shared childhood dreams (“Flora was hier”), and things that remain hidden (“In een tuin gevonden”).

The squirrel diaries

dairy of a wounded squirrel

Diary of a wounded squirrel

In The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle Hugh Lofting tells how 9-year-old Tommy Stubbins met Doctor Dolittle. It all started when Tommy came across a hawk on a rock with a squirrel in his claws. The hawk is so startled that he drops the squirrel and flies off. When Tommy picks the squirrel up, he sees that the squirrel’s legs are badly hurt. He carries the squirrel to Puddleby-on-the-Marsh to find someone who can help. His friends advise him to go see the famous animal doctor, John Dolittle, who has the extraordinary gift of speaking the animals’ language. Doctor Dolittle is away on a voyage, so Tommy has to wait for the doctor’s return. When he finally meets Doctor Dolittle, they visit Tommy’s home to take a look at the squirrel. After having talked to the squirrel, Doctor Dolittle ties the broken leg up with matchsticks and prescribes two weeks of bed rest under dry leaves, which is difficult for squirrels as they are very active and cheerful creatures. I am the squirrel and this is my diary.

Outside the walls

For many years, I walked the halls of distinguished academia, formally trained in the rigorous logic of analytic philosophy. The key to writing philosophy, according to some, can be found in Ernest Hemingway’s quote: “Know how complicated it is, then state it simply.“ But in my experience a lot of philosophers have a really hard time doing precisely that. Most philosophical texts I read were riddled with jargon. That is, obscure and often pretentious language marked by circumlocutions and long words. I found most of it unintelligible. Like Philippa Foot said: “Ask a philosopher a question and after he or she has talked for a bit, you don’t understand your question anymore.” One day I decided I didn’t want to be a scholar anymore. As Walt Whitman captured so beautifully in his poem When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer… I no longer wanted to sit in a lecture-room, so I wander’d off by myself in the mystical moist night-air. These days I sit quietly in my hut and listen to nature.