The eye of the beholder

“Gelukkige mensen zijn mooi, zelfs als ze anders lelijk zijn.”

Dat werd mij gisteren opgemerkt toen ik vertelde dat ik graag keek naar de gezichten van mensen die net gefeliciteerd werden in een restaurant. Dit keer een man omringt door familie die een taart met kaarsjes aangeboden kreeg.

Men heeft gelijk, ik liep in de zon langs mijn flat en keek naar boven en werd getroffen door het mooiste dat ik vandaag kon zien. Mevrouw Nijhof, onze flatoma zat in de zon. Een klein en tenger oud vrouwtje wiens rimpels op haar gezicht niet te tellen zijn. Als ik haar op de trap tegen kom spreekt ze me steevast aan met goudhaartje. Ze zat in de zon op haar balkon, ogen gesloten en content. Haar vingers gevouwen op haar schoot en een kleine glimlach op het gezicht. En voor mij op dat moment was ze de mooiste vrouw waar ik naar kon kijken.

But then again, I also just like small talk.

I remember very clearly that my mother once educated me on this. She said to me it was a skill to do small talk. It’s a skill to keep conversations running and show interest. Back then I didn’t think much of it, but nowadays I feel she’s right. This applies especially in public transport, where a lot of people are confined to a small space for a short amount of time. Then, I can find myself itching for conversation. However, the convention is silence. I often wonder why. Why are people so terrified to talk to each other? Partially I assume it’s the Dutch culture. We are known to have a slight reservation and to mind our own business (Actually, I am writing this in public and really would not appreciate being interrupted now, which is not going to happen as look focused and busy), but I also think it’s fear of social rejection.
I have a habit of occasionally striking up conversation, and when I do I am often met with pleasant surprise, and enthusiasm. You just have to get over the initial awkward phase, this is the tricky bit. I bet everyone has had this conversation a thousand times:

“hi”
“hi.”
“how are you?”
“I’m fine, you?”
“also.”
“….”
“so…. Ehm, nice weather huh?”
“yes, it is…”
“…”

Awkward, such things are simply awkward. This is a conversation I find very unpleasant to have, and I suppose the lack of having something to talk about will make each party feel boring and in a way socially rejected. I found that by just jumping into conversation you can very easily tackle it. Small talk, yes! Yesterday I found myself talking about religion, Janis Joplin and reality images with someone I never had met before in this very bus line I am driving in now. The subjects really don’t matter, as long as you can keep seeming genuinely interested in the other person (People like being listened to, or being found interesting). I tend to keep the questions personal too, even when talking for about the weather. “what do ‘you’ think about the weather.” Add a friendly smile, and the occasional search for eye-contact and you have a very effective mix. (I suppose, being genuinely interested and a new people junkie helps too). It works in networking, work education, and generally makes my trips a lot more enjoyable.

So yes, mom, small talk = awesome!

Music for the Road

“Music for the road.” By now a separate playlist in my music player. It consists of Eddie Vedder, Tom Waits, Nick Cave and Tom McRae. These voices take me away through long journeys.

I find I like the travelling. Both the solitude and time for pondering that is given by trains, but lately also being packed in cars where you share the journey. For a while we’re confined to the same space, we have the same destination to go Gods-Knows-Where to dance; to enjoy moving together with other human beings. We travel in silence. We talk. We laugh. We sing. We sleep. I don’t know with how many people I’ve shared this experience now. Sometimes we were nearly strangers, sometimes acquaintances, sometimes close friends, sometimes lovers. Whatever we are, we travel together and for a while we deal with each other, and accept each other for just as we are. We have the same destination; The same future.

Sometimes while travelling I literally feel I am leaving things behind. When crossing distance emotional distance is created. I can clear and sophisticate my thoughts. The passage of distance equals the passage of time and equals the passage of thought. If no distance is travelled, no emotional distance is made.

(Any recommendation is welcome)

Call me Liquid

I will flow and eb
Like the tides of the sea
Come forth and beckon
And come swim in me

I am soft and gentle
Like drops against your skin
I’ll touch and caress you
And you can take me in

I can shape and carve
Will move rocks and land
And you cannot force me
When taken in your hand

I can be cold and harsh
I can feel like ice
And then it’s my surroundings
That will pay the price.

