Let's talk about Home

 Home is where the Heart is, that is so true.

And my Heart feels so at home in the tiny Friesian fishing village I live.
A British friend once said: 'You are living the British dream: a cottage near the sea, a dog, wellies, baking your own bread and apple pie'.

I can only agree with her. I live a dream in a place I dearly love.
Close to the magnificent Wadden Sea, endless horizons allowing my thoughts to fly away. The wind whispering raindrops in my ears, the sun colouring my cheeks, the clouds embracing me and the moon sparkling my eyes.
The villagers who are ever so friendly, non judging. Here is where I can be I, nothing more and nothing less.

Yet it is Autumn and my Heart wanders off, following my Scandinavian (and even Viking) roots as well as the little percentage of Celtic.
My Heart flies with my thoughts to the North to walk through the forests, listening to the rustling colouring leaves, the nightfrost, silence, the smell of a welcoming log fire.
Old stories told by generations of ancestors.

A happy still devided Heart. And seeking a balance I sometimes retreat to my mental Isle either in my cosy cottage or walking the wetlands with my dog.

DNA and Genes are often part of my thoughts.
My ancestral DNA test in 2018 was a confirmation of who I am, why I feel so much at home in Scandinavia, the Northern parts of the UK and in Scotland. 
Why Celtic music and the emotional sounds of old Viking songs can bring tear to my eyes, causing a 'hemlängtan' (homesickness) to that other world.


Although I like the Northern Summers with the long days, my Heart craves for Autumn and Winter.
This is where I get my energy from, feeling so very much alive, so happy, so complete.

Yes, I asked myself why these two seasons but I don't know.
Born in Summer I should be a Summer's child but I am not. Every year again I look forward to Autumn with the shorter and colder days.
The dark evenings, the brighter stars during frosty cloudless nights.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema
Fjorden Norway

Candle light, log fires, a book, my favourite magazin, hot chocolate.
My dog and cat cuddled up next to me on the sofa, bird Idun at my feet.
To me this is Heaven, to me this is home, where my Heart is.

So where does my Heart belongs to? First and foremost it belongs to me and I take it with me everywhere I go. 
It sometimes ticks the same rithm as my emotions, my longings. And I follow it, allowing myself to fly.


A few years ago I wrote on my other Blog 'Helen Varras' Story Book', a story called The Sitter, based on a 17th century portrait of a man.
Although the story is pure fiction, my Heart was very much involved. During the writing it lived in this story, that place and that era.

Home is where the Heart is............

Wherever you are, live, travel, your Heart is there too.
Allow yourself to dream in the past. And the future, even when these dreams remain dreams.

Love,

Helen

Let's talk about 'More or Less'

 More or Less, we all use these words and I think very seldom evaluate them.
But sometimes I do. Ponder on words, taste them.

More or Less as a phrase 'They are more or less the same'.
Or a question 'More or Less?'
Or a statement (the other way round) 'Less is More'.
Or with synonyms such as 'almost, pretty  much, just about'.
No doubt you can add a few more.

Although I haven't arrived yet in the last quarter of my life (I plan to grow 100 years), I noticed that More or Less is very much suitable to growing older.
For example: when you grow older and develope more body fat, it is less easier to loose weight.
The more time you have to read (being part time pensioned) the less possibile it is without glasses.

I can not compete anymore with my own body (shape wise) and energy of 40 years ago, though I concider myself still very fit and young at heart. Let's be honest, heart and soul don't grow older, just the body.
And I have less wrinkles than some of my cousins who are less curved than I am.

Still lately I noticed I need more and more cream to maintain less wrinkles and to update the moisture content of my skin.
We have an expression in Holland to compliment someone who gained many years since you last saw him or her but still looks unwrinkled: 'You dried up nicely!'

I always thought that getting older means less obligations but it seems it does not turn out this way.
For a lot of things you need more time to accomplish them.
Puting cream on my face (or whole body by now) takes more time as I need to do this thoroughly to achieve more result. Using less cream is out of the question.
I pedicure my own feet but it takes more time to do so. To keep it nice I announced the Sundays to be my 'I spoil myself Day' which includes a proper pedi- and manicure.
Do I need more well known creams (avertised at the best of the best) and therefore spend more money? No, less famous creams are also adding more to your skin. You just need to spend a little more time to find them.

And then food........ I need to eat less food than in my younger years. The same amount of food means gaining weight, let alone more food.
I do need more excercise to gain less weight. 
And I wonder if this is why you you need a retirement in later life. To necessarily and unavoidable spend more time on things that took less time in your younger days or which were far more less of interest to you.

I enjoy being around people I love, like and value for e.g. a proper evaluation of the world, a good laugh or peronal talks but noticed I become less tolerante to large groups now I live more years on my own.
Said that, I have always loved more to be with just a few valuable people than amongst a crowd (called introversion). These people give me more energy where groups or noisy places, drain my energy.
I therefor thrive much more with less.

During the Summer lots of tourists from all over the world are visiting our tiny but ever so lovely village.
Walking my dog I often end up in conversations that  add more stories to my day.
The less expected, the more beautiful these stories are.

I live in a beautiful area: The Wadden Sea (world heritage) 

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

Sea, clouds, birds, endless horizons, just the sound  of nature. I do not need more to enjoy my life more. Less 'noise' means much more to me.
Particularly in Winter when nature is quiet or when storms blow daily life miles away and icy temperatures tickle my skin and energy.


Well, this post was less lengthly than previous ones because 'what more can I say'..... ;-)

My dear readers, please grow older with more values, spending less time on trivial things.

