In the fall of 2000, I went on my first trek in Nepal, walking around the Annapurna Massif. For three weeks, the world outside ceased to exist, nothing else mattered as I moved in a completely different timeframe, giving myself over completely to the mountains, to the rivers, to the act of walking day in, day out.
an essay I wrote in 2007 that is very much in the spirit of liminal space
It starts at Schiphol, the Amsterdam airport. Before that, I am still immersed in my life in Jerusalem, concerned with my family and the escalating violence in this region, while working until the very last minute to finish grant proposals that are due when I am away. I do not have time to connect to my trip, which still feels more like a yearly obligation to visit my elderly mother in my native Curaçao, rather than spending my precious vacation time trekking in Turkey or Nepal.
I usually have a few hours to kill, not enough to take the train into the city and visit friends, which is what I do on my return trip when I have almost twelve hours between planes. And so I silently wander around the airport, feeling a little like a spy, as I do in Jerusalem when I hear Dutch tourists speaking on the street, not suspecting that I, who looks like a native of this city, would understand. Not yet identifying myself as a speaker of Dutch, I take in the talk, smiling to myself, my little secret. Read More
I float on my back held up by a Watsu practitioner who moves me gently through the water, making sure my head stays above the surface so that I do not get water up my nose. Watsu, or water shiatsu, can be a means of water therapy, but I have been going to Watsu sessions at the Beit Zayit pool to celebrate special occasions, like my birthdays, to enter into a dream state, to sink to the depths of my subconscious and to emerge anew,
At the bottom of Mahtesh Ramon, the largest of the three natural craters in the Negev desert, I totally lost my sense of direction. For reasons I did not fully comprehend at that moment, I refused to pull out my map, as I fell deeper and deeper into a state of confusion. Read More
Zalig Uiteinde is what the Dutch wish one another on December 31. Uiteinde is a word that does not exist in English, yet its constituents are similar to out and end – an ending-out? - I would translate the blessing as “a blissful ushering out of the end”. It gives space to that time between the old and the new. It gives duration to the end. Read More
Four (wet) poems - with macro photographs of Kambucha mushrooms that proliferate in sweet tea, producing a fermented drink said to have healing powers Read More