13 outubro 2011

the epic story

So it now feels I am in entering an epic story, a story of struggle and love, frustration and appreciation, openess and closeness. Me and the educational system for integration in Holland. And for that I literally mean the course given by the government for foreigners willing to learn dutch to be able to integrate in the culture, the life, the land that they chose to live, be it for whatever reasons Life has made them choose.

And the reason why I say an epic is because it ain't a small story. It's the story of my life, the story of Holland at this time and age, the story of other men and women, of each and every one us, who are constantly sttrugling to find our place in the world. Moving from here to there, in the inside or the outside. It is the story of both the dutchies who have egone to discover the new world, trading merchandises, values and cultures on their big sailing ships, and whom for long in history have been out there, while been in here, making it all possible to survive and to stay in a land that used to be see. Traveling and staying has been always inheritent to these people, to the landscape of this land. It has shaped culture and behaviours in the binnenland and in the bouten land.

It is also and the story of those who have come brought by the ships, brought by their hearts, their future husbands or wives to be, the kids to be born, or/and the hard reality which they were victims or witnesses in their landa of origin (Kurdistan)

It's been frustrating, good, empowering, challenging and deep.


For long I have felt connected to the people who have left and the people who have come. It is difficult to say when did it begin... maybe at the beginning of times, my times on this Earth, my time on this existence. Since young the lyrics of Bob Marley "Oh pirats yes they robbed I, sold I to the merchant ships, minutes after they took from the bottomless pit. ... Bbut my hand was stronwant to hear to sing, these songs of freedom" Or the Brazilian song (that has become my favorite over the years): Foram me chamar, eu estou aqui o que eh ha. Eu vi de la eu vim de la pequeneninha, mas eu vim de la pequeneninha, alguem me avisou para pisar nesse chao devagarinho" The lyrics of bith songs have always spoke deeply to me... Somehting down the soul.

12 outubro 2011

Between Walls and Windows


And so I sit here now in front of our yellow wall, overlooking the boxes packed and wrapped in front of me, thinking how interesting it is to realize that when this wall was painted we were 2 months to go to Brazil and South America. On my longing for sun and light to the dark and short days of Autumn I decided to paint it yellow so to make it lighter to withstand the cold and the lonely I somewhat felt within.

The yellow brought in light, it expanded the room and helped relaxing the mind, taking us to a place far away. A place where all is possible, where there is no limitations. No irony that it happened just before we set off to our journey in South America. It surely helped preparing the body, mind and spirit for the endevour ahead of us...

Now sitting with it on my back, feeling held and supported by this wall which has held us with a safe and sacred space to leave from and to come back to, I look over the big windows to the multiple options life again is offering us. The sun rising there... behind the buildings, on the left side of the street, illuminating the alley through which we go to Puha and Ah. Slowly slowly wakening up and bringing its rays to the silent sleepy neighborhood, that awakens from the misty night where Droemenland is. In front lies the future, still to be known, felt, lived, tasted to its entire existence. Hints of it we might already have and grab, the rest will come as it turns into present, on the moment by moment unwrapping of the gift of Life.

What to do now, but to trust and be grateful for the windows and walls that exist in our lives. Without one the other is not. Without the other the one is not. Walls and windows, my house, my home.


With love,
Valentine