Category Archives: Thursday Door


There’s so much to think about
a gazillion thoughts
parallel universes
missed opportunities
dangers to control

Compared to those
there’s not much
to feel about – only the moment


I’ll start

trusting that

a little


I photographed this door during a PSEN workshop in Amsterdam, at the end of May this year. I hadn’t posted for #ThursdayDoor in a while I believe, but I knew I wanted to take this door home for later use. If you can, zoom in and study the sculpting above the doors. It’s an absolute pleasure to look at.

At the prompt for today is breathe. This poem was written after a PSEN day. We do a lot of breathing there, to support the deep work we do. The workshop in Amsterdam was called Transgenerational Haunting
How Unresolved Ancestral Trauma Can Be Recognized, Understood & Healed. It’s been held in Zagreb since, and will be held in Hamburg, Paris and again Amsterdam. It was so rich in experience and learning that I’d visit all of them if I could.

As it it, I’m struggling to find the money for my second year of the full training program. A friend made me a GoFundMe page, so people can support me to get there. I love her for it, but there’s one thing I’d love even more: to make that money by coaching people. Because I love coaching – and I’m good at it 🙂 Please send me a message if you’re interested – we can come up with a Pay What You Can Afford construction if you need that to make it work.

Quintessentially Dutch

I identify more
with riding a bike
than with being Dutch
which makes me
very – very – very

I was able to make pictures of this windmill this weekend, thinking ahead for #ThursdayDoors. But what to write about windmills, to turn it into a post for #OctPoWriMo too? I ended up writing about being Dutch. I can assure you it’s really, really, really strange for me to not be able to ride my bike. I’m in my 16th week of not being able to cycle due to my broken foot, and it influences my life immensely. Basically I’m going nowhere. Can’t walk, so no public transport. Can’t use my foot, so not riding a bike. No car driving either. Luckily people take me out for walks, pushing me in a wheel chair (which I could loan through our Dutch health care system).

Tomorrow I will have to find a way to write about the GoFundMe page a friend set up for me. It’s no use having one if I don’t dare to share it…




I thank #ThursdayDoors and #OctPoWriMo for an important insight I had today. Explanation first, poem next, doors at the end of the post.

This morning I was wondering if I still have doors left on my camera to use for Thursday Doors, since I’m don’t go out much with my broken foot. I live close by a former mint, which has fabulous doors. I remembered I’ve photographed them, but not shared them yet.

My next question was how to use the mint for a poem for October Poetry Writing Month. It made me think of money, because that’s what a mint does: it creates money. Did I want to write a poem about money perhaps? For me money has always meant freedom. I started working when I was 15, and the money was mine to keep, my parents didn’t need it for their household. I didn’t spend it, it saved it because I loved idea of possibilities. With money, you can do things and go places. So those first hundreds of guilders ended up being used for my first holiday abroad without my parents, interrailing through Europe with my boyfriend after I finished high school. It was a great experience, and I think about it regularly and fondly.

Fast forward to me being self-employed, as a coach. I get paid by organisations, and I get paid by individuals. I always struggle with my fee when it comes to people who pay for my services out of their own pocket. I’d secretly feel guilty for receiving their money. I always felt as if their spending money on me, made other things impossible for them. Which made me rather crap at marketing, since it felt like a mental form of robbery.

This morning I understood:
For me: money = freedom
If someone pays me → I take some of their freedom

fallacy alert!

I realised coaching is actually something that increases freedom for people. In the coaching space, people figure out thinks like:
– who they want to be
– who they don’t want to be anymore
– where they want to go
– where they don’t want to go to no more
– which patterns are holding them back
– how they can create change
– how to accept themselves more
– etc.

So even if I’d want to keep believing that idea of money = freedom, they would pay with a form of freedom, to gain a different freedom.

This last sentence might make sense to no one but me, but for me, it made a lot of sense 🙂

I’ll end this line of thoughts with the poem I promised.


Money equals freedom
If mints can turn
paper into wealth
I can mint freedom
Money is just means to an end




Waiting for fulfillment

Time was here
but didn’t tell
just one of the uninvited guests
invited to witness and celebrate
the turning of the eons –
dawn and dusk collided
shadows created shapes of light
the horizon peered at me
clapping, opening up
the space of freshly baked paint
peeling unnecessary layers

Time is here
I am not separated from my people
grief and pity join us
laughter and play unite
neither nos nor yesses
either shoulds or coulds
whoweare is not divided

Time will be here
the square root of an emotion
equals travel in space and time
mere metal materialising dreams
flawless dimensions, hard to perceive
infinity unknown
DNA passing on messages in tongues
waiting for fulfillment

I’m on my own prompt for #OctPoWriMo today. And joining #ThursdayDoors. I’ll explain.

In Zagreb this morning at 10 AM a workshop started, that I would have loved to attend. It’s called Transgenerational Haunting, and I’ve attended it in Amsterdam in June. It was incredibly healing and enriching. I can’t be in Zagreb, due to a broken foot and financial issues. But I CAN picture myself there in the workshop, because I was there last year (and wrote poems).  So I decided to attend the workshop in spirit, from my own house.

