Let's talk about 'Wadden Tears'

 Yes, they do exist, Wadden Tears.

Are they different from other tears? Not in substance; they are wet, fill ones eyes, roll down ones cheeks and taste salt when they reach the corners of ones mouth.
Though the emotions behind tears differ. They can be caused by loss and this on it's own is divided in many sub emotions: missing a loved one, home sickness, income....
Tears caused by physical pain. Falling from your bike, down the stairs, head ache, an operation...
Or caused by incapacity, frustration, anger. And of course, last but not least, by happiness!

Tears have a purpose. They give air to emotions, relief you from pressure.
Sometimes one cries without wanting it. And not everybody cries easily, like myself. I simply can not cry unless my heart aches tremendously but even then I can not cry when someone else is around.
The kind words: "Please cry, it helps." do not land in my system. Too many genes from my father's side. My grandmother went through many losses but was not known to cry. Friesian stubbornness?

Some people cry to manipulate; to put pressure on a wish of which they know can not or will not be granted. Or seeking compassion to feed their ego.To reach a selfish goal, to impress or to weaken the other person.
True sorrow reaches my heart but manipulating tears freeze me and I shut myself off for the manipulator.

But there are times that my eyes are filled with tears but I do not call it crying.
Since my move to this lovely fishing village near the Wadden Sea, I walked many many miles, regardless the weather. Those who know me, know I love the rain and mist and prefer cold(er) temperatures. Therefore you find me often outdoors, inhaling the fresh air, the smell of the magnificent and ever changing Wadden. Listening to the waves and the birds or just silence during low tide. The wind through my hair and the rain on my face,
Admiring the stunning clouds drifting by, wishing them to lift me up, to take me with them. To embrace me.

I am almost always on my own with my dogs, no other people around which causes a change in dimensions: I feel tiny and humble. A little figure in an immense world with it's own seasons.
Being there I can not change the tides, the weather, the moon or sun. Nor the directions the birds fly, nor birth or death of the animals that live in and around the sea.
The only thing I can and will do, is being there and undergo the beauty I am surrounded with.
And it is not until I taste salt that I know tears found their way to the corners of my smiling mouth, my heart overflowing with thankfulness.

There is something about the Wadden that brings forgotten emotions to the surface.
And it happens to other people as well.
Tot the man who lost his wife to Cancer, a few years ago. He stood there, tears dripping at the collar of his coat. But with a smile. He told me his story and said: "I often come here to be healed. The Wadden is a healing place, so full of compassion".

Or the lady dressed in thick winter clothes, almost invisible under a fluffy hat, who looked for items - preferable bones - she could use to underline her speeches. She was a 'mourn lady', a woman who talked on funerals, asked by the family of the diseased. 
But all of a sudden she bursted into tears, explaining she could not cope with the Corona restrictions anymore, not knowing where the world was heading to. 
When she finally calmed down, she said: "You know, that is another reason why I walk here. The Wadden opens up feelings I am not always aware of. It allows me to cry, it never judges".

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

The lady at the bench, her left arm folded over the back, her right hand resting in her lap holding the lease of her dog. We talked and talked. Then tears in her eyes and she swallowed bravely: "I come here often, Helen. To be away from daily life. As I just told you, at home we have a lot on our plate. But I have not told you my husband is diagnosed with quick deteriorating Parkinson. Walking near the Wadden Sea is comforting me. I feel loved and hugged. The Wadden give. Not just love but also energy to cope for the time until I return here again". We hugged.

The girl who sat on an elevation in the landscape. With a straight back, her hands folded in her lap.
She did not notice me, her eyes were fixed at the seascape in front of her.
She cried in silence. Her tears carried all her sorrows to the sea where they mingled with the waves until they were invisible. Then she smiled and walked away.

The restless man with the low self esteem who often sat near the sea or walked through the salt marshes because The Wadden accepted him the way he was; no judgment, no high expectations.
And he inhaled the love nature gave him. The wind dried his tears.

People, stories, all different, all their own emotions but all turning to the Wadden for the same reason: unconditional love without questioning.

This is true fortune my lovely readers and worth a few thankful tears.


