BLOG- March 2025 - STABILITY

I’m writing again from Hydra, the Greek island where I lived from 1990 to 2010. A vast, bare rock in the sea, with granite houses, no transport other than walking, donkeys, and boats along the coast. In winter, it is home to around three thousand local Hydriots, hundreds of Albanian immigrants, dozens of artistic foreigners, and a handful of individuals who don’t quite fit into any category. In the long, hot summer, this island transforms into an expensive, overcrowded tourist destination where hedonism reigns.

What is it that keeps drawing me to this place?
There are many, many answers to that question, each reflecting a different facet of this island. Today, I want to highlight just one: Stability.

Not only is this place a massive, solid rock, where everything feels grounded, but the local people are deeply rooted as well. Family ties are unshakable. Houses carry the names of their ancestral lineage. Spirituality (in the form of Greek Orthodox tradition) is both visible and audible. The passing of time is marked not only by the seasons but also by festivals and traditions. And there is a deep mutual respect for this local culture.

I find it remarkable that despite the constant influx of ships, spilling out hundreds, sometimes thousands of tourists each day, despite the wealthy buyers acquiring houses, despite the world pressing in through social media, the local community manages to preserve its cohesion.

Twenty years ago, I taught English here and knew most of the schoolchildren. Now, they are parents themselves, walking around with children the same age they were when I first met them. So little seems to have changed.

One might call it old-fashioned, slow, rigid—but I see its great strength. It’s not that these people resist change; they do change, but always within a framework that safeguards social cohesion, ensuring that no one is left unseen—not the limping man struggling up the stone steps, not the elderly man with dementia who is repeatedly guided home, nor the elderly woman without connections or income who receives a warm meal every day. This heartfelt hospitality reminds me of Rumi’s poem The Guest House.

These days, I cherish and cultivate this kind of stability within myself. I walk endlessly through the mountains to strengthen my legs. I dive deep into my own inner world, recognizing and embracing more of my fears and patterns so that, instead of weaknesses, they can become sources of strength. I welcome all encounters and whatever they may bring.

Heartfelt hospitality rests on a stable foundation—within ourselves, within a community, within the world. Stability does not mean rigidity or exclusion; it means receptivity within flexible structures.

Our world seems to be in crisis. To me, the answer lies in stability—respecting and cherishing what provides a solid foundation so that we can remain flexible in the face of what comes our way. Heartfelt hospitality does not close the door; it opens the heart.

That is what keeps drawing me back to Hydra: I learn here how to let life into my heart.

I come to Hydra to drink in the stability of the rock, the people, the beauty, the nature, the heartfelt hospitality. And then, a little more openhearted, I return to the Netherlands.

My work is rooted in heartfelt hospitality. Everyone is welcome. Everything is allowed to be. Even what does not yet feel accepted—is also allowed to be. We are all students of love.

BLOG – Active Love

The title of this Blog is a variation on the titel of the impactful book by Joanna Macy and Chris Johnstone (2016), Active Hope, which teaches us that hope alone may lead to complacency, while a series of steps along gratitude and acceptance may lead us to empowered action.

What then is ‘active love’ ? In short, it is being committed to protect that which you love. This need not be a big, passionate, public display, it may be as small as a moment of …. cherishing.

During the holidays I spent time with the qustions, who and what do I cherish? And, by whom and what am I cherished?

The questions provoke both positive and negative feelings. Loving tenderness, warmth, calm, peace, joy. Ánd longing, disappointment, anger, guilt and shame, even unworthiness.

I thought of people, my children, partner, family, friends.

I thought of places, homes, favourite countries, landscapes and seasides, and some secret spots. I thought of moments of the day, like my morning coffee and the warm bed I slip into at night.

I thought of items I keep safe like my almost 60-year old teddy bear, other gifts, hand-made art.

Artifacts I pick up in nature like stones and feathers, leaves and smells.

I thought of my body, sensuality, health and vitality.

I thought of dreams, beliefs, hopes, longings and faith.

I thought of the life skills, talents and qualities I have developed and treasure.

I thought of memories and how I keep them safe.

I thought of my struggles, fears, successes and failures.

I thought, I felt. I felt love for the miracle of my life, the richness of life.

I felt respect and gratitude. I felt small in such a big, rich world. I felt humility.

And then, I felt the kindling of a fire inside me.

It was ignited long before the midwinter ceremony, during which I lit a candle to celebrate the resilience of nature, of life, the lenthening of the days.

It was anticipated when I took my present profile picture: a reflection of myself in the window of the big church on Hydra, Greece, behind which a votive candle was burning:

During the holidays I felt the kindling catching fire, first inside my heart, then a glow spreading inside my belly, and an occassional flash of lightning inside my head.

I felt a warmth starting to radiate from the inside out, and from the outside in…

How was this different from love ?

Love is a feeling.

Cherishing is active. A fire needs tending.

Cherising is allowing love to radiate from you and into you.

To love means that you attach value to the object of your love.

To cherish means you cultivate and honour the object of your love. It is mature love, which recognises the fysical, emotional, mental and spiritual dimension of your attachment. It is a love which recognises the divinity of the object of your love. It is a love which recognises that you and that which you love come from one and the same source.

To cherish is to be cherished. The begin all, the end all. So above, so below. So outside, so inside.

To cherish is to celebrate the whole in the minute.

When I consciously cherish a sip of tea while gently rocking in my chair in front of the fire, I cherish life itself, and feel cherished by life itself. I am in awe, like when I look at a new born baby.

In a newborn baby it is fairly easy see the radiance of life, the light of purity. One needs not activate ones love, it automatically pours in and out.

Sipping tea is not so hard either, but when your thoughts trail to your worries, or your body’s aches, it sometimes does require a conscious effort to cherish life in all its aspects.

Family tribulations during the holidays may be quite demanding, but it is always possible to actively choose to cherish the bare fact that you do belong to a family. No life without two living organisms coming together, no you without your parents. When you cherish your family with all it entails, you cherich your life. When you cherish your life, consciously or unconsciously, you cherish your parents, your ancestry, the whole.

Watching the news is something I do not actively seek out to do. Even though spiritually and mentally I have faith in all that happens, my body does react fysically and emotionally to unjustice and suffering. There is a long way for me to go in cherishing the painful and fearful aspects of life. I do cherish however the fact that my holding space, my ability to stay attuned to my own and others’ feelings, is growing. If I cannot actively love all that I see and feel happening in the world, I can actively hope that I and thus we, as a human species, are evolving towards more and more consciousness. Which is the stepping stone to compassion, hope and finally, love and peace.

This is how I anticipate the future: even though disaster seems to loom for the health of the planet and more imminent, the mental health of our species, active love does bring on Grace.

Grace for the individual and, through the individual, for the collective.

Grace is the embodied experience of non-separateness. Non-duality. Being part of the larger whole. Grace is the experience of being one. Grace is the feeling of being cherished.

Grace allows no harm. Thus Grace leads to active love for oneself, ourselves, the whole.

And active love leads to Grace.

It starts with consciousness.

Being in the moment.

Respecting life, all that is.

Feeling gratitude for your life, for all that is in your life.

Kindling passion for life, a commitment to preserve life as you love it.

Finding humility, concerning your part in the whole.

And finding agency, concerning your part in the whole.

Which is to cherish as much of the whole as you can.

Minute to minute.

Active love is serving life, serving the whole.

Active love is Grace. Grace is being an undivided part of the whole.

Grace is remembering our source.

Grace is feeing cherished.

Grace is Peace.