In the Amsterdam workshop I got to know a poem by Czeslaw Milosz, called Late Ripeness.  My poem today was written after reading that poem again, creating my own associations line by line, in the spirit of the workshop. I recommend reading the Milosz’s poem. When I looked it up, I read that “Czeslaw Milosz ranks among the most respected figures in twentieth-century Polish literature, as well as one of the most respected contemporary poets in the world: he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1980”.

I’ve decided to also use this poem for #ThursdayDoors, a fun and inspiring initiative hosted by Norm. I remember clearly how the very first picture I took in Zagreb was of a door. In a less literal sense, the workshop in Zagreb last year opened the door for me to start a new education. I simply wanted more of this.

So, now I’m here, with my broken foot. Logic says I can’t go to Spain for my education this year. My heart refuses that logic, and still searched for ways to attend. I want the learning, I want the connection, I want the healing. I’m filled with desire. Which I usually find a scary place to be. At the moment I prefer it over denial of the desire, or accepting the very possible reality of not going. IF I end up going, against the odds, I promise to take pictures of doors!



Roman doors


broken stern –
sink well enough and I’ll be preserved
my cabin doors standing
my galley floor burnt

sunken tools –
they tell my story
repairman of what’s broken
a carpenter by trade

archaeologist –
if you find my vessel
in 2000 years time
what will you uncover?

a charred heart
for healing
– sink well enough and I’ll be preserved

I present to you: the most complete Roman river craft ever discovered in north-west Europe. Unlike most vessels of its kind known from Roman times, it was not stripped bare and abandoned, but sunk while still in operation… It was wrecked around the year 190 AD, possibly due to navigational error. It sank, and much of the ship’s interior and captain’s personal belongings were preserved.

The doors struck me, even before I remembered I could use them for our #ThursdayDoors. They look like if you enter through them, you might step back in time. The doors are the entry to the cabin. Behind that was a second room, the galley. Cooking was done on a tile, to keep the wood safe from the fire. You can see the tile in the picture of the guided tour. It’s right from the grinding stones, in the next cabinet.

The wooden thingy behind the knife blades, was a kind of mixer, used to remove lumps from the porridge. In the next picture you’ll find around-the-corner keys. I don’t understand how those worked, which is a good reason to go back for a next visit!

The carpenter had a number of wood processing tools. I chose to photograph this one, because of the wood curls that were found in it. Wood chips almost 2000 years old, because he hadn’t cleaned his tools yet… It makes the past present, and makes me wonder about time.

I took pictures of the things that touched me the most. Except for the sandals, which are replicas, all items you see are real. They belonged to the captain of the ship and he used them. They also found a cabinet and chests where stored things in – all wooden, and very rare finds to be preserved, and preserved this well.

I’ve seen lots of Roman remains but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Roman doors. The Museum Hoge Woerd near Utrecht (The Netherlands) has done a great job at displaying all the wonderful special finds and telling their story.

Thursday door – 3

This door was hiding something. Scroll down to find out what!

Mode d’emploi

To be me
To feel me
To experience me
To acknowledge me
To accept me
To allow me
To love me

To be me
To feel me being me
To experience me feeling me
To acknowledge me experiencing me
To accept me acknowledging me
To allow me accepting me
To love me allowing me
To love me loving me

To be me
To be me feeling me
To be me experiencing me
To be me acknowledging me
To be me accepting me
To be me allowing me
To be me loving me

To feel me
To feel me being me
To feel me feeling me
To feel me experiencing me
To feel me acknowledging me
To feel me accepting me
To feel me allowing me
To feel me loving me

To experience me
To experience me being me
To experience me feeling me
To experience me experiencing me
To experience me acknowledging me
To experience me accepting me
To experience me allowing me
To experience me loving me

To acknowledge me
To acknowledge me being me
To acknowledge me feeling me
To acknowledge me experiencing me
To acknowledge me acknowledging me
To acknowledge me accepting me
To acknowledge me allowing me
To acknowledge me loving me

To accept me
To accept me being me
To accept me feeling me
To accept me experiencing me
To accept me acknowledging me
To accept me accepting me
To accept me allowing me
To accept me loving me

To allow me
To allow me being me
To allow me feeling me
To allow me experiencing me
To allow me acknowledging me
To allow me accepting me
To allow me allowing me
To allow me loving me

To love me
To love me being me
To love me feeling me
To love me experiencing me
To love me acknowledging me
To love me accepting me
To love me allowing me
To love me loving me

Today the poem came first, then I went looking for a door to go with it. After all, participating in Thursday Doors needs a door! This poem/exploration felt like a prayer to me. So I decided to go look for church doors in my city. Then I realised church doors, when closed, have a rather impermeable quality. They’re there to protect what’s inside. So I realised I wanted to go look for welcoming doors, and make that my quest. A door that says “come in”. Or, even better, “come in I love you”.

Since I tend to practical, I wondered if that could be combined with buying fresh bread. With going to the library. With whatever that’s on my to do list. And I remember how this poem started… The original title was ‘to be list’. I think I need to go outside to be instead of to do.


Today’s #ThursdayDoors brought me a lovely quest. What looked like a boring door with nothing but emptiness behind it, turned out to be interesting and fun. The dinosaurs will be travelling to Enschede to day, which is about a two hour drive. I smile when I picture the cars who will meet this unusual convoy, and the children (0-99) in there who’ll be as surprised and happy as I was to meet them.