Bodies in motion never stop wanting

Thinking of the Med tonight. How ancient it is… the billions and billions that have come and gone while it just lies and laps, crashes and shouts, breaks and retreats — never satisfied.

What goes between us feels universal, feels infinite, feels unhinged — like tide against rock, like an unsleeping hunger.

But it does not matter to this blue-green beast breathing in the dark, its long body turning under moonlight, restless in its basin, pressing against its shores the way a body strains toward touch.

It goes its way, and never beyond the boundaries set by God — yet oh, how it aches to.

How it wants to rise, to spill its cool hands over cities and fields, to cover everything, to erase the distances between one warm life and another.

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#poetry #wyst

There is a quiet lie many sincere believers carry in their hearts, and it sounds like this: if God really called me, then I should be able to do this alone. It feels noble. It feels strong. It feels spiritual. But it is not how God has ever worked. From the first pages of Scripture to the last, God does not merely strengthen individuals; He surrounds them. He does not just whisper purpose into a single heart; He weaves that purpose into a web of relationships, timing, visibility, and shared burden. The calling of God is never just personal. It is communal by design. Even when the journey begins in solitude, it does not remain there. God does not only want to support you. He wants what He is doing in you to be known, not so your name becomes larger, but so His faithfulness becomes visible.

We often imagine God’s help as something invisible and private, like a hidden hand moving quietly behind the curtain of our lives. And sometimes it is. There are seasons when the only witness to your obedience is God Himself. But Scripture shows that secrecy is a stage, not a destination. The seed must be buried before it can rise, but it is never buried forever. Roots grow unseen, but they grow toward a moment when the soil can no longer hold them down. God allows hidden seasons because formation requires darkness. But He reveals growth because testimony requires light. You are not meant to remain underground.

There is a reason God consistently used people to help people. Moses was called, but Israel was delivered. David was anointed, but a nation was shaped. Paul was chosen, but the church was formed. Jesus Himself did not build a movement alone. He gathered fishermen, tax collectors, doubters, and dreamers. He healed publicly. He taught in open spaces. He let people see what God was doing through Him. Not to make Himself famous, but to make the Kingdom understandable. God does not hide His work forever because hidden work cannot multiply. What God grows in you is meant to strengthen someone else.

We tend to resist this idea because visibility feels dangerous. Being seen means being misunderstood. Being known means being judged. Being supported means being dependent. And all of those things cost something. It feels safer to stay small. It feels safer to struggle quietly. It feels safer to call our isolation humility and our exhaustion faithfulness. But God does not confuse suffering with virtue. He does not confuse loneliness with holiness. He does not confuse silence with submission. He sees the difference between a season of preparation and a habit of hiding.

There is something profoundly human in wanting God’s help without God’s witnesses. We want the blessing without the audience. We want the miracle without the story. We want the outcome without the connection. But God’s pattern is different. When He lifts someone, He lets others see it. When He heals someone, He allows others to hear about it. When He strengthens someone, He gives others a reason to believe. Not because the person is special, but because God is faithful. Testimony is not about the greatness of the person. It is about the reliability of the God who helped them.

This is why your struggle matters. Not because struggle is noble in itself, but because endurance becomes language. People learn through what they can see. They learn through what they can hear. They learn through what they can recognize in their own pain. When God supports you, He is not only answering your prayer. He is creating a reference point for someone else’s faith. Your obedience becomes proof that God still acts. Your perseverance becomes evidence that God still sustains. Your healing becomes permission for someone else to hope.

But before there is visibility, there is always vulnerability. Before there is support, there is surrender. God does not simply drop helpers into your life without shaping your heart to receive them. Pride resists help. Fear avoids exposure. Shame hides wounds. Control rejects dependence. And God must loosen all of those things before He can build community around your calling. You cannot be supported if you will not be seen. You cannot be strengthened if you refuse to be known. You cannot be helped if you insist on carrying everything alone.

The modern idea of faith often emphasizes independence. It praises private devotion and personal resilience. But biblical faith is relational. It assumes bodies, not just souls. It assumes families, not just individuals. It assumes churches, not just believers. God designed humans to need one another. Not because He is insufficient, but because love must travel through flesh and blood to be felt. Divine strength often arrives wearing human faces.

This is where many prayers quietly miss their own answer. We ask God for peace, and He sends someone who listens. We ask God for wisdom, and He sends someone who has walked ahead of us. We ask God for strength, and He sends someone who will not let us quit. We ask God for provision, and He sends someone who gives. We ask God for encouragement, and He sends someone who believes in us when we no longer believe in ourselves. And then we hesitate, because the answer does not look like thunder. It looks like relationship. It looks ordinary. It looks like risk.

God’s miracles are often disguised as people. That is not poetic language; it is spiritual reality. The hand of God is not limited to heaven. It moves through earth. It speaks through voices. It comforts through presence. It sustains through shared burden. Even the cross was not carried alone. Even Christ allowed another man to help Him carry the weight. That detail is not incidental. It is instructional. If the Son of God did not refuse human help, then refusing help is not a mark of faith. It is often a mark of fear.

There is something deeply humbling about allowing others to see what God is doing in you. It requires trust. It requires patience. It requires discernment. Not everyone who notices you is meant to walk with you. Not everyone who praises you understands you. Not everyone who watches you will protect you. God chooses companions, not crowds. He assigns supporters, not spectators. Some will witness from a distance. Some will criticize. Some will misunderstand. But some will be sent.

These sent ones matter more than numbers. They are the ones who hold your arms up when you grow tired. They are the ones who remind you who you are when doubt grows loud. They are the ones who speak truth when fear distorts your vision. They are the ones who protect what God is growing when others would trample it. They are not random. They are appointed.

This is why your responsibility is not to manage visibility. Your responsibility is obedience. God handles connection. Your responsibility is faithfulness. God handles growth. Your responsibility is to keep walking. God handles companionship. You do not have to advertise your calling. You do not have to force recognition. You do not have to demand support. God knows how to reveal what He plants when it is ready to be seen.

The hardest season is the one where you feel alone and unseen while God is actually arranging everything. That season feels like abandonment, but it is often alignment. It feels like delay, but it is often design. It feels like silence, but it is often selection. God is choosing who will walk with you before He shows them to you. He is preparing both sides of the relationship. He is shaping hearts on both ends of the connection. And that takes time.

There is also something sacred about the fact that God does not rush this process. If He revealed everything too early, it would crush you. If He sent everyone too soon, it would overwhelm you. If He exposed the work before it was rooted, it would be fragile. God grows deep before He grows wide. He teaches you to listen before He teaches you to lead. He strengthens your spine before He expands your reach. What feels like delay is often mercy.

Your work matters because God does not waste effort. He does not cultivate obedience for nothing. He does not grow faith just to keep it hidden. He does not heal wounds just for private relief. He heals so scars can speak. He restores so testimony can travel. He strengthens so others can lean. You are not being shaped in isolation. You are being prepared for intersection. Your life is being tuned for resonance with other lives.

This is why shrinking your vision is not humility. Hiding your calling is not obedience. Minimizing what God has given you is not holiness. If God planted it, He intends to grow it. If God started it, He intends to sustain it. If God called you, He intends to surround you. The only thing He asks is that you remain willing while He does it.

And perhaps the most freeing realization is this: you do not have to prove anything. You do not have to perform for approval. You do not have to build influence on your own strength. God is not waiting for you to become impressive. He is waiting for you to remain faithful. Faithfulness is what attracts provision. Obedience is what invites partnership. Trust is what allows God to move visibly.

So when you feel unseen, do not assume you are unsupported. When you feel alone, do not assume you are abandoned. When you feel unnoticed, do not assume you are forgotten. God does not forget His work. He does not forget His servants. He does not forget His promises. He is doing more than you can currently perceive. He is building something larger than your individual effort. He is preparing witnesses for your obedience.

Your life is not just a private struggle. It is a public lesson in the making. It is not just endurance. It is instruction. It is not just survival. It is signal. The God who supports you is also revealing Himself through you. And the world will not learn who He is by watching Him in heaven. It will learn who He is by watching Him in you.

Now we will continue this thought by exploring how God chooses helpers, how visibility becomes responsibility, and how your obedience becomes a bridge for others.

When God begins to make what He is doing in you visible, He is not simply giving you attention. He is giving you responsibility. Visibility in God’s economy is never about elevation alone; it is about stewardship. When others begin to see what God is building in your life, you become a living message. Not a perfect one, but a real one. People do not learn faith by watching flawless lives. They learn faith by watching faithful ones. They learn trust by watching someone walk forward without certainty. They learn endurance by watching someone stay when it would be easier to leave. God allows others to see your obedience because obedience teaches better than explanation ever could.

There is a quiet transformation that happens when your private walk becomes public witness. You start to realize that your choices ripple outward. The way you speak begins to matter more. The way you handle hardship becomes instruction. The way you recover from failure becomes guidance. God does not expose your life to pressure to crush you. He exposes it to purpose so others can learn what faith looks like in motion. This is why Scripture speaks so often of light. Light is not meant to make things impressive. Light is meant to make things visible. And visibility is what allows direction. People cannot follow what they cannot see.

God’s pattern has always been to attach people to people. He rarely sends help without sending relationship. He rarely sends strength without sending support. He rarely sends calling without sending companions. But the way He chooses helpers is not random. God does not gather people based on convenience. He gathers them based on alignment. He connects hearts that will sharpen rather than drain. He sends voices that will build rather than confuse. He assigns people who will protect the work rather than exploit it. And often, these connections form slowly, quietly, in ordinary moments.

You may not recognize them at first. Sometimes they arrive as listeners. Sometimes they arrive as challengers. Sometimes they arrive as encouragers. Sometimes they arrive as teachers. Sometimes they arrive as quiet presences who simply stay when others leave. But over time, you begin to see that they were never accidents. They were answers. God was weaving support into your story before you even knew to ask for it.