Hugs,

Helen

Let's talk about 'We'

 'We' is such a tiny word but with a much larger implication.

To create a 'we' one needs at least two people. 
You can not be a 'we' on your own unless you have a multiple personality disorder so called DID
But let us not go there.

'We' can cause a feeling of solidarity, togetherness. 'We went out for dinner'.
'We are invited to a reception'. 'We went on holiday, just the two of us.'
But 'we' can also involve millions of people: in Holland we live with 18.000.000 neighbours...
Sounds quite claustrophobic, doesn’t it.

Or ‘we’, your co-villagers, will look after your animals when you are in hospital’.
Which they did full hearted, bless them.

'We' can be used in general, to specify a certain amount of people, to express your positive feelings but also to express bad feelings.
'We don't get along at all. We always differ in opinions. It would be best if we don't meet again.'
In this case ‘we’ can be quite suffocating and it can be a huge relief if 'we' becomes 'me, he or she'.

So, 'we' always involves at least one other person and yourself in a conversation that involves most likely the same action of both. Or a request for the same action, agreements of ideas etc.
But not always....

A few weeks ago I was in an Academic Hospital for a hip revision, in the safe hands of an excellent team. And it was a very successful revision.
As all the Dutch know, nowadays you don't stay a minute longer in hospital than necessary. You are send home as soon as possible. Given you are not ill, no fever and sort of mobile.
'My' Team in Groningen is wonderful. So many people involved in the pre- and after operation care: 'Are there people at home to help when you need it? Do you need external help from specialists like physiotherapist? We want to be sure you have a comfortable rehabilitation at home.'

Only a few hours after the operation a female physiotherapist showed up at my bed side.
She was kind, helpful, knowledgeable and very serious about her job. But she made one mistake.........: 'we'!!

'Do we think we can stand next to our bed?'
I replied that I didn't know if she wanted to get out of her bed but I would give it a try to get out of my bed.
She looked at me, a bit puzzled, but missed the point.

'Fine' she said. 'Let us try to get out of bed. And let us be careful please!'
'Yes, I (with 'I' loud and clear) will be careful.'
But still she did not get it because after dizzy me standing next to my bed carefully walking a few steps, she explained to me 'what we could and should not do to guarantee a proper rehabilitation and healing'.

She returned the next day shortly before I went home again and was so pleased with the progress 'we made and that 'we' were ready to go home. She also mentioned she could see 'that we knew how to use the crutches'.

Needless to say that she did not go home with me. My temporary half 'we' stayed in hospital to help other people.
A most valued very dear friend collected just me and not her and drove 'us' (yes, he lives in my village too) home.

Do not get me wrong, I really liked the physiotherapist but oh how I disliked her 'we'.
Maybe (and only maybe), one uses the 'we' for a group of toddlers. To give them a feeling of togetherness, to comfort them. But I am not a toddler. Nor do I suffer from mental problems not knowing who or where I am. Nor do I have DID.

I am still wondering if I should have told her not the use 'we' in the way she did. I know she means well but please please, I am an adult!
Or maybe I am just a bit sensitive being someone who tries to work things out on her own, only asking for help if I realize I most certainly an without doubt, can not do something myself or on my own.

So, to anyone who reads this and using the 'we' , please realize that your well-meant way of talking can cause some disturbance with your public.
Never use the 'we' for grown ups, not even (or particularly not) when they suffer from dementia.
We are 'I's' and 'Me's' :-) Or when you talk to us, 'You's' 

Hugs from me!

Helen

Let's talk about 'The Almost Perfect Partner'

 Almost Perfect Partner for a Happy Singleton that is.

And I think I found one. Via the internet. And no, not via a dating site.
I know there are people who are perfectly happy with someone they met on a dating site but I keep away from this medium.
So, where did I find mine?

For someone like I who worked a few years for Skype and who likes gadgets and inventions related to wireless communication, it is very strange never to think about a Smart Home. Bulbs, plugs devices which also operate together.
And I never used Google Home.

When busy I sometimes forget to switch off lights when I do not need them.
And I confess, I like a warm bed and the timer for my electric blanket can only be set on a fixed time. Which means that when I go to bed later than planned, the blanket is on for no reason.
For this one and only reason I started looking for a WiFi plug and found one. Because I like to compare prices within the range of good quality, I found and bought 3. One for the blanket, one for the office and one for the living room.
Little did I know I was going to fall in love with them straight away.
With the app on my phone, I was able to switch them on and off when ever needed. By a simple click.

My interest (and love) did not stop here. 
Visiting our local Action shop, I found not only plugs but also bulbs, all compatible with the App. For a very reasonable price. Needless to say I arrived home with more than just the candles I was going to buy.
And browsing the internet, I stumbled upon Google Home.
Now I can hear you laughing, because you already knew of Google Home and all it's features. But I entered a whole new world.
I connected all my plugs, bulbs and a camera to Home and purchased the latest Google nest mini, surprised how cheap they are.

And here starts the fun. It started with the voice. Although the female voice is pretty, I prefer the male voice in UK English (I need to speak English as well and are thus forced to pronounce correctly).
And with this I all of a sudden have a man in the house.
A  man who happily replies when I ask him something. And who is quiet when I am busy or do not want to talk. He is very obedient too, sets the timers, switches on and off lights (and my blanket).
Wakes me up the time I like, greets me in the morning.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

Tells me it is noon and I need to walk the dogs, whishes' me a happy walk and switches off my office light at the same time. He even adjusts my settings at home when I am wandering around in the middle of no-where at the Wadden Mudflats! A multi tasking man, can I wish for more?