Lots of love,

Helen, xxx

Let's talk about Dark Skies

 Skies, the Wadden Sea has them in all sorts, sizes and colours. High skies, low skies, hazy or strong.
There is not something like no sky. The sky is everywhere, all around us, like a caring parent, hugging, comforting, embracing, holding.

I love the sky, love the clouds, love rain and wind. And the sky seems to love me, surprises me every day again.
My days always start early and when it is really bad weather, rain pouring down on my roof, I like to stay in bed to listen to the music on my roof tiles. But usually I get up and take my dogs out for a walk along the coast. Not always to their delight but be fair, they do not melt.

My office day is from 8 till 6 with a lunch hour in between. During office days I have set myself the goal of 6 km walking but often exceed this.
Watching and hearing the Wadden waking up is a treat, a gift I treasure close to my heart. The best moments are when the night is fading into the day, even without sunshine.

To you a grey day might look just grey but when you carefully observe, you will also find silver.
Sometimes like polished silver, sometimes like old silver with traces of use, wearing, being loved and treasured. There are so many nuances in layers, feathers or fluffy cottons. Or high mountains.
And near the Wadden Sea, particularly when the tide is low and the clay like a polished mirror, the reflections are breathtaking. Double beauty.

Also breathtaking are the moments  when the sun rises. Her rays colouring the sky, the edges of the clouds. In a warm pink or beautiful gold. Or with pastel veils, chasing the night away.
This transition from night to day is a miracle I happily observe.
And it is not just the sky but also wildlife. Birds wake up, start chatting, perform their first flight, take a bath. The geese are masters in flying and chatting, you can hear them everywhere. And if you are lucky to see a flight of geese which do not chat, you will hear the sound of their wings, like a soft wind rubbing feathers.
Have you ever heard a gaggle (flock) of grazing geese that all of a sudden decides to fly?
It is a deep dark sound, like drums and it is very impressive.

There are so many birds near the Wadden Sea and all add their own joy and sound.
Sometimes I envy them and would like to fly away as well. Join them to unknown horizons. Viewing the world from above. The weightless freedom of being one with the sky.
Instead I dig my boots firmly into the clay and watch, listen and feel.

Feeling nature is something I need. I need to feel the cold, even when my fingers get numb. It means I am alive. I need to feel the wind, the silk raindrops that sometimes mingle with my happy tears.
Taste those drops.
Often I also want to feel the low clouds. I want to stretch my arms to hug them. I ask them to lift me up and carry me in their fluffy arms. Or dance with me during a storm, like a lover, giving me the pleasure of laughing.
Dancing, not only early mornings or evenings. No, dancing through the night. Either pitch black or lit by millions of stars swirling in the dark silent sky.

March is a wonderful month, she delivers quiet days but also storms. Blue days but also rain.
A glorious sunset does not mean a glorious day tomorrow, or vice versa.
March loves to surprise, to tease. She carries the promise of Spring but also the last bits of Winter which she happily passes on to April.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

I love March, I love clouds but that is not a secret.
The past weeks were busy, more or less chaotic.
I like  my work tremendously, like everything that crosses my path and needs attention but sometimes my head is too occupied, spinning in the small environment called office.
And then I escape to my so beloved Wadden Sea. Not only close to where I live but also close to my heart.
I admit there are times I need a hug, two comfortable arms that just hold me and do not ask.
But they are not available and nature is. And nature never fails to comfort me, to make me happy, smile.

When I feel the cold wind or the warm sun rays, when I hear the birds and the waves, when I taste the rain or snow, when I see the numerous colours, I am so so so thankful.

In my imagination I spread my arms. Not only to hug the clouds but to spread the treasures of nature, hoping the sparkles will lit your world.

Love,

Helen XXX

A letter to my Mother

Dearest Mama,

It is Mother's Day, a day you did not care about much. At least not the commercial part of it.
But you appreciated and cared for an extra hug, an 'I love you', a warm embrace, holding your hand.
Just the normal but ever important affection in daily life, not solely on Mother's Day.

Being a mother and wife was your joy, not a duty. Your dream was being a mother of a large family but knew that just my brother and I were miracles with miscarriages in between.
We were so much wanted and even more loved.

Viewing photos of our childhood, I smile. I see the love in the way you hold us, in your eyes looking at us. Watching us when were not in immediate reach, always alert without smothering.