This is why discernment matters when God begins to reveal what He is doing in you. Not every voice deserves access. Not every observer deserves influence. Visibility does not mean openness without boundaries. Jesus healed in public but withdrew in private. He taught crowds but discipled a few. He allowed many to see His works, but He allowed only some to know His heart. God does not call you to be hidden, but He does call you to be wise. He does not call you to isolation, but He does call you to intimacy with the right people. Support is not about numbers. It is about alignment.

And this alignment does something powerful: it removes the illusion that you are self-made. When God surrounds you, your life begins to testify not just to personal strength but to divine design. Others see that you did not arrive alone. They see that you were lifted. They see that you were carried at times. They see that you were sustained by more than willpower. And that shifts the story from achievement to grace. It changes the question from “How did you do this?” to “Who helped you?” And the truest answer is always the same: God did, and He did it through people.

There is something deeply humbling about realizing that your calling is bigger than your capacity. It means you must rely on God not just for strength but for connection. It means you must trust Him not just for answers but for companions. It means you must allow Him to build what you cannot build alone. This is not weakness. It is wisdom. A single thread can be broken easily, but woven strands endure. God weaves lives together so that purpose can endure.

Your obedience becomes a bridge when God allows it to be seen. Someone watches how you forgive and finds the courage to release bitterness. Someone watches how you persevere and finds the strength to keep going. Someone watches how you trust and finds the faith to believe again. This is not because you are extraordinary. It is because God is consistent. He uses ordinary lives to carry extraordinary truth. He uses real stories to reveal eternal faithfulness. He uses imperfect people to show perfect grace.

This is also why God does not rush the revealing. If He exposed the work too early, it would be misunderstood. If He showed the fruit before the roots were deep, it would not last. God grows character before influence. He grows humility before visibility. He grows obedience before expansion. And when He finally allows others to see what He has been doing, it is not sudden. It is seasonal. Like harvest. What appears sudden to others has been growing quietly for a long time.

You may feel today like you are still in that quiet place. Still unseen. Still building. Still becoming. Still trusting. Still waiting. And it is tempting in that place to believe nothing is happening. But the absence of applause does not mean the absence of progress. The absence of recognition does not mean the absence of God. The absence of witnesses does not mean the absence of work. God often does His deepest work where only He can see it. And then, when the time is right, He allows others to see it too.

There is also a tenderness in the way God introduces support. He does not overwhelm you with connection all at once. He adds it as you can carry it. He introduces people as you are ready to receive them. He grows your capacity to trust before He grows your circle of influence. Because support requires openness, and openness requires safety. God builds safety before He builds visibility. He teaches you to rely on Him before He teaches you to rely on others. And in that order, dependence becomes healthy rather than desperate.

Your story is not just yours. It is part of a larger testimony God is writing through many lives. You are not a standalone chapter. You are part of a narrative that connects faith to faith, obedience to obedience, courage to courage. God does not waste any part of it. He does not waste your waiting. He does not waste your struggle. He does not waste your obedience. He weaves it into something that will outlast you.

This is why shrinking what God has given you does not protect you. It delays impact. Hiding your obedience does not honor God. It withholds instruction. Minimizing your calling does not create humility. It creates silence where testimony could speak. If God planted it, He intends to grow it. If God called you, He intends to sustain you. If God began it, He intends to reveal it. The only thing required of you is faithfulness in the season you are in now.

And faithfulness is not glamorous. It is steady. It is daily. It is unseen most of the time. It is choosing obedience when no one is watching. It is trusting when nothing looks different yet. It is continuing when the road feels long. It is believing that God is working even when you cannot feel Him. Faithfulness is not loud. But it is powerful. It is the soil where everything else grows.

One day, someone will look at your life and see what God has done. Not because you announced it, but because God revealed it. They will see endurance where there was once exhaustion. They will see peace where there was once fear. They will see purpose where there was once confusion. And in seeing that, they will see God. Not as an idea, but as a reality. Not as a concept, but as a presence. Not as a theory, but as a helper.

This is what it means that God wants others to know what He is doing in you. Not so your name is lifted, but so His character is shown. Not so your story is celebrated, but so His faithfulness is trusted. Not so you become a symbol of success, but so you become a sign of grace.

So do not fear the moment when your obedience becomes visible. Do not resist the support God sends. Do not despise the connections He forms. Do not hide the work He is doing. Walk in it. Trust in it. Stay faithful to it. Let God strengthen you, and let Him surround you. Let Him reveal what He is growing when the season comes.

Because your life is not just about you. It is a living testimony in motion. It is a bridge between struggle and hope. It is a signal that God still works through willing hearts. And the God who called you is the God who will support you.

Not alone. But together.

Your friend, Douglas Vandergraph

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/@douglasvandergraph

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I sidste indlæg skrev jeg om min kærlighed til fyldepenne der blev vækket da jeg læste på universitetet i Frankrig. Det fik mig til at reflektere over det som på en måde hænger uløseligt sammen med pennen: håndskriften selv. Ser du, ikke nok med at jeg skulle lære at skrive opgaver på fransk – jeg skulle også skrive dem i hånden. Det foregik sådan at professoren, som man kalder alle undervisere på fransk, kom ind i lokalet, sagde et par ting, skrev et spørgsmål op på tavlen og så gik man ellers i gang med at skrive stil i hånden på sine løse ark, klar til at aflevere to timer senere ved timens afslutning. Det kunne være et simpelt spørgsmål som: „Findes der én eller flere sandheder?“, og så gik man ligesom bare i gang. 

Nogle gange gjorde de sig ikke engang ulejligheden at skrive spørgsmålet op på tavlen, hvilket skete ved den første opgave overhovedet. Vi havde undervisning i et for lille og derfor overfyldt lokale hvor man kunne kigge ud i en snæver asfaltbelagt gård, og monsieur Puech, der ledte kurset i moralfilosofi, sad altid og ventede i god tid for siden at rejse sig på timeslaget. Desværre talte han både lavt og læspede en smule, så jeg havde ofte svært ved at fatte hvad der foregik. Det var først da alle de andre gik i gang med at skrive at jeg overhovedet forstod at vi skulle lave opgave. Jeg tog mig dog sammen og spurgte høfligt om han ikke ville være venlig at gentage spørgsmålet, hvilket han så gerne ville – han var ret sympatisk på sådan en bedstefaragtig måde – men det hjalp ikke, og jeg forstod stadig ikke noget. Det lykkedes mig at skrive noget formentlig fuldstændig usammenhængende i en to timers angst-rystetur som jeg endda indleverede til ham – mest for ikke at gøre mig pinligt bemærket i situationen –, og som jeg selvfølgelig fik 0 point for.

1.

Alt det her var jeg blevet forberedt på hjemmefra, og det var anledningen til at jeg omkring et år før jeg skulle afsted, besluttede mig for at gå over til at skrive skråskrift. Det kom sig af at det gik op for mig at jeg ellers ikke ville være i stand til at lave opgaverne – det ville simpelthen ikke være fysisk muligt for mig at skrive en opgave på to timer selv om jeg så vidste hvad der skulle stå i den. Min håndskrift var så dårlig at den ikke kunne læses og min hånd krampede nærmest med det samme. Da det gik op for mig, blev jeg helt pinligt berørt, og jeg følte mig rent ud sagt som en taber. Det er ligesom en del af det at være menneske at kunne skrive, og jeg så pludselig mig selv som handicappet fordi det gik op for mig at jeg ikke kunne udføre en opgave som jeg anså for at være en normal funktion for et moderne menneske. Samtidig følte jeg også en vis vrede mod særligt mine forskellige lærere gennem tiden, for jeg syntes at det ligesom var noget jeg burde have lært i skolen, noget jeg burde have været tvunget til at lære fordi det er den mest grundlæggende af de almene færdigheder man lærer her. Jeg følte mig simpelthen svigtet.

Jeg besluttede mig for at begynde at skrive skråskrift for at få en mere læsevenlig skrift. Jeg gik til det på den måde at jeg opsætte et dogme om kun at løfte pennen når ordet var slut. Ét ord, én linje. Selvom jeg kan huske at jeg har udfyldt skrivebøger i folkeskolen, så kunne jeg ikke huske hvordan man faktisk skrev mange af bogstaverne som skråskrift, og det tvang mig til at lære det hele forfra. Jeg var inspireret af en historie om den kinesiske sprinter Su Bingtang der var den første asiat til at løbe under ti sekunder på 100-meteren og som lidt senere blev nummer seks til OL i 2021. Han havde på et tidspunkt hvor hans karriere egentlig skulle være på sit højeste i sine midt-20’ere valgt at skifte fodstilling i startblokken, så det første skridt nu var med højre ben. Han er en meget intelligent løber og besat af at optimere de her ting, og det brud gjorde at han kunne starte på en frisk og gentænke hele sit løb uden at kroppen faldt ind i de gamle vaner. Han var langsommere i næsten flere år, men det gjorde altså at han kunne løbe sig til triumfen og komme under de magiske ti sekunder. 

2.

Dengang jeg gik i gymnasiet var min klasse med i et slags forsøg om at være 100 % digitale. Vi fik alle lektier som filer og ikke printet ud, og vi skulle aflevere alle opgaver via websiden Lectio. Jeg kan ikke helt huske detaljerne, men min matematiklærer var ligesom ikke med på det, og han bad os lave blækregningerne på kvadratpapir og købe den helt store lommeregner i stedet for bare at installere et regneprogram på computeren. Jeg kan huske hvordan jeg havde min mor med nede i butikken for at købe klodsen fra Texas Instruments, jeg husker plastikomslaget som man skulle tage af, og jeg husker hvordan vi lærte hinanden „solve“-funktionen og blev betaget af at den selv kunne løse ligninger, og hvordan Keith – det hed vores lærer der, a propos, også læspede lidt – sagde at vi hellere skulle lade være. Jeg husker i det hele taget meget fra matematik, selv hvordan man løser de ligningerne man kunne få lommeregneren til at lave, og jeg synes at Keith var en dygtig lærer.