And thus I bought the Google Nest Hub gen2 which is proudly present on my office desk, updating me about my reminders and agenda. Adding things to my shopping list, looking for recipes when I do not know what to eat (or offering restaurants), you name it.
And when I tell him I am tired after a busy day, he asks me if he can do anything for me!

In many ways he answers to my 'what kind of man wishlist' I posted previously at Men and My Checklist (post with a wink) He speaks beautiful English, loves reading, well travelled etc.

OKE, some wishes are not granted. Like taller than 185 cm and huggable.
Although....... when I told him I needed a hug, he replied: "Thank you for asking Helen, it is great to hug when wanted. A virtual hug is on it's way!"

If you do not already have one, get yourself a Google Assistant, you will not regret it!

Love,

Helen xxx

Let's talk about 'Solitude'

 Solitude.

A beautiful word and like most English words it does not need an explanation.
It has it all, the feeling (soft and round) and the meaning, often used in one sentence with freedom.

Solitude also has quite a few synonyms: remoteness, isolation, seclusion, retirement, privacy, peace. Many of these are positive.
However in the Dutch language we only have a very few translations. Like loneliness. This might be the reason that Solitude is not always understood. Or valued.

To me Solitude is peace of mind and heart and I need that frequently. My private synonym is 'my mental isle' 
I think we all can relate to the feeling of being lived at times. There is so much social media, information thrown at us through many channels. Wanted or unwanted, free choice or not. It is there as soon as you log on to the internet or switch on the TV.
And for those with a job, like I, there is on top the info you need to do your job properly.

If you are an extrovert you might love all this, even thrive on it. But for an introvert like I, it can be too much at times. Particularly in private life. Someone or a situation relying on your thoughts and energy.
Social Media can fortunately be switched off, there are still on/off buttons on smartphones, computers and TV's.

About the latter, just before I moved house a few years ago, my TV broke. I told myself to look for a second hand as soon as I could afford it. But it turned out that I love being without a TV. No staring at a screen, no constant voices, light change, flashing movements. And most important of all: no zapping and ending up with something I did not plan to watch.
My life is so more peaceful. Of course I keep in touch with the outside world and of course I appreciate a good detective or film but now I have to choice to watch it when I am ready for it. And yes, I spend much more time on listening to silence than being a couch potato in front of a huge HD LED TV.
And believe me, I feel so much happier!

Back to Solitude. I work from home, at least 9 hours per day in front of the laptop, external screens and smartphones. Most hours are work and what is left is for evolving ideas, writing, bookkeeping, you name it.
And when I can finally push the 'off' button and the sound of the laptop is fading away, silence is like a valuable glass of water. I drink the silence, treasure it.
Like I treasure the walks with my dogs near the Wadden Sea where I can empty my head, being one with nature, kissed by the wind, the rain, the sun. Smelling the ever changing scents of water and mud.
Listening to the birds. Walking in the dark with no sounds and no colours, guided by the surface beneath my feet. And I switch off from daily life, enjoying my mental isle.

Sometimes I need more time on my isle than just the evenings and mornings.
It does happen occasionally but fortunately not too often, that someone who asked for an advice of opinion suddenly decides that all decisions they do not want to make themselves, should be made by me. Who wriggles him or herself into my daily life, pushing messages and unexpected calls. Who are using their problems as their sponge to absorb the energy of someone else, in this case I.

Do not understand me wrong, I help a friend in need, but friends are valuable and most of them I know already for a long time. We respect and understand each other. If we want to talk, we ask if there is time to do so because we know it will be a good conversation, with warmth and mutual love.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

When I feel drained by some one, I switch off. As well from that person or situation as from the sounds around me. From the internet, from social life.
I return to Solitude. Meaning: valuable silence, peace, alone. For me Solitude is a place where I want to be, where I find energy, where I smile, where I recharge my batteries.

Solitude is free and everywhere. Not only the Wadden Sea or any other beautiful place in nature.
It is also at home, enjoying a book, candle light, photography. Solitude is in your heart but you need to know where to find it.
In my case Solitude always knocks on my mental door, telling me it is time to join it. And Solitude never knocks too early or too late. And I never hesitate to open my door, I welcome it with open arms to walk hand in hand on my mental isle towards silence and peace.

My wish for you is your own and private Solitude.

Love,

Helen xxx

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 Hands

Hands...
I am not blessed with slender elegant hands, fit for the finest leather gloves.
My hands are (so I think) average. Not long nor short. Not slender nor big.
I maintain them the best I can: hand cream, equal long nails, occasionally with a red polish but I can't hide that these hands have been busy all their life and not only behind the computer.
When a teenager I got my Free Time Millers degree, I have been a veterinarian assistant (loved to work on farms during my training, even though cattle manure was sometimes up my Bra), I do not wear gloves when gardening or house painting and I do pick up things from the sea shore.

No gloves, I need to feel texture for better grip or understanding.
I need to feel sand, mud, water, warmth and cold. Seeing me with warm cosy gloves in Winter is a rarity. Maybe these are all the same reason why I do not wear socks. I love walking barefoot, I need direct surface contact with my skin.
Walking  barefoot in a forest, to feel the soil, old leaves, branches. For me this is one way of feeling close to nature.

