The time of our lives

The (r)evolution now is in our hearts!
It is time to get ourselves out of the way
and let Life-Love come through

The call for action is the call of the heart
Mind, Body and Spirit will follow

It is time to Occupy that which your heart is calling you to
A square, a new house, a broken relationship, the train you take everyday to go to work...
And to bring the whole of who we are
To show up
To be present

Valentine Giraud - summary of talk given to YIP 2011-2012

Welcome Home!

To be back home. It is an act! It is a decision and a commitment.
After being on the move for almost 2 years now - with a few months still in Holland last year - it feels really good to have my own house to which call home and make my own.

The past months journeying in South America were great and have opened many many spaces in which ideas, plans and desires could grow. I have learned much about the fellow inhabitants of my continent and have been able to experience by my own the moves happening at this part of the world now. The whole experience of wandering into the unknown with Maarten has been amazing and super important to strengthen the foundations of our life together.

And now that we are back in Holland I feel we really had to leave to be able to be back and fully here. For the months we were away at several times I longed being back... Maybe for the first time in a long time, I longed being still and settled in one place. I longed being one place where people know they can find me, where I can connect with friends and partners whenever I wanted - not depending on crapy internet connection or buses schedules.

Being at home now also being me balance and some kind of quietness in the spirit. I feel more matured and grown - somewhat more adult and centered. Caring for the house, preparing the food and organizing our every day lives brings me calmness and wellbeing. In a way also brings balance to our man and woman dynamics, where I can take over the position which I also love of providing and caring, of mothering, of the feminine. A lot of times along our trips I found myself pending too much to the active, do-it, make-it-happen, directive side of the balance, and letting go of the soft, embracing, caring other side.

Now that we are back, established in our household, I tend to take back the part of me (and of the couple) that is providing and giving. Doing groceries and cooking is a pleasure, whereas while travelling it was a have-to, practical thing to do. And Maarten, on his turn, can take back the more masculine role, harmonizing so the equilibrium of our interactions.

Being home is an act. And I am loving it!

The curves the trip take

So here I am sitting in Valparaiso, in a living room that has become ours over the past week, in a house that has been generously lent to us by our friend Cristian. Here I am sitting with my lap top on my lap, writing email and messages to my friends spread around the world asking for ideas and advices of where to go next.

Here I am sitting with the almos existential question of what to do, in a ocean of possibilities. Bolivia? Peru? Where in Bolivia? Which bus to take? How much will it cost to stay there? What is it that I am needing the most now? What is the place and what are the conditions that can best nurture me now?

After having journeyed for 4 months, I am sitting with the need to actually be still and be living a rhythmic life, where you know where you are going to wake up the next morning, and the morning after, and the morning after. In fact I am feeling lost... With no sense of purpose any more... With no sense of enchantement and discovery, as if everything that is there to see I have already seen. Maybe not exactly the same place with the same colors and taste, but yes, something quite similar... And so I am asking myself, what is it that this journey is really asking for me to be, and to become?

Recently we were seriously talking about going back to Holland earlier than planned, as we felt a urge to be settled and start building on the ideas we are having here. And so we made a whole plan so we would be back beginning of May, instead of beginning of June. All was set and decided, we felt clear and happy about having a clear plan. Minutes later we call AirFrance to find out our ticket is not changeable! Yes, life was telling us it is not yet time to go... But then what? What is the plan, then? 

We were feeling that Bolivia and Peru would be a whole other chapter to go into, and somehow were willing to skip that for now. Bang! We are told, that in fact we can't... and we are subtly invited to think it through again, to reopen ourselves to another possibility behind the ones we were being able to see then. And that is when we say to ourselves: " It seems like we have to stay, and make the most of it. Maybe there is in fact something we are live there that will make it worth it."

The curve has taken us somewhere new, it has invited us to be open and to keep opening up, even when    you feel it is time to close. And now within this open closure, as we start to close the journey (we only have 1 month left) we are find it important to be clear. And that for me, goes beyond the schedule, the dates and the places to go, it has to do with being clear to what we want to live. To somehow be able to sense what is the next learning we need to have, being able to anticipate it and make ourselves ready to when it comes.

