On a Journey… into the Unknown

So there I went.
This past year, I was so often invited to step outside my comfort zone, time and time again.
And now, vacation time.
In January, it seemed like such a good idea to go on a trip this summer.
For the first time, just me and my two youngest children.
Heading out in a camper van.
No plan. Just our intuition and feelings.
What would happen if we just started driving this way?
Where would we end up?
What would we experience?
I could never have predicted what would come up.
In hindsight, maybe it was logical, actually.
I was, once again, pushing my own boundaries.
Not consciously, but it was what it was.
It was both a beautiful adventure.
And also confronting.
Because, oh, my survival system went back into full gear. Maybe even overdrive.
It did everything to keep me safe.

As I drove, hands on the wheel, on the highway in Germany, heading south, to Lake Constance, and later, as it turned out, to Lake Neuchâtel, Chamonix, and Annecy, with one of the boys next to me and the other in the back, I felt waves of sadness wash over me.

And of course… the boys felt it too.

It was as if my survival system was doing everything it could to make me stop, to return to the safety of the familiar.
Because, well, so much in my life had already been turned upside down, so much was already unknown. And now this on top of it? Really?
But I was on my way. I was driving there. In that bus.
There was no turning back.
Not from the journey.
And not from my emotions.
I decided to just let it all come.

I looked to my right and saw four questioning eyes in the rearview mirror.
I figured I’d better address it because, well, there was no running away from it in a camper van.

“Yes, sweethearts, sometimes mommy has these waves. They come. Sadness. And then they go again. It’s okay. It’s all good because what we’re doing is exciting and this is all part of it. And the good news… there’s always a beautiful message in the wave, so let’s just let it be.”

They understood.

So we just let it be.
My sadness.
And also their sadness.
Missing their dad, and also wanting to be home.
We wanted to be on this journey and also be at home. It became so clear.

But we were here now.

And we went on. Following our feelings. Following our intuition.
And the beauty of it?
Wherever we felt we wanted to go, that one spot was still available for us.
Exactly that one spot by the water.
Exactly that one spot for the night.

This pattern repeated itself:
Every time I let go and surrendered to the moment,
What we needed was exactly there.

Sigh. Letting be what is. And surrender.
Then an adventure emerges beyond the survival brain.
Then real life begins.

Yes, and this is truly what I want:
Not knowing.
Trust.
Surrender.
Discovery.
Adventure.

In short:
Living.

With everything included:
The good, the bad, the ugly, and… the oh so beautiful.

The Mirror of Emotions

I know this:
Everything in my outer world is a reflection of my inner world.
The 'outside world' is just a feedback system. I create my reality from within.
And the outside world shows me what lives within me.
And so my children are my greatest mirrors. It’s so interesting to look at it this way. Especially when you’re on an exploratory journey, just the three of you, in such a small space for 12 days.
Because, oh, so much comes up.
My vacation was really a healing journey once again.
I didn’t see it coming, although… thuh, Eve… I should have known.

The boys are my mirrors.
Everything they feel, everything they express, reflects my own inner world.
The outside world is nothing more than a feedback system, a mirror showing me what’s going on deep inside.
During the trip, they were sad, they missed their dad, and they wanted to go home. Constantly asking: ‘Are we going home? When are we going home? Are we back in the Netherlands yet?’ Their questions were endless, and I felt how it brought my own sadness to the surface.
Driving in the van, with Levi beside me and his brother in the back, those waves of sadness came back up.

Because it was tough.

I had made the decision, invested in the vacation, stepping out of my comfort zone, and there I was… and they just wanted to go home. Nice job, Eef. My Judge had something to say about it.
I could have saved a lot of money because at this rate...
Yes, I had another wave.
And I let it come.
It was as if the boys' sadness, their homesickness, mirrored my own deeper longing for home. What was I really missing? Yes, home. Home.
Honestly? I felt it. Deep inside, I also wanted to go Home.
What am I doing here on this Earth? In this place that so often feels strange? Why can’t it all be a bit easier?
It’s not that I really want to leave. No, certainly not, but I had to acknowledge what was there.
Acknowledge that a part of me really does feel homesick.
Homesick for something much greater.

Yes, that’s how it is.
All of this came to the surface.

Levi had figured it out by now, shrugged,
and mumbled while looking out the window: "Oh, mom’s having another wave."

But as I processed those feelings, something began to shift.
After a few days of intense sadness, I began to feel something else. Love.
It flowed more and more through me. And the funny thing was, at that exact moment, Levi started to flirt a little with a girl at the campsite.

A reflection of the budding new love I was feeling for myself.

It’s such a joy to look at life this way.
To talk with life.
And really, to talk with myself.
The wisdom reflected back to me is so beautiful.
Life becomes so intensely beautiful because of this.

Just as the journey itself began to feel more relaxed, beautiful, and adventurous.
The boys became calmer because I became calmer.
I had made it through.
I had allowed it.
And I was still here.

Yes, wow. I was more alive than ever.

With my feet in Lake Annecy, I felt it.
Phew. I’m here.
I’m here. And I’m Home at the same time.
I’m grounded, anchored, and I feel all the possibilities to fly.
Just as the balloon that passed by, at the time of my reflections and insights.

Yes, life talks to me.

And I love it.
 

The Roof Came Off

Just as we began our journey from Annecy back to the Netherlands, I thought it was a good idea to park the van somewhere.
Not thinking at all about the low passage and the fact that the ventilation roof was still open,
I heard that kind of noise where you immediately know what’s gone wrong.
Shit.
The roof.
Damn.
But yeah, it is what it is.
Tape will at least keep us dry until we get back to the Netherlands, and as for the rest...
The sooner I could accept it, the sooner the insight came.
The roof symbolizes my own roof. My limiting stories, my limiting beliefs, the structures and systems in which I had held myself for so long. In so many different ways, that has all been dissolving over the past few years. It’s been an exciting and scary process because I’ve been stepping fully into unknown territory, beyond the roof.

But beyond the roof lies the infinite new space, with infinite possibilities.
So the roof coming off was initially a shock,
but it was really a reflection of a process that had been going on for a long time.
A process of letting go, of breaking open my old self and opening up to something new.
I soon saw it as a beautiful confirmation of my process, of all the beauty that is unfolding.

After my initial survival reaction of scolding myself, and scaring myself about the costs this might bring, I also felt the deeper message.
Maybe nothing is what it seems at first glance.
Because if everything is a reflection, what reflection is this?

My sign that I had broken through another roof.
That I had reached a new level.
The roof came off. To discover how great I really am.
What a compliment.

And yes, looking back, you can see it like this.
As if you have a much wider and grander perspective from a hot air balloon.
That’s really nice.
And writing it down and sharing it is so incredibly valuable to me.
When you’re in the middle of it, you long for the clarity of the overview, but it’s not there yet.
Being able to be with it, feeling everything that wants to be felt, and knowing, deeply knowing inside, that my upper limit is rising again. To even more space, even more air, even more fun, even more life, even more love, even more of myself... that remains, time after time, the greatest gift of all.

And for that process, I bow deeply.

In addition to the connection with the boys,
the beautiful memories we were able to create together,
this was what the journey was about for me.

Yes, that’s what the journey was about; experiencing this magic more deeply again.
And no matter how uncomfortable it sometimes feels when my emotions bring me a beautiful message:

I wouldn't want to have it any other way.