Intangible like vapour
My head so far away
Trust me and release me
I’ll come back one day

I will dance and change
Like a river on the run
The same but always different
And my journey’s just begun

I will flow and eb
Like the tides of the sea
Come forth and beckon
And come swim with me

Vertigo

Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves. -Milan Kundera

Milan Kundera remarked once that vertigo was not necessarily the fear of falling, but the fear for the desire to fall. This is how I experience this new year. With a certain sense of vertigo. I have once remarked that one shouldn’t despair at change and the temporary nature of things, for these features are simply inevitable when living, and that one should use these as an excuse to breathe and take the full advantage of what Is going at this very moment. Though they also say that the hardest kind of living is from day to day. I have actively attempted to make myself smaller and to stretch myself over as little time as possible. I’d like not to wonder too much about past or future. (Though this New Years I allowed myself to wander in a sense of nostalgia for an hour or so, which did worry some of my companions.) No, I actively try to keep my feet on the earth and not let dreams take over too much. It seems to me an art to face things as open and accepting as possible; to let myself fall into it, so to speak.

This year however, the change is going to be big. Now it feels like I am heading towards a point where I am finishing my masters. I am done studying and my path is less set than it has been for years. I could continue trying to get a phd, I could start working, I could travel, do both, focus more on art, dance classes. I haven’t decided yet and I feel that I am not too keen on setting that future yet. I’ve also found I started unbinding myself, no university, no set job, no relationship, I do not live with my parents, I have at most a months notice for my room., no family. I am, in a sense, free. An opportunity is created, a hole filled with possibilities, and as much as I don’t like to look forward too much (for I am thoroughly enjoying my life at this moment) I can feel it getting closer. I can feel a sense of vertigo, a sense of fear. It feels like running towards something blindfolded. I know my path, I like running, but I don’t know where I am going, but I trust it to be all right. And there is an active desire for that blindfolded running, for the falling into the unknown. And that is maybe what frightens me most: the impulsivity, the need for thrill, change or lack of security. But I’ll let it come, I’ll close my eyes, and enjoy the now and be ready for what is coming, whatever is.

As I write these final words I’m listening to metamorphosis by Phillip Glass and fondly remember the words my teacher told me: “der Weg is das Ziel”. When he told me this at first I had no idea why he told me so, but slowly I find that truer words have rarely been spoken to me. Happy New Years.

Vandaag ben ik klein
En zou je
(als je dat zou willen)
Me kunnen omsluiten in je hand
Ik zou verdwijnen in een hoek
om daar heel stil
klein te zijn

Vandaag ben ik breekbaar
Gemaakt van glas
En als je te hard vast
Houdt, dan spat ik onmaakbaar uiteen
in duizend kleine stukjes
voorzichtig
ik ben breekbaar

Vandaag ben ik weerloos
En val ik om
Met een zuchtje wind
En krimp ik ineen
Bij elk woord dat scherp schampt
Omdat ik mij
Niet weren kan

Dus blijf weg vandaag,
Morgen mag je weer
Hou me niet, raak me niet
Ga niet tegen me tekeer
Morgen ben ik groot
Morgen ben ik sterk
Mogen ben ik weerbaar
En mag je me best strelen
met een blik bedoeld als troost

The roller coaster experience

I love roller coasters. No, I don't love roller coasters; I love what my mind does during a roller coaster ride.

A roller coaster ride is a typical example of a situation which is unrealistic or absurd. How strange it may sound, but I do not assume that our bodies and minds were evolutionary programmed to deal with being swung around, turned upside down, stop and turn in quick succession. I realised this all the more when I was in Amsterdam and was levitating upside down above the city.
In an absurd situation such as a roller coaster ride there are several possible reactions. Mine however seems to be of utter relaxation. My brain cannot really comprehend what is happening with my body, the information it has to deal with, seems both dangerous and utterly unrealistic. Before I am on a roller coaster there are feelings of excitement, maybe anxiety even , but once it's started that's over. It feels like I stop trying to comprehend what is happening, and relax into it. My brain just lets it happen instead of running scared or protesting.

Now, this "roller coaster experience" (brain: "dude! this is so weird, I'm not even gonna try, but let's just enjoy it.") is expandable. For example: "Kafka on the shore" was a roller coaster experience. The surrealism in this book went past the comprehensible. Trying to understand the why and how of this book would only cause terrible head aches.
I found the same works for social experiences. Absurdity works. Create an abnormal social experience and I seem to get along easily, keep my calm and stay relaxed. Perhaps even enjoy it. "Go along with the ride," so to speak. I even thrive there.

This is part of why I enjoy surrealism, fantasy, art, riddles, mind breakers inevitability, randomness, or infinity . If I cannot understand something, when a certain border is crossed, I cease to question and I cease to be scared. I am curious about my borders, how far can I go? Where are the limits? I must be careful not to view most experiences as interesting experiments.

So life, give me what you got, I'm just going to enjoy the ride.