On family history, excess and moderation (The Hague)

Perhaps as a logical continuation to my emotionally charged time in Amsterdam, the past couple of days have been filled with deep contemplation and reflection. In this, I have been helped along by long, meaningful conversations with inspiring people, some moving encounters on the dancefloor as well as a renewed contact with my family history.

To my relief, Sunday night's milonga showed me that I was slowly recovering from the dazed state that those tangos in Amsterdam had induced in me, and that I was once again able to appreciate the many different kinds of leaders as well as the connection that I could establish with them. Until then, I had been caught up in a stubborn refusal to accept anything else but `The Best`, as often happens after a truly rewarding dance. Most importanly, I was reminded of the fact that just as in love, over half of the joy of pleasurable tango comes from sensing one's dancing partner's delight and enjoyment. I had many such tandas in Utrecht, and felt once again immensely grateful for the possibility to share such moments with so many people.

Marieke, my tango friend from last year's journey, lives in a village some 20 km to the East of Utrecht, and I cycled there on Monday. Getting to her place, a small house in the middle of a small forest, was very easy with the help of a wonderful map she had drawn me. Although we had spent just a day together in Stockholm and thus hardly knew each other, I felt immediately at ease at her place. It was an old, wooden building with lots of light and the nature all around within arm's reach, and in many ways it felt quite similar to countless summer cottages in Finland. She took good care of me, cooking fantastic food and giving me a lot of space, but most importantly, encouraging me to talk about the issues that I know I have to solve in my life, sooner or later. Until this point of the journey, I had not really given myself a permission to think about them, as they involve complex and emotionally charged dilemmas that can easily disrupt my peace of mind.

There, in the middle of the forest, with her neighbour's cat purring on my lap, I finally felt ready to allow these questions to enter my mind. What was I going to do with regard to work, home, relationships, my family? How was I going to spend the next 40 years of my life? And was I going to allow the same pressures, insecurities and sorrows that had marked my life so far, also dictate my wellbeing in the future?

Due to her sensitive nature and clairvoyant tendencies, Marieke is able to help people to address their inner fears, problems and sorrows. With her gentle support, I came to realise how deeply intertwined my personal history, sense of self and perception of the world are with those of my ancestors, and how easily behavioural patterns are repeated from one generation to the next. I was at the same time both thrilled and saddened to understand how deeply the family history affects my own life, how I tend to make the same kind of mistakes and draw the same kind of conclusions about the world as so many generations before me.

An interesting thing happened, too. On a desk at Marieke's place there was a pack of cards that had different words written on them. They were not really Tarot cards as far as I can understand, but I suppose they can be used as a tool to draw one's attention to certain topics in one's life. Without thinking much about it, I picked up one of the cards and turned it around. It read one word : EXCESS. Underneath, there were other words: Stress, Overload, Exhaustion, Obsessiveness, Gluttony, Burdens, Worries... and finally: The Breaking Point.

Now, I am not a person who has a huge belief in this kind of things. I think that most occurrences have a very rational explanation, and there is also such a thing as pure coincidence. Perhaps one could really pick up ANY card in such a pack, and it would still resonate with something in one's own life? However, when the following morning, after shuffling the cards, I picked up THE SAME CARD for the second time, I must admit it shook me a bit.

On the beach in The Hague, with the Atlantic Ocean as a backdrop.

In the book "Eat Pray Love" that was recently made into a (not particularly touching) movie, the author claims that every city, country, indeed every person has a word that sums them up, describes their essence. I often find it entertaining to think about what each new person's word would be, and have half-jokingly been searching for such a word for myself. I know that I have a strong tendency to take things to the extreme, to devote myself to them without a moment's hesitation. Seeing the same card for the second time, I could not help asking myself whether 'Excess' was 'my' word, and most importanly, whether I should pay attention to the warning hidden in those other words on that card?

It is a fact that I tend to succumb to every one of the excesses on that list of words. This journey, as well as the other obsessions before it, is just another manifestation of this tendency. Dressage, flamenco, salsa, beach volleyball, NGO work, yoga, tango, love... the list of activities that I have devoted myself to seems endless. Those of you who have known me for a longer time may remeber how intoxicated I was with each one of them in turn. And always, in the end of a particular obsession, I feel exhausted, burned out and strangely let down. With hindsight, I realise that had I been able to act with a little more restraint, the passion I felt would not have had to have such an unhappy end. Why do I find it so hard to do the things I love with moderation?

This question probably has no clear answer, and most certainly none that anybody else can give me. However, I know it is a topic I will have to reflect upon during the days and km's to come.