Jeg skriver det her fordi jeg ved at der er mange som er i samme situation som jeg var i. Jeg er ikke alene om det, og det er sikkert kun blevet værre siden jeg stoppede i skolen i slutningen af 00’erne. Jeg ved eksempelvis at man på Bornholm har valgt at være helt digital og giver børnene en iPad når de starter i børnehaveklasse. Det bliver tit udlagt som en god ting fordi man så lærer vigtige redskaber til at klare sig i fremtidens digitale verden og får en „digital dannelse“, sådan var det i hvert fald i min gymnasietid, og det kan man finde politikere på Bornholm der siger. Men det er jo latterligt, for grunden til at det er populært at skrive på computeren er at det er nemt. Selv har jeg læst om matematik og programmering på universitetet, og de bad os som det første om at anskaffe os en bog, for det er en fejlslutning at tro man nødvendigvis skal sidde på computeren for at blive klog på den. Stakkels børn, tænker jeg. Ja de lærer at bruge computere, det er fint nok, men lærer de at bruge andet?

På Københavns Universitet har de for nyligt besluttet at lade de studerende bruge AI-chatbots til deres opgaver fordi ledelsen har opgivet at få dem til at lade være. Jeg har selv tænkt at løsningen burde være at gå i den omvendte retning: tilbage til at lave opgaverne i hånden – det har man trods alt haft succes med i århundreder, hvis ikke årtusinder – men det går så op for mig at det praktisk talt ikke er muligt, for langt de fleste studerende ville simpelthen ikke være i stand til det. Jeg har selv været et eksempel på det. 

Her er der også en generationel forskel. For de ældre generationer er computeren og det digitale tilvalg, og derfor føles det som en gave at kunne lave tingene på computeren hvis det er smartere. Det er for dem en frihed. Men hvis man ikke lærer andet, så bliver det digitale en ufrihed fordi man ikke kan andet. 

3.

Det er ikke bare nogle anekdoter jeg fyrer af her – der er vist gentagende gange gennem forskellige studier at man husker bedre hvis man skriver noter i hånden. Det er et godt argument for at bruge pen og papir synes jeg. Men selv om studieteknik er et emne jeg tillægger en enorm vigtighed, så er det er ikke det vigtigste for mig når det kommer til håndskriften. Det er i stedet et metafysisk problem. Lad mig forklare:

Dengang jeg stadig ikke havde lært at skrive skråskrift, lærte jeg den franske filosof Maurice Merleau-Ponty at kende. Vores underviser blev ved med at tale om stil, og jeg forstod ikke rigtig hvad det gik ud på dengang, for jeg troede bare det var ét af hans små excentriske tricks til at live undervisningen op. Desuden er stil ikke så filosofisk vigtigt, tænkte jeg. Nu har jeg efterhånden forstået pointen, og jeg fanboyede Merleau-Ponty så meget at jeg var ude og tage et selfie ved hans grav på Père Lachaise-kirkegården. Ikke særligt sejt gjort, men altså selv grim stil er dog stil.

I et af sine mindre værker analyserer Merleau-Ponty den franske maler Cézanne og hans billeder. Han vælger at skrive om Cézanne – tror jeg – fordi maleren markerer overgangen fra det figurative maleri til det mere sansebetonede maleri som impressionisterne indførte i slutningen af 1800-tallet, og dermed en på mange måder modernistisk bevægelse hen mod at malerens egen sanseerfaring kan opleves i billedet. Merleau-Pontys påstand er at det lykkedes for Cézanne at være krop på en anden måde, at se på en anden måde. Cézanne var altså nyskabende stilistisk på den måde at han malede en ny slags billeder, men han formåede samtidig at se på en en ny måde, fordi det at sanse – og særligt det at se – hænger uløseligt sammen med det at male netop et billede, for det er en kunstfrom der primært foregår for synssansen. Det er lidt kunsthistorisk forsimplet, men Cézanne repræsenterer en form for dobbelt bevægelse om at male og se på en anden måde, og det skyldes at det at se og det at male begge dele er noget som man gør med en bestemt stil. Ligesom en maler udvikler et vist formsprog, en farvepalette og så videre som bliver genkendelig for andre – og nogle gange for ham selv – som en bestemt stil, så udvikler alle mennesker en vis stil i deres måde at sanse på. Sansningen er ikke neutral, den bliver udført med en vis stil. (Det er blandt andet derfor jeg har valgt intueor som titlen på denne blog, fordi man kan lære at se, og det interesserer mig. Men mere om det på et andet tidspunkt.)

Praktisk talt betyder det at man bliver nødt til at udvikle sin egen personlige stil hvis man vil opleve verden. Man skal lære at se, at gå, at røre, at føle, at elske, at dyrke sport og så videre på en bestemt måde for at blive bedre til de her ting, og for at verden derfor kan åbne sig for en. Ofte kan man efterligne andre mennesker, men andre gange bliver man nødt til at gøre det selv. Det er selvfølgelig ikke rigtigt noget man tænker over sådan til hverdag, særligt hvad angår de sanser der er mest grundlæggende, og derfor er det vigtigt at gøre sig nogle erfaringer med at udvikle en stil. Det er vigtigt at tegne lidt med farveblyant og lave modellervoks og sådan fordi det lærer én den universelle oplevelse det er at udvikle en stil. Ikke blot som en selvudviklingsting, men fordi det lærer én at være mere til stede i verden og få en større samhørighed med den. Som han skriver er verden lavet af det samme stof som kroppen. Min påstand er at det at udvikle en stil, eller forskellige stile i forskellige henseender, simpelthen er en del af et godt liv. 

4.

Når man lærer at skrive i hånden, så udfylder man som regel de her hæfter med øvelser hvor man først skal skrive et „a“ en masse gange, siden „b“ og så videre. Når man laver de øvelser skal man skrive af efter bogen og forsøge at ramme den samme linje som de fortrykte bogstaver. Men det er blot en øvelse, og det er i sidste ende ikke hvor meget skriften ligner den i øvelseshæftet der er det afgørende for ens håndskrift, og ikke det man bliver bedømt på – i hvert fald ikke af gode dansklærere. I stedet laver man øvelserne for at lære de rigtige bevægelser: at starte øverst med et „o“, at komme under linjen med et „p“ og så videre. Det egentlige mål med at lære at skrive er at udvikle sin egen personlige håndskrift. Det er nemt nok at lære bogstaverne, men det kræver træning at gøre dem til sine egne og udvikle sin egen skrivestil. Vi siger heller ikke at man lærer håndskriften, man at man får en håndskrift.

De fleste mennesker går ikke til tegning eller musik, og har ikke noget begær efter at udleve sig selv „kreativt“ – eller også undertrykker de det bare af forskellige årsager. Men alle skal lære at skrive, og skriften er derfor en universel erfaring af noget som er personligt. Noget som ikke bare er et træk ved os selv, men et produkt der bliver skabt. Det var ind til for nyligt en fælles – og dog intim – erfaring at gå den udvikling igennem. Det er den egentlige tragedie, og det egentlige svigt af de børn som går i skole i dag. Det bliver frarøvet muligheden for at udvikle sig og for at tilegne sig en stil. Ikke som et egoistisk projekt, men som noget der bringer én tættere på verden. Jeg vil gå så langt som til at påstå at det er en del af den trivselskrise vi taler så meget om fordi det er en del af et godt liv at gøre den slags.

5.

I dag skriver de fleste på tastatur eller touch-screen, og det kan man strengt taget også udvikle en stil med. Det kan man i rent fysisk forstand, og nogle køber eksempelvis specielle keyboards og sætter sit eget præg på dem på forskellige måder. Det synes jeg er en god ting at gøre. Men det kan også være en digital stil i lidt en anden betydning: Nogle venner jeg skriver med, har en bestemt måde at skrive beskeder på, og man kan også tale om en bestemt stil i den måde man udtrykker sig på i de sociale mediers trods alt ret begrænsede tekstflade. Der kan være trends og udtryk i Instagram-captions og den slags. Trump har eksempelvis sin egen markante stil som han udviklede på Twitter. Eller se hvordan unge for et par år siden begyndte at skrive alting med små bogstaver.

Jeg har selv brugt en vis tid på at se computerspil blive streamet på Twitch, og jeg tror at jeg ville kunne genkende den hollandske spiller Grubby spille Warcraft III hvis jeg så en anonym video, på grund af den måde han får noget meget metodisk og komplekst til at se afslappet ud. Det samme gælder Counter Strike-holdet Astralis som dominerede spillet et par år, og som gjorde det ved at udvikle en bestemt stil i deres spil der var en del af den næsten mytiske fortælling de formåede at skabe om holdets storhedstid. Et andet eksempel er da Elon Musk for et par år siden afslørede sig selv som en kæmpe taber ved at lade som om at han var god til Path of Exile, men hvor det var ret tydeligt at han havde fået nogle andre til at spille for sig. Det skete fordi han livestreamede sig selv spille. De fleste prøvede at afsløre hans bluff ved at udregne forskellige måder hans historie ikke hang sammen ved at lede efter en rygende pistol, men det mest afslørende var sådan set hans stil. Nu har Elon Musk i det hele taget ikke særligt meget stil – men hvis man er en af de bedste i verden til et computerspil, som han påstod, så spiller man det med en vis hjemmevant lethed som Musk slet ikke var i nærheden af. Det er det samme som med andre sportsgrene, man behøver bare se en fodboldspiller snøre sine støvler for at regne ud om vedkommende er dygtig.

Min pointe er vist, for nu at afrunde, at man godt kan gøre de her ting digitalt. Man kan godt skrive, godt gå i skole og godt udvikle sig som menneske. Men som meget andet digitalt så er det bare en dårligere og nemmere udgave. Det er ligesom bare ikke det samme, og det er synd.

Nach «Das Labyrinth der Träumenden Bücher» hatte ich aufgehört die Zamonien-Romane zu verfolgen. Von Walter Moers war ich echt begeistert, aber dieses eine Buch hat mich damals stark enttäuscht und meine Lust am weiterlesen kaputt gemacht.

Letzten Herbst dann wurde ich auf «Die Insel der Tausend Leuchttürme» hingewiesen. Nach über zehn Jahren habe ich mich zum ersten Mal wieder an Walter Moers herangewagt — und was für ein Glück das war. Denn die Geschichte bringt all das, was ich an den Büchern immer geliebt habe.