Loslaten

Later als ik groot ben

Laat ik alles los

De verhalen die ik heb verzameld

De beelden van toen en toen

De platen die ik draaide

De vrienden die ik ooit vergat

De keren dat ik faalde

Die ben ik vooral zat

Los laat ik de meisjes

Die sliepen in mijn bed

Los laat ik de spullen

Die ik ooit bezat

De zorgen van mijn ouders

Ik laat ze eerbiedig gaan

Vaarwel aan alle Goden

die ik ooit aanbad

Zelfs de tijd die laat ik rustig lopen

Nooit meer kijken op mijn klok

Alles wat mij heeft bevolen

Lieve mensen, rot toch op

Nu ik dit zo hardop zeg

En zelfs ook ergens meen

Zie ik dat ik met ketens ben gebonden

aan toen, aan nu, aan ooit

Aan hem en haar

Aan dit en dat

Jeemig...

Ik kan letterlijk geen kant heen

Maarten

2011

Ik versta je niet

We spreken

Dagen lang

Dragen dromen door stille beeken

Maar ik,

Ik versta je niet

Ik noem je naam

Al vele jaren

Ver voordat je eindelijk kwam

Maar ik,

Ik versta je niet

Jou taal

is toch ook de mijne?

Wij delen

toch een verhaal?

Jij roept

en laat me gaan

bent de enige die me ziet

Zelfs mijn zilte tranen

Als zeeen oneindig diep

Laat de liefde zich vertalen?

Maar ik,

Ik versta je niet

Maarten

2011

Heaven called Mata Altlantica 1

"I'm often ashamed to be human," I say to Valentine. My eyes are red of tears and my mind is numb of sheer disbelieve. We are driving from the beautiful fazenda of Valentines' grandfather near Sao Paulo to Serra Grande, Bahia. It's a three-day drive that takes us through the states of Sao Paulo, Minas Gerais and partly through the beautiful state of Bahia, Brasil. Valentine replies with equal emotion, but with a voice of resignation. She already knows. As far my eyes can see, I only see grasslands. Grassland with only some emaciated cattle scattered around. Grasslands with patches of red earth; earth on the verge of becoming dessert. This beautiful Brasilian soil finds it way to the roads and highways. It finds its way to the tires of cars, feet of the horses and to the shoes of people sauntering up the steep hills. It scrawls into the villages covering the houses, streets and squares. The blood red soil finds her way to the hands, feet and eyes of the people. Mother earth is bleeding and she makes it very clear.
Once, all this land was covered by what is called the 'Atlantic Forest' (Mata Atlantica). It is one of the most biodiverse forests covering our earth. And it was huge. It would cover the complete Atlantic coast of Brasil and as far inland as the eastern border with Paraguay. Clearly a treasure of immense proportions and human importance. But since the colonial times most of this forrest is systematically cleared for cattle, sugar cain and human settlements. Valentine also told me it was also deforested out of esthetic reasons:"Green fields are more beautiful than the forest where dangerous snakes live. They can bite and kill you." 
I drove for three days. I looked and listened for three days but there was no considerable piece of forest left. I  just could not believe it. It made me very sad and intensely angry at the same time. How can people be so indifferent and careless with what they are given? At the same time I realized that this war on the forest waged in a different time; a time in which people felt no other possibility than clearing the land and growing sugar cain and raising cattle. Just by means for survival. But when I heard there is still no ceasefire and the war just continues, except for some patches protected by UNESCO, my hart decided to stop for a while.
It only started beating again when I woke up at Fazenda Juerana Milagrosa. A magical place at the Atlantic Ocean owned by Catharina and Zsolt Makray (Valentine's parents). A cacao farm that in fact contains a stretch of genuine Atlantic Forest. Deep in myself this line of an epic song by Pearl Jam reappeared once again:" I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me." This immersion was intense and profound. Wandering through this dense forrest of threes stretching up over 100 meters, with trunks three meters across dating back long before any European set foot on these lands. Birds twittering stories with an intensity yet unknown to man. Ants marching, cutting and building like they're preparing themselves for the apocalipse. Monkeys shouting; bugs hissing and snakes looking up to see these strange foreign upright creatures; pondering for a while and then continuing there path into the unknown. I honestly felt it as a spiritual experience. To be surrounded by so much life in so many forms in so many colors and shapes. I couldn't help thinking that if Darwin would have arrived in Bahia and used the Atlantic Forrest as its object of research, his On the Origin of Species would have a different outcome. No struggle for life based on a notion where the most fittest creatures survive but a flowering of all life based on sheer abundance. The Atlantic Forest is often called ' The Green Hell'; I felt like I was visiting Heaving. I deem Heaving worth fighting for.  
I also realized that I was struck by the deep power of experience. I already knew about the complete devastation of this forest, somewhere. I think I red an article once in the newspaper just before going to the market. After reading it, I swallowed once deeply; shouted in myself "how can they do that"; gulped down my last bit of coffee and went on to buy myself a nice Dutch herring. But now I am confronted with the facts. I see it, I smell it, I hear it, I feel it, I cry it and I shout it: I experience it. It is transforming. For me this transformation went along with a mantra of constantly repeating questions:"What is my responsibility in this issue?; what can I do to stop this?; Why do people do not realize that this 'game' it finite?; what have to happen to not only protect but also restore this forest?; can we find a model that actually makes a standing three economically more worth that a cut down tree replaced by grass for cattle? So on and so on.
Catharina and Zsolt are beacons of light in this tragic, but familiar story. Also Tamas Makray (the grandfather of Valentine) who is a pioneer in several reforestation projects. 
Lets stop the madness of deforestation and start reforesting the world again! 

