This was January, 2018

This was January.

This was searching for sunlight. This was discovering plenty of silver linings at the crack of dawn.

This was tracing & retracing familiar routes. This was regrouping & rediscovering.

January; it was breathing life into fresh resolutions; picking a way through old & new habits. It was weighing the good & the bad. It was being hopeful & determined, but also being kind & gentle, patient & realistic.
This was not reading that one book a month, but it was properly breaking in that new journal. This was not sending everyone a card, but it was sending some postcards with care.

This was January.
Stormy, yet mild January, with golden sunrises, with flocks of birds being propelled through grey, cloudy skies. This was January with the heartbreak of others that quietly turned into heartache of my own. January, with stories from the outside seeping through to the inside. January, with brilliant new tunes, with the distraction of pure poetry that insisted on settling between the collections of beauty that had already gathered in my wandering mind.

This was January.
This was the absence of light. And the abundance of glorious beginnings. This was hardly picking up my camera, this was constantly seeking out the right moment & not always finding it.

This was a gentle start.
A new year.
This was January.

(to be in love with a song 🙂


Note to self


Photo by the wonderful, beautiful, sweet & incredible Saraï Jansen

Message to humanity – Wubbo Ockels

‘We, humanity, are so strong, that we can save the earth.
But we also can destroy it.’

-Wubbo Ockels-

I shared this video on Facebook about 3 years ago. Today it popped up as a reminder on my personal Facebook account & I knew I had to share it here with you all. At the time, this man & his urgent message touched me deeply & made me cry. Three years later, it still does.

This is a beautiful, enormously touching speech by Dutch astronaut Professor Wubbo Ockels, addressed to us all. In short, it is a powerful reminder of what we have, what we are about to lose, but also the good we can do as people. It is a warning, a heartfelt plea to do right by this planet, to fight for what we have been given & to never give up on what we’ve got.
Here is a dying man’s final wish; his final gift to those of us who have the luxury of time on our hands. And I’m so glad I fell into these words again today, at the start of this beautifully, untouched New Year. Because every single word he is saying fills me with strong resolve to always keep looking out for this unique, single planet that we find ourselves upon; to do right by her, to learn more & strive for better.

Those of you who know me, know I am not one to get onto the barricades to address large audiences or put my personal opinion on display. In the ‘real’ world & on this blog, I like to share my view on the world, but always try to stay clear off forcing that same view on anybody else. And that is how I would still like things to be. But every now and then, I suppose, it also feels like taking the easy way out when keeping my humble beliefs, on the larger issues this world is facing, safely tucked inside. By not sharing my true opinion on certain matters, it might feel like I never really take sides. Never really dare to say; ‘this is what I think is right, this is what I feel is wrong & this is what I think we could do about it.’ And I guess, as long as all of us with the same ideas, yet humble disposition, decide never to speak up, change is not very likely to ever come about.

And so here I am; sharing the words and thoughts of someone whose final views on the world, humanity & Climate change deeply touch me & whose wise words I want to stand behind & share with you. By sharing this video here, Ockels’ message may touch someone else out there too, the way it touched and touches me; maybe it will alter something, bring about the smallest of change. And those little changes are all we need. Because we are in this together, we really are. And that’s a good thing, as far as I am concerned.

In 2018, I am going to take even better care of this beautiful place we call Earth. And I am kind of hoping you are with me on this….

The Cutting Room Floor, 2017

Browsing thought this years pictures, I cannot help but feel slightly overwhelmed & immensely thankful for the lovely year I’ve been given. A year filled with moments of light, love & my favorite silent moments of quiet reflection. The world, with all its gracious beauty & all its brutal violence can be a complicated place to be part of. Yet most days, not all days, I feel I have somehow been able to find that all important fragile balance between being part of everything without getting lost in it all. Living with eyes & mind wide open, but also giving myself time and space to recharge and readjust when necessary.
And more than anything, I have reminded myself over & over to keep an eye on life’s beautiful details; all the hidden beauty in everyday life, all the tiny presents nature presents to us as long as we chose to see them & all the unexpected treasures that can be found between one moment and the next.

On this blog, I have attempted to share exactly those valuable moments, those details, with you, to make sure none of the beauty would have to be lost on you…

Dear All, thank you for following along in 2017 & of course, I hope we’ll meet again here in the year to come. Because I intend to find new & old ways to share my little, large, perfectly imperfect life with you in 2018 and it would be great if you’d be there to witness it!

Love and take care, Naomi

For Anne…

Anne Faber bewerkt (2)

A couple of weeks ago, Anne went cycling on her own. Twenty-five years old,
she was just a young woman, right at the start of her life, going on an ordinary, little adventure at the end of the day. A young woman, much like myself, much like many of us. A young woman, who never returned home that night & whose body was found dead and discarded in the forest 2 weeks later.

