Marcel Baaijens

2011

2011-01-04T15:49:00.003+13:00

Ceiling decoration, Grand Bazaar, Istanbul.

Ok, so I decided that this is going to be a year for developing meaningful loving connections and invigorating life-enhancing expansions of the best possible degree.

To Christmas or not to Christmas, that is the question.

2010-12-22T10:44:00.003+13:00

Somehow Christmas triggers experiences of utter disconnection in me.
Possibly because it is a time set aside for, among many things, the coming together of people.
A time of year I feel disconnected from everything and everyone more than at any other time. It is a life-long experience, cyclical in nature, tuned in with the coming and going of seasons, solstices, years, birthdays. A sacred season turned silly season by cultures that have lost the skill of marking time (rituals). Hallow times of being have turned into hollow and shallow times of doing. I long for a change and right there, in that moment of longing hits the experience of disconnection. I look at the communities around me, what people say and do, what they don't say and don't do and what I would like to do. Contemporary Christmas seems to scatter any notion of community. "What is it that you want?" you will no doubt wonder. A sense of being connected is all I want for Christmas, as such a sense will bring with it peace, inner peace and world peace.

Till then I will be riding out the tidal wave of the silly season.

To give you a glimpse of what my sense of connection could be I have enclosed a video clip I found this morning.
I like the story told in the last minute of this video.
May peace be with you.

Neva Murtha, somewhere off the coast of Canada.
By Charisse Baker, copied as per creative commons.

The gift of giving.

2010-10-27T22:31:00.005+13:00

Sometime it can be hard to let in unconditional love.
In that case you can choose to give unconditional love instead,
because as you give unconditional love it will flow through you first.
As it flows through you it will nurture and recharge you as well as the receiver.
-Marcel Baaijens

A Blur of energy, Istanbul, Turkey.

Art and Intellectual Disabilities Syurvey

2010-09-09T23:47:00.004+12:00

Click here to take survey
Please click on the link above if you want to participate in this survey.
To qualify you need to be working in an art educational capacity with people with intellectual disabilities.
The survey closes 30 November 2010.
Please pass this on to anyone you know that may be interested, anywhere in the world.
Many thanks, Marcel

Sounds of Silence

2010-08-23T19:42:00.005+12:00

Old fashioned drafting.

It has been quiet on my blog, little to say, little time to post and my camera died, so no new images to share. Bogged down in survival mode, resettling back in New Zealand for the last 18 months and battling bureaucracy of the city while trying to get building permission for a small eco house on a tricky site. I am still working on my film in the little spare time I have.

It does not mean I achieved little. I have grown in my new job as a mentor at The Learning Connexion, a private tertiary art school, the largest art school in New Zealand. It is through this school I am returning to a line of work that I am very passionate about; facilitating the creative process, specially for people with intellectual disabilities. I have received a research grant and I am determined to make tertiary art education accessible for this population. But first... a well deserved and much needed break, a trip to Europe that will be a family visit, a holiday and research combined. I will visit The Netherlands, France, Portugal and Spain and visit a few art centres for artists with intellectual disabilities. I look forward to being creative again myself, dip my toes in the ocean and experience different cultures.

Time for new horizons and enjoying my new camera.

The Southern Cross

2010-06-05T00:31:00.002+12:00

With the rain and clouds gone, the starry frosty nights take over. I love seeing the southern cross. As a globalite it is hard to define 'home'. Seeing the southern cross does that in a strange way. I look out for it when I fly between the northern and southern hemispheres, once it becomes visible I know I am heading to where the constellations 'feel and look right', my GPS of home.

Day 20: Rosa goes to Mardi Gras 2010 (part 1)

2010-03-05T11:21:00.003+13:00

I never 'do drag'! I don't feel comfortable dressing in women’s clothes because... I learned from an early age that being feminine or gay and feminine was not acceptable in a hetero sexual society, even today in male gay circles it is often frowned upon.
Doing drag has therefore become a big deal for me, conditioned out of me to such an extent that I feel I can't do it even if I wished to. Going in drag feels like a bad dream in which you suddenly realise you are not wearing any clothes in public!

So I gave myself the challenge to 'do' drag. First in a semi-private and 'safe' environment at the dress-up Christmas party at work, I took on 'Rosa', a cleaning lady as my character. I was nervous beyond belief. Afterwards I realised how liberating it was, but not liberating enough. It was only a first step in claiming back the power that I had lost by being fearful in many homophobic situations throughout my life.

With this first challenge completed it was time to take the next step: taking part in drag, in public, in the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade in Sydney, Australia AND fly there... in drag.

Thank God Air NZ put on a Pink Flight from Auckland to Sydney, not much of a challenge you may think, but... internal fear was still overwhelming. I made a doll, mini Rosa, as a 'stand-in' for Rosa on the domestic flight from Wellington to Auckland as I expected it to be an ordinary flight. Taking a dressed-up doll through check-in and on a 'normal flight' was in itself a challenge. Feel the fear and do it anyway I reminded myself again and again. I filmed the trip myself, producing plenty of shaky footage, but it is the proof that I did it. I am done now with the challenge, no longer carry the fear, I have claimed back the power I lost and feel soooo much better and stronger for it.

Part 2 featuring Rosa and Mini Rosa walking in the Parade and interacting with a 300.000 strong audience, clowning around as a cleaning lady removing 99.9% of all historical homophobia, in the crowd and of course myself will follow.

Big thanks to Air New Zealand for creating the Pink Flight with all its trimmings, and special thanks for the drag queens who escorted the passengers, you were my guardian angels. You were all fabulous! XXX.

Day 19: heard my favorite music, live in Wellington.

2010-01-30T12:15:00.001+13:00

Delighted to discover that there is a band playing my favorite music right here in Wellington. Looing forward to work with them, yay!

day 18: New Buddha Statue

2009-12-07T23:21:00.000+13:00

I am not religeous, but I do like Buddhism a lot, as a phylosophy and I love Buddha statues. I recently bought this one for my outdoor space, it is rather large, the size I had been looking for for a long time. It was intended as an ornament and as a reminder of wonderful times spent among Tibetans, Tibetan monks and their monasteries. Someone once said to me, where ever there is an image of Buddha, Buddha energy will be present. Kind of odd as apparently Buddha never wanted any imagery of himself made for worship purposes. The first images that represented Buddha were symbols. Human shaped Buddha's came much later and probably Buddha looked nothing like that at all.

Yet, since I have this statue facing my cottage, I feel much better, a kind of peace that subtly seems to radiate from the statue. It is not a precious statue at all, just a lump of mortar shaped by a mould. It has not been blessed in any way, yet I feel it very different than the other statue besides it. I am really happy with this Buddha statue, surprisingly so. Maybe it is all in my amagination, but hey, my imagination is as much part of me as any other part. Maybe the mystery will reveal itself one day, in the mean time I will enjoy its presence. The landlord's dog Piper seems to agree and happily settle in front.

Day 17: Sinterklaas tradition

2009-11-25T13:45:00.002+13:00

Every year, Sint Nicolaas (Saint Nicolas) also called Sinterklaas, arrives in Holland mid November to celebrate his birthday (eve) on the 5th December. Traditionally he arrives by steamboat from Spain, where he normally lives. He is accompanied by zillions of Zwarte Pieten or "Black Peters", who are his assistants. They are a cross between a boogie man and a clown, scaring the kids as well as entertaining them. He rides on a white horse on rooftops, drops presents through the chimneys and may visit you on the 5th December. Gifting is done with lots of fun, anonymously. Gift can be disguised, can be jokes, can be used to hackle someone etc. Gifts are often accompanied with poems/ stories in rhyme form. There are many secular songs related to this folk fest that became the inspiration for Christmas and Santa in many other cultures. He is a clip from the official arrival of Sinterklaas in the harbour of Schiedam.

There are not many traditions left in contemporary Holland, but this one seems to survive the ages where Christmas is merely a religious festival. These days gifting happens at Christmas time as well, but it can’t compete with the original Sinterklaas celebrations.

Day 16: lesson in trust

2009-11-25T13:45:00.001+13:00

Just as I am trying to convince myself that going to Sydney for a long weekend to film at Mardi Gras 2010 is an extravagance I cannot afford, unexpected money is coming in to proof me wrong.

Day 15: Guy Fawkes

2009-11-25T13:44:00.000+13:00

Silly man, tried to blow up the British Parliament a looong time ago. What that's got to do with New Zealand I don't know, but I enjoyed the traditional fireworks nevertheless, the smell, the vibrating thunder, the spectacle of light... It's is a childhood thing, New Year's Eve is my birthday and the New year is heralded in with lots of fireworks in Holland, brings back happy memories.

The strangest picture I have ever taken of fireworks.

day 14: when work is play

2009-11-06T00:52:00.001+13:00

I have been quite busy lately, trying as best as I can to balance work, life, developing my house design and making a film. An increased workload became enjoyable last week, eventhough I was working on a Sunday. I was asked to make art on camera for a DVD production for the school where I work. I created 2 large mixed media works on paper, mainly a collage of mono prints about the theme of pilgrimage. These two relating to a tall tower (about 100m) in my place of birth; Amersfoort, which used to be a pplace of pilgrimage. 2 details on one panel and 1 shot of the entire second panel 0.8x2.4m

Day 13: Diwali-Tihar

2009-10-19T00:18:00.002+13:00

Butterlamps in windows, on doorsteps, in flower mandala's on the street mark the start of the New Year in Nepal. Twice, some 20 years apart, I was fortunate enough to spend Nepalese New Year's in Kathmandu. These days electric festive lights take over, until one of the many power blackouts strike, allowing natural light to once again work it's wonder.

Happy Diwali (India), happy Tihar (Nepal), happy New Year (Nepal Era).

Day 12: as I think...(part 2)

2009-10-06T21:55:00.001+13:00

Click here for as I think...(part 1)

day 11: the view from here

2009-10-01T23:55:00.001+13:00

Will I ever get tired of this view? I don't think so, better not anyway, as my new eco house with enjoy almost the same view. I am house sitting the first house I bought in this neighbourhood with my ex. When we split I moved next door into my second house in the hood. Then I seperated a bit of land, sold house no 2 and will build on lot no 3. So just hopping around the area. I love this little unknown corner of the city, quiet, surrounded by native bush and lots of native birds as there is a bird sanctuary close by.
Being back in this area for 1 week is a great reminder why I am going through the challenging process of building my house here.

I am not only minding the house but also Barney the dog and Kitty the cat, they both know me and give lots of unconditional love. Pets are great!

day 10: relative traveling fatigue

2009-09-28T21:34:00.001+13:00

I am very titred today, a busy day at work followed by an exhausting slow journey home, not my home, I am house sitting this week, so a bit out of my routine. What a whimp I hear you say, I agree. Today is nothing compared to another journey I took in Nepal.