If anyone who read this has some more links to share or questions to pose, please do so!


Check also: http://www.sosmatatlantica.org.br/ 

Maarten Asuncion, Paraguay
               

A few notes of Finite and Infinite games by James P. Carse

Just like to share a few insights from this original book:

1

There are at least two kinds of games. One could be called finite, the other, infinite. A finite game is played for the the purpose of winning; an infinite game for the purpose of continuing the play.

2

- The rules of the finite game may not change; the rules of an infinite game must change. 

- Finite players play within boundaries; infinite players play with boundaries.

- A finite player plays to be powerful; an infinite player plays with strength.

- A finite player consumes time; an infinite player generates time.

- The finite player aims for eternal life; the infinite player aims for eternal birth.

3

It is an invariable principle of all play, finite and infinite, that whoever plays, plays freely. Whoever must play, cannot play.

4

Society is finite play; culture is infinite

44

Therefor 'poets' do not fit into society, not because a place is denied them but because they do not take their place 'seriously'. They openly see their roles as theatrical, its styles as poses, its clothing costumes, its rules conventional, its crises arranged, its conflicts performed, and its metaphysics ideological.

94

A culture can be no stronger than its strongest myths.

95

Myths are told for their own sake, are not stories that have meanings, but stories that give meanings.

100

Infinite players are not serious actors in any story, but joyful poets of a story that continues to originate what they cannot finish.

101

There is but one infinite game...

So on and so on...

A little book of joy; a little book of life!

Maarten, Asuncion, Paraguay

Maarten, Asuncion, Paraguay

An emergent movement in Paraguay

We have reached Asuncion two nights ago. I must confess it was not the sight-seeings or tourist attractions which brought us here, but the possibility of meeting a dear friend. Maria Glauser has recently emigrated back to her land after 6 years working with social change and implementing the Hub in London and other countries. 

At the arrival in the country we could already feel the ease and amable way of the local people as people kindly helped us to find tickets to reach Asuncion in good time. The bus ride through the country slowly made us sink into la tranquilidad of its people and land. People sitting by the road in their verandas talking, eating or simply gazing the movement. At our sight vast and flat stretches of land, mostly deforested and turned into pastos for cattle or taken by the vicious Monsanto's Round Up soya plantations, and the sun setting long and lasting, painting the sky orange, pink, red and purple. 

As we dinned in the garden, Maria told us about the projects she has been involved since moving back with much life and enthusiasm. "It is amazing how so little can make so much impact here", she commented about the work she's been doing with rural people in the North of the country. Soon we were filled in by this energy and immersed in this vast field of possibility and had decided to stay for 2 weeks. "That should give us enough time to really feel and engage with the place, go to visit some Guarani indigenous communities and enrole in other projects happening", we said to ourselves.

So it was that yesterday we found ourselves being part of the 2nd Hub Initiative event happening in the city. Gathered in a room of a contemporary art gallery located in an old colonial building in the city centre of Asuncion, there were students, young professionals and entrepreneurs interested to watch a screening on "info-activism". The video (http://www.informationactivism.org/en/viewonline)  showed 10 tactics for transforming information into action and the power of people's mobilization using social media. 

