Falling to pieces and piecing them back together somehow

Mid-morning today my Turkish colleague, who came to the Netherlands 17 years ago, had gotten wind of this accident through her own network; a flight from Istanbul to Amsterdam ceased flying as it came into land at Schiphol. It dropped out of the sky, breaking into 3 pieces on the runway. Nine died, and dozens are critically injured, some fighting for their lives.

These sorts of tragedies are so difficult to process. Only recently I learnt about the Bijlmer disaster, in 1992 in Amsterdam. A flight leaving from the Netherlands to Israel crashed into a block of flats near the airport. Many died, residents and passengers. There is a momument to the souls that passed, at the very site.

A famous architect (Rem Koolhaas) and an artist (whose name unfortunately escapes me now) were commissioned to create the right memorial. A tree had miraculously survived the crash, and it now is the centrepiece of the tribute. The coloured tiles are mini-mosaics and were made by the crash survivors and family members of those that did not; the artist facilitated the creation of these tiles and each carefully (re-)constructed coloured square declares unspoken words of love and hope and the dreams to those who died.

Hearing of disasters like this resonate louder with me because of the distance between me and those I care for and miss dearly - no matter where I am. Stories of mass human loss, think too, the ruthless fires back home in Victoria Australia that were marked by Black Saturday 7 February 2009, give pause for great reflection.

That we live the sort of life that demonstrates the value, love, hope and dreams we have for ourselves and for others, so that any such pieced-together tile might tell the story of a bright and vibrant life truly realised.

In memory of all those who have lost their lives due to circumstances beyond their control.

Trying to bud

I was walking through the park when I spotted some bulb plants pushing their verdant little tips through the grass. Later on, while looking skyward (never mind all the dog poo) at the winter tree branches raking the arched, whitened sky, I saw that some of those twigs sported timid bursts of spring.

Stripped bare, but trying to blossom.

I will blossom.

And while I am attempting to grow, someone will notice me.

The Age of Scorpio or any other starsign you care to name

I like this trilogy of photos of me. Lorna took them. She is a keen photographer and she makes me look serene and relaxed. I am posing, but I'm not self conscious. She didn't make me hold the poses and wait, she stole those moments from me. A gifted thief, that Lorna.

The year is almost 2 months in and I'm making my first blog entry for 2009. This says something either about the level of activity (or non-activity) of life here in the 'Hove.

I'm not sure what this blog entry is about. Is it about the stack of books I've been reading, the introspection I've been undergoing, the relationships I've been strengthening (with myself, included), the exploration of my connection to the world around me, how as humans we are frequently (un-)able to communicate effectively? The resounding why, what, who?

I'll keep writing and we'll just see.

Peace of Mind, by Dr Ian Gawler.

Intimacy and Solitude, by Stephanie Dowrick

The Road Less Travelled, by M Scott Peck

Choosing Happiness, by Stephanie Dowrick

What Color is Your Parachute? by Richard Nelson Bolles

Do what you are, by Paul D Tieger and Barbara Baron-Tieger

The Wealth Within, Dr Ainslie Meares

A Fraction of the Whole, by Steve Toltz

The Great Fire, Shirley Hazzard

The Canon: The Beautiful Basics of Science, by Natalie Angier

An exploration into meditation has resulted in early mornings. They say it takes 30 days to form a habit, and I've got a few days to go until it really becomes one. But I look forward to waking, because I do enjoy that quiet time. I'm very conscious that quiet time (in my mind) has these 33 years been a rarity for me; more and more I'm aware of the noise that rattles around in there. The meditation sessions are seeping into the afternoons. That's good.

Two very good friends of mine broke free from the shackles of corporate organisation and have started out on their own. One knows exactly what she wants, the other is still feeling her way around. Go Nicole, go Ingrid! I have watched from the wings over the last few months with tinges of envy and now my own company is helping me pave an independent path for myself. Where this road will lead, I do not know. Georgie says I shouldn't work for a company. She said I'm an ideas girl. So did Maya. That's warming, I don't see myself as such. So I have been examining who I am and what I value, which skills I enjoy using and so forth.

The CD I wrote and produced for my family has been in hot circulation in the Netherlands. I have received very positive feedback. One was from Reon, who said I have a good voice and that I should approach a recording studio. To which I quipped that he should be my manager and he responded yes, because he could just smell the money in that particular offer. Nicole said "it gives me goosebumps... because I love it so much. It is (I have to do this in Dutch) het is breekbaar, fragiel, recht uit het hart en mooi. Zo jou en jullie, en toch een hele andere kant dan die je normaal laat zien. As I hope you now can tell, I loved it! I think you need to pursue it further, as in share with friends as well as family, and I am honoured that you let me listen to it." That Dutch bit was "it is breakable, fragile, straight from the heart and beautiful. So "you" and both of you, and actually a completely other part of you that you normally don't show to others". Others - strangers mind you, people I had the courage to play and sing for in my home - have mentioned that I should go further with my music.

I don't know what that means. I have such an ambivalent relationship with music, I don't know what would happen to me if I re-opened communications with it. But in essence, I have used music - that cruel master of mine in the past - to communicate with people I love, so far away.

I sometimes think I'm not supposed to have a conventional life. Indeed, on paper I have indeed had a conventional life, (albeit without the mortgage and children and living in one fixed area or a five year plan), but amongst all the transcontinental moving around and career changes the pattern traces a search for financial security and recognition. And maybe those two elements have resulted in my greatest unhappinesses. That is, I half-attempt to be "normal" when in fact I probably am not. What is normal anyway? And do I know anyone normal? Are the people I surround myself with conventional types? There's usually something that draws the people I adore apart from others - either they live a solitary life, a creative life, or a reflective life, a courageous, or adventurous approach to how to live a life. Those words Edwin said were what made me fall - "there are many ways to live a life". Not the textbook life of consumption, self-preservation and hollowness. Oh. Do I really believe that? What am I writing? I have been very unsettled of late, something perceptive Lauren noticed the last time I saw her. It upset her. She is too good a friend. And in our two hour conversation last night, Fi and talked about our parallel situations - moments of fragility pursued by split-seconds of true self-confidence.

I'm tired now. I'm tired of the thinking. Ingrid says I think too much. I wish I knew what I would be when I grow up. Perhaps it's not time for that to be revealed to me.

Life is good, let me say it. Without direction right now. An answer will come. It's written somewhere, what is in store for me. Like Alex would say, I just have to hold my breath and see what happens.

P.S Wendy gave me a card - it was in a dear little bag with some thread and press studs and buttons. The card read "To never ending creativity. Have fun!"