This is footage from 2007-2008. I was on my way from the capital Kathmandu to Lumbini on the border with India. A very different kind of travel with an maximum average speed of 40km/hours on rattling busses with noisy video players, loud horns, barely leg space and hard seats. Somehow that journey seemed less tyring than the half hour I spent today in the traffic jam on my way home. Part of the journey I traveled on the roofrack of the bus, just like I did 20 years earlier. Still as much fun, plenty of fresh air, no noisy music videos, great views, but a little more dangerous as these days electric wires can hang dangerously low accross the road. Riding busses in Nepal is not very safe, but apart from flying or walking there is no alternative. Danger is lurking around every corner, but traveling with the Nepalese is never boring, they make great company making you forget about the torturous long journeys that are only interupted by short chai stops. The scenery, well you can't get much better...

Day 9: enrichment process

2009-09-27T18:17:00.001+13:00

The first bit of mulch the new mulcher produced.

I am making space for the new eco cottage I am planning to build. I need to clear bushes and the odd tree, none to precious fortunately. It is my intention to recycle everything that needs to make way on the site. All trunks and branched have been chopped to firewood size, the twigs and leaves are mulched so they will enrich the soil they sprouted from. Once the building is done I will restore the garden with native planst and trees, some from cuttings I have taken before I started chopping.

I also intend to have a small vege garden and have some chickens. It is a small site and steep, but with enough space to practice permaculture on the smallest of scales. The house will be super insulated. have solar panels and underfloor heating with a heat exchange pump. It is all part to an attempt to reduce my carbon footprint while increasing comfort levels (older NZ houses aren't the best, often draughty, barely insulated and poorly heated). I can't wait for the house to be ready because I am ready. I know the house will enrich my life greatly. It will be worth the wait.

For other posts from this series please visit: http://mb-asif.blogspot.com

Mandala-Amulet workshop Sat 14 Nov 2009

2009-09-24T20:28:00.003+12:00

Tibetan style MANDALA - AMULET WORKSHOP
With Marcel Baaijens

Saturday November 14
10am-4pm
Community Centre Karori, Wellington (just behind the library)
7 Beauchamp St.
Karori
Wellington

Plenty of parking, even right in front of the centre.
(access from Beauchamp St, you can see and walk to the centre from the
main road between the petrol station and the library)
Min. number of participants 8, max. 12

BOOKING ESSENTIAL

In this one day workshop you will create your personal mandala
(a visual representation of the universe, your universe or uiverse to
be) on paper.
You can write and incorporate an optional mantra,
personal prayers, thoughts, messages, affirmations, wishes.

This work on paper will be used to create a Tibetan Sung ‘Khor or
amulet. The paper will be folded and wrapped with poly-cotton in a
decorative pattern. This can then be worn around the neck. Make one or
more. Although the focus will be on creating a contemporary version
you can also choose to make a traditional Tibetan one. The required
imagery will be provided.

When all amulets are made we will energise and empower the amulets
using Quantum Touch (TM) techniques.
Marcel will play appropriate spiritual background music from many
parts of the world, including Tibetan.

To see a 3 minute documentary by Marcel
Baaijens in which a Tibetan monk is making a basic Sung ‘Khor and
samples of amulets he has made
please visit: http://mb-amulets.blogspot.com

Fee: $65 pp, early bird $60 (if booked and paid in full by 1 Nov 09),
10% discount for multiple bookings
Payments ban be made by cheque or cash or direct credit (please ask
for banking details).

Bookings can be made by email.
Bookings are only confirmed once payment has been received.
Refunds only given if there are more than 8 participants. (bookings
are transferable)

BYO lunch or have lunch in the fabulous Arobake Cafe (1 min walk)
All day teas included in price.

All materials will be provided
Copier/printer onsite

Optional bring:
-Any photos (or photocopies), patterns, texts you may want to incorporate
-any spools of poly-cotton threads (colours of your
choice, only need a few meters per colour) so we can share

For more information please email marcel[dot]baaijens[at]gmail[dot]com

day 7: to busk or not to busk...

2009-09-24T19:15:00.001+12:00

I used to play music when I was in my 20's, accordeon, tin whistles, spoons. I wasn't that good, but I loved it and even earned money playing in a medieval inn in the city of Delft. I saw musicians playing on the Sunday market, entertaining the crowds. I love buskers. They can brighten the dullest of places, like the tunnels of the London Tube stations. I want to play again, sing again...

Day 6: as I think...

2009-09-22T20:29:00.002+12:00

Day 5: start-up

2009-09-21T20:17:00.001+12:00

Who wants to start the working week being nagged by a PC prompting you to press 3 buttons at the same time in order to the blimming machine going? Not me. It defies logic. Why button twice when once will do? It is a scary thought that PC's dominate. I am so glad I have a Mac. It assumes intelligence, intuition, logic and values my time.

Day 4: Yay day with tulips

2009-09-20T22:50:00.002+12:00

The sign reads: This bed of (5500) Daydream and White Dream tulips honour the people of Dutch heritage who have made Wellington their home. Orange is the national colour of the Netherlands. That's me :)

You can never, NEVER have too many tulips. Seeing all these tulips made me melancholy as I woke up this morning thinking: "it would be nice to drop-in on my family", but they are 20.000 km away. I left The Netherlands in 1988, I have changed so much that I feel I could never resettle there if I choose to. I can play being Dutch, but so many other non-Dutch aspects of me would find no expression there, making it difficult for me to feel whole. So Wellington is home, my base in the world where I feel comfortable. I can't help but lament the fact from time to time that it is impossible to just pop over for a weekend visit. There should be a sign with this bed of tulips: This bed of pink tulips honours the queer people of Dutch heritage who have made Wellington their home.

Day 3: Yay day.

2009-09-19T18:38:00.001+12:00

As I scootered through the city hills on my way to the pool, I got sidetracked to the Otari School fair. I found this Iranian hand-embroidered woolen cloth, a large Chinese bowl, an interesting ceramic object from Malaysia, a handpainted tray from New Zealand and a wooden sculpture from the Pacific Islands, all for only $21.00. Retail therapy that did not break the bank. All objects will find a place in my new house and garden.

Day 2: playtime

2009-09-18T21:54:00.000+12:00

When lunchtime comes, even during short morning or afternoon tea breaks, games are pulled out and taken to the lunchroom. Who can say that they play games with their colleagues at work just for the sheer pleasure of playing games? I am very fortunate that I can. I like my colleagues and enjoy their company very much.

Day 1: shifting perspective.

2009-09-18T21:53:00.003+12:00

This is one out of one hundred and nine photo's I took today. The days preceeding that day were grey as my mind only saw grey. I'd lost my mojo, shit happens, but I did not want to stay there and remembered the advice I once gave to a friend who had lost her mojo. "Take a picture a day" I suggested. Using a lens to view the world and your life provides a different point of view that allows for a shift in perspective. The day I took his picture I began to see beauty everywhere including in grey objects.

New blog: as if ... you only live once.

2009-09-17T22:04:00.000+12:00

I intend to mark and honour each day for it's contribution to a life well lived with images and words.

This concept is inspired by my friends Lynsey and Marica and their site: http://freshnewday.net

May you be inspired to copy this or develop a similar creative practice.

Jewelry of Impermanence

2009-09-11T20:00:00.005+12:00

This jewelry is handmade and based on traditional "Sung 'Khor" or paper amulets from Tibet. Tibetan Monks make these amulets for the faithful who require protection for safe travel or from disease. They consist of a mandala with prayers on paper and may contain protective herbs. The paper is folded inward making images and texts invisible. The amulets are blessed.

The contemporary versions I make are created along similar principles. The concept is that the amulets contain:
mandala's on paper or special paper
contains a prayer, Tibetan, Christian, an affirmation or loving messages.
they are energised using 'Quantum Touch' breathing techniques

Contemporary Amulet 1
by Marcel Baaijens
Printed rice paper from Nepal with poly cotton thread
30mm square
NZ$30

I conduct workshops in which participants can make their own,
draw their own mandala's (geometrical or symbolic representations of the universe)
write their own prayers, affirmations or similar
include and herbs or essential oils
wrap their amulet
and energise their amulet using quatum breathing techniques

This amulet is my private one
60mm square
It took 3 hours to make.

The amulets are worn on the body near the heart, it's energy brushing off on the wearer. Is this effective? After attending a presentation by Mr. Emoto from Japan I am convinced it is. Mr. Emoto who featured in the documentary "What The Bleeb" has done interesting experiments with water, photographed water crystals exposed to both loving and hateful words. The photo's say it all. We humans are between 70%-90% made of water. Have a look at this link: http://www.life-enthusiast.com/twilight/research_emoto.htm

Contemporary Amulet 2
by Marcel Baaijens
Printed Nepalese rice paper with poly cotton threads
30mm square
NZ$30

The jewelry is made om temporary materials that will disintegrate after some time encouraging the wearer not to get attached to their precious jewel and let go of whatever it is the maker wished for. This ties in to the Buddhist concept of non-attachment as a way to achieve happiness.

Om Mani Padme Om,
by Marcel Baaijens
containing print with hundreds of Om Mani Padme Om's in Tibetan script.
32mm square
NZ$30

Jewelry of an impermanent nature challenges the notion that jewelry is very precious and should be treasured. This jewelry will guaranteed fall apart at some stage, unless you lock it away in a safe, but then you will not reap the benefits it has to offer.

Orininal amulet by Lama Sajan,
not for sale
approx. 15 mm square

Original amulet from Ladakh, India
This one has fallen apart with time.
60mm square, prints of this mandala (below) are reused for some of the contemporary mandala's

For orders or further information contact Marcel: marcel[dot]baaijens[at]gmail[dot]com

Whirling Dervish

2009-06-27T16:57:00.005+12:00

Whirling Dervish is something I wanted to film while I was in Turkey, but it never happened. Two days ago I learned about a Mukabeleh happening just down the road from me and I was invited to come along with Adele a friend of my friend brenda. She needed footage and I had the camera, that in itself was exciting enough. On top of that we both were after similar footage, of the edge of the robes, soft, out of focus, kind of abstract. So off we went. Below is a short clip from the evening, without sound ( on purpose).

“We come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust” Rumi.

Amersfoort 750

2009-06-13T10:46:00.007+12:00

Marcel at age 2.5 in his medieval outfit.

On the 12 June 2009 it is 750th anniversary of home town Amersfoort, The Netherlands. In 1959 the city was 700 years old, I was only 2.5. I still remember attending festivities of people dressed in medieval clothes. My parents had Vespa Scooters and belonged to the local Vespa club. I love this old city, as a kid I was fascinated almost obsessed. After 6 pm traffic was so minimal that I was allowed to ride my little bike to the city centre (1 KM). I would ride around in circles on the cobbled streets, couldn't get enough of it. The last year I lived in The Netherlands I was fortunate enough to live in a 16th century attick within the old city walls, loved it!