The meeting didn't have anything special, and yet it felt just very special to be part of. Maybe it was the sense of freshness and hope to it, or maybe the sense of possibility. I felt inside we were being part, witnessing and in some way helping to give birth to an emergent movement, which is already and will continue to generate great fruits. There were young Paraguayans who are working to make a difference in their country and to serve their communities, proposing new, innovative and creative ways to do things. This is a country which had for long been controlled by a single political party, which has only defended the interested of few, distributing power, money and access to a minority of the population.  And that is now facing the possibility of somewhat changing the rules of the game, by the work of people who no longer seek their own interest and wealth, but rather the well of all. 

I felt grateful to being part of this crew and to know that the crew is growing all over the world. And I also look forward to seeing the changes it will be able to make in the coming times.

Her name is Sidah

Her name is Sidah. Sidah is a beautiful dark woman from a little town at the Bahian coast called Serra Grande. She is a mother of 26. She's already been mother for 13 years. She remembers it very well. At the age of 12 she got a boyfriend. A nice young man who was slightly older than she was back then. They where madly in love. Holding hands while eating tapioca at the town's square. He would climb up the tallest coconut trees to pick her the biggest nuts. Sidah was looking all proud at her strong 16 year old man. One night after another tapioca dinner, they found themselves cuddling on a nearby beach. Sidah found it pleasant. From one thing came the other an after that night on the beach, Sidah could not call herself a virgin anymore. That, if she actually knew what that was.

Time dripped by, like a tap losing its water in a constant rhythm. Sidah was feeling sick. Sidah was... constantly feeling sick. The food she always liked most, she could not stand anymore. It was that horrible smell. She would ask her mother: "Mom, what's wrong with me? Why is it that my belly is growing and that I can't stand the smell of your delicious manioc soup anymore?" "My dear," her mother would reply, "I think your suffering from worms and just stay out the the kitchen." Sidah would glance up at her mother and receive this answer as a Sinterklaas gift rapped in last years wrapping paper. Something was not right, but what it was she couldn't tell.

A friend of Sidah also noticed her belly growing and growing. She learned that, that had something to do with babies. Sidah did not knew. Sidah did not go to school nor did her piously Christian mother talk about these physical and unclean matters. Sidah was told by her friend to really see a doctor.

"Dear Sidah," the doctor uttered, "it seems to me that somebody will ring your doorbell soon, but let me first ask you a few questions." He looked with one eye up to Sidah's mom who accompanied her during the consult. "Did you ever had a boyfriend?" Sidah felt her ears starting to glow. The presence of her mother was making her blood run a little faster and feel a little hotter. She stuttered and avoided the doctors' eyes. "Yes, but we broke up a few moths ago." The doctor went on with a calm and determined voice. "Sidah, did you ever had sexual intercourse with your boyfriend?" Again, the doctor holding one eye fixed on the mother. She uttered nothing, but he could tell the question he asked caused the acute irruption of sweat on the mothers forehead. Sidah felt next to her. Her mother was still there, but her spirit had changed. It changed in a entity of shame with in the middle the eye of God prying at her. Sidah was glued to her chair unable to move. She knew she had to give a positive answer, but she was unaware of the relation between the question and her illness. What did sex had to do with babies, after all? She decided to glance up with her most innocent twelve years-old eyes and stated: "No, Doctor, I did not have sexual inte-something with him!" 

The doctor smiled and leaned back in his chair. His hands touching the back of his head. He looked at her for a short while. Then he laid his eyes on Sidah's mother. She did not look back. Than he stretched his arms straight into the air, looked with bright and clear eyes and spoke with a voice leaving no room  for any other possibility: "Well, than it was the wind."

Sidah glanced up. Her eyes bright and cheerful. The doctor just revealed a great secret to her. It was like switching on a light for the first time. She experienced the deep joy of understanding the cause of an effect. "Off-course," she thought, "I've always knew it somewhere, my big belly is caused by the wind." Sidah looked at her mother all proud and shameless. "See, Mother! It was the wind that made me pregnant!"

