Four. Cry.

Please read this text like you would watch a dance where the end and beginning don’t exist, just the dancer’s or dancers’ continuous alignment with music only for the sake of experiencing the present moment as self-forgetfully as possible. Thus, like the dance, this text has a beginning and an end, but it will not offer any truths about how to best experience this life. I will merely try to use writing as a different way of dancing, because I feel writing is my most naturally occurring form of self-forgetful self-expression.

Sunflowers

Our fourth companion, Aleksandra, arrived to Amsterdam right when we were finishing up with Mr. Newton’s work. She also blended in with the others just perfectly despite not really knowing them beforehand. Besides, the sun started to show itself from behind the clouds making the day even prettier than before. It was time have some proper food. Alena has been a volunteer in India and explained us the difference between North Indian and South Indian food. Apparently South Indian is the better one, but most Indian restaurants in the Western world offer North Indian food. Obviously. However, Alena met someone from South India a couple of days earlier who recommended this great restaurant in Amsterdam that serves South Indian food. Aww yeah, baby. That’s where we went. And enjoyed it. So much. It was just bangin’. We arrived to a restaurant that had barely any people in it, but found ourselves from a full restaurant by the time we had received the food we ordered. Just lovely, init.

South Indian food

Van Gogh

Next it was time for our main destination of the night. The reason me and Marcel planned to go to Amsterdam in the first place. The museum of the one and only Vincent van Gogh. On Fridays they have a special Friday night programme, leaving the museum open until 10pm instead of the regular 6pm.

They had some special tours involved in the programme as well, but we wanted to begin with the regular exhibition. The museum is set up very well. The walls are colourful, which I found a little bit energizing compared to some museums with white hospital-like walls. The art itself is obviously amazing. And it was all connected to Van Gogh’s life story. This story was organized into different eras of his creation and the exhibition ran through three floors. His creation and his life story pulled us in so strongly that we had barely finished with the first floor when there was an announcement about the museum closing in 30 minutes. Everyone had just been too mesmerized to check the time. Thus, we stopped staring at Van Gogh’s Sunflowers and hurried through the rest of the two floors. Basically we just wanted to walk through all the rest of it, but we still had to stop at places to read some parts of his life story, or take more time to look at some paintings, or listen to the audio versions of his famous letters to his brother. Again, the whole experience inspired me to think more about creation, to seek out for it and to try to create more myself. Dance, words, dance!

We took a moment to sit in the park next to the museum and then headed back towards the train station through the city. This walk lasted for almost an hour. The sky began getting darker and the colourful lights of Amsterdam began to stand out stronger. It was beautiful. It was beautiful to share these moments with these people. And we had so much fun. There were so many jokes that came up again and again during the day that I can’t even remember all of them anymore. It got even funnier when we got to the train. The four of us got to sit together in a four-seater, and we just kept on laughing. On the second train we had to split up a bit in two two-seaters, but both of the pairs were just smiling the whole time. Alena looked at Marcel and Aleksandra at some point and told me: “It’s like they’ve known each other for forever, but they only just met for the first time today.” And then I realized that all of these friends of mine – Alena, Marcel, and Aleksandra – are people who almost always get along with anyone. I told them that and we agreed that the four of us comprised a getting along superpower that night.

We got to Groningen around 2AM and spent maybe another 50 minutes in the train station just chatting along. It was also because that was the last moment I was going to see Aleksandra. At least for a long while. Jokes, memories, tears, hugs, a grouphug, a thank you and a “See you soon.”

The cleansing

Me, Alena, and Marcel walked to Marcel’s place so I could pick up my bike. I had all my suitcases at Marcel’s place, because it’s next to the train station and it would be easy to get them in the morning when I get on my bus to Berlin 10:40 in the morning. But I wasn’t going to stay there myself.

See, after a night out in April something started between me and Alena. Something casual. Spending time together every now and then. Taking it easy, not letting each other too close. Or was it me not letting her too close? I liked to listen more. But close to the end I felt safer to let her close, because I knew the circumstances would end whatever we had anyway.

After we got our bikes we cycled a little bit through Groningen. I always loved cycling through the city. Especially in the evenings. The city lights. The peaceful small streets with bricked Dutch houses. Or the buzzing city centre during party evenings. Observing these moments from the side brought some sort of peace and safety. “I love you, Groningen. And you’ve loved me back.”