Marcel on his first bike.

I was told that the city of Amersfoort was rather strict and that Sundays were stricly reserved for rest and church, no other activities allowed. Citizens with costumes were encouraged to wander the old city in their costumes so that tourists would not find a boring deserted city.

Below is a short news reel from 1959.

More old footage.

New Little Video

2009-04-24T19:42:00.002+12:00

Please watch this video with a headset to get all the nuances of the sound.

In memory of Amy Szostak

2009-04-03T21:43:00.007+13:00

Amy Szostak (1975-2009)

For about 5 years along with Chris Barrand and Brooke Dallimore
I supported Amy with her art practice.
The first time Amy came into the studio of Art Compass she screamed!
Angy at people who patronised her.
Soon we gained her confidence and trust,
With that Amy’s amazing artistic journey began.
Just before Art Compass closed
We managed to round off Amy’s Raidar the Viking story:
Under the title: Scream! Jorunn’s Saga
It went on air as a radio play in 2006.

The story is really a kind of autobiography,
A collection of the complex parts that made up Amy.
Every character in the story IS a part of Amy,
A realised part, or a part she aspired to.
Simultaneously all characters were modeled on real people,
And the imagined and real relationships with them
She illustrated her story skillfully in her unique style.
She created well over 100 pieces,
A collection worth preserving
A collection worthy to be included in national archives of New Zealand!

Amy was a unique (outsider) artist, singer, songwriter, composer and writer
She called herself "Special Star" as she hated the label "special needs"
Amy was indeed a special star.
She sought fame, First of all for herself
But also with a much bigger goal in mind
She wanted recognition, fame, happiness and success for all those
who are marginalized because they live with a disability of sorts.
She was an advocate, a fighter,
Sadly her body gave up
Before her lively spirit completed its mission

Amy, it was a great privilege to work with you.

Click HERE and you will be taken to Amy's story. You can listen to the radio play or read the script.

Himalayan Collection (pastel drawings)

2009-03-24T21:25:00.003+13:00

This collection was created in 2005 during a 10 day visit to Ladakh in Northern India, an area with Tibetan culture and architecture. The capital Leh is so high that you need a couple of days to get used to the altitude and thin air. It took two days by jeep accross a number of passes between 4000 and 5600m to get there, an amazing journey, met some great people. I did a lot of filming too, some of which will be included in the feature length documentary I am working on.

'Lest We Forget'

2009-03-20T04:04:00.000+13:00

During my time in Europe I have come across many reminders of World War II; scars in buildings, people, countrysides, attitudes, political systems, etc. This image is from 'The Gate of Death'. It's significance and seeing it for real sent shivers down my spine that stopped me in my tracks as I approached the former concentration camp Auschwitz I. Entering Auschwitz I, now a museum, is free (of charge) these days, so is leaving.

Many minorities were targeted for extermination by the Nazi's. 'Lest we forget' is a sentiment often heard and used as the reason why places like Auschwitz should be preserved. I could not help but notice that not all minorities who were singled out for extermination by the Nazi's were remembered through words, images, anecdotes or statistics. Unlike others they were not given a 'human face' in the exhibitions.

I found no references of any kind to those exterminated because they had an intellectual disability or mental illness. I only found a single reference to homosexuals in a display that explained the different badges prisoners were forced to wear for identification, such as the yellow star identifying Jews and pink triangles identifying homosexuals.

When I asked various museum staff about where I could find references to crimes committed to these minorities they did not have an answer, they did not know! If they don't know, how can the public at large ever find out? How can ignorance be transformed into awareness?

Leaving these crimes invisible creates a danger zone, a zone of shadow, the shadow side of being human, the zone where crimes are committed.

It is light itself that exposed Auschwitz I & II eventually. Without light we are lost, I am lost, without light I cannot be an artist, without Light I am back in the dark 'closet' , without light I cannot be me, without light I do not exist, therefor it is Light I will continue to seek even in dark places like Auschwitz.

'Frei'(German for free) the last word seen before prisoners entered the 'Gate To Death' to Auschwitz I.

IJsbruiloft / Ice wedding Marken

2009-03-20T02:57:00.001+13:00

This is a silent movie I came across on YouTube of a unique dutch folklore event: a wedding on the frozen harbour on the island of Marken.

And so this is Christmas…

2008-12-25T02:25:00.005+13:00

Christmas 2006, a lonely Christmas Sturovo/Parkany on the Slovak Hungarian border.

And so this is Christmas…. And what have you done?
Another year over…

Yes that time of year again, the silly season…
Different this time
World a mess, well that’s not really news is it
And what about you?
Did you live well?
What would you do different?
What can you do differently?
Maybe you need to adapt to world changes that affect you.
There is no better time than a time of crises to make changes
I recon
Time for opportunities for change and growth
Lessons to be learned
Not necessarily easy ones
Possibly profound ones
Unexpected ones
Prickly ones
Lessons nevertheless

Christmas 2007, Varanasi, India had a home cooked Italian Christmas lunch, yes in India, why not?

I am
So you won’t be alone
Unemployed (not bored at all may I ad)
Homeless, yet with a roof over my head
So not too bad at all for now
But…
Hopefully with just enough money left
To build a small house
On a small bit of land
A debt free security I created 3 years ago
If worst comes to worse I can always camp there
But won’t come to that
I should be able to build some sort of shelter:
Healthy, homely, sustainable

Ahhhh, sustainable
No longer Looking for growth, expansions, extensions
Nope, no longer interested in playing those games.
Stopped those games a long time ago
Governments still want us to spend our selves into debt
So money keeps ticking over, till…
We’re back to square one
Not that a bad square at all
The place of rebirth
Can be a good place
I am there right now and it feels good
Surprisingly good actually
I have my moments of doubt
Fear of the unknown
But…
As one book title reads: “Feel the fear and do it anyway”.

Christmas 2008, back in New Zealand with the most beautiful Christmas tree I know, the native Pohutukawa tree, which brings us bright crimson flowers at Christmas time. I have got two in my garden.

So enjoy Christmas
This one night of peace, well…
Reminder of peace at least
That is what gets me the most at midnight
When Silent Night is sung…
We just did it in New Zealand and like a wave at the speed of sun
It will travel the Christian world
Some choose to tune in
Others choose to ignore
The choice is ours
Every day
Every night
Every time we encounter a fight

So peace I wish you all
From the bottom of my heart.
Marcel

As one story ends a new one begins.

2008-12-13T14:05:00.007+13:00

Enjoying a moment of global perspective.

I haven’t written much on my blog the last few months, but that will change from today. Yesterday, I flew back to Wellington, New Zealand, the place I left 27 months ago on to go on a journey. With my return a new chapter in my life begins with lots to write, photograph, film and draw. I am launching into two new projects while continuing editing the film about my journey. I will blog regularly from now on about both projects as they develop.

Flying into the sunset.

The first project is my attempt to design and build an eco house on a steep block of land in Wellington. It will be a small house on a small piece of land with a small budget. I have no idea if and how I will succeed, but the way my life is and given the world’s economic situation I have little choice but to make it work. I sold my house when I left New Zealand but subdivided a small bit of land to keep so I could build a small sustainable house and hopefully be mortgage free. I am so looking forward to have a place of my own again, a base from which I can engage with the world, a base I can always return to. I hope the house will be ready in 12 months time.

Touchdown in Wellington.

The second project is much more ambitious. It is the creation of a pilgrimage route in New Zealand, spiritual in nature that begins or ends in Wellington. It is my intention to write and illustrate a guidebook, an itinerary that will show pilgrims which way to go and challenge their minds along the way. The idea for this project came as I was walking El Camino, a pilgrim’s route in Spain. At first I thought it was a rather silly idea, but when I visited Syria some months later and heard about the creation of the Abraham Path I changed my mind. I began to take my idea seriously. Now that I am back in New Zealand it is time to take the next step. This all while I will be unable to walk the route myself. The start of arthritis in my knees, that started when I walked El Camino will be one of many challenges I will have to overcome with this project. I expect the process to take a few years.

So subscribe to this blog or check from time to time if you are interested in either or both projects. As always I welcome feedback to anything I publish.

Rebuilding on Shaky Grounds

2008-12-02T22:41:00.002+13:00

For a long time
The ground shook
Left unsupported
I left
Exhausted
Searching
For health
For Home
For Me

18 months
Following Teo
Following desire
Following cues
To heal
To discover
To film
To be me

I changed
Didn’t I
I did
Found Home within
With new exterior home to match in the forest

But the shaking began again
Dislodging the mortar between the bricks
Of my foundation
Nobody saw
Nobody felt
But me
Imbalance
Invisible to others

So I am leaving again
After 9 months in Australia
Maybe it’s time to give birth or be reborn
No
Not off to exotic places
Off to Home
The place I called home before I left
The place
When revisiting
Felt like home again
Stirring a longing
To be warm

Shaking within is the worst
Throwing everything out of kilter
Sugar levels
Moods
Temperature control
Energy
Concentration
Immune system
Spine
To name a few if not all
Symptoms of hypoglycemia

So
I am leaving the new home I found
Making me wonder
If the journey will ever end
Nothing is permanent
I remind myself

I am going Home
Home without a house
But with space for a house
A house that needs building
On a steep hill
On a fault line
Back to where I started
New Zealand

Rebuilding a life that fell apart
No turning the other way
Head on
Building a sustainable house
A sustainable future
To sustain shaky health
In shaky times
On shaky ground

Maybe part II to part I
The sequel: rebuilding on shaky ground

This Drawing Looks Intelligent: The video

2008-09-30T17:42:00.004+13:00

You can now view my award winning documentary "This Drawing Looks Intelligent" online.

Please click HERE to view.

The video is about art and people with intellectual disabilities, art as vocational choice, communication and cultural expression. An accompanying paper with the same name by clicking HERE.

A 'Scipt' in Progress.

2008-09-17T20:41:00.005+12:00

At the time of the assassination (of the Royal Nepalese Family)
Some 24 hours earlier,
I was visiting Meggie restaurant in Kathmandu
Where something urged me
To adopt
Orphaned paintings by Teo Baba,
A dead man I never knew
Embedded in them like DNA
Was his story of transformation,
Of life, death and rebirth
This all happened at a time
When I was more dead than alive
A strange coincidence...

Excerpt from 'Script', a documentary in progress by Marcel Baaijens.

I have created a separate page with Teo's story as I translated and edited it for my personal use. It is illustrated with images. Click HERE to visit the page now or click on the logo under 'Links' in the side bar at any time.