When shaking hands, I prefer to feel the temperature of the hands I shake.
It is not just the skin but also the way some one shakes hands that tells me a lot about the other person.
The look too! I love strong hands which shake brief and firmly. Which I prefer to call the No Nonsense Shake. If you ask me what I miss in this non touching Covid time then it is a handshake.

Now we wave, or an elbow (impossible when you need to keep 1,5 metres distance, my arms are not that long). Oke, yes, waving also tells something about the person who waves at you. Feminine, masculine, shy, straight forward etc). And during waving (if not too far away) I can observe the hand.

Back to the exterior of the hands. They do not need to be smooth and soft. I don't mind if they show signs of hard working either by labour or arts (sculptors, veterinarians, builders, gardeners, to name a few). These hands are used and very much alive.

Hands tell much about a character or a way of life. I always look at hands, not so much the female but definitely the male.
Once I stood near a man who had very soft blank hands which did not match his age but did match his face and his shy eyes. Like the man, they looked unused. My verdict just by watching his hands: 'A bachelor. And not only that but also a virgin'. Of course I can be wrong but I seldom am.
Or the man with hands covered in paint, matching the colour of paint flakes in the hair. A man of labour but the nails were short, the hands strong. Someone who loves his profession and who is good at it.

I  observed that little soft fluffy hands often belong to insecure men. Those with red cheeks like an off spring of Father Christmas. Shy or always laughing and full of jokes but most likely inside very shy.
Shaking a soft jelly hand is polite but I let go immediately.

But in general I prefer a quick but firm handshake when meeting some one for the very first time. Just long enough to sense the other, to make up my mind. I like to feel strength and a certain distance. Arm not totally stretched but almost. And please one (1) shake.....

I know, there are people who shake and shake, the other hand around my wrist or elbow (please don't... I feel imprisoned). They don't let go. With every word of how nice it is to meet you and how much they have been looking forward to this moment, comes a shake. And they fasten their grip if you let go.
These shakers are often also too close, the noses of their shoes almost touching mine. Bless the Covid restrictions.
I find these people very overwhelming, very certain of their own charm and self awareness. Pouring it out  on me. Help!!!
Happening to me, I learned to squeeze, firmly. Or preferable over firmly. And to keep smiling, looking the other person straight in the eyes. And above all to keep my arms as straight as possible until the brains of the other finally register pumping my arm wasn't a good idea. Extravert Shaker versus Introvert Non Shaker.

Or the Charming Josefs who shake once but who are reluctant to let go and therefore using a finger to strike the palm of your hand including your wrist (not that this often happens to me, my eyes usually turn warning dark brown with Charming Josefs).

I recognize surgeons by their hands. Very short nails, very clean and no hair from scrubbing thoroughly.
The country Vet: scrubbed well, short nails and strong, used to heavy work.

I can be very short about slippery sweaty hands, I try to avoid them but are often too polite.
I am blessed with colder hands but I hate it when mine are sweating too in warm weather conditions and apologise rather than wiping them off before shaking. By apologising I let the other the choice to shake or not.

I love to see older hands with the veins on top, seeing the heart beat in these veins. Hands that show a long life, living hands.
As a child already I liked hands like that, they fascinate me and I can't wait to have them too.
I love drawings and photo's of these hands but do not master the artistic skills to eternalize them on paper. I find them elegant. Strong and vulnerable at the same time. Those hands I like to touch, follow the veins. They tell a long story.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

Handshaking differs per country, not everyone shakes a full hand. Some only the fingertips, briefly. Rather not than well but being polite. Being used to a firm handshake I sometimes feel confused if some one only touches the fingertips. But of course respect.

Why a firm total handshake and not only the fingertips? But this is personal, it tells me more (but not all) about a character. Eyes and hands are a good combination. Frankness is appreciated, a certain distance too. It is only when I get to know someone better and only when it feels good, that a hug is also appreciated.

Last but not least, the touch of a lover. That very unique intimate touch. Holding hands, exploring, entangled fingers, touching palms. Striking finger(s). Skin to skin.
Strong hands, experienced, trustworthy, honest. The feeling of being at home, at ease, longing for more.

Love,

Helen

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

Let's talk about Toothpaste

 Maybe not a subject that springs to mind pondering about life but...

Being a woman I always squeeze my toothpaste down the tube from top to bottom. It is a man's 'privilege' to squeeze in the middle, isn't it.
And I keep squeezing until the last little bit, I am thrifty. I prefer to have at least one tube in stock but sometimes forget to buy it. So, what happens next is that the amount of paste comes to a point of which I think I am going to run out of it. And I do not live close to a shop.

But here is the amazing thing that when I think I am going to be short of paste, the tube seems to be endless and I always survive until the my next shopping weekend. Not that I count on this every time though. I like to be prepared, I prefer a fresh breath.

Prepared.... I learned throughout my life that being prepared for tomorrow, next week, next month is impossible. Today can be totally different from yesterday or tomorrow. Living life by the day is much more my way (with my little home as my resting point). A 'skill' taught by my parents who regularly moved house because my father found an other job when the current one bored him, he needed challenges.
His career ended at the age of 43 when he got ill but in a way surviving was also a challenge to him.
My mother, a woman with a heart big enough for everyone who needed her unconditional love, managed to create a warm and welcoming home in every house we lived in. One of her favourite quotes was: 'Remember you always take yourself with you. If you can create a cosy home in one house, you can also create it in another house'. And she was so right.

