C'est dans la joie

 

Hey, I'd like to thank the creator for giving me this gift, and I'd like to thank you for being reflections of this gift, because sometimes you feel like you're by yourself a little.." - Erica Badu, Yeyo.

This week, spring has come to Amsterdam! at long last! and it allows me to see pockets of life where Amsterdam reveals the warmth and fun behind it. after school finishes, families round the amstel collect around picnic tables, benches I've cycled past unnoticed are filled with every kind of people. the warmth brings out the warmth, and i quite like it.

I was given a ticket to go see the Van Gogh museum. It had been sort of a reward for rebelling against organised group activities.. I really couldn't find the enthusiasm to take part in the easteregg hunt. So i went to the toilet, and when i came back, i was given an egg anyway. fair enough thought i.

I'd had a slight awareness of Van Gogh living in the south, my home was two villages away from his birthplace of Zundert, i didn't work this out until about a year or so into grocery trips. driving past vogh's self portrait on the welcome to zundert sign suddenly had meaning. well, better late than never. In visiting his exhibition in the Hermitage, Amsterdam., there were three things that struck me overall where his ethos was concerned, firstly was his absolute obsessive painting in the moment. to grab every possible feeling of the in that "now". Secondly was his interest in Japanese art and religious attention to nature and its affect.  He wrote letters to his brother marvelling at Japanese way of living with respect to their environment.

 

 

"..isn't it almost a new religion that these Japanese teach us. Who are so simple and live in nature as though they themselves are flowers. And wouldn't we be able to study Japanese art it seems to me without becoming much happier and more cheerful. and it makes us return to nature, despite our education and our work in a world of convention." - Van Gogh's thoughts in a letter to his brother Theo.

I was then very drawn to a second painting, and i really wasn't sure why at first. I preferred some others to it, others had sometimes more intricate brushwork, sometimes colours that i found more touching. but the energy that came off this one painting, brought that buzz to my hands. I have this buzz if i am around crystal stones, or more recently i found it also in spoken word with heart felt intention. Its just funny sometimes if you feel a good energy from something, but you have absolutely no rationale as to why. Reading the side posting, it described Van Gogh's hope in building an artistic community. Can all this good energy come from the mere hope of something? if so, how fantastic would it be. The Yellow House.

La Maison et son entourage, La Rue. courtesy of  http://www.parisprovencevangogh.com

I found some more information about Van Gogh, and gradually about his flatmate, and co-learner in art, Gauguin. Van Gogh wanted to have impact on people. and viewed painting as a constant path of learning to create art, he painted in the "now" but was also eager to learn from his peers. 

So I decided to look a bit further into Van Gogh, it niggles me though if I look at something I've written and it doesn’t really  fulfil what I want it to say. Which means extra enquiry, a little more that what I'd actually intended! Lazy student - moi? Well yes, my history teacher would have you believe something on this line, for some reason we didn’t click. I wasn’t too bad as a student, but a second to top for attainment in history class, and second to bottom for attitude and effort in history class, meant really I shouldn’t have written on that desk, shouldn't have.. ? really? why not write on the desk..?

.So it was a surprise module in university that made history interesting again.   An spirited study session with my one of my flatmates a thought provoking textbook, and fairly substantial measures of Baileys and ice. our new study method and discussion saved us from summer resits.  Our text book made history thought provoking and interesting, it was Landscape and memory by Simon Schama. 

 Simon Schama's suggestion is that the landscape around us is not just the physical, but is layered with connections that we make with it from past memories, emotions and future hopes. Through discussing war, ancient culture, and modernisation, he looks at  how we continually shape and are shaped by the land, our national character defined by what is around us, a deep and ancient connection with our environment.  He suggests,

It is in vain to dream of a wilderness distant from ourselves. There is none such. It is the bog in our brains and bowels, the primitive vigour of nature in us, that inspires that dream.''
 

 And if its really taken down to organic root levels, then it also ties to what  Van Gogh is trying to honour in his painting of the potato eaters, where its suggested that the browns of the earth connect full circle, the eating of what they have cultivated from the earth is now celebrated.  Van Gogh showing the most pure and organic connection with habitat around us was to be celebrated.  In conveying these thoughts, I'm not suggesting that we should throw away the lives that we like living, but just suggesting that we take time to evaluate the life that's built around us. Which parts of our environment do we connect to? which parts connect to us? which parts rejuvenate and inspire? which parts are organic, and which parts are synthetic? which bits are healthy, and which bits are not?