A new page:

2008-08-31T19:05:00.006+12:00

I short-story/radio-play I produced and facilitated for Art Compass artist Amy Szostak. It became an interesting collaboration that evolved into a radio play in 4 parts.
Click HERE to read the story.

Who are you in a Forest?

2008-08-28T15:00:00.004+12:00

I live in a forest. When I look out the window I see nature rather than elements created by humans. I do not see other houses, I rarely hear or see people, cars, no trains or planes. There are no flags indicating which country I live in, no shops that try to make me feel, be or look like anyone in particular. The forest is void of identity markers and makers. I am no-ones subject. I do not live here by myself, but with Luke, who, in my eyes does not remind me of any particular nationality either. Yes he is Australian, but like me has spent considerable amounts of time outside of his own culture and in my eyes, is not a typical Australian.

I end up forgetting that I am in Australia when I am at home, to such an extend that every time I leave home and venture out, I get a shock and realise: “Oh I am back in Australia”. Even though I have been in OZ since February it feels as a surprise as everything suddenly looks a particular way, the Australian way. Not that I mind, but I am beginning to realise that when I am at home in the forest, surrounded by nature, I feel like being in a cultural neutral space; no mans land.

I am bemused by this repetitive experience. In a way I like it. It seems to match the fact that I do not feel I belong to any particular nation or culture. People still classify me as being Dutch (my country of birth), or when I am outside of New Zealand as a Kiwi (my nationality), but that does not mean much to me anymore. I know that I how I act and interact with the world has been greatly influenced by the cultures I have lived in, but that does no longer make me feel I belong to any particular culture.

When recently people asked me which country I would be cheering for in the Olympics I said: “none”. They were surprised. It’s true! I did not cheer just because someone carried a particular national flag. I lived in multiple countries, siding with one or another seems a strange and artificial thing to do.

Identity seems so important. So many programmes are designed to help people to strengthen their sense of identity, cultural identity, their sense of self. Self as seen by others, self as classified by others, a self as classified by themselves. In a context of people, identity is of such importance, in a context of nature… well, I don’t know, haven’t lived on this location long enough yet, but it is an interesting situation that poses an interesting question: Who am I when I live in a forest, away from culture? For now I feel living in this forest makes it easier to be just me, even though I may not quite know which part of ‘me’ that is, my ego, my spirit… Only time will tell. What I can tell is that it gives me a great sense of freedom, I no longer have to play a patriots game.

Settling in a Forest

2008-08-20T20:51:00.005+12:00

Recently I moved to a house in a forest at 500 meter (1500 feet) above sea level in southern Australia. Never before have I lived on such a remote location surrounded by nature.

It is a big change for me, a change that I have been hoping for. Almost two year earlier I left the life I had created for myself and set out on a transformational journey. That journey has ended and with that a new chapter in my life has begun. Living here is very different from anywhere I have lived before. I am really happy with the drastic changes that are not without challenges.

My life has changed in so many ways externally and internally as well. I live in a new house, a new country with a new partner in a new environment. Changes that mirror internal changes that have taken place over the last two years, or at least so I’d like to think.

Since a few days I have internet access at home, enabling me to start posting again on this blog. I want to start with sharing some images and impressions from this particular spot in the world where only a few people live.

Right now I am having a cold, staying close to the wood-burning stove. It’s winter, the coldest part of winter which delivered even snow, a rare event in this part of the world. So for now I leave you with an image from the magical day the snow came down.

Sit Dancing on TV segment, 1989

2008-08-13T15:42:00.007+12:00

TV segment about my dance work with the elderly from the Holmes TV Show, 1989 (New Zealand).
To view click on the link below.
http://sit-dancing.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

July: daily photo month non-sense.

2008-07-15T20:41:00.003+12:00

I started posting a photo-a-day this month...wanted to share some of the photos I have collected over the past two years, I wanted to blog but as I am discovering for blogging sake! I have little time to write which each photo on a daily basis. My intention has always been to have both text and images in each post. The texts I added to the photos were merely title or identification. Was I hiding behind pretty pictures? Maybe I did. Maybe I was too much 'in process' to write. Maybe I was just kidding myself.

I am sorting through my belongings I stored prior to my departure for my journey of transformation. I am back in New Zealand, the place I called home before I left. Maybe this is the actual closure of my journey, the return to the place of departure, a place of test really as it is now I can truly compare myself to the self of two years ago. Not that would be a very objective comparison, but a comparison nevertheless. A comparison that could conclude with a 'yes' I have changed or a 'bugger' I am still the same.

Rather silly to even contemplate such question as with time we all change. When you return from an epic journey filled with profound moments you are bound to have been effected by the experiences along the way.

Al I can say really is that I am very aware in the changes in me and that there is no turning back to being my old self. Being back in my familiar environment I notice that despite all those changes, it is easy to slip back into old patterns, old scripts, habitual behaviours, reactions and thought patterns. I am lucky in a way that I am aware and that I now have a choice... fall back into or hang onto those old patterns and behaviours or let go and move on. I am determined to move forward, yet it is not automatic.

While sorting through my belongings I am faced with thoughts I had two years ago, thought and judgments of what belongings were deemed assets worth keeping, memento impossible to live without. In the west we are constantly reminded by advertising that we are defined by what we own and have and that our degree of happiness is dependent on what we own and have.

I must say that I am pleased to discover that I had stored warm clothes, very convenient in winter, but I also discovered clothes that I find hard to believe that I wanted to keep them. I am pleased to discover belongings that are still as practical and useful now as they were two years ago. But there are so many possessions that feel like a burden to possess right now, taking up space, consuming my energy as I have to do something with them. Even just giving them away requires energy and thought as I don't like to throw away items that may be of value to others.

I know the reasons for keeping stuff, as 'one day they might come in handy' was one rule I applied as a sorting criteria two years ago. This time my criteria have changed. I have learned that whatever I need will be provided for, even BIG things such as a house. I was going to build a new house on my return to New Zealand, but I no longer have to. My new partner Luke has a house, a house where I am invited to be 'at home', both in a physical and metaphysical sense. An amazing gift really.

So what to to now?

Well the last thing I want to do is create more clutter, so right now I will stop my daily photo month theme, well rather suspend it for the time being until I have a series of images that will convey a message of some sort or something to write about. All my photos I will make public one day, simply on a site or a blog, so till then I will get back on track with my sorting process and I will leave you with an image of a model railway track that I have kept for years and years, a track that I have decided to let go of. With the letting go of the track I also let go of the ambition and dream to build a romantic and super large model railway complex. I can let go of the tracks, the dream... as I am happy to be in the here and now, to be just me, a me that does no longer need a model railway to feel happy like a child. I no longer have the need to create my miniature perfect little world with a train running through it as there is a whole world out there that I can let into my life.

July: daily photo month #11

2008-07-10T22:47:00.003+12:00

Netherlands.

July: daily photo month #10

2008-07-10T13:08:00.004+12:00

Sydney.

July: daily photo month #9

2008-07-08T21:09:00.002+12:00

Tamarama, Sydney, Australia.

Popcorn in your Brain

2008-07-08T09:58:00.002+12:00

Watch this video if you want to turn your brain into popcorn!

July: daily photo month #8

2008-07-08T01:33:00.000+12:00

Cinderella shop, Damascus, Syria

July: daily photo month #7

2008-07-07T01:56:00.001+12:00

Magical Sydney Opera House.

July: daily photo month #6

2008-07-07T01:52:00.002+12:00

A living street, India.

July: daily photo month #5

2008-07-04T10:18:00.000+12:00

You can't beat Wellington on a fine day!

July: daily photo month #4

2008-07-03T19:58:00.002+12:00

Getting ready to strut.

July: daily photo month #3

2008-07-03T04:05:00.002+12:00

The key

July: daily photo month #2

2008-07-03T04:03:00.001+12:00

Yemenite

July: daily photo month #1

2008-07-03T03:34:00.005+12:00

Syrian desert.

Arriving, Adjusting, Admiring

2008-06-24T17:52:00.002+12:00

Tall trees instead of buildings
Tall trees instead of shops
Tall trees instead of traffic lights
Tall trees
Lots of them
In the middle of nowhere
The new centre of my universe

The Pied Piper

2008-06-03T02:28:00.019+12:00

I love movement
Movement of life
I am not meant to stand still really

But neither do I wander
For the sake of wandering
I am aware
Watch for signs
Like the Pied Piper that appeared
Not just any Pied Piper
Oh, no!!!!
One with a trumpet
Ha!
As you may know
I just love trumpets
So I am off...

Off with the faeries
Ha ha ha!
???
No,no!
I haven't lost the plot
In fact...
I may have just found a treasure

So
I continue living a life
On the move
To the forest of the Pied Piper

Sometimes
The unknown
The endless changes
Wear me out
The faithless doubts
Scare the hell out of me

Oh go on, call me insane!

But then...
I can't possibly
Stay put for put's sake
What would that achieve?
I therefor surrender
To the music of the Pied Piper
I dance
Vortexing
Ever deeper
Into the blur of life

And then...
To my surprise
Or maybe not anymore
With joyful clarity
I regain my vision
Bliss and calm
One-ness
With my heart and soul

Oh Pied Piper, you are just gorgeous!

Sit Dancing

2008-06-02T15:55:00.010+12:00

Below is an article I wrote some time ago, about a sit dance programme I developed in the late 80"s, early 90's, but is still very relevant today. Because of continued interest I will digitally re-master the resource materials for this programme in July and make them available again.

I have added a new page to my blog with information on
SIT DANCING INTERNATIONAL

MOTIVATION TO DANCE AGAIN

Why would you want to dance when you are old, low on energy, barely able to walk and knowing that dancing could cause discomfort, pain or even an accident? Why take the risk? Why bother, particularly when your caregivers are ‘bossing’ you around all day, every day, telling you, as with anything else: ‘It is good for you’?

If I were, say 80, lost my partner, independence and privacy, and I was institutionalised, I don’t think I could be bothered to dance if someone asked me to, no matter how much I would be called ‘dear’ or ‘love’. I would most likely refuse to participate just as a way to exercise my choice and create a sense of empowerment for myself at a time when I may be loosing more and more control over my own life. I associate dancing with celebrations or entertainment, and perhaps I don’t feel in a celebratory mood, nor do I want to entertain myself. I would watch a dance show, as it is always fun to see others making a fool of themselves, but me doing it, I don’t think so!!

Staff may regard me as a stubborn old man, contributing my attitude to my character and nature rather than my environment and circumstances. In that case I would be left to please my self, feeling justified in my attitude and left without any vision for a future for myself, or the community I live in.

However with appropriate attitude and vision a facilitator/therapist can bring about change that will not only have an affect on the individual’s life but also on the community, including staff.