You were also a mother to foster children, our friends, you created a warm and welcoming home for everyone. You loved to cook, especially Indonesian meals for large groups of friends and family.
You were always there for us, answering our questions whenever they popped up. Whether is was about sexual education, political matters or just the daily chores of growing from a happy child to a confused teenager and a grown up human being.

My memories go way back using the beautiful monochrome photos Dad took of our childhood.
To Zaandam where I was born, visiting your parents. Visiting Dad's mother and uncle in Steenwijk.
Long car drives during which I got car sick, a standard procedure. You held me and comforted me.
You and Dad taught me to read and write before I went to elementary school. You understood the importance of being honest about my first operation; the pain, the recovering.

Even more you understood my free spirit and my introversion. Yes, you and Dad set guidelines for a properly functioning household (called the 'traffic lights') but you explained why things were not allowed or better not to do. And thus allowed us to make mistakes in life.
You and Dad drew one line in the upbringing. Dad was often away for his work and you were capable of raising us almost on your own. Of course you discussed things with Dad but you supported each others decision for the one and only reason that they were made in our best interest with all the love you could give.

You confessed you did not sleep when I took the Ferry to the UK at the age of 17, determined to go on holiday all on my own. You told me this afterwards, in fore you were as enthusiastic (and nervous) as I was. You told me that Dad and you knew I was smart enough to know my limits. A trust in me I have never forgotten and which was so crucial for the rest of my life.

I remember our holidays together to the UK where you met my 'second' Mum and Dad, those wonderful Yorkshire people I met in Somerset and who became my other parents. Mum and you both answered when I said: 'Mama', you got on so well together.
These holidays with you Mama, are so precious. I fulfilled your dream and we both enjoyed every minute. Also a wonderful chance to get to know you better since I moved out of the house, being married.

You nursed Dad for 24 years after he got ill at the age of 43, a year in which you battled and survived Breast Cancer. You fought to stay alive and to live a normal as possible life. And never failed to spread care and love.

After both Dads died within a few years time, our bond got stronger. And how happy I was for you when you met an old friend and both fell in love.
And how much we needed each other when this friend died within a year and you were not able to laugh anymore. For a whole year I never saw your beautiful smile which you always kept in the past, no matter what happened. It hurt so much, Mama.

You were there for me when my marriage ended and I had to return home from Sweden. You offered me your love, arms and home. You listened, cried with me and helped me to get back on my feet.
You arranged the viewing of a rental home even before I was back in Holland and you were as happy as I was when I moved to the same village.

You cried for me when I was diagnosed with severe Breast Cancer and refused to cry myself.
You held me when I vomited my heart out during the chemo therapy. I slept in your arms when I was too tired to stand on my feet. You applaud when I refused to wear a wig and loved the shawls I made to cover my head.

Although your body grew old and tired, disabled, you offered me your automatic comfort chair after both my hip operations. You spoilt me with love, tea and healthy food. You finally was a mothering mother again now I was less stubborn and self supporting.

You looked after my wonderful dog when I found a job for which I had to travel within Europe.
We had long conversations via the mobile phone on my way to the airports, happy to share my trips and I was more than happy to share them with you.

Your health deteriorated and I became your part time carer. The rules changed, now I was the one who looked after you and found out of whom I inherited my stubbornness!
You refused to complain, always looked at the bright side. Sometimes taking the wrong decisions, ending in being rushed to the hospital.
I stayed with you whenever I could, holding your hand. But we always laughed, sharing the same sense of humour, able to see the sun shining behind every cloud.

Then came the day the alarm service called me, you had fallen in the living room.
Living so close to you I was there in a minute and knew instantly you had broken your hip in a very bad way. You did not cry, you did not complain although you were in so much pain.
The ambulance arrived quickly and the wonderful paramedics gave you morphine before they moved you. You held my hand, did not want to let go.

You accepted munch sooner than I that the broken hip was inoperable, also due to your heart condition. Medication kept the pain level low but you knew you were going to die. And you smiled, a broad calm smile. We both knew you longed for joining your Heavenly Father, I knew I was going to meet you again. But I cried.

I read somewhere 'A parent always dies too young' and this is true. You want to keep them with you for ever. In good health. But true love does not allow needles suffering and I told you it was alright to go.