 Schama described that van gogh's mental health problems were both the catalyst and downfall to his art, and it was between those moments where a creative explosion would capture beauty. Van Gogh in his letters described awareness of his increasing bouts of illness. And in those moments of health, would summon confidence and courage to capture moments of nature.

 "If you work with love and intelligence, you develop a kind of armour against people's opinions, just because of the sincerity of your love for nature and art. Nature is also severe and, to put it that way, hard, but never deceives and always helps you to move forward.” - Van Gogh

 In expecting Gauguin to come and stay, he then anticipated a strength of creative force in combining two such different artistic styles. And who knows in the end which frictions, personal rivalry, difference in lifestyle, difference in artistic process… led to increasingly difficult mood swings from Van Gogh, and perhaps also escalating power struggles with Gauguin.. But what is true, is that in those nine weeks, over forty masterpieces were created between both Van Gogh and Gauguin which is a remarkable accomplishment.

 "I feel such a creative force in me: I am convinced that there will be a time when, let us say, I will make something good every day , on a regular basis....I am doing my very best to make every effort because I am longing so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things mean painstaking work, disappointment, and perseverance.”  - Van Gogh.

 

In walking around the van Gogh museum, his wish to connect peoples emotion with the moment, and with his portrayal of real life beauty, his legacy really is fulfilled.   And whilst being an example of inspiration for future expressionists to follow, his strength of character in living through his own struggles and pressure can surely also be an inspiration in its own affect.  To look at a painting, and see the life in a ladies eyes. A real lady with concerns, sadness and frustration, through Van Gogh's portrayal, i can connect with her emotions captured hundred of years before.  and in a time where mental illness could not be fully understood or supported, I'm in awe of the mental strength and resilience he had to weather such stormy cycles, its fascinating to think of outbursts of creativity between storms clouds of mental illness. on one hand a pilgrimage of struggle, on the other hand mastery of colour, movement and foundation in which many could be inspired through expressionism. 

 

What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.” 


In the past, during more difficult situations i have wondered if strength of heart has indeed been strengthened. when the heart pain and anxiety is so great you have to literally strap it with a belt to relieve the pressure, i did wonder at times if it all this emotional stuff was worth it in a practical sense. I would love to say that this is steeped in melodrama, melodrama would be simple. but when emotions overload to impede physical living life, you really have to question it a bit. on some of the lighter occasion, heavier occasions i kept to being a private affair, but those lighter times where i was able to process it further, i would seek Davids advice.

And the wisdom that sticks to mind, was over a distressful unfathomable outburst I'd had from someone. And whilst he could also could not reason for it, sometimes he said, there are just situations that we cannot explain, but that they are there to bring us maturity. Some of the most beautiful things, are created through struggle and pressure, favourite examples of his being diamonds, and salmon.

feeling slightly weathered and not really eager to mature, or be honed.

"Thank you David, I'm quite happy not to be challenged, in fact at the moment I really wouldn't mind just being a Tuna".

But sometimes life doesn't really give you a luxury of choosing. And in hindsight, I am glad that it doesn't. One day, I am sure that there will be a little book of reflections on a Salmon.  so really keeping things salmon, Van Gogh is a hero, mastering his life struggles in balance with his art and leaving a legacy of colour, and emotional connection in which he as affect on peoples lives. And when looking at the colours and textures of his works, we are really reminded of his own emotional depths, and that's awesome to be affected by someones soul.

courtesy of the BBC.