Finally, we got to Alena’s place around 4AM. She had just moved there and she showed me the place around. Nice place, and it was just for the two of us. I had to go to Berlin the next day but it turned out that I actually still don’t have a place to stay there. Alena put some messages on their way to her German friends hoping that someone might offer me a place to stay for three nights.

And then we laid down in her bed, which is located under the ceiling. And we talked. And we cried. We talked about what people really want. About this search for the most perfect moment. This moment where you’ve once again pushed the limits of your emotions further than the last perfect moment. The search for this sort of perfect moment of love, which doesn’t only consist of the feeling of romantic love, but of the feeling of being accomplished, of being loved and of being loving yourself. And we cried. We talked about how we had stretched our last moments again and again. We had already said goodbye before, but then still found this trip to Amsterdam suitable for the both of us. And with this stretching I felt that I was stretching myself more and more open for her. And we cried. We talked about the things people are waiting for when thinking about getting committed to someone. The right time. The right place. The right foundation. And we cried. We talked about other people. I asked her if it’s fair to a previous person who is part of a series of special moments I have with different people if I connect with the next person through similar or even the same shared emotions as with the first person. Like if I am with someone and I tell them I like their smile a lot, but can’t be with that person because of life circumstances, and then move on to the next person and then also sincerely tell this next person that I like their smile. Is that fair? To either of them? To neither of them? And connecting to this, when does it become fair? If a year has passed? Or a month? A week? A day? I was worried about this, and about being unfair to her, but she just looked at me and said: “You are not more aware of this than I am.” This crushed me. In the very best way possible.

Awareness, and reflective thinking, especially in the form of writing appears to make a person seem conscious of their actions. Which again seems to create this feeling when looking at a conscious person that they intend good. Or that they are kind, or pure, or loving, or whatever. Which I strive to be. And which people have sometimes told me that I am. But what I wasn’t aware of is that this has made me think that I am more aware than other people. And this why Alena’s words crushed me. Because I am not. I am not more aware of things than her or anybody else. And we cried.

All of my experiences from the past 3 years were captured in the most beautiful way during that night. All the people. The shared moments. The love. We even laughed about how amazing it feels despite all the tears in our eyes. We laughed! And we cried. Until the sun started coming up. Until we decided to get out of bed and drink some tea. Until it was time to go to Marcel’s place and pick up my suitcases.

Obviously we had to hurry in the end. Just within minutes I had to give my suitcases to the bus driver and then hug my dear people for the last time during these three years. Just within minutes I had to leave their loving embrace and sit on the shitty bus of a cheap bus company and begin nine hours of traveling towards Berlin where I still didn’t have accommodation.

And I cried.

Last look on Groningen

I love to cry.
Don’t think I would lie.
It’s a form of letting go,
but all I’ve let go has brought a new hello.

It’s not about the years in life, it’s about the life in your years.
And letting go of more life will bring on more tears.
Tears tell me I’ve been in moments as much as I can:
“You’ve given your everything, Dan.”

Let go only to give your everything again,
time to push yourself to a new end.
To build up something bigger than ever before,
until you can’t hold onto it anymore.

I will let go, and don’t think I would lie.
I love to cry.

Three. Create.

Please read this text like you would watch a dance where the end and beginning don’t exist, just the dancer’s or dancers’ continuous alignment with music only for the sake of experiencing the present moment as self-forgetfully as possible. Thus, like the dance, this text has a beginning and an end, but it will not offer any truths about how to best experience this life. I will merely try to use writing as a different way of dancing, because I feel writing is my most naturally occurring form of self-forgetful self-expression.

Well Dan

I had my last day of work on the island of Schiermonnikoog on a Wednesday. The days before this last day were like any other day of work during these last two years – just waiting for the day to arrive at its end. On many occasions I had thought how happy I would be when I finally walk out of that kitchen for the last time. Not that the job would be that awful. Not to mention the people – we had great fun. It’s just that my job robbed me of my weekends. Sure, I could take a day off during the week, or half a day, but there were few moments where I really felt like having a day off unless I had planned myself a proper vacation. A trip out of town, or country, or to Estonia. But otherwise, when I’d take a day off in the middle of the week on maybe a Thursday, then there would still be this buzz in the world around me that didn’t allow me to feel relaxed to the max. Although I did learn how to become more relaxed in general. But now - after this long intro to my last day at work - I can say that the moment when one of the chefs came into the kitchen and signed that I am now finished… It was just amazingly weird. “Oh” and “wow” were the only words coming into my mind. And then “I DID IT! I fucking did it!”. God, that relief. Every commitment in the Netherlands, whether university- or work-related, was finished for me at that very moment.

