On Sailing through Tides, Ebb as well as Flow

in the midst of trying to find my way in these man/woman relationship issues, the below seems to address a few snags obstructing my truthful path. It sounds so obvious, I've been reading and underwriting such a vision of relationship for years - in theory.
In practice, I stumble.
By putting it here, and reading and re-reading, I hope to stumble less and stand stronger.

The Flow of intimacy i something i continously seek
Why do i need its nourishment so?
Why, when it temporarily ebbs away,
do i lack faith and allow doubt to reign?

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now. Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits - islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh 1906 - 2001

Words and Pictures bring forgotten Zambian grandmothers to Ireland
by Sir G

Gareth, of A-Land-Just-Short-of-the-Sun fame, has had his words and photographs published in the Irish Times weekend Magazine, so so deservedly so.
Congratulations Gareth, may the good work done by the project recive bountiful goodwill and support through readers' responding to your words and pictures.
Don't ever stop.

New York's Not My Home

Well things were spinnin' round me
And all my thoughts were cloudy
And I had begun to doubt all the things that were me

Been in so many places
You know I've run so many races
And looked into the empty faces of the people of the night
And something is just not right, 'cause I know
That I gotta get out of here
I'm so alone
Don't you know that I gotta get out of here
'Cause New York's not my home

Though all the streets are crowded
There's somethin' strange about it
I Lived there bout a year and I never once felt at home

I thought I'd make the big time
I learned a lot of lessons awful quick
And now I'm tellin' you
That they were not the nice kind
And it's been so long since I have felt fine, that's the reason
That I gotta get out of here
I'm so alone
Don't you know that I gotta get out of here
'Cause New York's not my home

-Jim Croce

(for all my good friends who made New York their home, have since left, or are still waiting to leave.. thanks for all the good times there, and remember to leave when the time is right)

on guitars, memories and LPs for 1 euro..

I hadn't put the cd on for a while, I have never owned it, and I always associated it with long car rides in my dad's car. Having a new love in my life is making me want to look back over my shoulder, identify what inspired me and share things that made me dream and feel alive. And that's what brought him back.

Recently i saw the cd in the stack of many others and put it on, half embarrassed to look at my-new-love-in-my-life, fearing the possible reaction to my exposé of being moved by sometimes-soppy songs, played by men-with-guitars, a lot of Americana, a little bluegrass, and a lot of longing. Yet upon hearing some of the songs again, i was yet again moved by his straight forward tell-it-like-it-is lyrics, his humanity and honesty, and humour.
A good dose of Jim, the right dosage to trigger yearning for another long roadtrip, enough to trigger longing for far-away friends and past cross-continent adventures, memories of the days of lying in bed and listening to lyrics, and sharing our emotional appreciation of sweetness and nostalgia through looks and smiles and silences.

While far away at a conference recently, i downloaded some of the songs from that distant past, and sent one to my love-in-my-life as a show of affection - across the atlantic, across timezones, hoping to be connected by timeless music.

Upon returning to Holland, I found myself floating through streets filled with small children with faces painted orange, marching bands that looked like they came straight out of a Tolkien fantasy, drinking rosé and and smiling back at the sun, sitting on a tricycle with the warm spring air enveloping me and more rosé in my veins, when suddenly my love-in-my-life appeared, yet again a couple more LPs richer, picked out of all the junk being sold to anyone who will stop to have a look - one LP of which was the man with the guitar, and the music in his blood. Jim Croce.

And such is life, for years you don't hear a particular music, you forget - the music and your own memories, dreams and longings. Fast forward, and you have your love-in-your-life pop around the corner with a big drunken smile on his face and a 1 Euro LP of your history in his hand.

Jim Croce - find, listen, open your mind, and let yourself be rolled along, rolling down the highway, so life won't pass you by.

I recommend to start with: I Got a Name, New York is Not My Home, I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song, Time in a Bottle, Operator, and Which Way are You Going? for some anti-war and pro-reason sentiment, as relevant today as in Vietnam-day methinks..

Why dó the good ones always have to die young?

Access 2 Knowledge

I was lucky enough to be invited back to speak at the Yale Law School's Access 2 Knwoledge conference in April this year. A bit of hectic travelling, flying in and out of the States just for this conference, after all was worthwhile.
With last year's post-conference stop-over stint flooding my memory cells, this year was basically a weekend of sitting in grand Yale auditoria, listening in on policy panels ranging from issues as diverse as new internationalised domain names (I.D.N.) for teh internet, to Brazil's flourishing homegrown music and media market, which has nothing at all to do with large record companies, big promo budgets or copyright laws.

