What is the nothing?

At the counter to pay for my groceries a girl behind me was talking to a friend.
She had done a search on Google on the philosophical question: What is the nothing?
After an afternoon of looking at the internet websites that Google gave her she was still not able to answer the question. Bystanders commented and these were the answers that were given:
- the nothing does not exist, everything is something.
- the nothing? Why would you be interested in nothing?
- the nothing is where the something can begin.

Nice, what is your take on the nothing?

IF: repair

broken heart, originally uploaded by radiant woman.

This weeks theme for IF is repair.

During the last months I found being alive a painful experience. I kept telling myself that it will get better over time.

Now when I think about repair and what it means to me I notice how good I have been lately. That I have left behind the pain of a relationship that ended.

I am a bit proud to say: My heart is back into old mode, with a nice scar that will heal over time.

Glad to be back on IF, it has been some months!

Grandparents couch

yesterday you called me Dad, about the couch of my grandparents. of course I want that couch I said and we set the date October 20th to have it delivered. after putting down the mobile it took a while to get clear about how I feel about that couch.

that couch was my place to sit on, both talking to grandma and grandpa. just as many others did. that couch has always been there and I was always welcome on it. tears are flowing already, you get the point.

that couch was the most beautiful couch to me. also because it is gorgeous and I like to be surrounded by things that have character.

I was lying on the couch with a little glass full of eggnog. but only when I had ‘girls-pain’, the pain of once per month. and grandma’s beautiful blue plaid from Scotland to cover me. I felt cozy and most of all safe, just what I needed in times like that.

also the couch is something that I want to keep, do not want to let go. because I made her into a kind of symbol of my grandparents. I would still love to sit in the couch. in their home. I miss them both, every morning I say hello to their pictures in my bedroom. that way I think of them and give them all the love that I have.

so well. then you call me Dad with your question if I still want the couch. you kept it in store, just in case I would have a place for it. my first reaction is YES. my second one is no.

the couch belonged to grandpa and grandma then, during a good talk from a warm heart. most of all it belonged there and then.

I live here. Grandma and grandpa died, I do not want to go back to then. a longing is growing to built my own place in my own style. oh yes it is possible to use the couch to do that. but you know, grandpa and grandma covered me with love while I was seated on the couch. the love was theirs, it was not flowing out of the couch.

maybe there is someone else wanting this couch. I will find a beautiful one myself some time soon. I envision that I can be just as loving to others as were my grandparents to me. that is what sitting on their couch left me with. that love is free and can be given in any room with any couch. with love from your daughter

Le Puy en Velay-Aubrac, step 1

Two little stories about my walk to Santiago de Compostela are already hidden on the blog. What happened on the first day and how I met my first pilgrim.

I found myself outside of the old village of Le Puy en Velay. The walk into town is steep up hill and much to my surprise there was a renaissance festival going on. People in nice clothing of that time and the old village divided into sections according to the groups of craftsmen. There was music performed in the street, troubadours and also two women that pretended to be beggars. They did a superb job on it and people were quite upset at times with their act.

Due to this festival the local places to sleep all had a little notice on the door informing me that they were either closed or fully booked. This was totally unexpected and for the first day, my creativity was at an all time low.

I was hungry, in urgent need of an espresso and time to think of a solution. Then a fully dressed renaissance man did not look where he was walking and nearly kicked me over. He apologized and invited me over to his quarter of the city, next to the entrance of the cathedral. Of course he knew I was a pilgrim, carrying a backpack and a walking stick does the trick. His name was Jacques. Of course it was. I was on the road to Santiago to travel to the tomb of St Jacques in Santiago. Of course I meet a Jaques in Le Puy en Velay.

He offered some bread and a glass of herbal brew. Very alcoholic and after one glass on en empty stomach I was definitely influenced. Which did not help to find a bed of course. I walked away still with backpack and all and began looking at the shells next to doors. Maybe some of these shells would lead towards beds, as in a bed for me.

I did, however, have to walk another 2 hours. All I could think of was look at the shells, knock on doors and ask for a bed. Being influenced by the herbal boost I got more and more happy and was not upset any more. You see, with the folklore in town that day, all the tourists and many many places full for the night, it was superficial. Then suddenly I saw a sign of the friends of St Jaques (Les Amies de St Jaques de Velay). Two German girls were standing next to the door. The door would open in another hour of so. Only 3 people for 28 beds. I could sit down and relax.</blockquote.