 

 


two years ago, i decided to retire from buying Walkmans (mp3 players, I'm not that retro) and in losing my second Walkman charger, and first Walkman actually. i went with Zussie to buy a new one on sale, for being considerably younger than me, she was remarkably good at reminding me it was just for something to listen to this time. money mattered, and not quality of sound. three weeks ago, it came to be that i lost my cheap mp3, and in a moment of irony, on my table sat the charger from cheapo, and Walkman no.2. if there are moments that i cannot find my mp3 for the commute to Amsterdam, i take it as an opportunity to practise listening and coping with the world around. every sound seemed to be filtrating the same frequency for the duration. the sound of footsteps was the same intensity as the sound of a ticket being checked, as the sound of a bird singing, and as the buzzing sound of electricity cables above the tracks. all at the same time, it left me ridiculously tired, but i thought it was maybe better to practise.

on reorganising my final bag of belongings from breda, i found not only a charger for Walkman no.2 but i also found Walkman no.1 - wonderful! so wonderful to hear intricacies in music again. to hear chemistry in music, instead of a simple buffer to city living. and it brought me to remembering how refreshing life could feel before the events of last summer (see "Abide in Me"). and it awoke my yearning to just dance. the ability to "just dance" has also had its challenges. but i was reminded that it was the feeling of simply "being" in music. Home is where the heart is, well quite a few times, that's been in a mix, a blend of music that just lets me be. this is my respite from the struggle, my peace in the storm.

In an Antwerp club, there were always a variety of girls at that point. and a variety of dance styles. I stood with Timmy Jones, a brother figure at the time. i would introduce him to you as simply Timmy, but if he was here now, he would auto-correct me, shake your hand and re-introduce himself as Timmy.. Timmy Jones. leaving in no doubt that James Bond is his hero. we looked out for each other in the club, and had a wonderful ability of spotting each others potential pulling prey. I had a fashion at the time to challenge the boys to dancing the running man. purely for amusement. Timmy Jones.. with flare, took it to his level.

Usher

".. that was great Timmy Jones.. very suave, very very cool, very..erm..you. But I was kind of looking for something a bit more "eighties".
He gave me the biggest compliment once, Nic, its a fine day when you out shadow a black man dancing. i told him my theory, that its really black woman that dance good, and black men do a good two step alongside them. i don't know if he every fully agreed to that, but I'm sure he enjoyed testing the theory out. but that evening, i hadn't planning to overshadow anyone, this inspiration had come from one of a group of girls, who would come to the club in the final hours. when the partiers had faded out, grabbed their coats, and pulled. and instead of the ass shaking, that some girls in the early evening would do.. Timmy Jones would judge it in his way.

"..you know by some girls dancing.. you can tell that they're just not..."Educated"

Iwould leave Timmy to make his own judgements with an ammount of humour..but this girl would come in time for the slow jams and in simple relaxed way, the music channelled her to make golden energy that a jazz diva would hold. and so i would rather try find to be that grace than shake butt. shake butt i could do, but I'd rather then have taken the time for a level of connection beyond that.

Kaysha  - love de toi.

Reacquainting with my two lovely Walkmans, neither of who shall be sold or tampered with. new resolution. God has my faith, music is my religion, so be it, that mp3 players are the apostles of Antwerp, Breda and Rotterdam..... it inspired me to go dance. Friends were unable to, either with prior commitments, or lack of enthusiasm. in these cases, its the story of staying at home naemates, looking forward to another time that may not come. or just going with it, and seeing what life plans.

It turned out that life sewed everything together as it was most needed. sometimes its disappointing that friends aren't able to give the desired outcome, but its not worth becoming tiresome and frustrated about. of course there is justification to feel disappointment, and I'm not condoning that feelings should not be expressed to resolve those issues with friends. but at the end of the day, it takes our own efforts to overstep those heavy feelings, and don't we owe it to ourselves to enjoy life? is our feeling of disappointment really so important to fester upon? I hear this quote a lot, and it must be fashionable for a reason.

"life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, its about dancing in the rain"

and concept wise, if the "rain" is friends being unable to support you in something in the way that you had hoped. well overstep the heavy feelings, and dance anyway, from my experience, even if you have to take that opportunity to fly solo, breaking the mould or rut in how you see life as confining you, and you leave open to new possibility and connection. in my experience, life will provide the best or needed outcome for perhaps not just you, but also including those around you, and in that step of flying solo, and learning that you are already provided for, when are you ever actually really alone? i am nurtured, i am encouraged, and i am ready to dance again. C'est dans la joie. Its in the joy.

Mokobe - C'est dans la joie.

 

 

 

 

Abide with me..

Foreword - for those sensitive who are simply needing guidance  through the haze. Don’t worry about reading my story at this moment. Further down this scroll are a couple of lists with suggestions that might help you to feel more conscious and reconnected again.