Surrounded by spiffy Apple iBooks, and ubiquitous wifi, at times I wondered whether i was the only one listening, I mean *really* listening. All non-speakers appeared so caught up with simultaneous parallel activities such as checking and answering emails, surfing the net, sending immediate contact and follow-up emails to interesting speakers - it made me wonder what price is paid in terms of attention and participatory discussion after such panels for always-on access to internet and personal mobile computing technology.



It was good to be back in an academic environment once again, exposed to policy makers, researchers and practitioners from a dazzling diversity of disciplines, mainly joined by a common interest in enabling access to information to realise basic human rights as agreed to in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I will be posting more on this on the work blog, so won't get into too much detail here.
I did find that many of the discussions seemed rather far removed from the daily work that educators or health care workers do in 3/4 of the world, and that policy making that is currently going on at WIPO could use a larger injection of real world needs.
Thank goodness the wavemakers from Yale's Information Society Project think the same :) let's how we can bring this new social movement home.

So that's a little bit of what I've been up to of late, for those that may be wondering..
There is more to come, I'm home for a good two weeks, some of that time really should be spent blogging..

in a fundamental way

her name was theresa
she would float into me,
crawl into me in the water
and i would melt.

i poured a bit of water on her head,
i told her she was a flower and now she could grow

with every bit of water i sprinkeld on her,
she stretched her little body and grew
with every time she emptied her small watering can on my head, i grew

we grew and grew, and didnt tire
her softness - in word, skin and demeanour - touched me in a fundamental way

street conversations, in spring

tough boys on park bench: hey girl, can i ask you a question?
girl: sure
tbopb: how is it that you are so beautiful?
girl: (smile) I'm not sure. God/Allah must have done it
tbopb: (smile)

girl: can i ask you a question?
tbopb: ....
girl: how is it that you ask such sweet questions?

thanks Ousseni (and thanks Bob) for reminding me today of the simple truth

Not everything that glitters is Gold

as much as i am enchanted by Glitter, I want to be and go for Gold

ok, this is it

never saw it around consciously before, and today saw it twice within the hour! loved it the first time, and the saw it again!
s'gotta be a sign!:)

something to save hard earned money for (ahum)

and/or something to visualise/will into my life? :)

and after cruising in Kim's newly acquired beautiful simple-but-oh-so-stylish racing(?) green on the outside, dark brown leather interior, Porsche 911 just now, i have a lot of will!!

Can you picture it?

Lore of the Snake
The image of the snake has arisen in my life recently and set me to wonder about its symbolism. Thus far I didnt get much further than the practical Tuareg/Niger interpretation that when you meet a snake on your path, or should you be bitten by one, it indicates that a child is coming into your life, or that you might fall pregnant in the near future (hoping that the snake bite wont be the end of you..)
My current favorite reading gave me a lot more the other night, in Ilan's words, it appears the book is coming to meet me, meet my needs..
Follow me to the lore of Africa and Australia, and let me know any (symbolic) association you have or know of with snakes.. my comments box is eager for your thoughts!

"In Nigeria, in many countries of Western Africa, in Mozambique, Namibia, and Natal, there is a story of a great serpent that brougt the Earth Mother to this world, and how that snake was shooting rainbows out of its body. In Western Africa they say that the Godess travelled through the world in the mouth of a great rainbow serpent, creating mountains and valleys and stars. The serpent is sometimes depicted as a great Python. The Vedaps of Northern Transvaal say that it was this python who first taught men and women how to make love.
You see, sir, it is very different from the book of Genesis, in Judeo-Christian culture, where the serpent is the principle of evil (and i think they don't like sex very much either, sir, if you dont mind me saying so). But in African Mythology, making love is one of the greatest of blessings, and so we say that the serpent is the source of blessings, not of evil. He is called Nyoka, 'the instructor'; and so the serpent is identified as an 'expert', the one who knows what is going on, what the truth is.