The mother looked at her daughter, her head slightly tilted. Than she looked at the doctor, with eyes asking to reveal the truth. The doctor first held back, but after a short tense silence he yielded and leaned forward to Sidah. "My dear, let me explain you something..."

----
This is not just a story. It's real! And it's not unique. Loads of kids in Bahia, Brasil, lack deeply any form of education. It made a deep impression on me. 

Passing through the Needle's Eye

Every great journey, moment in life or trip has its beginning, middle or end with a deep process of letting go. Some when traveling to more far away lands get food poison or heat dehydration, others must learn to travel light or others see themselves facing hard breakups. In one way or another, be it physically, spiritually or materially, we are asked to let go of the things, toxins, people or feelings that somewhat no longer serve us for the purpose of where we want to get or who we are longing to become.

Maarten has now been in such process for 3 days already. He has been having incredibly high fever, sweating it out all and a little bit more. The process has been ignited by some flower medicine we are taking, which are meant to cleanse the aura and the body.

Be it for choice or for the circumstances, moments like this simply allow us time to reflect and inquiry deeply on What do I need to carry along and what has been an excess? Much of what we carry, emotionally and materially, we have acquired with little thinking or consciousness, throughout the places we have been, the experiences we've had and the not so necessary shoppings we've made. We have all a collection of feelings, possessions and people who don't make us be fully happy and most of all, to be in contact with our essence and most natural needs. Times like this make us process that and act upon it.

I remember when I was about to begin my journey through the Middle East 2 years ago, as I was packing the things I wanted to take (choosing from what I had already brought to be in Greece and Europe) I heard this voice saying I should pack as light as possible, letting go of all the beautiful clothes that had given me beauty until then. I had this guide within saying I should for now on look for the beauty within and to be able to shine it through from my eyes and gestures, more than from the clothes I wore. Moreover, I felt I had not to simply send them back to Brazil, but rather give them away to other people with much love and generosity. So it happened that I embarked in maybe the most significant and deep journey I have ever been into. One which opened my heart wide open, grounded me on my path, showed me the power of Love and brought me to where I am now.  

Letting go is an art to which we are a constant apprentice as life takes its curves, people come and go, circumstances change and our paths to authenticity and the essential become deeper. As Jesus once said "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a richer man to enter the Kingdom of God"


Valentine
Puerto Iguazu - Argentina

A duo journey into not-knowing

It was February 2010, we had met for one month and there we were sitting on a cafe in Maastricht while the wind was blowing strong and cold outside. We were dreaming and making plans of how we wanted to live our lives together. In front of us a little notebook where we took note and drew the words that came out flowing naturally. The plan was to go to Brazil in December and from there start a life which would enable us to have a house by the nature and to be connected to the world doing meaningful work with groups in different places and contexts.

A year later the dream has come (yet partially) true: we are now for almost 2 months travelling in Brazil, on a six months journey through South America.

And what is it all about then?

While many people meet and buy a house together to build their life, we decided to build our life together on the road - or at least to take this time to create and nurture the foundations of our relationship based on exploring the world together. We decided to give ourselves time and space to explore and reflect on what are the paths we are choosing for ourselves - both individually and as a couple - in search for clarity and integrity about the work we do and the choices we make.

From the beginning we saw this journey to be more than just a "back-packers' trip" that goes from sight-seeing to sight-seeing, and to make it to be a way of living, in which we will work and travel at the same time. Most of all, we want to learn from the land and the people who we come across, spending time at places that call us and engaging with the local community, offering them our labor (be it manual, intelectual, emotional and/or spiritual).

As we say, we have taken the intentional decision to travel into not-knowing, so the emptiness of having no plans or preconceived ideas and the active collection of new experiences, new sceneries, other traditions and encounters with inspiring people, can allow surprises and the new to emerge.

Where will it take us?

We really don't know and that is the beauty of it all. At times I get myself trying to foresee it and somehow plan "after the journey is over". As times passes by and the further deep we allow ourselves to be in this constant exploration, of each other, of ourselves and of this world around us, I remind myself that it is just not possible to do so right now. The journey has just begun and there is a long, long, winding road till a clear, consistent and grounded plan come through - a plan which is truly significant for us both. Until then our role is to keep opening up and clearing the channels to allow a greater flow of information to come through and materialize in the many forms that synchronicity or destiny can take.

Valentine
Puerto Iguazu - Argentina