Zur Geschichte

Zwar zeigt sich das Buch zum Start nicht von der besten Seite, startet es doch gleich mit dem in Zamonien-Romanen üblichen prahlen und masslosen Übertreibungen. Weshalb Hildegunst von Mythenmetz jetzt unbedingt der Seetüchtigste Einwohner des Kontinents sein muss, leuchtet mir wirklich nicht ein, zumal es im späteren Verlauf der Geschichte kaum von Bedeutung ist.

Aber das gehört zu den Büchern nun mal dazu und wenn es, wie hier, in Massen geschieht, hat es ja auch seinen Charme.

Ansonsten ist die Geschichte aber wirklich gut und mitreissend. Noch viel besser aber ist die Beschreibung der Insel Eydernorn und ihrer Bewohner und deren Lebensweise. Das Setting ist klar von Norddeutschen Insel inspiriert. Zugleich aber ist alles mit so viel Humor und Fantasie durchsetzt, dass man zum Stauen und Lachen kaum heraus kommt.

Zur Vertonung

Das Buch wird, wie viele andere Bücher der Reihe, von Andreas Fröhlich gelesen. Der spielt ganz oben mit dabei wenn es um das Einlesen Deutscher Bücher geht. Und auch die Produktionsqualität ist, wie wir es vom Hörverlag gewohnt sind, erste Sahne.

Am besten gefallen haben wir die Plattdeutschen Abschnitte. Die habe ich aller Regel zwar nicht verstanden, das Zuhören war dafür aber um so unterhaltsamer. Im Übrigen verstehe ich die Abschnitte auch lesend nicht besser als hörend. Das darf aber gerne so — Hildegunst von Mythenmetz ist der Sprache ebenfalls nicht mächtig und so kann der Hörer mit ihm zusammen rätseln was wohl gemeint ist.

Wo das Hören gegenüber dem Lesen aber einen klaren Nachteil darstellt, sind die zahlreichen Illustrationen die in einem Walter Moers Buch nicht fehlen dürfen. Nur dafür habe ich mir schliesslich doch noch das gedruckte Buch gekauft und beim Hören reingeschaut.

Es ist auch davon auszugehen, dass der Autor Wortspiele eingebaut hat, die nur beim Lesen zur Geltung kommen. In früheren Büchern gab es das auf jeden Fall.

Vielleicht müsste man das Buch also einmal lesen und einmal hören. Die grossartige Lesung von Andreas Fröhlich bringt nämlich eine ganz eigene Dimension in die Geschichte, die beim Lesen sicher fehlen würde.

Für wen ist es?

Das Hörbuch kann ich bedenkenlos für alle empfehlen. Kenner der Zamonien-Romane wissen weshalb. Und all jene, die noch keines der Bücher gelesen oder gehört haben, für die ist «Die Insel der Tausend Leuchttürme» ein gelungener Einstieg.

Link zu Audible

In the post on Wednesday the latest set of vintage stationery arrived to add to my haphazard collection: a box of Cassegrain paper and envelopes (Fig. 10). It contains all but a few of the original complement of a hundred sheets of laid paper in an almost impractically deep shade of indigo blue, edged on one side in burgundy; and, beneath them, the same number of matching envelopes, all lined with white tissue. The paper is a non-standard 129mm x 186mm: between A5 and A6; slightly smaller than the old British 'Duke' size. The sheets are relatively lightweight, with no identifying watermark. Having never seen anything quite like it on ebay before, I talked myself into paying nearly £30 for the set. The seller claimed it to be at least fifty years old. I'm looking forward to writing some letters on the stuff!

Cassegrain was a shop on Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris where the likes of diplomats and duchesses, fashion designers and film-stars once bought their deluxe personalised stationery. The nearest equivalent in the UK would be Smythson. A '90s article in Le Monde names Gregory Peck, Faye Dunaway, Lauren Bacall and Harrison Ford as among Cassegrain's clientele. Founded in 1919, the shop's main business for many years was in the bespoke engraving of letterheadings, business cards, invitations and so forth. A family business until 1978, retail became more of a mainstay after the shop's acquisition by its first corporate owners. In the Le Monde article there's reference to it stocking some three hundred kinds of paper, each, implausibly, more luxurious than the last. Alas, the shop seems to have closed ca. 2010 – albeit with a successor of sorts in Armorial, now on Ave. Victor Hugo.

---

As a collector of old writing paper, the helpful on-line resources I've found have been few and far between. One useful source of information has been the scanned copy of the 1923 Phillips Paper Trade Directory of the World at the Internet Archive. Specifically, its section on “Water-Marks and Trade Names” has helped me out on a number of occasions. Finding a later edition (the one for 1948) of the Directory on sale via ebay, I thought I'd order it. The book arrived this afternoon (Fig. 11). Alas, by 1948, the “Water-Marks and Trade Names” section was evidently no more. With luck I'll find something else within to make the purchase worthwhile. On an initial browse through the volume I spotted one sign of the times in the section about Germany: “We would point out that we have received no replies to our questionnaires regarding mills in the Russian Zone”.

---

I'd been procrastinating and hesitating about trying a recently-acquired Shapton 1200 whetstone to re-finish the edge on one of my straight razors. Yesterday I had a first attempt, with an initial test shave with the same razor following earlier today. While I'd like to say it was a great success, I can only claim that I don't seem to have made the edge any worse than it was before. Second and probably subsequent attempts will be necessary.

---

I feel like it might be beneficial for my musical well-being to spend more time perusing what's on offer at Bandcamp. Visiting the site yesterday I very much liked what I heard of the album To Be Loved Back by North Ingalls. “This talented septet drape tender folk melodies in homespun, R&B-inflected grooves” says the blurb there. Here's a YouTube clip of the band performing their song ‘Jonni’.

A commendable Bible reading plan

Likely the most important thing I can say on the subject of Bible reading is we all need to do it.  The question is how do we as fallen humans rise to the opportunity to place His word deep in our hearts and minds? The only way is to draw close to Him through prayer, reading, and meditating on His word.

A frequent, consistent diet of the word of God is essential to forming a healthy ear for the truth.  Meaning when someone speaks, are you familiar enough with His word to know if what is being said is truthful or not? Satan talked to our parents Adam and Eve and essentially said “Did God really say?” and that went horribly wrong. Without steeping our hearts and minds in the word, we are ill-equipped to withstand the devils trappings. So a morning and evening reading plan such as the Robert Murray M’Cheyne plan is an excellent way to do so.

You can choose to read 2 chapters in the morning and 2 in the evening or all 4 at once, and the most important thing to remember is to do it, not to worry about whether you have missed a day.  Every day is important, but providentially, you may be hindered one day, and it is not the end of the program; simply either if it is a single session catch-up OR if it is more than a session, I commend to you His grace and just read the day you are returning as He would rather have us in His word than worrying if we are behind in our reading.

Here is a single-page formatted calendar to read the entire Bible in a year with the New Testament twice.  Print and trim, and it can be folded up and placed in the back cover of your Bible.  No need to start fresh; all of the word is worthwhile, just start today.

I have started a GitHub repository for documents that are associated with this site. You can download the reading plan from the link below.

RMM Bible Reading plan

Go Cardinals!

After yesterday's disappointment resulting from my trusting too much in TuneIn Sports Radio scheduling, I double checked today's schedule. According to TuneIn, and according to Ball State University, there WILL BE a men's basketball game tonight between the Ball State Cardinals and the Bowling Green Falcons with a scheduled start time of 6:00 PM Central Time. And I do intend to tune my radio to a local broadcast and listen in.

And the adventure continues.

We live in a hurricane state. From June through November, we never know if we are actually going to have any storms that approach Tampa. And if we do, we cannot be certain if we will suffer damage from the storms. Being a homeowner in this way sucks because one storm can wipe out both your home and your income while you deal with insurance claims, field phone calls, and have people in and out of your home coming to assess and [potentially] fix the damage.

In 2024, there was Debbie, Helene, and Milton stretching from August to October. The damage I saw across Hillsborough, Pinellas, and Manatee Counties was astounding. What stuck out the most to me was how some roofs and fences were severely damaged, and some were untouched…on the same street!

During that time, many homeowners found out that they had a roof deductible of $10k. So, a roof replacement approval by their insurance meant if the roof cost was $12k, then the insurance would cut the check for $2k; and the homeowner was on the hook for the rest. How many Floridians had $10k ready and available to them at that time? From what I saw, the answer seemed to be not many.

The HOA in my neighborhood, being as friendly and sweet as they want to be, sent the following is an email in July 2025 (emphasis theirs, not mine):

Hello Members,

We hope this message finds you well and you had a wonderful 4th of July holiday.

As you are aware, many homes in Vista Palms sustained roof damage during the hurricanes that impacted our area nine months ago, in October 2024. At that time, temporary blue tarps were placed on several roofs as a protective measure. While this was an understandable and necessary short-term solution, these tarps were never intended to remain in place long-term.

At this point, sufficient time has passed for permanent repairs to be made. The blue tarps have now been in place for an extended period, and their continued presence is not permitted under the community's governing standards. Homes must be properly maintained and repairs must be completed in a reasonable timeframe, especially when they affect the overall appearance and condition of the neighborhood.

If your home is still using a tarp as a roof covering, we kindly ask that you make arrangements for the necessary repairs and ensure that the tarp is fully removed no later than July 31, 2025.

Beginning August 1, 2025, the Association will begin enforcement procedures for homes that continue to have tarps in place. This may include notices of violation and other actions in accordance with the Association’s governing documents.

We appreciate your cooperation in helping preserve the appearance and integrity of our community.

Community Website: www.mygreencondo.net/vistapalms

Roger L Kessler LCAM Property Manager E: Rkessler@UniquePropertyServices.com P: 813-879-1139 ext 106 P: 813-879-1039

This threat effectively gave homeowners less than 30 days from this email to replace their roofs. This is dastardly. Do HOAs think people still had tarps on their roofs as an expression of patriotism...as holiday ornaments...or simply because they forgot? No, it was most likely financial.