Developing an appropriate attitude and vision will require a caregiver to be honest and investigate their own attitudes, belief systems and vision. If dance is going to be introduced as an option for residents then one can expect not only resistance from the residents as illustrated above, but also among staff and even management, as attitudes and visions about dance and the elderly are most likely based on our cultural belief systems, which aren’t always very compassionate or optimistic.

In 1988 I was keen to (re)introduce dance to the elderly population living in retirement care settings in Wellington New Zealand. I had just moved there from The Netherlands where I trained as an ‘International Folk Dance Teacher’. I was familiar with a specially designed dance repertoire, used in The Netherlands for over-50’s based on ethnic folk dances. I called all rest homes (called hostels in Australia) I could find in the yellow pages and asked if they would like me to teach dance to their residents. Only one home was interested in a free demonstration session, and so I went with my ghetto blaster, tapes and my oh so fashionable 1980's leg warmers.

The therapists had gathered a good crowd of people in the recreation room. All were full of anticipation. Most expected a dance show and got the surprise of their lives when they were asked to get up and join in they did (all well trained in obedience). By the time the session was over the entire room was filled with exhausted but happy faces. After the session a 95 year old woman came up to me and said “I have never seen so many people smile at the same time as today, and I have been here for 5 years”.

I was confused by the experience, counting my blessings that I didn’t dance any residents to a premature death but also upset about the patronizing attitude of some staff towards the residents and the comments by the 95 year old that smiling en-mass was such a rare event.

As time went by, my fear of putting the residents at risk of ‘death by dancing’ faded and an urge to do something for the residents emerged. The rest home had called and asked me to come back. There were no easier dances that I knew of but I heard of the term ‘sit-dancing’, and began developing a repertoire of sit-dances.

International Sit and Step Dancing, as the programme was then called, is based on traditional folk dances from around the world that have been adapted and/or transformed to enable people of all ages and (dis-) abilities to enjoy dancing while sitting down and/or standing. The original folk dances which are the inspiration for the sit-dances are often danced in circles or lines. Anybody can join in without the need to have a partner, so nobody feels left out. There is no need to have a ‘perfect’ body, such as in ballet, and there are no age limits. In fact older villagers often dance with the young ones perhaps with less vigor, but with equal, if not more grace. It is the inner beauty and joy of dancing that is being expressed in folk dancing.

The music I use may be ‘foreign’ to most ears but is very passionate and folk music resonates with people. It is hard to resist, as it stirs emotions and this stirring becomes and an internal motivation to move, as little as the tapping of toes or clapping of hands. Being able to participate in a dance at a simple but appropriate level can provide people with much needed self-esteem. Folk dancing is a social activity, and promotes interaction. All these aspects of folk dancing are natural antidotes for the resistance of an 80 year old as described above.

Traditional folk dancing often relies on someone to lead a line or circle, someone with charisma and leadership skills, someone who perhaps shows off a bit at times, not afraid to try out something new, not afraid of making a fool of themselves. It is more likely that such a person will be regarded as a role model and as a result gets everybody following, be it as a dance star or as a fool, either way, definitely less self-conscious and more human.

City Harvest

2008-05-26T23:27:00.004+12:00

Found these fat bananas in the neighbourhood. Beats going to the supermarket in the mall! It took two of us to carry it home.

Just Like That

2008-05-12T19:41:00.002+12:00

Just like that
After reading a book
Which posed the right questions
In a matter of 2 hours
A map
A framework
A structure for the film
Appeared
On a scroll of baking paper
Drawn with markers

Strange sometimes
How this project evolves
I know
I am the one doing it
Yet there seems to be another force
Cheering and steering
As if
This story wants to be told
Needs to be told
For reasons
Beyond
Just me

Musical Passion

2008-04-06T02:40:00.008+13:00

Brass band, Maastricht, Netherlands.

There is one style of music that really gets me going: Balkan Brass music. Live is best. I have filmed brass musicians during my 18 months of travel, not as much as I'd liked to and unfortunately hardly any when I was in eastern Europe. I have decided to add a new page (blog) to my collection called Mad about (Balkan) Brass. It will become a collection of footage of balkan/gypsy/brass music, both borrowed and my own recordings. You can find a permanent link to Mad About (Balkan) Brass on the right of this page.

'30 Second Presence' show: episode 20

2008-04-03T00:45:00.004+13:00

Time to play again

2008-03-23T15:56:00.006+13:00

Time to start playing with the 157 hours of video and sound I have collected. Starting small, here is another clip from the '30 Second Presence' series. Click HERE to go to the "30 second presence' show page.

Life is Gorgeous

2008-03-18T01:44:00.000+13:00

Mardi Gras Parade, Sydney.

Life is gorgeous
Life is sweet
Easier said than done
True

Pink glasses help for sure
So true
But it takes more than that
To see the beauty of life
It takes courage, strength and determination
To look for pink glasses

So many believe they are impossible to find
So many believe it is inappropriate to wear
Or God forbid, be like pink glasses
So…
Many never look for them

It’s sad, so sad
To observe those
Unaware that pink exists
That pink is
A gorgeous colour

I must admit
At times I lost sight of pink
For I was
Like many
Conditioned to see only gray

But then
Just as I was about
To surrender to the grayest of grays
Something gorgeously pink
Awakened me

Arriving Home, the End of a Journey.

2008-03-18T01:12:00.017+13:00

Looking back it all seems so logical, so natural, but it did not always feel like that. I am still in awe about how a new life fell into place just like that. Within two weeks I found two jobs, one came with fabulous accommodation attached and I will still have time to work on my film.

It all came together on the 14th day after I arrived in Sydney. It began with a total stranger offering me a free bicycle. Next I had a successful job interview which was followed by news that I was accepted for the first position (with accommodation) I applied for earlier that week. The day ended with another total stranger giving me two free movie tickets because he was unable to attend the screenings. Someone said I should have bought a lotto ticket that day as well…

Somehow that did not cross my mind. I was blow away about how everything had fallen into place on the one day. I gratefully accepted everything as signs that I was in the right place and that I had arrived in Sydney at the right time and that I could relax.

I now live just down the road from this sign, hehe.

I moved into my new home the next day and I was no longer a nomad or a pilgrim, my journey ended that very day. No longer was I in a bardo, the ‘in-between-space’ separating one life from another.

I did not return to the place where I started. I have moved on in so many ways; economically, physically, emotionally and spiritually. That gives me great joy as it means that my journey was not in vain. Not only have I found a new home, but I feel I have also found ‘the home within’ I was searching for.

How can I tell? Well I don’t know how to explain the experience I am having. But then... as it happens, someone send me a link to this video of a presentation called ‘A stroke of Genius’, (click on the title to watch the video) by Jill Bolte Taylor. It possibly describes the kind of experience I am having right now, a ‘right brain experience’.

I feel very happy, grateful, at peace with where I am, what I do or don’t do and most importantly who I am. I feel connected, not just with myself, but with everything around me, I accept the way things are with ease and go with the flow of the moment. I am no longer living the old ‘life of doing’, but living a new ‘life of being’ instead. This is what I set out to change by going on this journey of transformation. I never dared to dream that I would actually achieve that goal, an achievement worth celebrating and celebrating I did.

It so turned out to be that time of year in Sydney for the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade. It was the 30th anniversary. The first time I watched the parade was in 1986, never was I in the parade, something I always wanted to do. It was now or never. I managed to join a float, was given a press pass, enabling me to film.

There were 500,000 people cheering on the parade, 10,000 people in the parade. I had the best time ever! Loved the crowd! For me it was my ‘homecoming parade’, nobody knew that of course but that did not matter. It provided a fitting closure to my journey ‘home’, my ‘pilgrimage in search of self’.

Right now I am still enjoying just being here, being in a new place, a new space, the right side of my brain. Soon I will start editing my film. That process could take up to 12 months. I intend to keep posting on this blog, possibly about the editing process, the writing and rewriting of my script, my journey, my life, my experience of past experiences.

It seems to be a fitting moment to thank everybody who has supported me during my journey: my friends and family, my extended family, the kindred spirits, the many ‘random’ strangers, the angels in disguise, all those who offered me a place to stay, all those who were willing to listen, give advise, challenge me, give honest feedback, hold up a mirror, all those who helped me in times of need, everybody who has been a witness, you all know who you are. I am truly grateful to you all, I feel humbled and blessed by your presence.

Thank you so much indeed! Marcel

At home down-under.

Going ‘Home’…?

2008-03-17T02:17:00.006+13:00

I got to Bangalore International Airport too early and I had to wait outside the terminal for more than one hour before I was allowed inside to check-in. There is barely a pavement separating the terminal from the chaotic car park that is also the road, the pick-up area, drop-off area the taxi stand and everything else. I sat down on a curb with my luggage, like other passengers, lost in chaos. Honking cars swarmed around like panicking bees whose nest is under attack. It was this aspect of India that I was definitely ready to leave behind.

Just over a month ago I left India from Bangalore. I was heading for Sydney via Singapore. I used frequent flyer points to get (almost free) seats. I had a confirmed seat to Singapore, but the next flight out of Singapore to Sydney with seat availability was 2,5 weeks later, leaving me stranded in that part of the world for 2,5 weeks…

Airlines do not like people who go with the flow, they prefer to pin you down in their system and make it hard and costly to change a reservation. But I came armed with a determination to get the first connecting flight out of Singapore. I did not know how… but that detail I left up to… well… what turned out to be an angel in the disguise of a fellow passenger with access to business class lounges.

The only thing to do once you checked was to watch television or people. I preferred the latter. Everybody seemed to be absorbed in their own waiting game, uninterested in fellow passengers, except one woman. The second time I saw her we both rolled our eyes out of boredom. I walked over for a chat, you know, the usual, where are you from, where are you going and why are you traveling. She was heading for Sydney as well, on the same flights… was an orphan, and therefore intrigued by my mission to make a documentary about an orphan. She had written books with titles such as Serendipity Road… do I need to say more?

As I told her that I was unsure when I would make it to Sydney on the same flight she said that she would be happy to help. With a platinum frequent flyer membership she would invite me into a business class lounge and try to get my unchangeable reservation changed. You get better service there in general than at a transfer desk that deal with “ordinary” passengers like myself.

The plane flew us through the night, shortened by time difference, we landed at 6 a.m. of the Chinese New Year. Jet lagged and sleep deprived my guardian angel and I went to the business class lounge in Singapore. The staff member at the desk was sleep deprived and possibly hung over too. She was not a happy camper and in no mood to help me change my unchangeable reservation. “You will have to wait 2,5 weeks or buy a new (very expensive) ticket”, she said. “There are no seats left anyway, the plane is overbooked with 11 passengers.