Likewise I know that for the Australian Aborigines, there is a great rainbow serpent who is often encircling the Earth or bringing the people special blessings, and i also know their sangomas,who are called 'clever men', ride on the back of this serpent, or climb up on rainbow serpents to enter the heavens or the upper realms (Footnote: Such serpents, called brimures, play a very active role in Australian shamanism and may be introduced into the body, or extracted, and are important in initiations).
So in the legends of of the Australians too the serpent is a very benevolent creature, and not at all to be equated with anything evil. "

(p.155, Zulu Shaman: Dreams, Prophesies, and Mysteries; Chapter 6: The Common Origin of All Humanity)

A Child of the Universe
baba ziad favourite song, and the lyrics are well worth posting:

I'm a child from South Africa
I'm a child of Vietnam

I'm a child of Northern Ireland

I'm a small boy with blood on his hands.
Yes
I'm a child of the universe

Yes
I'm a child of the universe -
You can see me on the TV everynight

Always there to join in someone else's fight.
I never asked to be born
I never asked to die

I'm an endless dream
a dream-machine that cannot reason why.
Yes
I'm a child of the universe

Yes
I'm a child of the universe -
You can see me on the TV everynight:
I'm the child next door 3.000 miles away.
I'm a child from South Africa
I'm a child of Vietnam
. .
I never asked to be born
I never asked to die
. . .
You can see me on the TV every day:
I'm the child next door 3.000 miles away.

7 Maart - Zo lang naar uitgekeken
Een paar weken in Nederland en het voelt als of ik er niet veel wijzer op wordt.
Nu, na het concert van Branford, alleen op weg naar huis voel ik me verdrietig, en toch ook weer niet zo verdrietig als verwacht. Ik ben blij dat ik naar huis ga, m'n eigen ruimte in. Als ik nu bij jou zou zijn - ja, wat dan? Mischien hadden we dan een kans gehad om te praten, om dichter bij elkaar te komen. En wat als niet? Dan zou ik me nog slechter voelen. En niet weg kunnen.
Je leek weer hard, je zachtheid was weg. Niet alleen naar mij toe, maar in het algemeen. In afwachting van de muziek, over de politiek. Bart ging tegen je hardheid in, ik niet. Daar had ik geen ruimte voor. Als ik liefde voel en ontvang, dan kan ik er grappen over maken, er speels mee om gaan. Maar nu niet.
Ik kijk naar buiten, het liedje dat ik je heb gestuurt gaat door mn hoofd, en ik voel verdriet. Veel verdriet. Ik snap het niet. Wat is er gebeurd? In jou. In mij.
Ik wil niet rondhangen tot dat jij me weer ziet, weer voelt. Daar hebben we de basis niet voor. Ik ben al bang genoeg, voor hoe dichtbij je komt, slapende angsten worden wakker gemaakt. Paniek, al die stemmen in mijn hoofd, al die onzekerheid. Ik vindt het al zo moeilijk om los te laten, om er op te vertrouwen dat dit goed is, meer dan alleen 'goed voor mij'. Los te laten en een manier te vinden om te geven, te ontvangen, en mezelf niet te verliezen.
Ik zie een man en een vrouw twee rijen voor ons zitten in de concertzaal, zijn arm om haar schouders, zij helemaal tegen hem ingezakt, zijn hoofd rust tussen haar hoofd en nek. Ik denk wel de volledige 60 minuten lang.
Ik kijk uit het raam en zie een jongen die zijn meisje met stevige armen oppikt, van de grond af tilt. Weer op aarde drukt ze liefdevol haar wang tegen zijn borstkas en blijft lange momenten zo staan.
Ik denk aan ons en hoe natuurlijk ons kontakt was, die eerste avond toen we van de boot afkwamen. Ik stond er toen niet bij stil, maar we konden niet van elkaar afblijven. Het viel me toen niet zo op, maar ik wou niets anders dan in je kruipen.
En ook daarna. Thuis, op de grond voor de bank. In Rotterdam. De eerste keer in het Bimhuis. Het eerste weekeinde bij jou, bij de fotos voor de Stopera, in de Engelbewaarder.
Kan het dat dat nu allemaal al weg is? Waar is het heen? En waarom?
Ik wil in dat gevoel groeien, het meenemen. Het hoeft niet allemaal zo uitbundig, maar ik wil gevoed worden, ik wil voeden, niet hongerig verlangen en dromen.
Een dronken man achter me in de supermarkt zucht en zegt tegen de kassiere dat hij in de war raakt van me, betoverd is door mijn lijf en mij. Hij volgt me nog even, zuchtend probeert hij mijn aandacht te trekken. Jij zegt de hele avonds niets liefs.
Ik kan niet naast je zitten, ik kan niet naast je liggen, als er geen ruimte in jou is voor mij.
Het is een slecht excuus om weer te gaan roken. Maar het voedt me. Een whiskey bestellen, naar Tom Waits luisteren die rauw uit de speakers komt, voor me uit staren en schrijven. In een mij bekende omgeving. Mijn eigen ding doen. Waarschijnlijk een vlucht, maar minder pijn.
Het is laat, It's Closing Time, 7 Maart zit er op. 8 Maart is begonnen. Ik ga naar huis.