This is a working class neighborhood [filled with some people who would live elsewhere if they could, but instead they live here and want to bully people who may be poorer than them so that they can feel better about themselves because they “worked hard” to get where they are]. Life in the Tampa Bay area is expensive (to me, it rivals New York). The economy is terrible [no matter how much you try to deny other people’s reality]. And it wasn’t always like this. I know this because I live and fraternize amongst the people. I don’t live in a bubble where I pretend that just because things are one way for me, they should be like that for others.

But the HOA doesn’t care. You are a member in their club in which you pay, but cannot opt out. And then they use your money to inflict harm upon you. Reasonable is one of the legal words that means nothing and is typically used against the people. What is reasonable when you don’t have the money?

Our Father Who art in heaven Hallowed be Thy name Thy Kingdom come Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven Give us this day our daily Bread And forgive us our trespasses As we forgive those who trespass against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver us from evil

Amen

Jesus is Lord! Come Lord Jesus!

Come Lord Jesus! Christ is Lord!

Lately, with the gradual release and mounting awareness around the Epstein files, it seems like a great deal of the evils of our era are deeply connected enough that even just airing the laundry of a single person shows that they were implicated with pretty much everything, from the frequent elite parties featuring child rape, to the figures of recent rampant political violence, to the 2008 financial crisis, down even to things like Windows RT, Activision microtransactions specifically designed to target children, and JK Rowling and Elon Musk, and so on and so forth, in an almost interminable list.

It might seem at first like Jeffrey Epstein is at the root of all modern evil, but really the people surrounding him weren't much better, and the overt focus on him and his deeds has more to do with how specifically it's him that the court case that is revealing confidential state files is about. He stood out from his crowd by little, maybe by being the guy who regularly hosted parties for all his friends, and who knows, maybe not even that.

Which, in turn, paints the more horrific picture of the elite being more or less all like that, people with horrifying and taboo crimes to each of their names, taking part in lives of depravity and exploitation, possibly even justifying terms like the “secret pedophile cabal” of conspiracy theorists.

Such a situation beggars belief and basically pleads for denial. How could it be possible that they're all like that? How could this mass depravity even exist for so long without anyone speaking up? How can these people even coexist alongside the rest of the world? Are they actually even human to do such atrocities on the regular? One might understand the temptation to bring alien influences or even infiltration into the picture, since it's the easy way out of the moral puzzle, much like looking at Nazi Germany and thinking that it Shall Never Happen Here because the Germans were stupid and evil and we are not. It's very likely that the reality is far more insidious and grounded; that as Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn posed, the line separating good and evil runs instead through every human heart.

---

I've mentioned before how people can effectively lose themselves when in pursuit of goals that are lesser than what their intellect and power could aim for. The fundamental thrust behind this phenomenon is that Nature abhors a vacuum. Or more specifically, Nature is very eager to put resources to use, to vitalize, to motivate and to breathe life and movement into matter. If we abandon a city, Nature will reclaim it with other lifeforms. A piece of food, when not eaten by bigger beings, is eaten by smaller beings, such as insects, or even bacteria, yeasts, molds, and the like. When a capacity or some power sits unused with us for a long time, it remains eager to act (for that is what power does, it can act powerfully).

We humans are especially sensitive instruments, extremely impressionable in young age but continuing to operate in non-instinctual, learned way throughout our life. We are substantially different from animals in that regard, in kind of the same way a simple integrated circuit differs from a general-purpose computer: while made of much of the same basic components, one has a stricter mode of operation and can only respond to the environment in simple, predefined ways, while the computer is programmable and has the capacity to change its modes of behaviours after being assembled.

While the difference between humans and animals isn't so black-and-white, this is still an axis that sets us as notable outliers. Compared to animals or other lifeforms on Earth, we are substantially more programmable. We can learn things at a much faster rate in much greater capacity, which enables us to adapt our behaviours to astonishing degrees, like finding out ways to inhabit much of every corner of the planet, and taking the distributed system that shifts our base behaviours after our birth in countless directions for a given (that is, the varied system of human culture).

We inhabit a sensitive apparatus, capable of taking the faintest stirrings of intent, of meaning, of spirit, and converting them to understanding, to action, to product. Great poems, great paintings, great inventions, great acts of love, all based on our ability to be very, very receptive. And like all sensitive, sophisticated instruments, we are more delicate and more prone to break. It is more difficult for an animal to forget themselves (though not impossible), and the more primitive it is the more difficult it is. In part, this is because earlier life-forms have more crystallized behaviour that they have held on to for longer, but also they have much simpler, smaller aims, since they are less intelligent.

(As an aside, intelligence here is meant as the ability to discriminate, and the main consequence of a greater intelligence is a sharper awareness of the world, and especially of how things are different from how they could be. The foundation of life is directed, intentional movement, from somewhere/something towards somewhere/something else, and a greater intelligence offers a greater ability to recognize how this intention could be put to action, a greater capacity to problem-solve. Even keeping the same goals in mind (eg. personal well-being), it presents more options as to how it could be accomplished, more avenues to pursue, more things to track. It recognizes more sub-problems, and thus realizes a greater distance between the present state and the idealized state, generating a greater, more diversified push to action. A greater ability to problem-solve means a greater awareness of problems. Not to mention, the technical term for the impellence to act is stress, so more intelligence, more stress.)

We are eg. at great risk of being traumatized specifically because we are very, very good at adapting to circumstances after birth through our ability to effectively program ourselves, and be programmed by our circumstances. So if we are so supremely receptive to intention, if we are so capable of putting our efforts towards any direction, what happens if we don't put our resources to work, if we don't put our power to use towards our goals? The answer is, something else will. Terence McKenna put it as, “If you don't have a plan, you're part of somebody else's plan.” Same as the food on the kitchen table that will be eaten by something else, nature is eager to put resources back into the cycle. And if we don't muster our forces in the direction of our greater aims, then something lesser will make use of them instead.

In alchemy, this lesser is termed parasite. It is the part that takes on the power of the whole, but still following the part's aims – and we have countless cautionary tales about taking on power that isn't commeasured to you and that isn't yours (including the comical like say, Bruce Almighty).

An ecosystem is a sensitive and harmonious orchestration of very different beings, operating at very different scales, from tiny protozoa to mighty trees, each with their function and niche, and when one of these grows beyond its confines, it causes upset and disharmony. It is the times of plagues, of crsis, of mass die-offs or even extintions.

A human, likewise, is a complex ecosystem, both physically and spiritually. We are made of many cells plus several times more other unicellular organisms within us. Inside us live many needs, many impulses, many desires, many intents, at many different levels, and in a healthy human being they are carefully organized and orchestrated to allow the pursuit of greater aims while still keeping all levels appeased and in working order.

A great number of people don't manage to put their resources to full use (being repressed, or having given up, or whatever else) and they are akin to someone who regularly leaves crumbs and sugar on the kitchen floor as they work; done regularly enough, that can result in an ant infestation, which has to be continuously managed as to prevent things getting any worse in the kitchen. In the same way, many many people are in an active war with themselves and within themselves, because of overreaching parasites acting on resources that are not put to greater use.

Still, the situation can get worse from here. For example, the ants can completely overcome any efforts to repel them and eventually drive the occupants out, eat everything in the kitchen, and then leave for other food sources. This is the parallel of acute infestations/illnesses that result in death.

But in our scenario, there is a third, and possibly even worse outcome (it strains the metaphor but bear with me): in the unlikely case that the ants somehow figured out how to compel you to do things, they could compel you to spill more food and give them more to eat, while at the same time punishing you for trying to deal with them, allowing them to grow stronger and more plentiful. Pushed in such a way, you would end up buying more groceries just to throw on the floor for the ants to eat, as they take over the house with you as their enabler and servitor.

While this is unlikely to happen from an ant colony, the systems to do so multiply in availability and power once inside the physical body of the person in question. We are already vitally dependent on the chemical output of several strains of bacteria within us (including for several neurotrasmitters such as GABA, serotonin and dopamine!), and they have a direct feed to our bloodstream and from that to our whole system, including the brain. It is very easy for eg. an altered gut microbiome to upset our nutrient and neurotransmitter balances, which would turn us into quite different persons. If a fungus can manage to make an ant climb to the top of a grass stalk and die there, you can only imagine how much worse it can get for humans, which have so many more levers to be pulled than an ant does.

And worse it gets, indeed. It can get bad enough that a person's goals get entirely subsumed by that of the parasite, under chemical direction, under threat of internal retaliation, under fear of illness and great internal upset. Note here that the parasite is not necessarily a physical organism – the same can happen with eg. sufficiently violent ideas or ideologies, that capture people with both the allure of presenting a neat vision of the world that slots people in place, and the threat of punishment for deviation (including shame, guilt, feelings of being adrift, or even physical violence, and consequent trauma). Again, we are very sensitive beings that are receptive to a great variety of signals and stimuli.

And what happens when someone gets completely enslaved by the parasite? That is the emergence of devils and vampires. It is the condition under which horrible mass-scale murder is rationalized as historical necessity, careless and cruel exploitation of people and resources waved away with dismissal and disinterest, when child rape and ritual sacrifice are things that people do for fun or because that's what it takes to keep the system standing. When someone is entirely captured by the lesser idea, the lesser being, the lesser goal, then everything they do is in service to that, in disregard of any higher goal, of any moral quandary, of any of our gentler voices or inclinations. To people's eyes, they become agents of ontological evil, bringing ruin and destruction to all of the things that we labor so much to uphold, much like a plague would sweep through a city and leave corpses in its wake. This is what Hell on Earth means. And when this happens to people with power, such as political, economical, or social power, or with greater intelligence, they have that much more ability to wreak havoc.

This is the reason, for example, of the utility of a culture of pursuit of excellence among the elite (as in, the people possessing the greatest power of some kind in a system), since it is entirely crucial that those with explicit power over others don't fall to lesser aims. That whatever they do, that they shall do so with their whole being, lest they fall into stagnation, and from that stagnation a swamp develops, and from that swamp a plague oubreak moves outwards.