Anne has been on my mind a lot lately. Not just because the news has been dominated by her disappearance, but mainly because her story and all the details of her passing have found a way to my heart and won’t let themselves be shaken off. The cycling trip, the numbered tracks, the day drawing to an end, the world around her dripping with her imminent ending.
In this past week, I have found my thoughts drifting to dark places as I thought of her discarded, lonely self left in that, once so innocent ,forest; so far from those she loved & those who loved her. To me, nature has always been a place to feel fully at ease, a place to recharge & come to terms with the bustle of life. The forest in fall has always been my go-to-place, my unquestioned favourite season.
Yet, suddenly, this same place & this same season were dragged into the harsh light of reality & were made to be stained by the vicious act of Anne’s killer. It’s like I just cannot not comprehend how so much natural beauty & so much sickening violence can co-exist in one place at the same time.

Anne, just another story on the news. Anne, the girl that went cycling & never come round again. Anne, who I never met & was never likely to meet. Anne, whose senseless death has settled within me for reasons I might never fully understand.
This is for Anne. This is for me. This is for the forest in fall. This is for the restoring of innocence & beauty in places where it is lost. This is for all of us who might need this right now….

The forest and the girl

The moss and the fungus
the evaporating dew
the endless singing overhead
the smelling and the creaking
the frail, motionless canopy
the breaking and the falling
the inevitable ending;

The forest and the girl.

The Underestimated Importance of Documenting My Days


Last year, at the end of each month, I would take the time to write a small, or sometimes rather extensive piece, about the month that had just come to pass. This year I decided not to; concluding that it was quite a lot of work & I wasn’t even sure whether many people were actually interested in reading my monthly ramblings. I’m still not sure about the latter, but I do know that I miss it. I miss that moment of reflection, that quiet time to relive, process & give order to the days of my life.

Of course, I still don’t know if anybody wants to read it. But just the other day, I think I realized that all this documenting is not for anyone but myself. I am the one that apparently needs that neat dot behind the days gone by. I am the one that wants to take a little while to look back, learn & understand what’s going on in life. It gives me a sense of order, a sense of completion. It’s like storing away one month to make space for the new. It helps me to live out my days more consciously, more fully in a way. And prevents the days, the months & the seasons from melting into one another, until they become a faceless, nameless mess, called ‘Yet-another-year-gone-by’.

The thing is; I’ve been feeling a little adrift lately, a little uninspired to document anything about my life, whether it be on this blog, in a letter or even in my head. The days of this summer have had the tendency to fall together, blend into a massive whole, instead of the separate moments I would love to take them for. And I’ve been blaming time itself; for moving too rapidly, for not granting me sufficient time to stop & reflect. I have been blaming a lack of good sleep, the weather, the news, & I suppose, I have even blamed life itself.
But yesterday I decided it was time to stop blaming anything or anyone but myself. It isn’t time, nor sleep, nor life that has gotten in the way of things. It is me. I’m the only one preventing myself from living each & every day of this life with eyes & mind wide open. And I’m also the only one stopping myself from making a beautiful whole of all the little priceless moments that make up for my lovely life.

And so, I have decided to stop sulking & start documenting again. At the end of August I will once again collect my photos, my words, my thoughts & I will share them here, like I used to & in a way that works for me. And, of course, you are ever so welcome to come along on this old/new journey with me….

And then it is April


Dutch poem by Jentl

And then it is April. While it’s still new-year’s eve in your mind, the days have already slipped from winter into not winter & then right into spring. You were still binding your time, making plans for the time to come. But as it turns out, time has made plans of its own & has taken off without a word of warning. A quarter of the year gone, while you’re still lingering at the start, wondering what on earth just happened.

And then it is April. The world outside your window suddenly seems too beautiful, too sharp a contrast with the world on the screen of your television set. It is April. Parks turn pink & white with blossom so dazzling that it has you looking up more than you’re looking down. Pollen explode into soft spring air, while toxic gasses explode in a world so far away from you, that it might be a different planet altogether. It is April & bombs are dropped, because bombs are dropped, because bombs are dropped. Children die in the arms of their parents, parents die in the arms of others & others die in the arms of their children. Countries tumble over one another in a hurry to be the first to declare something that is not supposed to be called war, but might as well be given a suitable name for the occasion.

And then it is April. Winter has melted from our minds at rapid speed. It is warm outside. But some of us still insist that climate change is a myth, while elsewhere villages are being washed away by mud, water & ignorance. It is April & once again trucks turn into killing machines, peaceful cities turn into silent seas of flowers. Oh, yes, it is April. Some days the news is so bleak that you cannot bare read it. You find your mind drifting from agony to entertainment in a speed that surprises you; looking for a way out, an excuse to momentarily or permanently look away. You don’t know how to carry it, how to bury it, how to be & not be part of everything all the time or not at all.

It is April & you wonder. You wonder a lot. And it makes your head spin, your eyes water. You are happy. Most days. You can’t help it. There are flowers on your table. There is food on the stove. Your cat sleeps in the sun that so perfectly falls through your windows. You have become an aunt, you have extended your family tree & have experienced a new form of unconditional love.  You are safe & you are loved. You are happy & you are no longer sure whether it is appropriate to embrace it so full-heartedly.