Beach on Schiermonnikoog

In the evening we went to have food in the hotel where we work. I worked. Working in the kitchen and preparing appetizers or desserts one after the other got me thinking about why would people like the place that much. I didn’t find the food that amazing, rather quite simple. Don’t get me wrong, it took me a while to feel competent around the kitchen, and the food was good, just not extremely amazing. And extremely amazed is what our clients seemed to be. Now, eating in the restaurant of the hotel for the first time myself I finally realized that the atmosphere is just amazing! The old wooden furniture. The waiters and waitresses all in suits. The big windows on one side of the dining hall. The grand piano in the hall. And the kitchen kept on sending us small extras in the middle of our courses. Even the simple things that I normally prepare myself tasted so much better (or I’ve just been a shitty cook the whole time). The meal was finished off with a grand dessert, which is something we always prepare if there’s someone in the restaurant for a special occasion like a birthday, or anniversary, or having the last day of work in Hotel van der Werff. I felt so grateful for this absolutely beautiful dinner.

Grand dessert

We finished off the night at Jelle’s place with a bunch of people, just chilling and having some drinks. Quite a few people passed through the place, but in the end it was just me, Jelle and Paul. Us three chilled together almost every evening when I was on the island for work. Talking, listening to music, watching YouTube videos (the Internet is a crazy thing), watching TV shows, and just relaxing in general. These moments with them made my weekends at work on Schiermonnikoog.

I left early on the next day. The day consisted of finishing up my things at my Groningen home and then heading to meet up with good friends who were still in Groningen. Another relaxed evening among the many we had had during the time in Groningen. Some good food, some good music, some good smiles, some good talks. Moreover, France defeated Germany in football that night which was great for the 3 out of ~10 people who were not German. And then some people started leaving. So came the goodbyes. The beautiful words and thank yous and strong hugs. The “see you soon”. The love. These people were an inspiration for me during these three years. They still are. Their diverse life stories. Their travel experiences. Their ideals! Their stumbles on the path of trying help with creating a better world, while accepting the beauty of the world just the way it is. I took a lot with me from them. I can only hope I could offer something back. The beautiful words and thank yous and strong hugs tell me I did.

Love you, friends.

Amsterdam

I stayed at Marcel’s place that night. The next day we went to Amsterdam. We met up with Alena at the train station and started heading towards the crazy city together with the three of us. They didn’t really know each other well beforehand, but both being open and relaxed people meant that we all just started getting along nicely from the very beginning of the day. Me and Marcel had to rush to make it on the right train, and were not able to have food before the ride because of that. We had to wait for a while before the Snackman on the train finally appeared to save our growling stomachs.
“Hey, what can I offer you? Chocolate bars, candy, waffels?”
“Do you have anything salty as well?”
“Just these…”
*ends sentence doubtfully and points at a bag of nuts*
“You mean DEEEZ NUTS?”
We all laughed and he said:
“I wanted to make that joke too, but I wasn’t sure if it’s appropriate.”

Amsterdam vibes

In Amsterdam we first decided that we have to resist our slight sleepiness with some coffee and tea and stuff. Buzzingly energized, we wondered to the Foam museum where they exhibited the photography of the legendary Helmut Newton. Him being legendary I found out the moment we entered, because the exhibition's description said so. Otherwise it was Alena’s wish to go there. A great wish, I must say, for it was truly inspiring. Each room had a little background story to why the pictures were done the way they were. Like the pictures of models with their faces outside of the borders of the pictures, which I found very dehumanizing at first, but then could read how the aim was to focus only on the art of clothing since someone’s face grabs people’s attention almost automatically most of the time. I found myself thinking how I want to invest more time into creating things.

Like using words for dancing maybe?