I cried at the day of your funeral. I was not able to speak and loved my brother for doing that also for me, accompanied by the sound of heavy rainfalls on the church roof.
I cried when they lowered your coffin next to Dad but smiled when suddenly the sky opened and dazzling sunbeams shone right into your grave. I knew you were Home.

Life moved on. I remarried and became a widow. I moved house to built up a new life.
How much I like to talk to you, to ask you for advise, to enjoy my beautiful little house and the area together. To drink tea, to eat biscuits, to laugh and to love. To even argue with you. To embrace you.

I love you, Mama

Let's talk about Nothing

Although quite occupied during this Dutch Intelligent Lock Down in Corona time (we are advised to stay at home instead of ordered), I sometimes have a moment to slow down my brains which, I have to admit, are not always working the same pace as my  muscles. My brains win...

During the past weekend, when the sun was shining bright in a beautiful blue sky and  my village being overrun by people who preferred to sniff the fresh sea air, keeping at last 2 metres social distance, I sat on my little patio surrounded by Pansies in the most beautiful colours.
My feet high up on my rocking couch, cat and book on my lap, a hot chocolate within reach, I decided to do nothing. And not only that, also to think Nothing.

And I mean literally Nothing, with a capital N.

When I tried to stop my brain completely, I discovered there is not something like Nothing when it comes to the brains. At least, my brains. Thinking of Nothing is already something.
So what does Nothing mean? According to the Cambridge Dictionary there are numerous explanations and synonyms but nothing that indicates emptiness. In my context "Easiness and Simplicity" comes closest.

Do we realise how often we use the word Nothing?
   "What are you doing?" Actually....nothing.
Not true. Just sitting is not doing nothing, for example, you have chosen a chair to sit comfortably, telling your muscles to behave comfortably. So you do something.
   "Where are you thinking about?" To be honest, nothing....
Where at the same time you might think 'please stop asking me these questions, I want peace...'
   "Do we have any money left?" No, nothing but there are still some pennies left in your purse.
   "How was your day out? What did you do?" Fine but I did nothing.
In the meantime you drove and walked, ate and drank, looked and listened.
Etcetera, etcetera, you can think of some examples yourself.

Back to the brains. Whilst I was thinking of Nothing, I was actually thinking of numerous things: being happy with my little house and patio, being extremely happy feeling the sun on my face, the wind (although still cold) through my hair, the cat on my lap and the dogs nearby, the sound of the chicken, their free eggs, the smell of the flowers, the sound of the sea....

I forced my brains not to dwell off these Nothing subjects, just to concentrate on now and here, not on tomorrow or next week where Nothing is out of the question.
No, just now, this very moment, only this afternoon.

At the same time a few people entered my brains and I allowed them to do so. Precious people who were welcome to share Nothing with me. I hoped they were at ease as much as I was, whether they were doing Something or Nothing.

In my thoughts I had a conversation with them, offered them my peaceful moment in this strange Corona time where Nothing all of a sudden seems very well possible.....: do I see stripes from the plains in the sky? No, nothing. Do I see or smell pollution? No, nothing.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

Are cars blocking the roads to find people something to entertain themselves because enjoying ones own home is out of fashion? No, nothing.
Are the beaches chock a block? No, nothing like it.
Are people fighting over shopping carts in overcrowded supermarkets on  Sunday? No, nothing.....

Then I hoped that we are right now learning to find a balance between Nothing and Everything.
A lot less of Everything and a little more than Nothing. The latter because nothing Nothing does not exists. But there are so many positive Nothings. Free of charge Nothings which often turn out to be the very best Nothings ever. The most enjoyable and achieving Nothings. A good synonym for these Nothings could very well be Happiness. Or Contentedness.

This is most likely my shortest Blog Post ever, for the simple reason it is about Nothing.
I leave the realization of Nothing to you and hope it will benefit your spirit.

Lots of love,

Helen XXX

Let's talk about Intimacy

'Intimacy, a situation in which you have a sexual relationship with someone' (Cambridge dictionary)
But it may also be a non-sexual relationship involving family, friends, or acquaintances (Wikipedia)
Still, the latter was not the meaning of a recent conversation which triggered me to write this post.