A friend's mom's bumper sticker:

uproot a Bush,
plant a tree

Although not quite poetry, worth sharing. Go Nynke's mom.

That old Vienna feelin...
different years, different age group, different experience altogether - yet the nostalgia feels the same. Imagine, i had the kid sister of my one time (short time) boyfriend/romantic interest add me on MySpace the other day. Not only was he a year younger, she must have been 5 years younger than him. and still we are connecting, all connecting. the vienna feeling.

a friend said to me the other night - 'i am decidedly unnostalgic'. I am definetely not.
Living in the past isnt all that good, im sure. Investing emotion now in events and moments of the past. Can't be good. Yet when the past appears as special is it does, is it better to let go and forget?

On Idols & Missing the point
(orignially written as a comment to a Firefly post)

never touch your idols, the gilt wil rub off on your hands?

or should we refrain from idolising altogether? we know better than to invest such expectant adoration in human beings, fallable beings.

To love, and not to put another on a pedestal, thereby creating distance, and no longer standing level footed on common ground.
To love, and not to allow intimidation by the perceived perfection of idols made by your own hand, heart and reverence. and insecurity.
To love.

In wise books of old, idolatry is a said to be a Sin.

I dont believe that 'idols' in the gnostic sense refers to statues of silver and gold, that are worshipped above an external allmighty god, but rather any being or object that you put higher than the godliness in yourself.

I don't believe the orginal meaning of 'sin' is "transgression of the law of God (1 John 3:4) and rebellion against God (Deuteronomy 9:7; Joshua 1:18)", but rather in its original (greek?) meaning to refer to "to miss the mark, or "to stray from the path".

And that makes sense to me.
By placing someone or something else above your own Godliness (see Krishnamurti and so many more) you miss the mark, you are bound to stray from the path to self-knowledge and truth.

We shouldnt idolise others, its not good for us, and its not good for those on the pedestal. When they fall off, either by their own doing or by the other's unmet inflated expectation, its hurts. On both sides.

When both parties idolise the other, for whatever reason, as has been known to happen, it can only lead to pain.

I have over the years created a large part of my identity around someone i have idolised, and with sustained physical distance, i have kept the idol on the pedestal, and polished and polished and polished her shine. it has increased my reverence, and decreased my comfort to share daily earthly human fallacies; it has increased distance and insecurity on my part, and decreased the truthful and realistic foundation for friendship.

I don't want to idealise or idolise.
I need to learn to work with what's real.
Because what is real is good, and has enough godliness in it to feed my need for reverence and beauty.

Brave country
(from an email from a friend who works for the dutch ministry of foreign affairs)

"It is grey but not too cold in Kabul. Our armoured Mercedes takes us to the hotel.
On the way a woman crosses the street in a blue bhurka right in front of the car.
“Brave woman” I say.
Then a dog crosses, equally close: "Brave dog" I say.
Then a family of three crosses and makes it against all odds.
“Brave family” my colleague Viola says.
Then our Afghan driver smiles and says: “ Brave country.”
Those words alone were worth this trip.

ben's humour, priceless

lost tribes

a melancholy in the eyes, a recognition.
an almost stranger, a familiarty.

'i believe in lost tribes' he said, people that belong together, people that recognise it in eachother. age doesnt matter, people that have lived full lives, of long full years, younger people, without similar marks of time on their soul. yet somehow, we seem to belong to the same tribe.

biological families are different. you build those with mates that are your opposite in many ways, that way you bring forth socially viable progeny. socially viable progeny.
but others connect to you differently, strangers, by picking up on a look in your eyes. a sadness. a melancholy.
distant yet recognisable.
instant comfort. instant connection. a member of your lost tribe.

nothing wrong with opposites. the world needs socially viable progeny.
its a noble venture. i want socially viable progeny.
but i can't do without my tribe.

did you find a member of your tribe in paris like you sensed you would?

trust or faith?

what is vertrouwen? what is Vertrauen?
trust or faith?
what did i take with me, what intention did i speak out loud.
what did i mean.
and where has it gone.

i said it on sunday afternoon, i felt it on sunday night.
i felt it on monday morning, and it took me places.
i lost it on monday night. i wept for it on tuesday.
i forgot about it on wednesday.
i moved on on thursday.
i longed for it on friday.
i spoke about it on saturday.
i put it behind me on sunday.
i missed it on monday.
i could relativise it on tuesday.
its making me sad again today.

i closed my eyes and thought about trust.
i picked a card. random.
it was Trust.