Helmut Newton

create, create, create
before it’s too late

better late than never
better any time than no creation ever

visualise, but forget the outcome
the destination can be great, the journey comes next to none

blood, sweat, and tears
creating will take your fears

create, create, create
before it’s too late

(to be continued)

Two. Gratitude.

Please read this text like you would watch a dance where the end and beginning don’t exist, just the dancer’s or dancers’ continuous alignment with music only for the sake of experiencing the present moment as self-forgetfully as possible. Thus, like the dance, this text has a beginning and an end, but it will not offer any truths about how to best experience this life. I will merely try to use writing as a different way of dancing, because I feel writing is my most naturally occurring form of self-forgetful self-expression.

Honours/Excellence

Another thing I have to mention about finishing up my studies is the Honours College, which is an extra programme one can do in addition to the regular programme. Well, I did the Excellence programme, which is just half as much credits as the Honours College. But that’s not at all why I want to talk about it. I want to talk about what this programme gave me. And now I don’t know how to put it into words, because it’s obviously a mix of things. I will focus on one thing, one person. This person is prof. dr. Trudy Dehue. For a total of four seminar weeks, she presented us with different topics that are connected to academia.

Classification. We talked about how things are defined. What counts as a disorder? For example, what counts as ADHD, the topic I did my thesis about? How many people with ADHD symptoms existed before they were defined as having such a disorder? How many exist now? How did the definition change their lives?

Golden standard. We talked about how to test the efficacy and the safety of treatments. About the golden standard of research: randomized controlled trials (RCTs). For example, when you randomly assign 50 similar people into two groups of people, the experimental group and the control group. The experimental group gets somehow treated and the control group receives a placebo. If the treatment yields statistically significantly better results than the placebo then then that’s the treatment we should use. Right? What if the result is barely significant? Almost significant? What if researchers feel pressured to find positive results, because they were funded by the pharmaceutical company? In which situations do RCTs work and which ones do they not?

Pressures. We talked about societal pressures. The pressure to be smart. To be successful. To be healthy (“What do you mean you don’t do sports?”). To be modern (“You don’t have Facebook? Well, sorry that I didn’t know your birthday”). Etc. To be beautiful. “You guys are much more beautiful than me and my friends were at your age,” is what Trudy said herself. And finally, the recent pressure to be mindful. Because, I mean, with all these pressures to be smart, successful, healthy, modern, and beautiful, you should also make sure you take time to take care of your inner balance.

Academia. We talked about the pressures in academia. We talked about how when one gets further and further in the academic world the less they can focus on the scientist’s ultimate goal of revealing the truth and the more they have to focus on getting paid. Or how funding is received for the amount of publications you have, not how well you give on knowledge to future generations.

Prof. dr. Trudy Dehue crushed many of our ideals with every single one of her four seminars, but always put these ideals together again in the end. She gave us this awareness that we can try to use to make our fields of work a better place. She prepared us. If I would now end up in academia, I would know I have to stick up to my values every single day to keep them up. If I couldn’t get against the pressures to publish rather than to teach well… I know I would try my best.

Finished Honours/Excellence but still don't get what's going on

Thank you

Finally, the last thing related to university. My favourite thing. Teaching. I just loved it. Not that when me or my students would look back to the experience it would be just happiness and blissful satisfaction from learning or doing whatever exercises we did. But still, I felt that I was often at my best when I was in the role of an instructor. I felt that this role had a very powerful influence on how I behaved and how others perceived my behaviour. For example, many of my students thought that I’m a couple of years older than I actually was, despite my face being a legit babyface. Or that I felt more at ease with putting my opinion out there, because that was expected of me while in other situations I’d often hold myself back because I didn’t want to get in the way of the great thoughts of the great peers around me. Well, that depended on the peers. But I guess my thoughts weren’t that bad in general since my students kept on listening to me. And they also kept on sharing their thoughts and their personal experiences. Which I am grateful for from the bottom of my soul. To every person I’ve ever been an instructor to during the last two years – thank you!