 

Abide with Me - Emeli Sande

 

 

 

Last summer my time was split. I was living  in a hostel, where incredibly close connections were made.  The sort that big brother contestants talk about, without the cctv. And whilst it was wonderful to meet so many people, for being sensitive, it was not always so ideal.  There was

 Lack of space to maintain my own energy

 

Distraction from good diet, and a good sleep pattern

 

Crowds of people constantly around

 

Periods of change, in group dynamics, chemistry and emotion.

No possibility of exercising my normal vehicles of strength - horses, music, dancing. 

 

 

I was younger I'd be profoundly affected by somethings more than others. We had a utility room built into the house. And I could not get used to its strong smell, but I did develop a technique  of holding my breath to collect towels, or to pick something out of the freezer. Sometimes dad would put on Scottish music on, for a family ceilidh (non Scottish people, pronounced kay-lay) and I love to dance. For the fast dances, I would skip around, when the waltz was played, I would retire to the sofa feeling unusually sad. I had my own room, and Sunday afternoons, I would spend hours making mix tapes. I think this is when strength in music started to grow. When I used to get frustrated about things, by brother would say, "but you're just sensitive", and only now does it make sense.

 The year before last, I'd go out partying with my sister team, and I preferred one place to others. It had a reputation for being tacky, but the chemistry was great, it was a place I could feel good vibes from. Take me to the place next door, and it was itchy for a fight. Yet working in the countryside, I could feel aware of other things spiritually. But felt I had an understanding, I respect their space, they respect mine. And it worked there. There were sometimes somethings tried to "play" but my sense of being in control was strong, and it seemed to balance things.  But moving Amsterdam, well it took things to a different level.And toward the latter part of my stay there something opened my eyes to other things. To be called high sensitive. I think there are different layers and different levels. From what I see on forums, some are more perceptive in some areas than in others

 It put into an experience where I could witness how strong and malicious something can be.  There had been a fellow cleaner at the hostel, and for three weeks of her stay. She ignored me. But something, and I can't remember what, well it changed. She would begin to wake up at same time as me. .."good morning.. How are you?" with tone that even now gives me shivers.  Things spiralled unusually. With very unexpected behaviour from her. And one night, it began to disturb my living more. If you touch your face, what feels natural is the pressure of your own skin, the pressure of your own touch,  your own muscles moving in your own hand.  Its an unusual change, that as you prepare to sleep, the tension in your own hand changes, and then tension in your own lips change. And sounds are made, that you would never expect to make. My body is a control freak, the dentist could tell you that.  So  to lose that control of your own body, is un-nerving. The first time, I gave situation three chances, like I require the universe to give me three bits of proof to accept that something is a reality. Three times, happened, and to myself it was a extra acceptance, that I should have to confide in the member of night staff on. He was a fanatic, and I have a low tolerance with religious fanatics. Through three hours of conversation, we gained new respect for each other. He offered to pray, and it worked, it was like anaesthetic.

 Night 2, and it happened again, except the tension in my hands, felt like those of a dirty of a dirty old man. And those dirty hand began to fondle my precious hair. If you are in a bar, well this speaking from  Scottish perspective. You can give a dirty old man a good scorning, with vicious tongue or a good smack to the face.  But if its from an unseen entity, where you question your own sanity, and reality, then it not only confuses, but it violates your soul.  It makes you feel dirty, and the next morning fills you with so much grief to look a friend in eye invokes a flood of tears that can't be explained. To gain composure I went to the toilets, and screamed, but the scream was still not my scream.

 That morning I was due to work, and from there found that the lady I worked with was also sensitive, and in calm caring ways, mothered my sensitivity and its new wounds. That afternoon, I snapped at a brother figure who I respect a lot for strong attitude, realistic, cynical, and slight humorous tone of grumpy old men at Christmas.

"..are you alright love?"

"..you know what, I'm not going to answer that today, because you're just going to give me bullshit that it's in my head, so ask me again tomorrow."

Quietly and steadily.."..are you feeling attacked?"

 

"Yes".