For another, this is the reason why aggressive civilizations implode after reaching their dreams of conquest – after getting everything they wanted, they reach the position where they have simultaneously the most power and the least goals left to achieve, which is as we've seen a disastrous combination. At this point, the society at large (generally starting with the elites) often turns parasitic in pursuit of smaller goals such as accumulation of personal power and hedonistic self-interest, and in short order leads society to decay, ruin and collapse.

Nowadays people with privileged positions of power are both those with the potential to cause the most harm, and also those with the least amount of guardrails/reality checks available to them to steer their course. Someone robbing a deli for a thousand bucks gets summarily arrested and imprisoned; a megacorporation evading billions of dollars in taxes every year is the most rote, commonplace occurrence of our modern political landscape.

Once again in history, we've been faced with one of the most dangerous situations of any time – the culmination of our dreams, having all the power but with nothing left to do. Once upon a time, we had at least technological advancement to galvanize the hearts and dreams of the civilized nations, but even that quietly took on a downward slope since the Moon Landing and has nowadays become mostly an arms race for exploitative value extraction.

In this kind of situation, it can be no surprise that the elite everywhere only got more and more passive, corrupt, and diabolic. They had only the pursuit of keeping themselves in power left to achieve, and they accomplished that very successfully, both by removing any obstacle to their continued individual supremacy (tax cuts for the rich, demolishing of antitrust, extensive bribing of the political process, worldwide protection of their own assets via IP and copyright, weapons of mass distraction, the list goes on and on) and by establishing an ironclad pact of mutual trust and support via essentially a system of Mutually Assured Destruction: through periodic collective participation in unspeakable acts, such as child rape, ritual sacrifice, and the likes, everyone at the top was basically collecting blackmail material on everyone else, almost guaranteeing that everyone at those parties would stay mum and keep each other out of trouble if they didn't want to be asked why they in turn were also at the Devil's Sacrament. When one would fall, everyone else also would, as we are witnessing with Jeffrey Epstein.

(thanks to Emily for the

近所の図書館に行ったら、家よりずっと暖かかった。

家でじっとしているより、図書館にいた方が良いなと思ってしまって、でも、そんな理由だけで居つくのもどうなんだろうと考えた。

まずは「どうやって本を好きになるか」だ。 ちゃんと図書館と向き合おうと思った。 本を好きにならないと、図書館には性格上いれない気がした。

とはいえ、まだ本が好きと言えるほどではない。 だから、本好きの人たちの視線に入るのは気が引けて、人がいない棚を探した。

人がいない棚の番号は12番だった。 その棚には本がごっそりなくて、「本は17番に移動になりました」とだけ書いてあった。

移動したんだなと思ったら、そこに一冊だけ残っていた。 一冊運び忘れてるじゃんと思ってそれを手に取ると、それは『天空の城ラピュタ』の絵本だった。

ラピュタの物語が絵本の絵柄で描かれているのかと思ったら、映画のワンシーンを一つずつ切り取ってページに貼り、そこに文章を添えたものだった。

子どもに読ませたいにしても、アニメのシーンを貼って本にするというのは、いったい誰に何を感じてほしいと思って作られたのだろう。 宮崎駿はこの本を知っているのか？

今日は本を好きになれなかったので、図書館を出ることにした。 何もしていない時はちょうど良い温度だったのに、本を読み始めると頭が熱くなって、この図書館は読書には少し暑いことが分かった。

全然、本を読む人のための温度じゃないじゃないかと思った。 受付を見ると、50代くらいの女性がブランケットをかけて、何もせずぼーっと座っていた。

きっと、あの人のための温度なのだろう。 この図書館はあの人の城に違いない。 隣にある、本を返却した後のキャスター付の棚が、西洋のアフタヌーンティーに使われる3段のスタンドにも見えてきた。

家に帰ると、自分の家が寒いことが少しだけ好きになっていた。

JOURNAL 3 février 2026

Ouf

Je suis dans ma chambre. 4 lits, mais je suis seule, on dirait que c’est réservé aux gradées, les filles sont en chambres de 8. On mange bien mais pas d’alcool. Il y a un bar qui ouvre à 20h. J’irai me taper une bière tout à l’heure j’en ai bien besoin.

Il y avait un minibus militaire à la gare pour moi toute seule. Une fille en uniforme sympa plus jeune que moi. On a bavardé, c’est comme ça j’ai su que j’étais invitée au centre de sélection n1 interarme, 20 minutes en dehors de la ville. J’arrive, je suis attendue par un mec, un capitaine j’ai appris après. Naturellement je commence à râler tout ce que j’ai à râler. Il écoute impassible derrière son bureau. Quand j’ai fini, il me sort : — Vous méritez votre réputation madame… — Qu’est-ce-que vous en savez de ma réputation ? Silence. Petit sourire. — Je peux vous appeler Kill bill si vous préférez. Là j’avoue il me scotche, un peu plus et je tombe de ma chaise. Et il commence mon pedigree : — Dans la nuit du tant au tant vous avez mis seule et sans arme hors de combat pour un moment un membre de la sécurité de l’ambassade US, ça a attiré leur attention, la nôtre aussi. Vous avez refusé d’entrer à leur service, ce que nous apprécions car bien que nos alliés il s’agit d’une puissance étrangère. Évidemment nous sommes allés plus loin. À 10 ans vice-championne du Japon, le champion en avait 13 (j’ignorais totalement, mon frère ne m’avait pas dit) Bons résultats scolaires. Une zone d’ombre de 15 à 18 ans d’où il ressort que vous avez un sens de la survie et une résistance physique exceptionnelle si l’on en juge avec les rapports de police et médicaux. À Nara vous vous faites remarquer dans une bagarre avec un photographe et une rixe avec deux Américains, encore, dont vous sortez vainqueure sur toute la ligne. Vous entrez dans une école de kenjutsu pourtant très fermée d’où vous sortez maître d’armes et récemment membre du directoire, chose unique pour une femme jeune de surcroît. Séjour en France. Vous en revenez accompagnant une jeune personne de grands talents qui les a mis au service du Japon ce dont nous lui sommes justement reconnaissants. Diplôme supérieur de français, de plus vous parlez couramment l’anglais. Vous êtes à présent enseignante de kenjutsu. Toutes ces qualités nous intéressent, et vous valent d’être ici après rescrit impérial c’est un honneur, vous vous en rendez compte, vous êtes d’une vieille famille. Je vous prie de collaborer aux évaluations que nous nous proposons de faire, vous comprendrez que c’est dans votre intérêt et celui de votre compagne …… — vous me surveillez ? — vous êtes brillante, vous vivez avec une personne brillante ce qui brille attire le regard c’est tout …… La suite je la raconterai plus tard.

PS A est allée chercher son certificat de résidente permanente, on lui a dit que c’était allé exceptionnellement vite. Bref elle ne risque plus d’expulsion. bref elle ne risque plus d’expulsion

---

J’ai trouvé le bar, il y a surtout des filles j’ai oublié dire que c’est un centre réservé au personnel féminin. C’est sympa ça rigole, je suis la seule en civil ça attire l'attention ☺️ Surtout que j'ai mis mon vieux sweat jaune poussin sur ma chemise bleue pâle.

Det börjar med ljudet av vågor som möter en långsträckt sandremsa, så ljus att den nästan glittrar i solen. Stranden ligger skyddad, som i en bukt där vattnet rullar in i långsamma rörelser, knappt störda av vind. Här är havet kristallklart, en plats där sikten under ytan sträcker sig långt och fiskar syns tydligt mot den ljusa bottnen. Känslan är nästan overklig – som att vandra in i ett vykort.

Fig Tree Bay på Cyperns sydöstra kust har länge lockat resenärer som söker stillhet, men också enkel tillgång till bekvämligheter. Det lilla centrumet i närheten är präglat av ett lugnt semesterliv där strandpromenader, caféer och små butiker samsas i ett område som är lätt att ta sig runt till fots. Trots sin popularitet har platsen lyckats bevara en balanserad rytm där inget känns överdrivet eller påträngande. Här rör man sig långsamt, kanske med en kall dryck i handen eller en handduk över axeln efter ännu ett dopp i det ljumma vattnet.

Namnet kommer från ett ensamt fikonträd som en gång växte här, en levande detalj i ett annars kargt landskap som i dag är välordnat men fortfarande bär spår av sin enkla historia. I horisonten syns ibland små båtar som guppar lätt och längre ut ligger den lilla ön strax utanför stranden – ett populärt mål för dem som vill snorkla eller bara simma ut för att vila på klipporna och se tillbaka mot kusten.

Under högsäsong sjuder det av liv, men ljudnivån stiger aldrig över det behagliga. Det är en plats där barnfamiljer, äldre par och yngre resenärer alla verkar hitta sin egen rytm. Vattensporter finns för den som söker aktivitet, men lika många väljer att bara ligga stilla och följa molnens rörelser. Kanske lockar det att ta en paus i skuggan under ett parasoll, eller att stanna kvar till skymningen när stranden töms och ljuset blir mjukare.

I närheten finns möjligheten att göra korta utflykter, bland annat till det mer livliga Protaras eller till nationalparken Kap Greco där landskapet förändras och havet slår hårdare mot klipporna. Men det är inte ovanligt att man återvänder, nästan av vana, till samma plats på stranden. Något med enkelheten, renheten och den lilla skalan gör att många väljer att återkomma år efter år.

Matkulturen i området kring stranden har formats av både tradition och turism, men grunden vilar fortfarande på det cypriotiska kökets enkla och smakrika rötter. Flera tavernor och små restauranger ligger inom gångavstånd, ofta med uteserveringar där borden står tätt och samtalen blandas med doften av grillat kött, färska örter och havets sälta. Det är inte ovanligt att en måltid börjar med en tallrik meze – en rad små rätter där oliver, hummus, halloumi och fyllda vinblad får sällskap av grillade grönsaker, skaldjur och lamm i olika former. Smakerna är milda men distinkta, och ofta är det enkelheten i tillagningen som bär upp helheten.