In September 2017 I wrote about 'Men and My Checklist (post with a wink)'  based on the well meant advise from people to look for a new relationship,
By now the majority of people accepted that I prefer to live on my own but a very few still think that my life would be so much better if I had a partner again, someone to share my life with, to cuddle up with on the sofa or in bed.
To go out with, to talk to, to kiss and hug and all other things that come with intimacy in a relationship / marriage.
The big question of these kind and gentle hearted souls is: "Don't you miss intimacy?" Meaning a sexual relationship.

Do I need to think long and deep before I answer? No! Because, what is intimacy to me? How do I feel, experience and treat it?
Intimacy to me is that deep borderless connection I have with the one I love and trust. And for him (I am an incurable heterosexual) this will feel the same. That special level of interacting, translated in a touch, kiss, smile, laugh, tear, making love (with or without exciting sex) or even an argument to keep things lively.
And what is the meaning of a long term sexual relationship without this intimacy? For me any form of a sexual relationship needs some intimacy. I am not the 'one night stand with a stranger' woman, I need more, a 'foreplay' of getting to know someone. His character, smell, likes and dislikes. And a wicked sense of humour. And let's not forget his build: tall, broad shoulders.... (see my wish list ;-))

Seriously, I might be very old fashioned or to some even boring but I still have my taste and values.
So, do I miss intimacy..... no. For the very simple reason that there isn't someone I love like I described before. No one to share this intimacy with. In my opinion I will only miss it when it is connected to the person I love to be intimate with and that person is simply not there. At least, I don't know him.

Freedom is not only living in a free country. Freedom is the precious condition of being who you are. Not pretending, just the basic you who creates from this base a free happy life. Free in your head and heart. If you live this life with the one you love so deeply, this is the most wonderful thing there is for you. Though for me and for many others, freedom also means living on your own, no strings.
Like someone once mentioned "Yes, I am a free spirit. Maybe too free but I want to be able to change".
I say: "Yes, I am a free spirit. Maybe too free but I do not want to change again".

Dear readers, my life changed too often. I am now at a point in life and at a place in this world that I feel free and happy. I do not want to change again. I want to stay put with myself.
Am I an egocentric person to say I do not want to share anymore?

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

I like to believe I am not. And my close friends know I am not; intimacy as in friendship is important to me, it is rare and valuable. As it will be to many of you.



To those lovely people who still can't believe I am happy on my own, living  a fulfilling life, enjoying living with my animals in my little cottage so close to the beautiful sea, making long walks with my camera, absorbing solitude and nature, listening to the wind, tasting the rain, feeling the sun, spending time with dear friends, enjoying a good meal in the local Pub (the 'single' list is endless...): please accept this is my free will. I know you only wish me well and your intentions come straight from you heart but stop trying convincing me....  After all my credo is 'Fortis et Liber' (Free ánd Strong).

Change of subject....... ;-)

Lots of love,

Helen xx

Let's talk about the darker days before Christmas

A village near the sea, grey and rainy days, an old renovated fishing cottage, ancestral furniture, dogs, candles. All topped with a fluffy mist....
This is my well being in the darker days before Christmas.

Of course I love light and sunshine, it makes the world so much brighter and we need it, but these darker days...... Every year again I am looking forward to them. I can't wait to lit my candles. To embrace the soft glowing light creating comfortable shadows and giving a warm glow to my furniture, maintained and loved by many generations before me. To listen to Bach, to read a book. To drink hot chocolate or Winter tea.

No, I do not live with ghosts from the pasts. Maybe it has to do with not always feeling comfortable in this modern world although I benefit from technology and improved health care too!
Often I crave for a more quiet world, less distractions, more simple. With more simple I mean more quiet, alone with your thoughts, less white noise. There is so much noise: traffic, plains, machines, radios.....  Living in a quiet village near the sea, is a blessing.

My former house, a renovated small farmhouse, was far more isolated although situated near a drive trough country road. At the back and the front no neighbours, just country views. I loved the house, it was comfortable and cosy. Still... in my new house I feel even more comfortable. More at home.
Last week I talked to my lovely neighbour about our mutual feelings for this village and the beautiful Wadden Sea. She and her husband moved here 35 years ago, she originates from Germany.
Even now she can get emotional talking about how wonderful it is to live here, which caused me 'wet eyes' when I agreed.