That which can be taken away from you is not worth keeping, and that which cannot be taken away from you... why should one be afraid of its being taken away? It cannot be taken away, there is no possibility. You cannot lose your real treasure.

The Truth of Cards

On Saturday night I chose a card from the stack - it was 17. Silence. And it was perfect.
I had come back from Ghana, I had been quiet on the ride home, I hadnt felt the need to speak, I hadnt felt the need to be present by way of conversation. I was on the boat, and the exercise made me long for silence, for concentration - the chattering and laughing of fellow seekers was irritating me. Yet i could let it go - I heard it, and could not hear it. I could stay here and now, and concentrate. And lose my irritation, and leave that with them.

A little later that night, i picked this card.
"the energy of the whole has taken possession of you. You are possessed, you are no more, the whole is. This moment, as the silence penetrates in you, you can understand the significance of it, because it is the same silence that Gautam Buddha experienced. It is the same silence that Chuang Tzu or Bodhidharma or Nansen.... The taste of the silence is the same. Time changes, the world goes on changing, but the experience of silence, the joy of it, remains the same. That is the only thing you can rely upon, the only thing that never dies. It is the only thing that you can call your very being." (Osho Zen: The Diamond Thunderbolt Chapter 1)

Commentary: The silent, mirrorlike receptiveness of a star-filled night with a full moon is reflected in the misty lake below. The face in the sky is deep in meditation, a goddess of the night who brings depth, peace and understanding. Now is a very precious time. It will be easy for you to rest inside, to plumb the depths of your own inner silence to the point where it meets the silence of the universe. There's nothing to do, nowhere to go, and the quality of your inner silence permeates everything you do. It might make some people uncomfortable, accustomed as they are to all the noise and activity of the world. Never mind; seek out those who can resonate with your silence - or enjoy your aloneness. Now is the time to come home to yourself. The understanding and insights that come to you in these moments will be manifested later on, in a more outgoing phase of your life.

The next day we spoke of relationships, of ideal partners. We shared and we recognised the obstacle that is the concept of 'ideal'. I spoke of my longing for a shared existence, not in all aspects, but just the basics - participate with me in my dreams, when i talk of the moon; participate with me in work, when i explain my reality. Listen and be interested. Participate, just a little, and I will be open.

Later during a break, with the theme of ideal partner/relationship in mind, we drew another card. I picked 4: Participation
"Have you ever seen night going? Very few people even become aware of things which are happening every day. Have you ever seen the evening coming? The midnight and its song? The sunrise and its beauty?

We are behaving almost like blind people. In such a beautiful world we are living in small ponds of our own misery. It is familiar, so even if somebody wants to pull you out, you struggle. You don't want to be pulled out of your misery, of your suffering. Otherwise there is so much joy all around, you have just to be aware of it and to become a participant, not a spectator.

Philosophy is speculation, Zen is participation. Participate in the night leaving, participate in the evening coming, participate in the stars and participate in the clouds; make participation your lifestyle and the whole existence becomes such a joy, such an ecstasy. You could not have dreamed of a better universe."(Osho Zen: The Miracle Chapter 2)

Commentary: Each figure in this mandala holds the left hand up, in an attitude of receiving, and the right hand down, in an attitude of giving. The whole circle creates a tremendous energy field that takes on the shape of the double dorje, the Tibetan symbol for the thunderbolt.
The mandala has a quality like that of the energy field that forms around a buddha, where all the individuals taking part in the circle make a unique contribution to create a unified and vital whole. It is like a flower, whose wholeness is even more beautiful than the sum of its parts, at the same time enhancing the beauty of each individual petal. You have an opportunity to participate with others now to make your contribution to creating something greater and more beautiful than each of you could manage alone. Your participation will not only nourish you, but will also contribute something precious to the whole.