intro

when i was a kid, one of my faves was for a Sunday lunch to have plum dumplings - not only for their gorgeous taste, but because it was a family process to make them. sitting next to the kitchen table at the age of six, packing the pieces of those blue fruits into potato coat, I would have never thought that the first round of plum dumplings made on my own would be served to a few benedictine monks in the Netherlands...

...but it happened, it happens, i am living now next to the Northern Sea with a few catholic sisters, a brother, and Thuy (- you may have already known her otherwise read the previous posts they worth it. ohooo, by the way, do not expect from my entries a similiar style - she knows how to write!).

what is: dwelling in a huge complex of a monastery, equipped by a good bike and a nice romantic attraction to farm life, i have found myself in the exact middle of nowhere (though the sea is acting somewhat like a border). going out to the sand dunes i have an impression that i am standing in the center of the universe. i guess it is just a silly joke of the clouds lining up in a circle tricking me to feel that. however it is, not a bad state at all.

so, what is the reason that one, this one has left all her life (a nice life) and Tolsztoj (my mongrel dog) back in Hungary to devote a year to volunteering at a Dutch convent? amongst many, the main one: is to experience silence in all the ways. a silence which can manifest by words, by the sound of rain, by the smile of the sisters as well as by real physical silence. a silence that is hard to understand but easy to feel - and sometimes the other way round. and a silence that will hopefully accompany all my life.

from this point of view, my situation is quite advantageous. i have left behind all the anxiety of my beloved city, my schedules, duties and roles -  most of the activities that i had found necessary to sustain a life. this gives an exceptional opportunity for a European to face with a deeper existence day by day. living open and simple.

otherwise, do not think that i am sitting still in a meadow with cows doing nothing other than meditating. there are several nice tasks to do as a volunteer. activities that hold real meaning to me. if you are still interested, follow my posts, you have a chance to get to know more about them later.

ildi

Of Gods and ___

“Truth cannot be out there – cannot exist independently of the human mind – because sentences cannot so exist, or be out there. The world is out there, but descriptions of the world are not. Only descriptions of the world can be true or false. The world on its own – unaided by the describing activities of human beings – cannot.” 

Richard Rorty

When I was six, I brought home a children’s Bible, distributed at school – beautiful stuff with gorgeous illustrations. My dad saw it, and told me that Gagarin was up there, and found nothing. And that was that – my first, rather one-sided discussion about religion.

What followed was years of secular education and, with that, the systematic deconstruction of faith, belief, and religion. I did get a hold of the Bible though, a ragged copy of the first Hungarian translation, but the concept of the holy keeps escaping me, and what remains are stories of gods and men.

It’s awfully difficult to (lie if one doesn’t know the truth) discuss the spiritual, having been indoctrinated with post-structural ideas. I have a fleeting sense of its meaning, but it always stays out of grasp. I have no god: I have no science to oppose him to. I have no belief, for I do not care for the dichotomy between real and mystical.

It’s awfully difficult to discuss anything transcendental, and, for the first time, I experience it as a struggle. This is not my discourse – my language is inadequate, and my vocabulary falls short. For the first time, I am out of words.

Before I committed to this project, a friend had told me it would be difficult, which is why I needed it. To put it quite simply: this is not the place where being a smartass gets you friends. Academia gets you only so far – and then you’re facing people who’ve been through hell and back, and you should be there to offer a hand, and it simply won’t do to tell them, dude, your identities are so fragmented. I will look them in the eye, and I will find that I have absolutely nothing to say to them.

So, I’m here to learn, and humility pulls no punches. My brain feels like a panzer tank. 

So what is inner peace anyways? 

I will embrace all doubt, insecurity, confusion, assess and reassess. It is time for reconciliation, I think; let this be my credo for the following months, and then pain shall be my rite of passage.

- Thuy

God has pity on kindergarten children,
He pities school children -- less.
But adults he pities not at all.

He abandons them,
And sometimes they have to crawl on all fours
In the scorching sand
To reach the dressing station,
Streaming with blood.

But perhaps
He will have pity on those who love truly
And take care of them
And shade them
Like a tree over the sleeper on the public bench.

Perhaps even we will spend on them
Our last pennies of kindness
Inherited from mother,

So that their own happiness will protect us
Now and other days.

Yehuda Amichai

Days of Firsts

After half a year of absence, I'm back in the Netherlands again. And yet, not really. There is, I feel, a legacy I should be honouring, part of which comprises the continuation of this blog. This is then a nod towards Ellie and Klinta, our quasi-ancestors, not in blood but in mind. So: hi girls. Your presence still lingers here - the paintings, a tin can of pens and brushes, the half-consumed bottles marmalade in the fridge. 

We are steadily establishing ourselves in the flat, Ildi and I. It is a wonderful partnership, this process, documented by the state of the living room, which is lived-in at its best, and chaotic neutral otherwise. And look: a map of India. A new painting. And the living room table which is always always always covered in tobacco, regardless of our cleaning sprees. We're definitely getting there. Ildi told me to make a note about how cool she is. “Cool” doesn’t do justice here, but there you go. Thou shall see. Let’s just say, and allow me an understatement, that the fun potential of this place would significantly drop without her.

It’s quiet here – that takes time to get used to on some days. But, it’s not the unsettling silence of sensory deprivation, merely the isolation from the whirlwind of noises of the city. Neither do the nights bear any resemblance to those that I’ve grown accustomed to in the capital. This is the blanket that Radnóti was praying for, the darkness that corresponds with Conrad’s descriptions of hearts of men. Well, minus the insanity. It soothes, it disquiets, depending.

Visits to the city come as a relief. Our first trip to the refugee centre in Alkmaar was a catharsis we’ve never been building up to. It was the first time that I felt: yes, this is what I had signed up for – social work with emphasis on the people, the community, the collective effervescence, rather than a militaristic theoretical agenda of human rights activists that I was used to. More will come, and I highly anticipate.

Not that the cloister lacks human interaction; talking with the sisters is always fun. Having been brought up by fervent non-believers, I had had only a vague idea about clergy people. My impressions are still not clearly outlined, but, for once, I know that they will never be. People are what I see: highly intelligent, gentle, and fun people, who make brilliant conversing partners. Wonderful company, really.

And then there’s the School for Peace – an institution for like-minded people, searching, finding. Last time it was the host of an international peace circle. The idea behind its conception, around 20 years ago, was to provide a framework and space for women to gather and share, in dire times and dire environments. In the end, it rhymes with the universal female narrative – of different Penelopes of different Odysseuses. The peace circle then, as I understood, was a social space for women to escape their domestic isolation and interact, not as representatives of different communities, but primarily as women – human beings. The dissolution of social tension or ethnic feuds was rather an untargeted consequence of deep personal connections. Shortly, the peace circle was intended to provide a space for re-humanisation, in dehumanising circumstances.

The question is then, what legitimacy does a peace circle hold in the Netherlands – most liberal of liberal states – in 2012 with international social science students who already have a highly open state of mind and are as strong and emancipated as women can be in the 21st century. I’m not sure. It felt more like an unconscious heritage one is used to carrying than anything else. What it really was: a gathering of some of the most amazing women I have met in my life. I did not gain new insights per se about inner peace, or about the importance of forgiveness, love, you name it. Never mind that; I got something much better – friendships of women I would have not otherwise met. I believe that the sharing of life stories and experiences would have happened regardless of the provided framework – this tends to happen when people meet and click. But I doubt I would have ever met them, had it been to chance. What a weekend it was. And there is so many more to come.

- Thuy