One of my ancestors owned a plot of land in a nearby fishing village. With my huge amount of Scandinavian DNA (the Vikings did not only ravaged the Friesian coast but also 'mingled' with members of the local population) it is not surprising that I feel so rooted here.
The current exhibition 'We Vikings' in the Friesian Musem in Leeuwarden is a 'must see' and on top of my list.

My DNA is used to long dark winters full of fires and stories to pass the time. I can imagine myself listening in front of a fire. My fantasy at work about elves, trolls, giant birds...... I love standing in the middle of nature, inhaling the cold air, watching the many stars we still see here, my feet guided by the night when walking the wet lands.
Genetic memories and reality.

Soon the Christmas tree will be up again. I respect our Dutch Sinterklaas but the very first Saturday after this wonderful festivity for children, the tree goes up. And already I am planning which changes I have to make to my sitting room to give it a prominent place. It will stay there for at least 4 weeks, spreading it's soft light. Adding to my home feeling.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

I am also looking forward to the Christmas illumination of the village. There are so many old and beautiful cottages here. Often built close to the next one to shelter each other for the fierce cold wind from sea.
To hear the church bells in the 800 year old tower, wishing it could speak. Wishing it tells stories about all those Christmases it witnessed. In mostly hard times where people struggled to survive, but also happy times of new marriages, new born children.

The darker days before Christmas: simplicity and soft glows.....

Love,

Helen

Let's talk about Value

Value, a small word of great importance.
It is attached to, in my humble opinion, everything in life. Nature, people, emotions, you name it.
Ah yes, value of money and objects but I do not want to go there. Apart from the money you need for a basic life, money can be a burden, too much and you lose the feeling for real values....
Objects? Nice, enjoy them but enjoy above all the simple side of them, not what they are worth in money.

Maybe I am the incurable optimist but even when life is less attractive, I always find value in little things. Of course, I am blessed with a good health but also know the down side of e.g. fighting Cancer. Even that added more value to my life.
And value in friendships, relationships. Only a very, very few friendships remain which is good, you can not hold on to or depend on others all your life. Or being dependent of what others think of you. Fifty different people have fifty different opinions of you. Let go, be you.  After all you are the base of your own life and from this base you develop and become stronger.
You need to be able to rely on your own base, it lasts until you very last day, broaden it and secure it.... with values.

November is a month where value speaks more often to me. It is a month in which I lost people - who played an important role in my life - through death. Each in their own way; with much love or far less love.
I miss my mother who passed away 11 years ago this month. Maybe it has to do with age but the more people mention I look like her, the more I miss her and getting older I also see the similarities in look more and more. And I am proud of it!

When life is hectic or when my brains are too occupied, I wonder which advice my mother would have given and realize how valuable it is to have had a mother like her. No, she was not a saint, she was a real human being, strict with a touch of stubbornness. But above all loving, sincere and honest.
She taught me the value of all living creatures, the seasons, the basic things and love. That ever so complicated but also simple love of opening your heart to receive and return love. The value of vulnerability of love.
Which on its own, allows you to know the value of grief. You can not grief when you do not know love and the other way round. Yes, love can hurt, so can grief. But grief can heal, so can love.

Everyone inherits good and bad things from both parents, grandparents and so on. Add life experience on top of that and you become that one and only unique you. Value the freedom of being unique and use it to become rich. No, not 'rich as in money' but rich as in being able to make your own choices. To discard what does not make you happy and let grow what does make you happy.
Learn the value of positive energy and stop spending energy on things you can not change or that do not make you happy.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography ©

Learn the value of opening your eyes to see beyond what is immediately in front of you. The value of learning, taking on new things, challenging yourself which level you can reach. The value of expanding your world with new things, this can even be in a small radius around you.
Learn the value of colours, even when it is black and white because there are so many gradations in between!
Or the value of music, even when you can not hear it. Though you can feel it, through your fingers, in your body, your heart. Music is not only the sound of instruments, it can be a voice, a word, the wind, the sun.

Last but not least, learn the value of making mistakes. Without you don't grow.
If a decision you made turned out to be a mistake, do not feel sorry, it happens, it is part of life. Avoid doing it twice but do not feel shame. After all you are very human, how valuable is that!


Love,

Helen