I keep thinking that at some point in my life I am going to have everything figured out. But that never seems to happen. At the beginning of this year my life seemed on track, I had a steady job, a lovely home, sweet friends, everything was set… except for love. How I longed to meet someone to share my dreams with. Now, after the whirlwind that is a new relationship, it feels like I have gone through the looking-glass. For the first time in my life, I feel embraced by a love that is quiet, reserved and overwhelmingly secure. But right now, I have not a clue what I am supposed to be doing when it comes to work and whether my small home near the sea will have room enough for the two of us and the life we imagine. I feel completely lost, but I cannot help but smile. And that is something I would not trade for all the financial treasure in the world. Thus, there is nothing to do but to accept this fated change. And as I allow love to flow into my life, I must have faith that the rest will follow.
One of my favourite places in The Hague, besides the sea and the magical Voorhout, is Oud Eik en Duinen cemetery. Among its treasures are the grave of Louis Couperus and the beautiful remains of the chapel built in 1247 by Count William II for his father, Floris IV. But that’s not why I come here. My ancestors are buried here, so I come to pay them a visit and honour them – even the ones who died before I was born. It gives me solace to sit down under the tall tree that stands next to their grave, underneath its long overhanging branches that create a green-leaved shelter. I light the small rose-coloured candle and burn some incense, as I listen to the magpies flying past. For me it’s a sanctuary, a place of serenity and peace in the city, where I go to be quiet and listen to my inner voice. As I walk along the lanes, glancing at the names on the gravestones, I am reminded that it is a privilege to be alive. And that no matter how dark things get, there is always a place where you can find a lighted lantern.
Autumn is a time when the leaves start to change colour. As they start to whirl down one by one, they remind us that it’s time to take a step back and slow down. The endless summer nights long gone, and with every day the evenings get a bit darker. This season shows us how beautiful it is to let things go. I always think that means that it’s a perfect time to curl up on the sofa with a good book, warm and cosy inside, and allow myself to rest. But letting go is also an active process. It asks that you release your hold on things that no longer serve you and that you restore your equilibrium. So whenever I fall into a state of slumber, I remind myself that it’s important to keep doing the things that give me new energy. Whether it is writing in my journal, going for a long, beautiful walk in the woods, or doing a gentle meditation practice down by the river.
I have a confession to make: I have never actually been up in a tree. I am more of a ground squirrel, you see. It is about time that this changed, so I asked a friend – who is excellent with this sort of thing – to help me. “How about tomorrow?” he said. “Well, that seems a bit soon,” I replied, as I tried to think of a valid excuse. “Tomorrow it is then!” So the very next day I found myself at the foot of a beautiful beech tree, feeling weak at the knees. “Did I mention I have a fear of heights?” I stuttered. But I was here now and might as well give it a go. The first two meters or so were difficult, but once I got the hang of it I discovered that I LOVE climbing trees. I learned that sometimes fear is just an illusion that we create ourselves and then get tangled in. When we let go of the illusion, our fears disappear like snow melting in the sun. The experience also taught me that I should really embrace Pippy Longstocking’s motto: I have never tried it before, so I think I should definitely be able to do it.