 

Not much more was discussed on it, but I felt a strength of support from three friends and mentors at that point, the sensitive lady for care and encouragement, and the strength that a scientific mind found validation in my reality.  A third mentor came in the humour, voice and guidance of a wonderful Australian who swore outright in a christian hostel.  From what i learned from them, i hope that if there is also someone in the situation, this might give you a little strength or guidance.

 

Take comfort that your reality is real.

 

Remember that the feeling of panic is sometimes more than the actual happening.

 

Take time to concentrate on a balanced, calm, loving "line" that centres your body, and breathe from it

.

 

 

Take full concentration to the texture of something beside you.

 

 Concentrate on The feeling of your weight in a seat

 

 

Imagine that there is a bubble wrapped around you, with that same feeling of the loving line.

 

Really take time to feel the weight of your feet on the ground. I found it useful to walk barefoot, and feel the texture and temperature of the ground I was walking on.

Take time to concentrate on how you breathe. Remove yourself, detach yourself from drama. If you feel yourself pulled towards drama, take time to breathe and balance again to that "line".

Find a place of prayer, prayer works. I don’t care which religion. I did find that there was a strength in Jesus name, but the name alone, was the entirety of the process.

 Take time to sing. and if you are not able to sing. listen to music that you connect with. and hold onto it like rope. some people suggested soft gentle music, but i am someone that likes punkass strong energy. Enya on this kind of occasion would just not bridge the gap. For me at this time, strength came through songs from Emeli Sande, and a dutch hiphop group called Zwart licht. they are more than worth a listen to.

 

 

Freestyle by Zwart Licht, (a future solo album from one of Zwart Licht is Daar Ergens)
 

As activity with friends went on, I had to take further time apart. It was frustrating at times as I missed out on fun. Or it felt like that. I could communicate one hundred percent but I was nowhere near one hundred percent connection. On a sunny afternoon, they playing guitar, laughing, shouting, and it was too much. So I sat, with a brother figure. Friends jamming with guitars on the other side of the court yard.  It was another brother figure that I talk to in Dutch, hoe is het meisje?

 "its shit. I want to be there. But I cant focus on them. The only things I can connect with from their reality at this minute, is to listen to the sound of the fountain on the water, or look at the sunlight shining through that segment of that leaf there on the branch. more than that, and i am lost. Do you understand?"

 "its deep. Pffff. But I do understand, but your learning is deep, you are just a special person."

 

Things got a little worse before it began to ease. its an alienating experience when things happen that disturb your comfort and reality, but which you cannot truly relate to the majority of your friends. Despite my struggle, "normal" life was going on regardless, passing me by without me being able to enjoy in a fully connected way. For ten days, until lady left, I was allowed to sleep on the padded chillout bench in the garden. There I  still had some attempts to settle to sleep.  But to hear the fountain was my focus.  The challenges became more intense, I would have lets say "invasions" whilst the lady passed, or as I looked in the mirror.  A blessing further came in two christian friends who also had discernment. Some Christians call it discernment, other more traditional and conservative minds, call it sin passed down from generations. these to two girlfriends became my anchors when things became unbearable. i am so grateful to have them in my life.

 It came to one final morning, when the feeling around me was crushing. and i think I'm allowed to be a drama queen at this point, when i say crushing i mean superman and kryptonite. bad ass.  The bible discussion that morning had been "appropriate", the manager looked at me to confirm that I understood. Stand strong and let the lord battle for you. That is all very good and well, if its in visual reality, you can see a bus coming hurtling towards you and know you were given legs to run. But how on earth when you feel that same force coming towards you, but you cannot account it to any proportion, how can you trust that the crippling will stop.  In that day, I stood with a friend behind the counter of the cafe, and she held my hand. And I breathed.

 "why on earth, would anyone want to open themselves to voodoo or ouija, they have no idea what they are playing with, and I have to martyr the consequences of her life choices and decisions.."

 The next morning, it was enough. The cleaning lady sought ought my space again in an unusual way, but I showed no negativity. The cafe team prayed. And I took five minutes to talk with the lady.  And towards the end, she looked me with tearful eyes. "..you know its not my heart, they come through my head". I knew it wasn’t her heart, she was a kind lady. But her choices in spirituality led me to weeks of discomfort and detachment.  In the end she chose not to pray, and she chose search out new religion, and she followed a path back to prostitution. As a sensitive,  walking through streets of prostitution in Amsterdam, ties feeling of a rope round your neck, and it pulls tight, and rejoices as it does so. and its not ashamed of rejoicing and defiance.