And then it is April. And then it’s not new-year’s eve any longer. It is time to start. Really start. Or time to restart. To try & retry. Despite & because of the world you live in.

Goodbye December


Goodbye December, the time has come; time to say goodbye.
Another year has gone by; it passed swiftly, as always. There it was; larger than life, filled with its seemly countless blank days, its stories untold, its memories impatiently waiting for somewhere to begin. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. You came along, announcing the end of a moment in time, running quietly forward, straight into new times to come.

Goodbye Dear December, I have to hurry now. I look behind me & it seems you are already fading. I can’t help feeling that I have somehow lived less of you than I usually would. Like I spend my time moving through one day, merely to get to another. Do you know what I mean? I wonder if you felt it too. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful for your days or that you didn’t provide all that a good December is supposed to provide. You gave me cold days, frosty morning & stormy evenings. You gave me Christmas lights, hearty meals & heartfelt conversations. There were unexpected moments, there were sweet surprises too. Lights appeared in trees, windows were decorated with words of wisdom. Mist crawled through the streets, frost wrapped its celestial white arms around spider webs, decorated fences & walls with the sparkling wonders of your winter. Flocks of gees passed overhead, calling out one to the other, I bid them a silent farewell, wanting them to travel safe, yet to return with spring. There was beauty everywhere; enough to go around, enough to satisfy the soul. But yet, it was as if I wasn’t really there to witness it all.

But, dear December, it wasn’t you. It was me. I suppose I got distracted by the finality of your season. Distracted by the end of things, rather than by the middle of them. Your days have been heavy with thought. But not with thoughts of you. It were thoughts of this year’s ambiguous heritage instead.
A full year has passed. It is slowly receding back into itself. Leaving us standing at the brink of something new, still feeling slightly weary of the world & all its heartache. Weary of people dying in the safety of our streets, weary of cities under siege, children dying too young or growing up too fast. Weary of our endless wavering believe in what is right & what is wrong. Who are we now? And where will we go from here? The past year has been a challenge to the soul & I’m afraid you have been no exception, December. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel defeated by it all. Frightened of what lies ahead. What if I am simply too trivial & insignificant to stand up to the new ways of this world? What if I’m too frightened to take a stand or to simply speak my mind? I don’t want to worry, but how can I not?

Dear beautiful December, I am sorry for the lack of attention that I have given you. I feel I have let you & myself down. And I am truly sorry about that. Because all I really want is to thank you. Thanks you & all those colourful, eventful, wonderful & priceless months that came before. I have moved through most days of the past year with wide open eyes, boundless appreciation & an endless wandering mind. I have witnessed early mornings; pristine & promising. I have walked through the silence of seasons unfolding, have wrapped my arms tightly around the beginning of each day.
I read more books than I did the year before, I never wrote enough letters, I cooked countless meals & watched new stories unfold in & around me. I have worried, I have cried, I have felt at a loss, defeated, adrift. But I have laughed too. I have celebrated, I have walked, I have enjoyed, I have seen & I have done. I wrote down my version of events, I documented my humble understanding of beauty & I created something that was mine & no one else’s. I loved, I rejoiced, I learned & unlearned. I thought, I was & I wasn’t. And more than anything, I lived. Lived as courageously & as consciously I could. And it wasn’t perfect. Of course, it wasn’t. But it was the best & the only thing I could think to do. And I loved it. And I thank you all for that.

Goodbye Dearest December, goodbye to you. Goodbye days. Goodbye weeks. Goodbye Year. I’ll must be going now. But I’ll make sure to think of you along the way…

Love, Naomi


Series: way too many episodes of Lost.
Movies: Mystic River, Les Misérables
Songs of the year:
Elegy for the artic – Ludovico Einaudi
Incomplete – James Bay
Will of the river – First Aid Kit
Nemesis – David Gray
You want it darker – Leonard Cohen
New Year’s eve – First Aid Kit

Happy Holidays!


Dear All,

It seems like forever ago since I last posted something on this poor blog of mine. I’ve been troubled by my shoulder lately & haven’t really been able to work on the computer much at all. Neither could I carry my camera around, like I usually do or make the tiny, precise drawings I tend to make. As a result, all my creative outpours, which I usually share here with you, have come to a sudden standstill. I’m truly sorry about that.

Despite the radio silence, which might still continue to last a little longer than I had hoped, I do really want to take a moment to thank you all for following this little blog of mine in the past year. Thank you for finding me, reading my words & sharing my journey. It means a lot, it really does. And of course, I hope you will all follow me into the New Year to come. I’m not entirely sure in which shape or form this blog will reappear in 2017; whether there’ll be another daily, weekly or monthly project, whether there will be more photos and less words or whether I will just wing it altogether. If you have any suggestions, any wishes or ideas, please feel free to help me out. I would love to find out what you think or what you would like to see more of on this blog.

Sweet all, I wish you a very Merry Christmas & of course a splendid, beautiful, creative, safe, hopeful, loving, inspiring & memorable New Year! I will certainly try to round off the year in style with my last ‘goodbye- month ‘post real soon, but it’s goodbye for now….

Love, Naomi