It is mid summer in Holland, and raining
all day. A cold wind blows. We are at the coast, celebrating our honeymoon. The
caravan seems so small today for the two of us and the little one. She cries
and cries. She is restless. And all I want is to make space for my resistance.
So when the baby falls asleep, I put on my
rain suit, and go to the beach. First I yell at the waves, but it doesn’t seem
to help. (Although I manage to create some unusual tones.) Then I spread my
arms and imitate a seagull. Nothing happens. Irritation is all I feel.
I walk, face in the wind. The beach is
desolate. No one else seems to come out in this stormy weather. I get an
impulse to collect plastic. Soon after it is more than I can carry. I need a
bag, and wish for one. A few minutes later I see a huge grey garbage bag.
So I create my own letting go ceremony. With
each step I focus on feelings of gratefulness and with each item I pick up I
honour mother Earth. By throwing the abandoned pieces of litter into the bag, I
let go of my irritation.
I dispose kilos of dirt in the big orange
garbage bins on the beach. And of course I expect my state of mind to change. But
it does not totally. I am waiting for a sign from mother Earth; like a few rays
of sunlight, or maybe a little rainbow to communicate her love. Nothing special
happens. I feel disappointed. Back at the campsite my child has another
emotional outburst.
And yet, something is slightly different. I
feel more patient, more open. I play and have fun with my girl. Her mood shifts
and she becomes as quiet as a little angel