 Since then, regaining consciousness, and feeling connected is returning in baby steps.  Its unstable, but its given me new appreciation of the world around me. Though mostly still in small proportions, its given me focus and discernment in my own reality. Its most important for me to feel clean, to act in a clean way, to be clean. This is also small steps. as slow as it has been, its been a blessing in requiring me to reassess what is around me, and from that, what is important to honour.

On one of the last summer evenings, we sat in a group by the canal, hitchhiking a boat ride. and towards the end of a special evening, i sat back looked at the two groups of friends. how rich is this small tapestry of happening? one group, people from all corners of the world sharing a joke. so many kinds of different laughter and humour, the second group, well how amazing is life that it can bring two people from different life perspectives, and share their stories of Singapore. bringing understanding to one, and self worth to the other.  someone has created the brickwork that we're sitting upon. then towards the lighted bridge, how many stonemasons, and carpenters made the bridge and how many wives, families, pieces of bread and drinks of beer supported them?..and the lights on the bridge, those who connected the electricity, those who found inspiration to create electrical light, and those people who supported those pioneers to go forward in inspiration to create the environment that we are now in. As i was thinking about this, and thinking also about how not to get too deep in thought on this. how wonderful life has created itself, life is also the wind that blows ripples along the canal. its both the inspiration and action of man, yet also in nature and elements that I've taken for granted along the way. its a rich tapestry and it all connects.

 A list for the sensitives! and also of interest to others..
 

Firstly get to know your reality, make friends with it, by being sceptical that it feels clean. to illustrate  this further, this from spoken word artist UNOM, who belongs to part of the Poetry Circle Nowhere . An Average Citizen,

 

Take time to look and feel  whats been created around you. Nature and man made.

 

Take time to consider  the smallest bits and pieces around, and appreciate it.

Make time to praise.

Be thankful.

Exercise.

Paddle in the sea.

Keep some stones around you - amethyst, rose quartz, black tourmaline, jade..
.
Make time for animals. Make effort to be around nature. Make time to notice it.

Take time to detox.

Be sceptical of the food you eat. Eat clean organic food when ever possible.

Listen to, or read wholesome  or inspiring words. By this I don’t necessarily mean just the bible or books of faith. Something written by the heart, that inspires you, that moves you, that fills you with positivity.

Go see something human. Or organically human. Theatre, acoustic music, something performed from the heart. Something with energy.

 its a difficult process, but support yourself through it. keep going! should a wonderful event draw a large crowd. go enjoy it anyway! just find a wall to stand beside.

 

                                                                     Celebrate life!

 

This tune. though christian (i don't say this in a disrespectful way. but most christian worship songs focus that Jesus is the only way to following god. i do not sit with that as a truth, and therefore will not sing it. which makes for patchy chorus!) having said that, it is a very poignant song for me,  and would mostly appear at moment where i most needed confirmation that life or god, or the universe, was in control. I liked it because i could connect with with my experience, and the learning that i should not fear, or worry, but that things are, and would be taken care of, and that my simple roll was to rejoice in blessings, and celebrate life around me. This is an ongoing lesson. Because of the strong connection of this song with last summers happenings, it has the power to uplift me when i am rejoicing good things in life, or with the simple crack of an egg, it yokes every emotion of powerlessness and worry from me.

 

 

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes
 

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

I returned to meet friends from the hostel at new year. and this song which had been so poignant , unexpectedly appeared at the singsong shortly before the fireworks. it led me to emotionally meditate, feeling like i passed the finish post from a year that tore the rug from my feet and rebuilt me again, i was standing at the finish line. feeling somewhat battered and bruised but  I'd survived the difficulties with the support of life around me, and i stood weeping at the skies, feeling like i deserved every colour exploding from every firework.

These days, living outwith Amsterdam, i am able to feel more balanced and building reconnection, and still have some healing to do,  and so to honour and celebrate my hair that took the brunt of violation, for meaningful occasions, and those days i need reminded of beauty,  i adorn a flower.

 

Photography courtesy of Gudrun Sjoden