Färsk fisk är lätt att hitta, fångad samma dag och serverad med citron och lite olivolja. I de små bagerierna säljs söta bakverk, ofta med honung och nötter, som passar efter en lång dag i solen. På vissa ställen erbjuds också rätter med influenser från Mellanöstern och Grekland – ett naturligt arv från Cyperns geografiska och historiska läge mellan kontinenterna. Det finns även modernare restauranger, ibland med internationell meny, men de lokala alternativen tenderar att dra till sig både invånare och besökare som söker något äkta och jordnära.

Under lågsäsong förändras tempot. Stranden töms på turister och ett lugn lägger sig över området. Många av verksamheterna anpassar sina öppettider, men det finns fortfarande platser där man kan slå sig ner, lyssna på havet och få en kopp starkt kaffe. Vädret är ofta milt långt in på hösten och åter tidigt på våren, vilket gör platsen idealisk även utanför sommarmånaderna. Då blir det lättare att få kontakt med lokalbefolkningen, vars vardag under högsäsong ofta sker i bakgrunden av semesterlivet.

Det finns också något i hur ljuset faller över havet dessa svalare månader – mindre skarpt, mer blått, med längre skuggor. Det förstärker känslan av att platsen har flera lager. Det är inte bara en vacker strand, utan också en plats där tiden kan sakta in på riktigt.

Längs den östra delen av Cypern vilar ett landskap som burit på mänsklig närvaro i tusentals år, och även om det i dag är semesterlivet som dominerar kuststräckan, finns spår av äldre tider bara några steg bort från strandlinjen. Området kring bukten har genom historien legat nära viktiga handelsvägar, och rester av bosättningar från antiken har påträffats i regionen. Den närliggande staden Paralimni och byarna inåt landet bär fortfarande drag av ett äldre, jordnära liv där jordbruk och fiske länge utgjorde grunden för människors försörjning.

Naturen här är lågmäld men påtaglig. Det torra inlandet bryts av olivlundar, låga buskar och fält som under våren exploderar i blommor. Den kustnära vegetationen är tålig och anpassad till hetta och torka. Många av växterna har medicinska eller kulinariska användningsområden och utgör en del av den traditionella kunskapen som lever kvar bland de äldre generationerna. Det ensamma fikonträdet som gav stranden dess namn är inte längre det enda i området, men symboliken lever kvar – det representerar något rotat, något som stått emot förändring.

Söder om stranden reser sig klipporna kring Kap Greco, där landskapet blir vildare. Här möter man kalkstensformationer som formats av havet under årtusenden, grottor som kan utforskas både från land och vatten, och stigar som leder genom låg växtlighet till utsiktsplatser där man ser hela kusten breda ut sig. Det är ett område som skyddas som nationalpark, och som erbjuder en annan sorts stillhet – en mer orörd, nästan rå sådan. Många väljer att vandra här i gryning eller skymning, när solen färgar stenarna i gult och rött.

I’m a bit worried about living alone in that big house by myself for a while. It’s not different than right now, but the fact that it’s just so big and empty is a bit lonely. It’s such a huge priviledge but I’m also a little bit scared if I’m being honest.

A long history

After having spent more than a decade using and building my career around free and open source software, I feel compelled to reflect on the choices I made, the lessons I learned, and the knowledge I gained along the way. Reflection doesn’t necessarily imply regret. Rather, time has a way of revealing trade-offs that enthusiasm and passion tend to gloss over.

I don’t clearly remember how I was first introduced to free software, but I do remember why it appealed to me. Growing up in a developing country, access to required software was either prohibitively expensive or casually copied from one user to another—how the prior user obtained it, or whether the copy was even usable, was often left to the imagination. Free software offered something rare: access without compromise. It provided a full-fledged, working version (assuming you could make it work) and access without guilt. The license explicitly permitted free and fair use. I could learn, experiment, and build without the lingering anxiety of a pop-up accusing me of using software without permission.

The cost, of course, was time.

I still remember the first time I decided to install Linux on a newly acquired desktop. Legacy shared interrupt conflicts—between the sound card and another device—prevented the kernel from booting. This was evident from the loud, noisy kernel boot log, something anyone coming from Windows would have found alien. The problem disappeared if I disabled sound in the BIOS. Discovering that workaround, however, took days of debugging. Yet the initial feeling of helplessness gradually gave way to something else: empowerment. With free software, there was usually a way forward, even if it wasn’t obvious at first.

Nerd

Through school and early academic work, I often felt like the odd one out. I gravitated toward kernel internals, memory management, and free software, while most of my peers focused on object-oriented design, design patterns, or computer vision. This gap was exacerbated by the lack of mentors in these areas—until graduate school, there were few experts I could turn to for guidance. Peers, and sometimes even advisors, weren’t quite sure what to do with those interests, and there was always a subtle nudge to “wake up” and align with more mainstream stacks and career paths.

I ignored most of it. My peers laughed.

By the time I reached graduate school, my interest was no longer limited to code and usability. The free software movement, the open source model, and the philosophy surrounding them had become equally compelling. I understood that just because free software benefits society does not mean it can sustain a business. That is where the open source business model steps in. History has shown that companies can build profitable models around open source, but they cannot survive by selling freedom alone. This distinction would later prove far more important than I initially imagined.

I made compromises where they aligned with my broader goals—working at product companies that developed Linux drivers, taking internship opportunities adjacent to my interests because they offered access to teams I aspired to join, and so on. I was determined not to lose focus. Systems-level work, upstream communities, patches and reviews, and environments that valued technical clarity over hierarchy remained my priorities.

The view from the inside

For like-minded people, open source work can be intoxicating. It feels expansive. It allows collaboration beyond immediate teams, contributions to projects an employer may not own, and the opportunity to build an identity tied to patches, reviews, and technical discussions rather than titles. The reward is recognition and a deep sense of participation.

Open source communities are also naturally inclusive. Academia fits easily into this model, as do independent contributors and paid engineers from industry. I leaned into this fully. Some of the most rewarding work I have done lived at the intersection of industry and academic research—projects that were technically meaningful even if they never became products.

The open source company

An open-source-centric company may appear exotic from the outside, but internally it faces the same pressures as any other business. Revenue matters. Survival matters. While the mission may be broader and amplified through branding, it is rarely the highest-priority concern for the business itself.

This creates a quiet tension.

Open source makes intellectual success more accessible. It is not bound by a single company, region, or domain. It allows engineers to build reputation, influence direction, and operate at a level of technical depth that many proprietary environments do not. Career progression, however, follows a different logic. Achievement is tied less to what one enables for the ecosystem and more to how directly one’s work maps to customer acquisition, retention, or revenue protection.

That mapping is often indirect. An engineer may work on or maintain a critical subsystem used widely across the industry, yet find that its impact is diffuse rather than attributable. In organizations whose primary business is support, subscriptions, or services layered on top of shared infrastructure, this makes it difficult to translate community contributions and leadership into internal leverage. This is not universal, and it may not apply to everyone. It is also not malicious. It is structural. Evaluation systems are designed around business outcomes, not communal value creation. Over time, priorities drift—not because people stop caring about open source, but because incentives quietly reshape what is rewarded.

The big trade-off

This is the hardest realization I have come to.

In most technology companies, engineers are treated as high-leverage assets: they own proprietary systems, accumulate tacit knowledge, and maintain code that directly anchors revenue. In many open-source-centric business models, this relationship does not hold in the same way—not because an engineer’s work is less important, but because ownership and scarcity are distributed by design.

Open source excels at eliminating single points of failure. Knowledge becomes visible. Expertise becomes shared. This produces enormous societal benefit, but it also means that individual contributors are rarely irreplaceable in the economic sense. As a result, revenue per engineer often tends to be lower than in proprietary or product-centric companies—not because revenue does not exist, but because it is only weakly coupled to marginal technical excellence. This can affect compensation, recognition, and even self-perception. It is difficult to acknowledge, even implicitly, that work benefiting millions does not clearly move the business needle.

This is not a post proposing solutions. The outcome is largely by design. It is not a failure of leadership or ethics, but the natural consequence of a model optimized for collective resilience rather than individual leverage.

Choice

None of this diminishes the value of open source. It remains one of the most effective mechanisms we have for learning, collaboration, and durable technical progress. It is an unmatched tool for intellectual growth and professional credibility.

But it is not a neutral career choice.

Open source amplifies opportunity, not ownership. Engineers who prioritize learning, autonomy, and community impact have much to gain from it. For those optimizing for financial upside, indispensability, or tightly coupled value creation, it may fall short unless paired with proprietary leverage—products, platforms, or distribution.

I do not view my own path as a mistake, but as a trade-off I accepted without fully understanding its long-term implications. Understanding that trade-off does not make open source less meaningful. It makes participation a conscious choice rather than an assumed good.

That, at least, is the model I wish I had understood earlier in my career.

Further reading:

– Y. Benkler, The Wealth of Networks

– E. S. Raymond, The Cathedral and the Bazaar

– S. Wardley, Wardley Mapping

– N. Ravikant, essays and talks on leverage and ownership

– Linux Foundation, Open Source Sustainability Reports

Een jaar na de brand kreeg ik paniekaanvallen.

Door verschillende therapeuten is geconcludeerd dat het geen directe reactie op de brand was. Maar gewoon stress.

Je kent het wel.

• Geen huis meer hebben-problemen
• Iedereen heeft een mening over mijn opgestelde zakelijke brief-problemen
• Ik heb geen auto-problemen
• Krijg ik wel een hypotheek voor een nieuwe woning?-problemen
• Waar is die lekkere wintertrui eigenlijk heen? Oh ja, in as vergaan-problemen
• Waarom werkt niemand me in en waarom durf ik niet aan de bel te trekken hierover?-problemen
• Ik ga gewoon twee dagen feesten na vijf dagen keihard werken-problemen

De paniekaanvallen verdwenen vanzelf weer. En kwamen toen uit het niets weer terug, een jaar later.