This did not sound very hopeful, but there was also a First Class lounge that opened some time later. The airline representative there had to totally different attitude was willing to help and immediately made a call. “ Leave your boarding pass, baggage tags and passport with me” she said. “I will see what I can do. You go and have breakfast in the lounge”. Well that sounded hopeful. Walking into a first class lounge after Bangalore airport was like walking into heaven. The fresh and safe food, internet access and a hot shower (all for free) were such a treat!

Before check-in was finished the airline representative came back with a boarding pass for me. My luggage would be taken care of. I don’t know how she pulled that off, but I did not care, I was just over the moon. I was on my way to Sydney, Australia, the place where I hoped to start a new life

With both feet on the ground, new challenges were waiting for me… I needed to find a place to live, a way to make money, all that with time left to work on my film. I had no idea what would happen, what it would be like to be back on the southern hemisphere, if and how I would integrate back into a western life style without falling back into the old patterns that I was so desperate to change at the start of my journey, the motivation for going on this pilgrimage…

Stranded?

2008-02-03T02:22:00.000+13:00

Apparently I once replied: “it will be alright”, when asked “what would you say to me if you were my guardian angel?” I wish I remembered to ask myself that question when I interpreted disruptions of my travel plans as being shipwrecked away from the flow of life.

I was scripted to believe that being in control of one’s life is a good thing and that uncertainty needs fixing rather than surrender and trust it will turn out all right. Practicing surrender has possibly been the biggest challenge of my journey. I would like to think that I have done well, but have I really? Last week my ability to surrender was once again put to the test.

I learned that the validity of my visa for India started the day it was issued rather than the day I first entered the country. Having booked a departing flight on the last day I thought was O.K. had suddenly become an illegal act. Having to leave India 2,5 weeks earlier than planned was not the issue, but something else was.

I was able to change my flight from India to Singapore, but not a second connecting flight to Sydney, leaving me potentially stranded for 2,5 weeks in a city too expensive for my budget. Panic set in, fueled by a fear of shortage of money and perceived lack of control over my life. I had forgotten that the smoothest parts of my journey were times I had let go of control and surrendered to the flow of life.

I frantically attempted to regain control by searching for a new connection, but found none. It was not until I became aware of my re-action to the situation that I was able to surrender. Oh, how wonderful it felt. Instead of spending hours in an Internet café trying to find alternatives, I could now return to life at the beach. I no longer viewed getting stranded in Singapore as a problem in need of a solution. I was even able to consider the possibility of effortlessly boarding the plane as a stand-by passenger. Who knows where the flow of life will take or keep me?

No doubt I will come across more tests. This one was a timely reminder of the benefits of surrender. Does that mean I just sit back and wait for life to happen? No, I don’t. When I stumbled across a job-seek website for Australia and spotted two interesting vacancies, I applied. I sowed seeds that may or may not germinate. I did my bit and returned to being once again in the here and now, to living in the moment. I am sure that if I am meant to be at an interview in Australia, I will somehow get there on time.

It does sound easy, doesn’t it, but wasn’t. An old unhealthy script from the past tried to hijack my peace, but I did notice before it got out of hand and as I did, the script lost its power over me. It was most comforting and rewarding to realise that I passed the test, and that surely will again in the future. I will happily pack this realisation as a weightless souvenir in my backpack as I am getting closer to the end of my pilgrimage in search of self.

The Ceiling Fan

2008-01-30T19:12:00.000+13:00

“This my house”, said the middle-aged man. It was an old colonial house in the district of Sao Tomé, dating back to the time Goa was still Portuguese. I looked up to the interesting façade. The large wooden front door stood wide open. “This my mother”, pointed to the left as we entered the house. ”She eighty”. I greeted the old woman who sat hunched on a single bed with a nod and a smile. It was unlikely she would understand English. “My mother and I live downstairs” the man said. “Guest room upstairs very, big, you see, only 250 rupees. I have nice letter from New Zealand lady, I show you. Here toilet, very clean”. I nodded in agreement it was indeed the cleanest squat toilet I had seen in India.

The man gestured me to go ahead and climb the rickety stairs that lead straight to the bedroom door. It was a huge room with two narrow metal-framed single beds that looked like hospital beds from of a World War I movie set. A ceiling fan hung overhead. I pushed with my hand on the mattress, checking its comfort. There was no give left. A small TV stood triumphant on a small table in the centre of the room as evidence that modernity had arrived.

“No door”, said the man pointing at the empty doorframe. I hadn’t noticed yet and was glad he pointed it out. It meant that the room was in open connection with the downstairs where the man and his old mother lived, slept and most likely snored. The man noticed my puzzled look and turned around to look up to the ceiling fan. “No door ‘coz then people not hang themselves from fan” he explained. My hand instinctively rushed to my mouth to contain my laughter. “Thank you”, I said politely once I had composed myself. “ I want to check out some other rooms, maybe I come back”.

When does a pilgrimage end?

2008-01-21T04:21:00.000+13:00

A pilgrimage is a journey to a holy place with religious significance. It generally ends when the holy place is reached. The pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella in Spain has an unusual add-on. Many pilgrims continue to Finistere (the end of the world) on the Atlantic coast, something I did not have time to do when I walked to Santiago in 2005.

I named my journey from the outset ‘a pilgrimage in search of self’, a search for ‘a home within’. I traveled to many holy sites belonging to various religions during this journey. At one such site, the birthplace of Buddha in Nepal, a profound insight came to my awareness. The insight was a directive of how to return to ‘home within’ whenever I lost my connection with Self. It felt as if I reached a natural end of my pilgrimage.

I continued to visit many more holy sites, but I began to notice how certain religious activities began to bother me. One such irritant would be the (ab)use of amplifiers, as if louder meant holier. I believe that scriptures, prayers, and sacred chants posses inherent and potent resonance, which gets lost when distorted by amplification to an excruciatingly painful sound level. In the process many are forced to listen to whatever is being broadcast against their will. This surely is not what the creators had intended.

I began to realise that it was time for me to get away from such irritants and surround myself with a more nurturing environment. I got on a plane, skipping many a long train and bus journey. Off to the beaches of Goa I went, without any further ado, bypassing the hectic and polluted cities of Ahmedabad and Mumbai and many ‘must see’ sites in between.

Ah, how soothing the sound of the waves breaking on the shore
(A natural mantra for the soul that does not require religious manipulation)
Ah, how invigorating the refreshing salty waters of the biggest spa in the world
(How can anyone ever claim that such essence can be captured in a bottle?)
Ah, how soothing to stare across the ocean into the vast expanse of emptiness
(Void of cultural, religious and individual ego’s)

After visiting so many holy sites, being by the ocean has become more than just a holiday destination for me. It has also become a place where I can spiritually recharge, connect with Self and observe egoless emptiness while listening to the mantra of waves. Maybe El Camino de Santiago continues beyond the holy site where the bones of St. James are kept, so pilgrims have an opportunity to discover and experience the essence of the ocean and possibly more.

As a child I was blessed with bronchitis and was prescribed summers on the beach by the doctor as a cure (oh what a clever man). At the age of six my bronchitis was gone, but the summer trips to the ocean with the family to Egmond aan Zee on the Dutch coast had luckily become tradition by then. I felt at home at the beach, home as in the elusive ‘home within’, I have been searching for this journey. The beach is where I was allowed to just be, all day long, without question or ridicule, without critique or censorship, be one with the elements, be in my element, creating, building, be one with myself.

I cannot help notice that is since I reached the ocean I am no longer ill, as if I turned 6 again. For months I suffered from colds, flu’s, fevers and chest infections (all perpetuated by overdoses of dust and pollution). Now I swim daily and feel my body and immune system regaining strength day by day. I am done filming and ready to start editing my film. But first I will take a good break and just practice some more being ‘at home’, being one with what the ocean has to offer.

A departure date to the southern hemisphere has been set, not quite heading for New Zealand, the place from where I embarked on this journey, as I am not convinced yet if that should become my physical home again. My next port of call after India will be Australia.

Deens Deuntje

2008-01-02T05:30:00.001+13:00

Click to Play

Dutch (for English see below):

Volksmuziek en folklore worden in Nederland vaak als oudbollige rariteiten beschouwd die geen plaats meer hebben in de kultuur van de hedendaagse samenleving. Op speciale gelegenheden wordt dit onderdeel van de kultuur uit de kast gehaald en gevierd met passie of het nou perfect is of niet. Is het echt of slechts toneel?

Attributen zoals klederdracht werken als een masker dat de muziekanten in staat stelt zich over te geven aan de essentie van de muziek en zang. Het verkleden is als het ware een ritueel dat de transformatie van het hedendaagse naar het verleden mogelijk en acceptabel maakt voor de muziekanten en het publiek. Wanneer het acceptabel is kan van de voorstelling zonder remmingen genoten worden.

Dit deense deuntje is gekozen voor deze video op verzoek van de muziekanten. Een ander nederlands lied dat de muziekanten speelden zal in m’n film verwerkt worden.

English:

Folk music and folklore are often regarded in The Netherlands as old fashioned curios which no longer have a place in contemporary society. At special occasions this part of the culture is being showcased and celebrated with passion, regardless of the quality of the performance. Is this for real or just show?

Attributes such as traditional costumes act like a masks, enabling the musicians to surrender to the essence of the music and songs. The dressing-up is like a ritual that aids the transition to a culture that is no longer alive. It makes it acceptable for both the performers and the audience. Once it is acceptable it can be enjoyed without reservation.

This Danish tune was chosen for this video on request of the musicians. A Dutch tune they also performed will feature in the film I am working on.

Olympic Games

2007-12-24T19:10:00.000+13:00

Monk in exile with dust mask, Boudha, Nepal.

I do not normally mention politics or sports on this site, not really my territory. Today close to Christmas and the start of a new year in which the summer Olympics will take place I want to make an exception.

Christmas is a festival associated with peace and the new year with hope for a better future. Who does not want either of those? Some people want it not only for one holiday or festival, they want it for generations to come. Will all those who watch, attend and participate in the upcoming Olympics in China remember? Can we remain silent when we know a bully is at work, destructing the soul of a nation? How can we make a difference?

I heard His Holiness The Dalai Lama respond to the question if he would be in favour for a boycott of any kind against China. His response was that he did not want to hurt the Chinese people. Naming an issue and making it known to those who offend against fellow humans can be a powerful tool of transformation without violence or causing hurt in any way.

The Chinese are very sensitive to public opinion and support, or at least pretend to be so. Maybe it is an opening for bringing awareness to their attention and constructive dialogue.

May peace prevail on earth.

Clip 18: Highway

2007-12-19T04:54:00.000+13:00

The latest video clip in the 30 Second Presence series.

Sung 'Khor-Tibetan Amulets

2007-12-05T02:45:00.002+13:00

Click To Play

A short video featuring Salan Lama making traditional tibetan amulets.