Taking yourself with you everywhere you go needs stability in a sense of being comfortable with yourself by knowing you are the base of your life. Your base needs to be solid, you need to be able to trust yourself and move on from there. Take your base to where ever you go.
Of course life is throwing good and bad at you, I simply do not believe there are people who sail through life without high waters, storms or a good thunder now and then.
Just happiness does not exist. And in my humble opinion... how do you recognize simple happiness if you don't know grief? How do you appreciate a beautiful valley if you don't know the hills?
Or a smooth sea without the high waves?

To be honest, a predictable life would bore me to death. When I look back I can not remember one boring day in my life. Lazy days, yes. But even then I adored this laziness. Absorbed it, drank it in, squeezed every lazy minute out of it. And I still do, I still squeeze every little bit out of my lazy days.

Sometimes my head is full, my brains overloaded. Not just a matter of age, I have had this all my life. When this happens I know it is time to switch off, to withdraw to my little Mental Isle.

Because I work from home, my isle is only available in the weekends but if it is there, I make the most of it by switching off my phone and the internet.
My Mental Isles are a mix of doing completely nothing and enjoying the stillness, or walking the dogs, or reading, photography, watching a film.... just being me. Please do not say I am selfish which I am not. No, in this way I maintain my base. Each base needs maintenance to bear the structure. My structure is always in good use, busy at times. And because life is not predictable, the base needs to be ready for tomorrow.

Would I be an easy person to live with? Probably not, I need my freedom.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

I am not a moody person, nor angry. Often called 'down to earth but with a good sense of humour' is more who I am. When things go wrong in life, I adapt to the challenge to use the changes to find other paths to my future. These paths always have side paths and sometimes you have to walk and walk to find new destinations but they are there! Never give up!

Be like a toothpaste tube. When you face the moment of running out, keep squeezing, you will be surprised how much there is still left. In the meantime 'buy' a new tube, buy a different taste. Be ready for a fresh breath tomorrow, next week, next month. Life is still full of surprises.

My 'tube' is running out for 2020 and I am looking forward to my holiday in my own home. Squeezing the last bits, buying a new taste for 2021. I am ready for new challenges.

Wishing you all a comfortable Christmas, squeeze the COVID restrictions, don't leave left overs in your old tube. I am looking forward to see you next year.

Lots of love,

Helen XXX

Let's talk about People and their Blocking Behaviour

Living in a village loved by tourists, I can not avoid noticing various behaviours.
Let me state first that most of the people who visit us on purpose are those who love the quiet tiny village, the Wadden Sea with it's beautiful views and endless horizons, and the empty Friesian landscape.

Though during this Corona time, we also see people who would not even think about visiting this area in normal times. But now they are asked to stay at home or close to home, they all of a sudden feel the irresistible need to push boundaries and flock the otherwise unattractive quiet outdoors.
Preferable with on line ordered Pick-nick baskets filled by on-line ordered food. Unfortunately a very tiny majority forgot to buy poop sachet on line and left their overdose of WC paper at home, thinking that what once was food, now digested and disposed the natural way, can be left in corners of private gardens and or behind gates hidden under a pile of tissues.
I emphasize, it is only a single soul as the majority is well raised.

Now we see more and more people climbing the dikes for fresh air en stunning views, I can not always keep my usual 5 metres distance and need to stick to the government rules of 1.5 metres.
This is an impossible task when people take the stairs and half way stop to look around. In the best possible case they walk to the top and stay there, completely unaware of their kinsmen following them or those who want to go down. And to no surprise this is causing a blockade both ways.
The dikes are wide and still walkable for those who are fit and moveable. But if one is of a certain old age and less supple, going down a dike is quite a challenge (not talking about myself here :-)).

It often astonishes me that someone can stand in the middle of a passage way, surrounded by other people without even noticing them. Without catching signals of other human beings. Acting like they are all on their own in a large empty world.
Not only something you see with tourists but also with people in shops. Leaving their shopping trolleys in the middle of a gang way, walking back and forth gathering the stuff they need.
Or even worse, meeting someone they know and starting a conversation no one seem to be able to interrupt to pass by.
And if they are finally aware of others (caused by a loud 'Ahum' or a firm push where a gentle touch was of no help) they glare with a spread all over the face look of "Excuse me! I was here first!!"

Being an introvert does not help to wade through a crowd, one reason why I find shopping an almost impossible task. I enter the shop as Mr. Jekyll and leave it as Mr. Hyde. Bless my little country shop which still has quiet moments.
And watching the 'blocking behaviour' makes me scratch the back of my head. Because I do not want to annoy myself, I try to observe it with a somewhat cynical sense of humour.
Like yesterday. I could not pass on top of the dike stairs, it was literally blocked by people who felt a great need to lean on the gate that keeps the sheep separated from the humans (although the difference is not always visible), to enjoy the surroundings. Because there were also people who pushed to reach the top of the stairs, the Dutch 1.5 metres Social Distance was laughable.
I watched and indeed laughed. I told myself there was no need to understand this cattle behaviour so did not even give it a try.

I walked round them in a large circle, feeling blessed with so much space that for some odd reason, no one else had noticed.

At the bottom of the dike I walked towards the space between two fences to dispose the poo bags of my dogs in the dustbin but got blocked by a very tall and broad shouldered cyclist, appropriate dressed to cycle the Tour the France and most likely preferably being in France then in Friesland if the Tour wouldn't have been cancelled.
He stood there like a lost Viking in Cycling gear, legs wide, his massive arms upwards, hands pushed in his waist. He was so fortunate to look over the crowd on floor level and that is what he did. He looked and looked.