And thank you again

I went to the Netherlands to study in the university. The last thing I had to do in the Netherlands wasn’t university. It was working. In the beginning of my second year of my Bachelor’s I started working almost every weekend on an island called Schiermonnikoog as an assistant cook in Hotel van der Werff. Now when I had finished everything for university, I still had to work for a couple of weeks on this island. Once again, while I rarely actually wanted to be there during weekends for work, now it became all so hard and sad to leave this place close to the end. Of course, it’s always because of the people there. Mainly Jelle and Paul, with whom we spent our evenings after work together doing nothing.

Card games in Amsterdam

Moonlit nights next to the Hobbit Hole

King's day love & chill

I just love this picture

King Kong sagt sein name nicht, at least in Bremen

Boat to Schiermonnikoog

Rain

"I work in a kitchen"

Getting a ride in Groningen

Nils organizing the group photo

Nils and our course smiling for the group photo

It’s about the people everywhere. The dancer of this writing ran out of swirling jumps and twists to finish off this part of the dance. I just want to say thank you again. And again. And again. To all the people I shared all of these moments during the last years. To the people I studied with. To the people I partied with. Played football with. Shared quiet evenings with. Shared moments during the library breaks. To my instructors. To the people I instructed. To my serotonergical friends. To my Teaching Skills group and subgroup. People I met in Honours College. People I met on Schiermonnikoog. To Nils and Marcel.

Ah, I know I didn’t mention everyone in these last two posts who deserve to be mentioned. Nor did I capture everything that deserves to be captured. But do we ever?

Do we ever capture everything of something?

Do we need to capture everything?

Do we want to?

I don’t think so.

But I do want to capture some moments from my last days in the Netherlands, so there’ll be two more posts coming about those soon.

I am extremely thankful,
for all these experiences, which I have more than a handful.
If you wish them well,
the Dutch will say “dank je wel!”

I appreciate it.
That through all of these experiences I made it.
The during moments where the edge was lived,
life had enough luck over for me to give.

I express my utter gratitude,
To the people – every girl, every dude.
When shared, joy becomes double.
When shared, you only have half the trouble.

Thank you, I appreciate it, and I express my utter gratitude.
And I’ll try to keep up with this grateful attitude.

One. Feeling Off.

Please read this text like you would watch a dance where the beginning and end don’t exist, just the dancer’s or dancers’ continuous alignment with music only for the sake of experiencing the present moment as self-forgetfully as possible. Thus, like the dance, this text does have a beginning and an end, but it will not offer any truths about how to best experience this life. I will merely try to use writing as a different way of dancing, because I feel writing is my most naturally occurring form of self-forgetful self-expression.

Feeling off

The last half of the year has been an odd time. There have been many great moments, there have been moments that can be remembered for other reasons. As in any other period of time that allows for multiple moments filled with both “positive” and “negative” emotions. Somehow, however, during much of it I just felt slightly off and I can’t even really properly describe what it means nor what created this feeling. Well, the answer to the latter is probably a combination of things. Like getting close to the end of my time in Groningen. Or the fact that I didn’t really take on new challenges for this last period (or I didn’t define them as such). Or just generally feeling a bit more tired – something that many of my peers noted about themselves as well, and these peers were not only from my year of psychology students.

So what have I been up to? Until the end of February life was still hectic in a nice way. I had probably my most beautiful New Year’s evening party ever, shared mainly with Nils. During the first week of January, Groningen was almost shut down because of icy weather, which me, an Estonian friend from Groningen, and an Estonian visitor from Rotterdam whom we had never met before, used to stay inside for three days for the most chilled out days of sleeping over, playing card games, and having food. The end of January meant three exams successfully passed by cramming the information during the last days before each exam. Finishing exams obviously meant that it was time to take time off again. First, my then 22-year-old uncle, who prefers that I call him my brother, visited me for four days. We had a crazy, close-to-disastrous party night; relaxed time with some of my friends; and a visit to Rotterdam ourselves. Right after my uncle-brother left, two other very good friends, Villi and Timm, came to visit. We had a little house party at my place and the day after we visited the carnival in Maastricht. We were amazingly hosted by Mariann and Triine in their sweet home, in which we felt maybe too much at home since we slightly pissed of their roommate Irina who had to study for exams. A little trip to Amsterdam after Maastricht, and then back to Groningen. When Villi and Timm left I had to work on Schiermonnikoog, had to take part of a seminar week, had to work again and then used the last week of February to visit Paris, where I saw one of my favourite artists – Jamie xx. And a very special thank you here for Johanna and Marie, girls from my course who were on exchange in Paris and could host me during my visit.