In the Fast Lane

2007-11-19T17:56:00.000+13:00

My landlord Ram giving me a ride into town.

Tihar (Diwali): Festival of Light

2007-11-19T17:30:00.000+13:00

Festival of light
And
Of shadow
Of course
One cannot exist
Without the other
But who wants to celebrate shadow?
The dark side of the moon
The deep ocean
Our inner demons
The place where danger lurks

We are not encouraged
To engage
To explore
To confront shadow

It takes courage
Which, when taken
Can be most enlightening

Tihar festival in Nepal, also known as Diwali in India, is not only the festival of light but also the start of the Newari/Nepali New Year. Newars are the people inhabiting the Kathmandu valley.

Broken Boon in Need: Update 2

2007-11-06T03:09:00.000+13:00

For the first time since Wednesday I saw Pasang smile. He also responded for the first time to my questions. His parents also looked a lot more relaxed. They must have finally realised that financial help was coming through. Pasang was released from hospital today. With that my involvement will end.

Last night I visited Swiss people who helped me with Teo’s text in German. It was quite late by the time I left. Public transport in the city finishes at around 9 pm. A bus did come my way. I waved, as you do here if you want to board a bus. It stopped but was empty of passengers. The driver and conductor were on their way home from work. That did not stop them to take me and drop me off where I needed to be, free of charge.

How is that for service, where in the (first) world would that happen? Little things like this make Nepal such a great place. Despite all the poverty and suffering human kindness prevails here. Even a 10- year armed conflict could not destroy that.

Film South Asia

2007-11-03T22:12:00.000+13:00

From 11-14 October Film South Asia was held in Kathmandu. FSA is a documentary film festival that is held every second year. I had no idea what to expect, but I was really impressed with the festival. Screenings took place at Kumari cinema, a modern complex with to cinemas. The one complaint I had was that films were only screened once, which meant that you could only see half of the films on offer. I was impressed with the organisation. The catalogue, presentations, discussions etc. were in English, a real bonus. All films were in English or had English subtitled.

Below is a list of my 4 favorites in order of preference just in case you may come across an opportunity to see them:

Between the Lines (95 min),
India 2005, by Thomas Wartmann
Documentary about the Hijra community in Mumbai.

Eisenfresser (Iron Eaters), (82 min) ****
Bangladesh 2007, by Shaheen Dill-Riaz
Documentary about seasonal workers on gigantic shipwrecking yards.

Chaame Due! Tara Nabirsa! (Forgive! Forget Not!), (52 min)
Nepal 2007, by Pranay Limbu
Docudrama about a journalist detained for 15 months in an army barrack.

Living Goddess (96 min)
Nepal 2007, by Isabel Withaker
Documentary about the three Kumari's, living goddesses of Kathmandu Valley.

2000 Candles

2007-11-03T21:29:00.000+13:00

Light and darkness, such a magic combination.
The stupa of Boudhanath, Nepal

Broken Bone in Need: UPDATE

2007-11-03T21:22:00.000+13:00

The boy, Pasang has been operated. His family raised the first 4,000 rupees for the operation, a large enough deposit for the hospital to actually do the operation. I raised 4,000 rupees here in Nepal from people I know and the last 5,000 I raised in Holland through family and friends who have been most generous.

So thanks to all your help. This boy has been saved from becoming a crippled beggar for the rest of his life and the family no longer has to spend years in debt because of a simple but costly fall of a playing boy!

I have never felt so good to be able to help out. With so little such a dramatic difference was achieved in people’s life. I am beginning to get a glimpse of how Teo Baba must have felt. He dedicated most of his life to helping people in need in Nepal
(PS: Teo Baba was a Swiss guy whose story I am following at the moment, click on his name to see more information about him).

Broken Bone in Need:

2007-11-01T02:32:00.000+13:00

Today I went for a walk in the back lanes of Boudhanath hoping to film women winnowing. I had barely turned off from the main road when there was some commotion ahead of me. As I approached the group of people a young man asked for help.

“What is the problem?” I asked. “This boy has a paralised arm”, he said. I took a closer look at the scruffy kid that was cornered by the crowd. People grabbed his arm to show me. He screamed. The filth on his face could not hide his agony. One look at his elbow was enough for me and my little medical knowledge to diagnose a badly broken bone near his elbow. The lower arm just dangled and the broken bone was almost poking through his bruised skin. Not a happy sight. The accident had happened 3 hours earlier…

I had to raise my voice to stop the people around him from touching him. They had no idea what was wrong with him and that their handling was causing more pain and could worsen the injury. I managed to explain what was wrong and urged them to take the boy immediately to a hospital.

Lack of money was the real problem it seemed, could I help? I only had little money on me, and I am reluctant to give money without knowing how sincere the need is. I offered to take the boy to a clinic and take it from there. His parents were identified, together we walked to the main road. They wanted to carry and hold the boy. Thank God they listened and let the boy walk himself, which caused him the least amount of pain. I have never seen such a tough kid, he looked distressed and dazed, but not a tear.

We got into a crowded shared taxi, the huge potholes in the road caused more agony for the kid, but there was no other option. I raised him onto my lap so he dangling arm would not hit the seat.

He was straight away looked at in the emergency room. X-rays confirmed what I feared. His bone was fully broken and displaced so badly that he will need an operation which will cost 13,000 rupees, about 150 euros/NZ$290 (4-6 months of salary). I paid for the x-rays and gave the boy some Reiki, hoping it would ease the swelling and thus the pain a little. He was given a half cast for the time being and kept in hospital for observation till the operation this Friday.

I often question the benefit of giving money to beggars or poor people, as this is only temporary relief, and does not much for sustained improvements. I do give my spare change to people with disabilities as there is no social welfare here. A little goes a long way. Education would go much further as this case of ignorance demonstrates.

Today I did give money as it was an emergency. I would have given more if I had it on me, but I didn’t. Anyway, I would like to check first with the doctor to see how much the family can help themselves and how much discount the hospital can afford. I intend to do that tomorrow.

If any one of you (in Holland or New Zealand) feel like helping out financially, let me know immediately. Feel free to pledge a contribution (by email at: marcel[dot]baaijens[at]gmail[dot]com). I will match it dollar for dollar. Once I know if it is really needed I will call on your pledge (money can be deposited into my New Zealand or Dutch bank account). I will keep you informed.

Healing Script part 1: Candle

2007-10-29T01:29:00.001+13:00

Introduction:

This story took place in Syria, May 2007. It is a true story that, looking back, still amazes me. I expect this kind of healing to happen to others rather than myself.

Many people may find it difficult to accept my accounts of what happened, label them as unscientific and thus impossible. It definitely does not fit in the healing modality of western medicine. For others it will make sense.

I did see a western trained doctor for the fever I was experiencing before this story unfolded. His solution was to suppress the fever with medication, without investigating what the cause may be. I did not like that option and chose an alternative way, of being with the fevers and see what happens...

This story is about what happened when I checked in at an ancient monastery in the mountains of the Syrian desert, a place where I sought refuge from the heat, noise and pollution of Syrian cities.

What happened in this orthodox Syrian monastery was quite unorthodox. As a woman staying there said: "You never know what will happen here, people do not seem to be in control".
The story has been spread out over six individual posts, to aid a speedy uploading and downloading. Please read the six posts as one. Marcel.
----------------------------------------------------------

Healing Script part 1: Candle

I sat down in a dark corner at the back.
No one could see me, or my crappy mood.
Yet I, could see everybody.

It was supposed to be a silent meditation,
But people walked out, walked back in,
Rustled pages and talked,
Not whispered but talked!

It fueled my growing agitation,
Triggered earlier,
By someone questioning my reluctance to see a doctor,
And heal the persistent fevers with rest instead.
All I wanted was space and time,
As if I was home.

I’d hoped to gain inner peace,
But when the meditation was over I was so resentful,
So critical of everything and everyone around me…
…I became aware,
Sank deeper into the shadow,
To observe the battle in my mind.

Candles were lit for the mass that followed.
A monk disturbed those sitting in the aisles,
Herding them back to the central nave.
Thank God he let me be.
I was not in the mood to be an obedient sheep.

A well-meaning Soul placed a candle right in front of me.
"No!", I wanted to scream.
“I don’t want any light.
I want to bathe in shadow,
hide in darkness,
Feel sorry for myself,
Just be,
Be with my inner battle and raging fever".

But I remained mute.
I need not panic.
One candle was not bright enough to interfere with my darkness.

Healing Script part 2: Home

2007-10-27T01:25:00.000+13:00

Mar Musa Monastery, Syria

Singing announced the start of mass.
It dislodged within me intense emotions from unknown times.
I felt sad, so sad,
So alone.With eyes closed,
I felt violent sobs hiccuping from the depth of my being.
As they rose their pain evaporated,
Before reaching my vocal cords.

With eyes closed,
I felt noxious scripts regurgitating from the past.
As they rose their poison neutralised,
Before reaching my mind.

This nomad was feeling sick,
Very sick.
Agh... homesick!

Every stone of this ancient monastery echoes Spiritual essence.
Its monks demonstrate inspiring commitment,
Mirroring the kind of ‘home-within’ I was seeking.

Healing Script part 3: Shadow

2007-10-26T01:20:00.000+13:00

The tiny entrance to the fortress-like monastery of Mar Musa, Syria.

I wanted to belong,
To be part of it,
But could not find a way in.
I could not sing their exotic hymns.
Even if I did speak Arabic
I could not surrender.

My mind spewed critique instead:

Loathing the daily rituals and prayers,
Denying their soothing qualities;

Loathing the priest every time he said Allah, Dio or God,
Denying his noble intentions to engage visitors in their native tongues;

Loathing the sudden desert storm that burst open my cave room door,
Denying the awe it demanded from me;

Calling my internal sobs pathetic,
Denying their healing nature.

Mind was triumphant.
I believed it all and shriveled further into the shadow of myself.

From my dark corner I stared at the bright candle in front of me and agreed:
“Yes, you are right,
I am just a depressed bundle of self-pity.”
Mind took a break, celebrating victory.

Another voice seized the moment and took centre stage,
Reminding me that indeed I was wallowing in self-pity,
A useless emotion that would only keep me stuck,
In my script of self-righteousness;
That indeed I was losing the battle with my fierce inner critic.
“Do not drown”, it said.
“Swim!”
“HELP ! ! !”

A prayer I learned as a kid came to mind.
I could only say it in Dutch.
In all earnest I recited:
“Heer ik ben niet waardig dat Gij tot mij komt,
Maar spreek slechts een woord en ik zal gezond worden”
(Lord, I am not worthy to receive you,
but only say the word and I shall be healed).

Out of desperation I repeated it two more times.
Funny how the religion that I abandoned a long time ago
Was now my only hope for salvation.