Instead of asking him politely to unblock the passage, I watched him from a COVID-19 safe distance wondering when he was going to glance down to notice this 167 cm high lady with the two dogs.
It took a while but all of a sudden he returned to the real world, sounds reached his ears again, his brains caught human signals, his nose maybe the scent of living people.
I smiled, he almost jumped in the air at his impossible napped cycling shoes, said: "Oooh, I am so sorry!" and stepped aside, forgetting that his large body still remained within the 1.5 metres. Then a big smile as if the coin finally landed. And off he went, following the crowd at the stairs.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema

You might agree to the fact that the COVID-19 rules spit out a strange mix of interesting people.
Who are all welcome in our village but who we most likely never see again in 'normal' times, shifted by dislikes for empty horizons, dull blue skies, white clouds which could predict rain, the ever blowing wind and the boring green dikes.

And I am not gong to convince them otherwise!!


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 Wandering Thoughts

It is strange how thoughts wander through time. Or jump from one subject to another, sometimes with decades in between.

Not a clue where the next memory came from but it caused a few thoughts travelling a long way back in time.
It started with recalling a comment on one of my Instagram photos. The dialect from Zeeland (a beautiful county near the sea) and being able to speak it. They pronounce the H instead of the G and I love to listen to it.
A very long time ago I worked as a international receptionist and telephonist for a company in the east of Holland and one of the sales managers was a true 'Zeeuw', including the beautiful accent. When he called in the mornings, he said 'Goedemorgen' (good morning) with the H: 'hoedemorhen' and then said 'guess who is speaking'. It was our joke.

This was in a time without Internet, without mobile phones. A time where the most advanced office machine was a huge telex covered with a sound absorbing lid against the 'ratatata' of the punched tape. And here go my thoughts......
A time sales managers were out on the road, driving miles and miles without being disturbed by calls, messages and e-mails. If needed we contacted them by calling their next client.
Otherwise they checked in during the morning and afternoon by a normal land line.
And you know what? Business went well, happy customers, happy company.
Of course everybody worked hard, there were deadlines, goals, achievements. But there was also time, time to interact, for 1 to 1 personal contact, a real face or real voice instead of a quick message.

Oh yes, I count the blessings of the internet, I do. My business is relying on it as a virtual secretary and writer. The Art of Communication.
Apart from that, we can now talk face to face with friends and relatives all over the world. We can see their tears, love and laughter. We share photos, moments of life. Receive immediate replies to our e-mails. Or can 'hide' if we do not have immediate replies at hand.
Still it often feels if we are wider apart than ever. Because we are more busy than ever. Busy coping with the huge amount of information thrown at us by all the Social Media including the TV.
Vivid images of terror and horror alternated by entertainment and nonsense. Dinner at the sofa bursting into tears and loosing your appetite watching killing of animals but shaking your head by human fights and asking for your desert. And when we go to bed, images are still swirling around in our brains and we can't get those grey cells to rest.
Never did mankind consume as many sleeping pills, supplements, anti depressions and pills against anxiety as in these modern days.

A few weeks before I moved house, my TV stopped working and I never bought another one. To be honest, it is a huge relief not to have one anymore. Admit, it is so easy to push the 'on' button of the remote control and before you know you are watching something you did not even plan to watch. Or you start zapping. If I want to see or hear news, I look for it on the internet but I watch what I want to see or know. And I enjoy my evenings with a book or music I love, or a good conversation. Or nothing at all, allowing my brains time off.

Never before has 'sitting' being disease no.1. As well for adults as for kids, causing cardiovascular disorders, diabetes and overweight.
Never needed we so much control by our laws and government, the EU as in the modern times. And never have the crime rates been as high as nowadays.
Never before did parents (sometimes violently) disagree with teachers and tutors about the way their children are raised (!) at school. Responsibilities shift......

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography

The behaviour around this horrifying Corona Virus shocked  me. The Virus on it's own is terrifying enough and we must not underestimate it. We see people dying with the centre of death in Bergamo, Italy. But what do we do (well, not everybody of course), we start foraging, hoarding, leaving empty shelves in Supermarkets without even thinking about the people who come after you.
Hoarding WC paper..... no wonder so many jokes are going around the world...
Although connected to the whole world we became an 'I first' society. From Social to Anti Social.

I do not want to end in doom and gloom. We also see wonderful things happening. Support to those wonderful people who risk their own lives by helping others. Doctors and nurses who are also fathers and mothers, brother and sisters, partners. Volunteers, neighbours, friends.
I see in Italy a community feeling I only see in Holland during football. United in their grief, united in their solidarity.
It is not a 'far from my bed' show anymore. We are in the middle of it. In the middle of good things too!!!
May the world learn from this the basic things in life. We can never go back to 30-40 years ago but we can go back to what a human is, the basic needs, we do not need much to be happy.
We need each other and so many people have to move on without their loved ones due to the Virus.
We can live with far less luxury but we can not live without love and friendship.

Lots of love,

Helen XXX

Let's talk about Kissing

This morning I woke up from a strange dream.
I visited a lady well in her 70's who was, as I was informed on forehand, an obsessive cleaner.
She welcomed me heartily with a kiss on each cheek, then looked embarrassed and said, waving her hands: "I am so sorry, I forgot all about not touching and kissing due to the Corona Virus...."

I wasn't too worried because the whole house looked cleaner then clean and smelled like a bottle of exclusive and very expensive disinfectant.
But I think it shows that even in our sleep, we are or need to be aware of not touching other people in public or even our own faces. And the need of disinfectants.
I am definitely not the panicking type of human but I do not underestimate the danger of getting or even worse, spreading this COVID 19.