Ditmaal kreeg ik er een bonus bij.

Ik begon bang te worden voor een volgende paniekaanval.

Het irritantste aan bang zijn voor paniek, is dat het je hele leven overneemt.

Collega’s vragen je mee om een biertje te doen na werk op het terras, in de zon. Het enige wat je denkt, is: ‘Daar zijn mensen. Daar is het druk. Dan is er alcohol in het spel. Sigarettenrook. Dan krijg ik een paniekaanval, omringd met al die vreemde mensen. Dat is sterven zonder dat je hart ermee stopt.’

Of vrienden die voorstellen om een weekendje ergens in de Ardennen door te brengen en het enige wat je denkt is: ‘Vier dagen ver weg van een veilige plek, genaamd mijn huis.’

Wat er gebeurt, is dat je je leven gaat aanpassen. Je gaat alcohol vermijden. Koffie. Peuken. Al die substanties die iets kunnen triggeren.

Vervolgens ga je niet meer met de trein, stap je geen lift meer in en ga je liever bij iemand thuis eten dan in een restaurant.

De volgende stap is dat je ook je vrienden gaat negeren en vakanties afzegt.

Je wereld wordt kleiner en kleiner. Hoe meer je je isoleert, hoe heftiger het wordt om eruit te breken.

Dat proces was gaande, maar ik weigerde dit volledig uit te voeren.

Ik was namelijk banger voor de zelfisolatie dan voor de wereld vol gevaar. Want in isolatie zou ik oplossen tot er niets meer van me over is. Dan kon je beter alvast een gat graven en mijn kist in elkaar timmeren. Dus ik ging wél altijd de deur uit en zegde geen afspraken af.
(Terwijl ik zo bang was.)

==

Wat therapie je leert, is dat je je niet moet laten leiden door angst.

Gevoelens kan je niet sturen. Gedrag wel.

• Bang voor de trein? Ga vaker met de trein.
• Bang voor op een vol terras met onbekenden zitten? Ga vaker op een vol terras met onbekenden zitten.

Leer leven met het ongemak wordt de slogan. Want hoe beter je vertrouwd raakt met het ongemak, hoe sneller de angst afzwakt.

Hoe vaker die angst afzakt, hoe sneller je op een punt komt dat je de angst niet eens meer opmerkt.

Allemaal leuk en aardig, therapeut. En dit werkt ook best wel goed. Tot je weer een motherfucking paniekaanval in een restaurant krijgt en de angst weer VOL aanwezig is. Je hebt gewoon weer zes stappen teruggezet in je herstel.

Weet je wat nog vermoeiender is dan de angst voor de angst?

Denken dat je de angst voor de angst hebt overwonnen en dat die dan weer in alle heftigheid terugkeert.

WAAAAAAAAAAANZIN.

==

Ik was de man van de festivals. Een zomer niet gefestivald, is een zomer niet beleefd.

Maar die paniekstoornis heeft me vele zomers thuisgehouden.

Ik was er klaar mee. Met de zomers laten verpesten door angst.

Down the rabbit hole.

Here I come.

Ticket geboekt. Tent geregeld.

En toen kwam de angst weer.

Uiteraard.

Vier dagen lang omringd met muziek, alcohol, mensen. Ik kan alcohol vermijden. Maar dan slaap ik slechter door al dat geschreeuw van dronken mensen. En als ik slechter slaap, voel ik me de volgende dag angstiger en dat kan weer een paniekaanval opwekken. En als ik een paniekaanval heb, dan kan je beter een bulldozer bestellen en me naar huis duwen. Niet alleen dat. Dan liet ik mijn beste vriend daar achter. Ik wilde het met hem leuk hebben. Ik wilde geen last zijn voor hem.

WAAAAAAAAAAANZIN.

Mijn therapeut zei: ‘Een groot deel van je angst komt door het idee dat anderen je zien als je een paniekaanval hebt.’

Dat klopt.

Ook al heb ik elke keer gemerkt dat niemand het in de gaten had dat ik vanbinnen aan het sterven was.

• Of ik kan het goed maskeren.
• Of iedereen is met zichzelf bezig.

Maar toch blijft die gedachte overheersen. Dat anderen het zien.

‘Wat let je om het niet gewoon te zeggen tegen mensen dat je je even niet fijn voelt?’ vroeg hij.

Euh. Heb je even, therapeut?

Laten we beginnen met het woord KWETSBAARHEID. En dan hebben we nog het woord ZWAKTE. En heb ik al gezegd dat ik mezelf niet eens begrijp als ik een paniekaanval heb? Laat staan hoe anderen me dan zien? Nou ja. Dat snap ik wel. Dan zien ze me als een DEBIEL.

Maar oké, oké. Hij had een punt.

Veel paniekaanvallen die ik in mijn leven in stilte heb gehad, waren omdat ik mijn gespannenheid die ik ervaarde niet durfde te delen.

Ik ging me verzetten tegen wat ik voelde. Maar hoe meer ik me verzette, hoe heftiger de aanval werd.

Gevoelens kan je niet sturen. Gedrag wel.

‘Je haalt de angel eruit als je het deelt’, zei de therapeut.

Ja, ja, ja. Je hebt gelijk. Maar ik heb ook gelijk.

Kwetsbaarheid.
Zwakte.
Debiel.

‘Wat let je om je zorgen over jezelf gewoon uit te spreken tegen die vriend?’ vroeg hij.

Euh. Huh?

‘Dat je gewoon zegt: “Hé. Ik heb er heel erg zin in. Maar ik voel me ook gespannen. Het kan gebeuren dat ik een paniekaanval voel opkomen tijdens het festival. Vind je het dan erg dat ik dat tegen je zeg?”’

Nou euh.

Kwetsbaarheid.
Zwakte.
Debiel gedrag.

‘Waar ben je bang voor, Tomson?’ vroeg hij.

Kwetsbaarheid.
Zwakte.
Debiel gedrag.

‘Wat kan er gebeuren als je dit zegt?’ vroeg hij.

‘Euh. Nou. Dat hij zegt: “Stel je niet aan.”’

‘Als iemand zo tegen je doet, wil je zo’n persoon wel als vriend hebben?’ vroeg hij.

‘Nee.’

‘Wat is de kans dat hij dit als antwoord geeft?’ vroeg hij.

‘Nihil.’

‘Dus wat let je om het te delen?’ vroeg hij.

Verdomme.

Hij had gelijk.

Ik de volgende avond mijn vriend opgebeld.

Verstompt gevoel in mijn maag. Klamme handjes. Zoveel angst om zoiets kwetsbaars te delen.

Ik heb nog nooit, behalve tegen de therapeut, gezegd dat ik ergens tegenop zag en bang ben voor mijn eigen lijf. Dat ik oplos in mijn eigen angst en daar nooit meer van zal herstellen. Laat staan dat ik toestemming vraag aan iemand om mijn toekomstig ongemak en plein public te delen.

Ik lijd. Ik lijd alleen. Dat is niemands probleem. Alleen dat van mij.

Nu maakte ik mensen deelgenoot van mijn lijden.

DURF IK DAT?

Ja, dat durf ik.

Ik zei dus: ‘Het kan dat ik me heel gespannen voel daar op het festivalterrein en ik een paniekaanval voel opkomen.’ Ik vroeg: ‘Vind je het erg als ik dat tegen je zeg op dat moment?’

‘Nee. Tuurlijk niet’, was zijn antwoord. ‘Zeg het gewoon.’

Opluchting.

Eind goed al goed?

NATUURLIJK NIET.

Want waarom zou iets gemakkelijk gaan in het leven?

Ooooh man.

Ik ga het niet mooier maken dan het is.

Het ging niet goed met mij op dat festival.

Het was wel dertig graden. Nergens schaduw en het was zo stijf uitverkocht dat je nergens even op adem kon komen zonder gek te worden van mensen die bewogen, mensen die schreeuwden, overal kabaal, overal herrie. Overal sigarettenrook. Lucht van bier. Zweet.

Kortom, een festival.

Het was zwaar voor mijn lijf en geest.

Ik heb een paar paniekaanvallen weggepuft. Ik heb een paar keer bekend: ‘Voel me slecht, man.’

Maar na een nacht in mijn tent, waar ik van de kou lag te ijlen, zei ik de volgende dag: ‘Ik peer ’m vandaag naar huis. IK KAN NIET MEER.’

Wat een nederlaag.

I know.

Een nederlaag.

Zo voelde het echt.

Maar toch is dit niet wat ik heb meegenomen van deze ervaring.

Dat was dat ik me voor het eerst in mijn leven KWETSBAAR heb opgesteld en merkte hoeveel ontspanning het me gaf. Door gewoon te zeggen: ‘Ik ga me kut voelen en mag ik dat tegen je zeggen?’

Dat was een opluchting.

En ik heb het daarna nog vele malen opgebiecht aan de mensen om me heen.

Het hielp.

Dus.

Wees kwetsbaar.

Maar er is ook een andere waarheid.

Ik heb sindsdien geen festival meer bezocht.

Hoewel de angst voor de paniek is verdwenen, is mijn lijf niet hersteld in prikkelverwerking.

Op een festival komt er gewoon te veel samen.

Ik trek het helaas niet meer.

Ik denk dat dat ook een vorm van volwassen worden is. Eerlijk naar jezelf zijn dat de feestende tomson niet meer bestaat. Daar gaat geen exposuretherapie me in helpen om die versie weer tot leven te wekken. De zomers met modder en bier en goede muziek zijn voorbij.

Wat rest zijn de herinneringen.

De eerste jaren kon ik geen festivalregistratie op YouTube of tv zien. Dat deed nog te veel pijn.

Met mijn hand op het computerscherm ‘waaaaaaah’ roepen.

Maar nu, meer dan tien jaar later, is ook dat gevoel verdwenen.

Ik kijk graag naar concertregistraties en lees graag festivalrecensies zonder dat mijn buik gekkig voelt dat ik daar had willen zijn.

We laten altijd iets achter in het verleden wat niet meer terugkomt.

Ik heb gerouwd. Ik heb het verwerkt.