Healing Script part 4: Sweat Wine

2007-10-25T01:16:00.000+13:00

Wine like everything has a shadow and light side, parish church, Syria

Bread and wine were coming round.
One is supposed to take a small sip.
Despite my dislike for wine I was ready to knock back the entire goblet .
For maybe it could make me see things in a different light,
Maybe it could change shadow.

I managed to get a good mouth full.
Enjoying every drop,
Swallowing little by little.
Then I choked and was forced to gulp down the rest.
Oh Damn!

The priest was his boisterous chatty self that night.
He tends to ask people personal questions during mass
Expecting answers for all to hear.
My sulky behaviour made me a potential target,
But the end of mass came to the rescue.
People left for the terrace where supper was being served.

I remained in the sacred space,
To be with myself, my raging fever,
Undisturbed, comforted by darkness.
Secretly I was hoping for an intervention by
A force more powerful than I,
That could pry open the slightest jar in my heart,
Unlocking compassion.
Compassion for self.

Healing Script part 5: Surrender

2007-10-24T01:05:00.000+13:00

Religious statue, parish church, Syrian Desert.

The priest walked passed on his way out.
“How's your belly?” he asked loudly.
There was nothing wrong with my belly, but that didn't matter,
He knew I was unwell and he was looking for an opening line.
I accepted.
I gestured 'so-so' with my hands,
Accompanied by a 'so-so' facial expression.

He sat down for a chat.
I began to listen to someone else instead of my inner critic.
He had broken through my endless cycle of ego defenses.

“Do you have a family, the priest asked?”
Inner critic decided to put the priest to the test.
An ultimate test of acceptance,
To see if I could just be me
Here in this religious bastion,
Which I wanted to be ‘home’

“I don’t have a family, I am gay”, I said.
A sentence not said out loud in a Syrian orthodox monastery.
Anxiously I waited for a reply.
Could he accept,
Then inner critic would be defeated instantly
And forced to withdraw everything it said.
Could he not,
Then I would be forced to wander further
Searching for another home.
He did not blink an eye
And skillfully came up with an empathetic question,
Demonstrating his genuine acceptance.

I no longer had an excuse to cling to my script of lonely disconnection.
I no longer needed to criticise the celibate, religious them
To justify the queer spiritual me.
I could now let go,
Appreciate them,
This sacred space,
Feel at home for as long as needed,
Come out of my dark corner,
Totally surrender.

Healing Script part 6: Empty Seat

2007-10-23T00:45:00.000+13:00

Terrace at Mar Musa Monastery, Syria

It was time to join the others for supper.
Unaware that soul had won this round of the battle
I sat down on the parameter wall by myself.
But I did not remain ignorant for long.

When stool became free I sat next to a new arrival.
“Where are you from?”, I asked.
“India”, the girl replied.
“Where in India?” I continued.
“Varanasi.” She said.
“That’s were I am going”, I said surprised.
“What for?” she asked.
"To film and to spend a lot of time on the ghats of the Ganges."
“Well”, she said. “We have a house set up for long term guests just like you”.
I nearly fell off my little stool.
“No, you are kidding me. But...
I want to be right next to the river though,
As close to the action as I can get”, I stressed.
“Well, let me see...” she said with a little chuckle in her voice,
It's about 30 meters from the Ganges,
Has a rooftop terrace with majestic views, will that do?”
-Will that do…!

This astonishing coincidence signaled that
I was no longer living my script of lonely disconnection,
That I could once again trust,
That everything will be OK,
That I was OK now,
That the battle was over.

The next morning
The fevers that had been plaguing me for weeks on end
Were gone,
Setting me free to continue my journey,
In search of a ‘home-within’.

Smoothing the Way

2007-10-12T17:46:00.003+13:00

The apartment building where I live at the moment.

The road to the stupa from my residence is a rocky one. 4-wheel drive territory really. Probably washed out by monsoon rains. The holes so big that sandbags now smooth the way. I walk that road daily, lifting my trousers at times keep them dry, leaping over pools trying not to slip in the mud, closing my nose as I pass the open air butchers, saying hello to the man who always smiles at me, event hough I never bought something in his shop, buying apple pie and brown bread at the non-for-profit bakery that supports a rural school, looking worried at the building site where bricks are used to support a concrete building that will not have a chance of surviving an earthquake, listening to chanting as I pass the Tibetan monasteries, feasting my eyes on the stunning Tibetan brocades in the shops, stopping at the hairdresser for a shave, and having lunch at gthe Double Dorjee restaurant where they serve the best momo's. Around the last corner the mighty stupa rises in front of you as you enter the circular square.

Phulbari Road, Boudhanath.

It's not a perfect road at all, but it's full of life almost a complete micro cosmos. So much to see, smell and hear all in a mere 10 minute walk. I never get bored walking here, I never walk on 'automatic pilot', you can't as you would sprain your ankle or fall with your face in a mud pool. This road forces you to be aware and remain aware. Not a bad way to go through life.

Early morning offerings at the Stupa.

Meeting Old Friend

2007-10-07T18:53:00.001+13:00

A photo of Teo Baba still hangs in the restaurant where he lived even though the restaurant changed owners and name.

Strange
A stranger
Never met
Never will meet
For he died
In 2000
Yet
Teo has been present
In my life
In the form of a script
Since 2001

His former home
Above a café
His portrait
Still having a presence
His paintings
Witnesses
Of a life
Of transformation

Discovering
My refection
In his portrait
As I filmed
As if
I bumped
Into an old friend
As you do
When you come home

Boudhanath, Nepal

2007-10-02T18:18:00.000+13:00

The privilege
To walk
Among Tibetans
Circumambulating
The mighty stupa
Going round in circles
Getting nowhere
Happy
To just be
Here
Boudhanath

Tree of Life

2007-09-27T01:09:00.000+12:00

This is one tree, enormous and ancient. It is the cutting of a cutting of the Bodhi tree where Buddha was born, Lumbini, Nepal

If Buddha's soul entered this world right here in Lumbini, Nepal, would that mean anything today, could that be of relevance to me, some 2600 years later? If this site has any merit, so let it manifest within me for the sake of myself and all sentient beings, as they say in Buddhism. May I receive a sign, an insight, a revelation, any form of enlightenment, whatever that may mean in this moment and time. With this request in mind I began to breathe in a way that strengthens life force energy and used it to connect with the site.

Immediately an image sprung to mind of a mandala surrounded by a circle, similar to the plan of a stupa. "But what does that mean?", I wondered. I barely had time to wait for an answer: "Walk around in circles, getting nowhere, let go of striving, of trying to get somewhere, plans, aspirations, expectations, just be. The mind will know the circle after one circumambulation and not expect anything new, get bored, switch off and be 'side-lined'. It is then that peace, new insights and purpose can be experienced.

Well, what can I say to that?

Namaste

2007-09-26T01:19:00.000+12:00

Newari woman in the town of Tansen, Nepal

Like 22 years ago, the first time I went to Nepal, I am so happy to be here. It is my fifth time, and if you wonder why, just look at this photo. The people are one of the best in the world. I do not speak the language except some basics, but you don't need that to have a great time with the locals here, no matter their age, caste or gender. This is specially so when you step away from the touristy areas.

This woman was part of a group stitching leaves together that are being used as plates. The kids belonging to the women yelled from a distance "Namaste" (hello, welcome). I had a ball hanging out with them, filming, teasing, playing. When I was ready to leave them they insisted I had a cuppa tea first that was specially brewed for me. The pleasure was totally mutual.

Some Make It Some Don't.

2007-09-25T01:13:00.000+12:00

The road to Nepal is not without hick-ups and challenges. The bus I traveled on got there in one piece, in twice the time it was supposed to take, but had great company of two Dutch and two Spanish travelers, making time fly by.

30 Second Presence: Clip 4: Bag Lady

2007-09-16T00:56:00.000+12:00

Sofia, Bulgaria.

Click HERE to be taken to clip4 of the '30 Second Presence collection'. This collection has also a link under 'More pages by Marcel' on the right of this page.

30 Second Presence: Clip 3: 30 Second Wait

2007-09-15T18:57:00.000+12:00

Click HERE to be taken to clip3 of the '30 Second Presence collection'. This collection has also a link under 'More pages by Marcel' on the right of this page.

30 Second Presence: Clip 2: Istanbul

2007-09-15T01:56:00.000+12:00

Click HERE and you will be taken to the second clip from the 30 Second Presence collection.

The Colour Orange

2007-09-12T17:07:00.000+12:00

I love the colour orange, to such an extend that as long as something orange, no matter how gross or ugly, I will like it. Well this is heaven for me as India is a very colourful place with lots of orange. Unfortunately wearing orange is reserved for holy men so I can't wear my bright orange top here. Its too hot for that anyway.

Orange is also the colour representing anything Dutch. This because the surname of the Dutch royal family is 'Oranje' or Orange. That is not the reason why I like that colour, but it is a funny coincidence. It is also the colour associated with the second chakra or energy centre of the body, the centre of procreation and creativity. It is also a colour that I associate with Buddhism, novice monks in Thailand wear only orange for example.

Why I like this colour so much, I really don't know, it is not because of any of the cultural associations above. It just pulls me in, overrides my rational mind, almost like an addiction. I want it so badly, I like it so much, as if I have an unsatisfying hunger for... well for what? What is it about orange that I want so much, any of its associated cultural meanings, its frequency (as in light)?

Click HERE to visit a site that talks about other meanings associated with the colour orange

Resonance

2007-09-11T20:53:00.002+12:00

9/11/2007: Tibetan temple Sarnath, India

Past the gate
Round the corner
A faint but firm rumbling approaches
Like a flash flood
Washes over me
Lifts my spirit
Effortlessly
Straightens my body
Up and out
As if floating in the universe
Carrying me closer to its source
Familiar, earthy, heavenly
Filling me with peace
Deep grounded inner peace
Need not go anywhere
Do, think or plan anything
Just be... home
But vibrations carries me further
So close
Need to look up
Up some steps
Through wide open doors
Tibetan monks beating drums, mumbling words
Resonating into one
Delightfully so
Into the core of my being

30 Second Presence: The Show

2007-09-07T18:45:00.000+12:00

Video clip: Varanasi, India.

30 Second Presence will be a new show, my first one, where I will present clips observing one scene, one soundscape.

Filming, like meditation demands focus, concentration and presence.
In today's fast world, a 30 second red light is too much.
Media, such as TV, reflect that world.
This show will be different, featuring weekly a 30-second clip documenting one scene, one soundscape.
Precious time to just be.

I have created a separate page where this weekly show will be hosted. A link to this page can be found on the right, under 'More pages by Marcel'. At the bottom of that page you will find a link where you can subscribe to the page, so you will be notified when the next episode is posted.

Comments of any kind will be much appreciated as always.