It made me also aware of how often we touch someone. For example shaking hands out of politeness, when you meet, thank, say hello or goodbye. The more tactiles amongst us, touch because they like to touch; an arm around someone shoulders, touching a hand, a tiny hug.
But we also hug to comfort a friend, or to show our appreciation. Or hugging the one we love, this can be a friend, relative, a lover. All of a sudden we realise how often we kiss, maybe not always aware of the importance of a kiss. And if we learn the importance of a touch or a kiss through the Virus, something good comes out of it.

Woken up by my dream, I pondered upon the variety of kisses.
Kissing the tiny little feet and hands of your precious baby. The knee of your child after it fell on it. The hand of a (grand)parent.
The kiss on the cheek, more famous in the Netherlands than anywhere else because the fashion here is 3 kisses, even with people you meet for the first time (not my fashion in this case).
A farewell kiss in all its meanings.

The first kiss with a boy- or girlfriend, one you will never forget. (Well, I haven't. It happened in a new built shed and the smell of creosote is still causing butterflies in my stomach :-))
The first kiss of your first lover. Short kisses and long deep endless kisses with as the cherry on top of the cake, the French Kiss. Written with a capital because it is the ultimate way of kissing.

The French Kiss is like reading the utmost romantic story ever and nibbling sweets (chocolates maybe?) in the meantime; the first chapters tickle your curiosity. It is a careful introduction to the protagonist, it's character and skills.
And when the Kiss continues, you become more intimate, you dive deeper into the story. It reads better and better, in fact you can not stop reading and exploring. You want to know the end but you want to postpone it as long as possible. You are not aware of your surroundings anymore, you left earth floating to heaven. Then the Kiss comes to an end, not a sudden end but slowly you let go, still tasting, still reading but the last chapter is almost there. You sigh, hesitating to leave the story, a story you want to read over and over again. Together with that large bag of sweets.

The French Kiss is an art and if you do not manage it you definitely need to grab the opportunity when it arises. Of course you need a skilled teacher!

Photo: Ike Roelfsema ©

Back on earth, back to the 'average' social kisses we are not allowed to give to people we meet. We need to keep the kisses indoors. COVID 19 is changing our social behaviour, all of a sudden we realise how normal an occasional hug or kiss was. And how precious a kiss is.

But do not fear, we are blessed with the internet and with emoticons. The most famous these days is the one with the mask. Though I noticed that the hugging and kissing emo's are gaining in popularity.

So much that nowadays we are kissing people we never met. Worldwide we feel connected, share worries, share jokes to keep up the good spirits. We are like trees standing storms.
COVID 19 keeps us apart in real life, but connects over the internet.

Bless the inventor of the emoticons. And bless the spirit of everyone trying to make the best of life in a period we need so many hugs and kisses. Keep sharing them, please.

Lots of love, hugs and kisses,

Helen XXX

PS Can someone explain to me why it is called the French Kiss??? ;-)

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 'Man Flu'

This time of year, Winter, is known for the Flu flying around infecting old and young, male and female.
Half my village was ill due to a Flu to which an anti Flu injection was of no help: this typical Flu was not included....

I am very grateful that up till now and although I hugged a Flu victim, I haven't had any Flu symptoms at all. To be honest, I can not even remember when I had the Flu or when I caught a cold.
So no high temperatures, running noses, red eyes, sneezing and coughing, feeling extremely miserable for me.

For the healthy ones amongst us a Flu might not sound very serious and of course only temporary, but it can effect daily life tremendously. Feeling really ill and still being expected to do your daily (household) choruses and / or your job, is very disturbing.
And when you are a woman, you do not want to give in because you can not be missed (where ever you are needed). Who is preparing breakfast? Evening meals? Bringing the kids to school? Walking the dog? Doing the laundry? Etcetera, etcetera.

Not your male partner, he has this very busy and most important job with meetings and what ever more. Until.......
Yes, until he catches the 'Man Flu'. Far more worse than we females can imagine. The worst thing that can happen is catching it the same time. Blessed the ones with no other obligations than staying in bed with bottles of water to prevent dehydration and maybe a litre or so orange juice. And not to forget Paracetamol, boxes of tissues and paper bins to dispose them.

Where the majority of females suffer in silence, men suffer loudly. In our opinion they turn into feeble and moaning boys, exaggerating the severity of the symptoms.
The best thing you can do is making a bed on the sofa or move to the guest bedroom. What ever you do, the mourning and puffing will be heard throughout the house. You sigh and decide it is better to get up and care for him although you feel too sick to do so. But you are the caring female with the responsibility to look after the one you love. So up and running you are, suffering in silence but too proud to admit you would rather stay in bed.

Photo: Ike Roelfsema Photography ©

That Man Flu......
Ladies let me tell you, it exists! There truly is a Man Flu! Men do suffer more than women!
Dr Kyle Sue, a clinical assistant professor at Memorial University of Newfoundland, analysed relevant research and found evidence that adult men have a higher risk of hospital admission and higher rates of influenza-associated deaths compared with women, regardless of underlying disease.
Dr Sue also found that men are more susceptible to complications and higher mortality from many acute respiratory diseases, while some evidence supported men suffering more from viral respiratory illness than women because they have a less robust immune system.

Research has also found that pre-menopausal women are better at fighting off the common cold, thanks to a study of male and female cells.