Paris

Skiing in Paris

Metro in Paris

Golden in Paris

Meh in Paris

Look up in Paris

This is illegal in Paris

It was after this trip to Paris, in the beginning of March, when I really started feeling slightly off. I had contacted the person who had been my personal coach during the course Teaching Skills. For that course we met up a couple of times to reflect on my performance as an instructor for second year students in the course Communication & Diagnostic Skills. As the input from my coach was very helpful, I now asked if some extra sessions would be possible. Practice for the coach, because the person was also just finishing their Master’s degree, and helpful for me to set some goals for the last months of my university programme. These sessions were quite fruitful, and I did set some goals to create some structure in my life again. I wanted to be healthier with my sleep, nutrition, sports, and with how I spend my time in general. The first weeks were quite nice. Especially sports and sleeping regularly. Studying regularly also felt nice, but the content was kind of hard to grip on to. After some time, however, I wasn’t feeling it at all. This feeling applied to almost everything. The lowest moments came when I was at work during weekends on Schiermonnikoog. “I really don’t want to be here.” But I had to, of course. I had many moments during which I felt like I don’t want to be in them. However, there were also many nice moments with friends of course. Like Nils’s birthday at the beginning of March as one example.

The end of March brought exams again. The two very last ones of my Bachelor’s, which I both passed with the minimum grade required for passing an exam. This despite having more time to study for them than I had for many previous exams. I remember that finishing my last exam felt nothing like finishing one’s last Bachelor’s exam should feel like. It just felt like the rain outside during that day. Karl and Karl Henri, another two very good friends from Estonia came to visit me in the beginning of April for a longer weekend: again a crazy party night, a lazy day, a short trip to Amsterdam and over it was once again already.

Thesis

It was now time to properly get to my thesis. I was lucky to get a chance to join just one other student (mostly theses are done in groups of 5-6), Tara, for a project with a great supervisor about attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), stimulant use related to ADHD, and malingering of the disorder. Malingering is intentionally faking or exaggerating symptoms of a disorder to get some sort of monetary or social benefit. And we collected data through a 15-minute online survey, which meant that we had 718 participants in the end with less effort than other groups put into testing 40-50 participants in a lab. And the literature about malingering ADHD has only started to grow in the last 10-20 years, so we didn’t even have to read that much. And Bachelor’s theses for 15EC-s have to be only 4000-6000 words in the Netherlands, so we also didn’t have to write that much. Our attitude towards the project was also more about getting the project done than being intrinsically interested in our findings and topic. It was an interesting topic, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that after three years in University… our appetite was gone.

The most stimulating part of the thesis was probably our presentation. It generally actually isn’t meant to be like that, because it’s not about defending the work, it’s just presenting it. We just wanted to have a little challenge with the presentation since we had the time for it. For everyone who doesn’t know, Ritalin is a stimulant drug used for the treatment of ADHD because it helps people focus. For the same reason, many people without ADHD have started using Ritalin for studying, or other activities that require increased focus. To show that Ritalin use takes place in Groningen as well, I told the audience that during the day before the presentation, after talking to some people on Facebook, I could already meet up with someone in the university library to buy Ritalin from the person for only 1€. And then I showed them a little white pill in between my fingers. The pill, however, was just a Tic-Tac, because Ritalin is a prescription drug. I told the audience that the pill is a Tic-Tac right afterwards, but getting them to believe that it’s real Ritalin just for a moment was a good way to get their attention in the beginning (we know that, because our supervisor said so after our presentation). Just to round of this first part of four blog posts: 17.4% of our participants without ADHD admitted to stimulant use at least once in their lives. The presentation was a success, and the whole thesis project as well. 

Tara, David, Dan

this is about the feeling that you might know of
this is about the feeling, the feeling of feeling off
not the feeling of sunrise bursting from your heart
nor the feeling that you just absolutely can’t

you can, but mostly don’t want to
you even try to count your breath, but mostly don’t get past one-two
you do all the nice shit you always do
but this annoying voice in your head keeps yelling “boo”

it will go by
spend time with your people, keep that smile
life is built day by day, the floor tile by tile
love will fill your heart again in a while

(to be continued)