Smiling after making a mess

And in the end

I have fought,

for something

it might not be worth it

but it was what

I needed, to let

go, of fighting.

No regrets.

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Writing something intelligent

I have written about writing a lot on this blog. I’ve been exploring why I write, why I think it matters, and what I write and how what others write helps me. One of the reasons I write is to document some of my feelings. Sometimes these feelings do not last, solely the products of the feelings in the forms of poems or rants on paper. However, when these things re-occur, I can go back to my writing to understand how I felt about something, and perhaps how that changed. Growing up in a strong Christian tradition we quickly learned how people often remember only the good things about a previous situation if something goes bad. The Israelites when in the desert after being freed from Egyptian slavery reacted to a lack of meat with the words: oh but in Egypt at least we had meat, forgetting that they also had masters that knew no mercy. Similarly, I am always critical about my own recollection of events: was it as good as I remember? Or was it a bit more nuanced than that? Was it much better?

U Voelt Zo Dicht Weg

‘U Voelt Zo Dicht Weg’- ‘You Feel So Close Away’

Reading back helps me understand sometimes, but first, it has to be written. Sometimes, struggling with what to think of feel about a certain event I long to write ‘something intelligent’ about the matter. Hoping that words will help me understand something that feels quite uncertain. In fact, this is also how I pray sometimes. I hope that somehow I could address some meaningful words to God, to connect when I feel disconnected. Sometimes this happens and sometimes it does not. And so to improve my meditation on the words I could address to God, I decided to sew a prayer. I started embroidering with my sewing machine again a few days ago and after some trials, i thought of combining the meditation of sewing and praying. I started to sew: God, U bent hier, maar u voelt zo- (meaning god, you are here but you feel so- ), I  wanted to continue to sew  ‘ver weg’ (meaning ‘Far away’) however, wandering in my mind I started to write Dicht ‘(meaning: close’). To be honest to my first intention I decided to compromise: I finished with ‘weg’. resulting in : ‘U voelt zo dicht weg’- ‘You feel so close away’. It is not correct dutch or English and a word play between far away and close by, yet this felt like something very intelligent to write. It is beautiful and also helped me to understand how I was feeling these past days- not necessarily about God but about some things around me. These things felt ‘away’ but at the same time to close to let go. To remember what I wrote, I restitched the last part of my prayer: ‘U voelt zo dicht weg’. I pinned it to the wall to remember that something letting go of thoughts and accidentally straying can give beautiful insights.

 

verbal

Vermin, mess, and teddy bears

How did I now find me here

In this world of ever growing

People coming to our yard

 

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crash and bike

 

 

Bike rides from my home to work

And back again

And I remember when

I did just start cycling down the street

Holding the handle bars so tightly

Still falling down having the biggest scab I ever had

Right there on my elbow, and the joy of it.

And the joy of it.

The freedom that I found

Let me find it once again.

Stress

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the peace I can see but not feel

oh the boiling lightning in my belly

oh the tiredness in my arms

oh the tightness in my jaws

and the tremor in my eyelids

 

I     am     almost    there

I     am     almost    there

I     am     almost    there

There is life beyond the deadline.

 

The magic of running from a great converstation

So. Imagine this movie scene. One of the characters goes and sits on a bench on a small airport, notices the other character, who seems to be a Russian, since the book he reads has Cyrillic letters. The characters stay side by side and little to nothing seems to be happening. and then… The supposedly Russian guy starts talking to the girl who came to sit next to him. And we have no idea what he says, neither does the girl. We find out that for some reason the guy thought that maybe this girl was from his country, and for that reason spoke to her in an unknown language. Everyone can guess what happens next: they start to talk about where they came from and where they are going and the meaning of life. Since the conversation is not finished and they both have to catch a flight they travel together through security and follow the flow of the conversation. And then. In a split second the girl realizes she is late for her flight, and without knowing anything about this guy except where he is from and where he is going and his vision of life she runs off, leaving what this conservation could be when she would not be running off, to everyone’s imagination.

In the second scene, we see this girl again. This time she is in the town where she lives. She carries a book and goes to sit on a bench and there she reads it. A little later a guy comes and sits next to her, working on his laptop. Nothing really happens for a long time, until the girl puts the book next to her on the bench and the wind opens the book, and takes out one of the precious notes this girl found in this book, that she has on permanent loan from someone she loves. Of course, for dramatic purposes this bench is on a canal side and the note flies to the water and lands there. The girl runs after it and since she does not know how to get the note back she considers quickly reading it again and copying it. Yet then the guy that until now did nothing of particular interest comes over, puts away his phone and jumps in to the boat that is next to the note and rescues the piece of paper. The guy asks: “Was it a shopping list? Because sometimes when I find other people’s shopping lists I buy the things that are on there.” The girl is a bit confused and starts copying the note to a book, to save its content and to wait until it is dry. When she finishes she decides to continue the conversation and you can imagine what happens, they end up talking about where they came from and where they are going and the meaning of life. The sun moves around the sky and the shades get longer. Yet the girl has no clue what time it is until she gets a phone call from the person that she is supposed to meet: she is half an hour late. The two introduce themselves to one another, spell their first names and the girl runs off, leaving what this conservation could be when she would not be running off, to everyone’s imagination.

Far away

oh the freedom to feel

a home that I found

The mess that someone just

puts me right into

And all of the blessings that I have

To kling to

I’ll be alright i’ll be yours god

and meet you

whereever you bring me.

On the edge of the dream

New exiting things going on, somethings ending, some space for developement. This poem is almost a year old but it describes what i feel now perfectly!

I don’t dare to write

All the things I feel inside

All the stories thought

And besides I forgot

Them so many times

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what is more beautiful than the cold bright expecting of a new day

I know that these sound

Different I know I’m

Not so sure as I was

Before that these are

All lies, my thoughts

And hopes can never

Be right

 

Let all that is beauty

Be loved

Let all that is precious

Be seen

Let all that is given

Be touched

 

Protect all that is dear

Protect all that’s not ready yet

Protect all of my fear

 

Lead me slow ahead

Lead me to the truth

That’s always highlighted

In disguise

Lead me to the insight that

My longing can be right

 

That I can be found

That I can find

That we can share

That time will tell

That loves not blind

That right is strong

That heart and mind

And soul can be

On the same line.

Scars that have been there a long time

Fight against all that fights you

All the enemies in your head

All the things that harm you

All the things that hurt

 

And maybe sometime I’ll see the enemy within me.

The enemy that fights me, the enemy that hurts

The enemy that so quickly says:

They are fight your- they must be right

They are fighting you- they must be wrong and they must die.

 

Then the angel comes and saves me

And he opens up my eyes

He shows me there are no weapons

Although the wounds are real

And he shows me to the cross

And he put me in the light

And the wounds they heal – the

Wounds that came from scars

That have been there a long time.

The rocking chair

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The mess of blury lines

Oh you rock us back and forth back and forth

Like one would to let the baby sleep, back and forth back and forth

But this ride on the rocking chair doesn’t allow sweet dreams to come

Rather it is nightmares and remembering that you are still awake.

What is the price for getting off walking away and

not be so affected any more?