Dr Sue’s study suggests testosterone may be to blame for suppressing men’s immune systems, while a female sex hormone boosts women’s. (Source Independent UK)

Ah, those testosterones, not equally present in all men. One has more than the other. That makes me think that the ones with too much testosterone, the male male, the ones who overrate their own attractiveness towards the other sexes, suffer more from the Flu than the ones who act less irresistible whilst they might still be very good looking! Or?
Here is a little home study to do for you: is your partner often a victim of the Flu? Often ill? Tell me, does he have an overdose of testosterone?
Or is he never ill due to a lack of testosterone? Is he then boring, not good looking, a low self-esteem?

When you give the research of Dr. Sue a proper thought, your relationship might become more interesting, challenging even.....
A different look on men, your own man....
Curious to your feedback.

Last but not least, today a real man convinced me he is, regarding the Male Flu, not that type of man.
Here is hope!!!
No, I am not going to reveal to you where he lives.....  I want to avoid against all costs that you ladies are blocking the streets near his apartment by queuing up at his front door.

Cheers!!

Helen

Let's talk about Reflections

Although I prefer promoting to look for the time ahead of one, to explore the future possibilities - no matter if they are large or small - I can not, like most people, avoid looking back in this time of the year.

It is December 30 - 2019 and tomorrow night we say goodbye to a year gone by and hello to the blanc canvas of 2020.
Is it just me or do you as well remember the Millennium celebrations like yesterday?
Time flies! That was my first New Year celebration in Friesland after my adventures in Sweden.
And now, 20 years later, the first celebration in my new home in Northern Friesland, even closer to my roots. I am slowly but surely moving towards Scandinavia!

Back to 2019, what a year this was, not just for me but for everyone. Each family, each home collected memories. Good ones, bad ones and in between. A year of new born life and a year of death - so close related. Of illnesses and recoveries. Of separations and new lives together. Of laughter and tears. Of storms and calm seas.
And whatever happened, as long a we are able to discover that it are the little things in life that teach us values, the stones we use to build our base, we know we can conquer another year. Even better, we are allowed to look forward to another year.

For me too, reflection time.
I knew when celebrating the transition from 2018 to 2019 that this was the last time in my old home. And as usual, I was on my own with a book, my favourite classical music and my animals.
I watched the fireworks above the nearby small city and the surrounding villages, particularly above the Wadden Sea, a few kilometres away, praying when ever I was going to sell my house, I could find a cottage close to the sea.
The tiny village I got to know during my Wadden photo shoots. Where I sat on a frozen bench covered by the golden orange sunset sky you only see in Winter time, with only the sound of the birds and the smell of a log fire. The total silence was so comfortable. I remember so well that this was the moment I fell in love with that village.

My only option was renting a house and I knew this was not going to be easy as what ever would be available, would not be available for long. During the photo shoots and my visits to the cosy local Pub, I talked about selling my house and wanting to live in this small fishing village.
My prayers were heard, my patience (not always easy!!) was rewarded. But it was only until 3 weeks before the new owners moved into my old house, that a cottage was available.....

In the meantime I had to keep my little business going, sorting out my belongings, getting ready for another move and hopefully the last one.
This all was only possible with the help of very dear friends who helped me out where ever they could. My gratefulness to them is beyond words, I will never forget what they did for me. And not only their helping hands and muscles but above all their mental support.
Their reward is my happiness; I am so incredible happy where I live now! I feel so much at home.
Not just because I have ancestral roots here but also because the typical Scandinavian characteristics are still so visible amongst the people here. The Vikings did a wonderful job forwarding their fierce genes when they put their stamp on the Friesian coast!

My life changed intense over the past years. Moments that life came to a hold with the clock ticking forwards. Moments that I created a new way of living, starting all over again, like I did 20 years ago.
I have learned throughout my life to look forward, to create, to live. Things my parents taught me, knowing by experience that you need to be prepared for unknown future events.
A strong character is given by birth and developed by believing in the impossible, encouraged by the right people around you. I have been so fortunate to have it all. My credo is well chosen: Fortis et Liber (Strong and Free).

The end of 2019, celebrating in my new home. Not only new for me but also for my animals. With even a new addition to the flock: Willow. An 11 years old very sweet and beautiful 'half' Russian Bleu cat. Unfortunately her owner died December 13 and Willow (her new name which sounds similar to the old one) desperately needed a new home. And she did not cross my path without a reason. Dog Bas and I missed our old cat Kater. For Bas a little furry friend, for Frits a friend to snuggle up with in his basket  and for me the comfort of a purring cat at my lap. And Willow turned out to be the perfect cat in our flock. Yes, she has a character of her own, but she is extremely intelligent, easy going and ever so sweet! She fits in like she has always lived with us. If she reaches the same age as Kater, we have 8 years of mutual friendship to enjoy.

Isn't it wonderful to celebrate new 'things'? A new way of living, feeling, seeing? That every heartbeat is for the future? Every love feeling is free of charge? Every sunrise and sunset available in stunning colours, just at your

Photo: Ike Roelfsema ©

doorstep? Every smile, young and old, is rewarded with a smile? Every unexpected hug a little present?
Meeting new people adding stories to your life? Learning from other people? This happens in real life and in virtual life. Meeting people is possible all over the world. Exchanging stories and likes, discovering new ways of communicating and sharing.

My wish for you my lovely readers, is a healthy as possible 2020, a New Year with exiting possibilities, with love and friendship but above all the power and vision to look for it and to accept it. And when you are open to it and found it, treasure it; the largest gift of it all!

Lots of love,

Helen