On moving

The transient, the empty page, the first month of the year.

January, named after the god with the two faces, the beginning and the end, the early and the late. January this year has turned into the period of silence I tend to observe when I move places. I was dropped of in a dormant city in France and slept a week before slowly fitting in time for fascinating fellow students and erasmus lifestyle. A plane landed me in Geneva and I spent six weeks wandering by myself before finding those who were to become my close friends.

I know the routine, the ritual of mental cleansing, the retreat and silence necessary to allow myself to remember good things past without aching; to find it in myself, somehow, miraculously, to be open to whatever comes next. Yet my arrival here was a whirlwind. At some party, at some point, someone asked how long I had been back and I had to think hard to do the math. The math was: I had been back for two months, Geneva seemed home and The Netherworlds seemed temporary; contrary to the facts of my new job here and my finished activities there.

I have let the math sink in now. I have sat myself down on a bench in the Vondelpark, stared hard at the water and lectured, - it may not be perfection but here is the latest truth you created for yourself. In the middle of a whirlwind, of your activities of confusion and distraction, these are the choices you made, now stick with them. Now stay, and stay well.