Writing about walk to Santiago

September 4 th of 2007: I found a cross on the street.

September 14th I began walking to the border of France. How was I to know that I would all the way to Santiago in 10 weeks?

During the trip I posted little. Next to thing, really.
A couple of things about suffering from pain a tendon ligament on my left foot just after leaving Cahors. Then I got curious about men and feet care, how well did my fellow pilgrims treat their feet? What a source of inspiration was it to see them pamper their feet…

A couple more posts about how liberated I felt, how I sensed a lot and stop talking and started listening instead. So under ten posts, that was all. Due to the enormous lack of time and computers on the way of course. If I dig a little deeper in retrospect I know that that was not the main reason. I felt vulnerable and overwhelmed during the walk. Too much going on to make sense of it.

I am home for 10 months now and slowly the stories on the camino come back to me. I lost my journal that I wrote in. Every day during the long walk. Then the last day it disappeared, evaporated. Never seen my journal again.

Now it starts to come back to me, the stories form in my head and I want very much to write it all down. To share the journey, the walk and the people that I met. I will not write fast, just when I feel like it. One piece after the other to cover the road. Step by step.

So bear with me, for a while, to bring my memories to the front and write them down. For me. And remember that I did not walk the camino, the camino walked me. No idea who said that, it does not matter.

Pluto square Pluto story

If you feel like sharing on your transit of Pluto square Pluto, this is the place.
It is my wish to give people insight on what the transit has meant in the lives of people like you and me. Pluto and its transit can be life changing and during the transit you might feel lost. Remember that the transit is there for a reason: to remember more of yourself.

Rephrasing the road less traveled

I moved into my own apartment last weekend. Strange environment, new noises, another bed, the sun waking me up in the morning and I try to enjoy being in my own place and spending time with myself. It is not a comfortable job after 13 years spending every day with some one else. I feel vulnerable, anxious and sounds make me react straight away. Baby steps, keep breathing, this will pass. I remind myself often to look for what I can do to move into another future.

Suresh of meditation photography made a remark today on the road that is less traveled and that it has made all the difference [quote by Robert Frost]. It feels good to rephrase my road as the road that makes all the difference. Even when I do not see it yet.

P.s. Just noticed another draft from the month of May dangling in cyber space. Waiting to be posted. Title: Is there one road to travel? Sure, I have been thinking about this for a long time now.

Arrival of Post 200

This is post 200. In 1 year and 8 months. Not bad.

What kind of blog this is, I do no longer wonder. I just write or I don’t. Ups and downs happened as is usual in life in general. I am glad that I began this blog as a way to express myself.

Next three weeks I am on holiday, so no posting.

After that I will move house, I signed papers today. If the bank is approving everything I am going to be a busy lady in August. Painting, buying stuff and finally moving at the end of August.

In the mean time:

smile

give out love when you feel it inside of you

be brave

and embrace your life as it presents itself.

So will I. Until later

Miriam

Like a Cat

When the train arrived in Le Puy en Velay I got out. Next to the station I found a map. A man in black was standing next to me. We both pretended to look at the map. The air seemed to move more slowly, my body and soul reacted with joy and also with a little fear. What is this? Never interested in men, not the girl that looks around for handsome men to exchange kisses or more. Standing next to someone and wanting to snuggle up next to him. As a cat would do, sneaking up and touching his legs. I nearly did it.

But I decided not to, I said nothing, did nothing. Although I very much wanted to. Throw me in his arms. To kiss as if a long forgotten lover was calling me. I thought against it, could not say anything, what would he do if I did? The moment passed.

I walked away with the two pilgrims and at the corner of the street they asked me to take their picture. When I did Mr Black walked by. After the photograph and saying goodbyes, he was long, long gone. No where in sight, this man that made my heart skip a beat. Back to business. Finding a bed for the night, tomorrow the pilgrimage would begin. No it already had, but I did not know that.

Detach with Love

Tonight I was thinking about how hard it can sometimes be to let others be who they are. I want to change them because that would suit me better or it hurts me less. To have it my way is very nice and convenient, however in the long run it would not always be best for me and the other person involved.

Liz of Succesful bloggers has a Writing project on her blog today. Only 25 words of advice or wisdom into a blog post.

detach with love
three words hiding a promise

step back from others, let them go
like sneezing during a cold

then life can literally unfold