Sunday Brunch
Futures, Fates & Fathers
Wanderer above the sea of fog - Caspar David Friedrich
The soul loves purpose, the mind loves a plan. We are wired for many things and one very strong wiring is goal setting and future thinking. Apparently this is so deeply engrained, that even after two terminal cancer diagnoses, God themselves couldn’t stop me from wanting to put those dots on the horizon, unless they call me home now. I consider it a good thing. I have learned to let everything be, simultaneously. I can expand enough to embrace it all: the uncertainty and doing it all anyway.
SANXIETY AND ALL THAT JAZZ
The week in between the MRI scan that I didn’t want and waiting for the results was not fun. I got myself through it by working on my website and studying for the development of my SULMUM practice. It worked wonders for my morale. Aided by insane amounts of stress hormones I created my new website.
I think it is a suitable start to set the tone for SULMUM. The timing of it is a testament to who I am, how I live my life and what I have to share with the kindred spirits who do not want to walk a part of their path alone.
After all this doing and dotting, came the crash. Inevitably. My parents loaded the car and took off for their one-week holiday in Les Vosges, France, early Sunday morning. A friend came round later in the afternoon. We walked and talked and had a great dinner. Monday morning I woke up all crumpled. For three days I barely made it off the couch for anything other than feeding, peeing (either the dogs or myself) and a wash. Normally I would be brimming with cultural analysis or personal commentary on all the entertainment I consumed. Now, I can’t even remember what I watched. It’s all a blur.
Of course I crashed. That is not surprising. What is surprising is that I did not anticipate it. I may still not always be completely clued in to what will likely happen, I have become very good at accommodating whatever happens when it happens. I shift gears and take care of myself. Before becoming more attuned, and more accepting, I would push through and stick to the plan, no matter how I felt. I have changed. I will always keep changing, and I love that.
SULMUM FREE SESSIONS
My next step is taking on a few more clients free of charge to further test the waters. As I have been studying and training privately with the help of mentors, I have not done a 3 months internship. This is my alternative. It is also a way to see how I can create space for low/no income people to still have access to sessions. I lived on minimum welfare in the eye of my cancer storm, and having Mirella to talk to made a crucial difference.
Feel free to contact me if this is something you would like to participate in.
Also, sign up for the SULMUM newsletter if you share my curiosity on the crossroads of all dimensions of the human condition. I brought it up in a note earlier this week, but I miss communion. So much of the togetherness and sense of community has been moved into paid spaces like retreats and workshops. I full embrace the monetary facet of service providers in mental health and general well-being, as we all have offerings that are worth paying for. But there is a part of safety, relating and communion that deserves a free space. Let SULMUM become this.
My first post was a song. The second one is a contemplation of “radical presence”. I see the attainment of presence as a potential pitfall. I compare it to doing yoga and instead of being in communion with your body, and possibly part of a bigger “oneness”, making it into something you need to prove. It is not about perfecting in doing, but accepting and releasing in being. I will hold the space, so you can be wherever you are in my presence.
ROADTRIP FUNDRAISER
The same way I built my therapy website in the middle of uncertainty — while waiting for MRI results — I am now gearing up to return to Transylvania.
Deadline: July 10th. My 48th birthday. A birthday gift to myself: the road, the forest, a fresh start.
Experience taught me that most of my seven headed dragons turn out to be little lizzards, once I lower my shield enough to aim my sword at them. No heads need to be chopped off, at all.
I thought I had enough saved for a modest car. Something modest but functional to carry me and the pack safely across Europe. Inspired by my uncle, who toured Italy in an 850-euro wonder, I set my own budget at €1000, later stretching it to €1300. The reality looks a little different. To find something safe and reliable I need to double the budget. €2500 instead of €1250.
Currently we (dad, uncle, me and a local mechanic) are all on the hunt. Ford Focus Wagon, a Dacia Logan MCV, Opel Zafira, Skoda something or other, or an old dingy Volvo. Not a different make or model than I had in mind, but one at a higher price and in safer condition. Not for luxury, but for lower mileage and peace of mind.
Then there are the additional costs for the trip:
1) taxes
2) insurance
3) gas
4) 2 overnight stays at pet friendly hotels.
I have one month left to make this happen.
So,if there ever was a time you considered upgrading to becoming a paid subscriber or buy me a cuppa (on Ko-Fi) NOW would be the perfect time.
MINIMALISM & MOVING ON
Before the trip, I’m lightening the load, emotionally and physically. I’ve done a ruthless clear-out, and what no longer serves (or sparks joy) is up for grabs. Some things I’ll miss. But what I gain, such as clarity, catharsis, and the promise of a new beginning, matters more.
Check out my Vinted page for the digital yard sale. Every little bit helps.
LET’S MAKE IT HAPPEN! HELP ME GET BACK TO THE FORESTS.
Borders are only in our minds #1, 2023, Hazem Harb.Photo: Hazem Harb
IN A WORLD ON FIRE
On a very, very different note: My life is not lived in a vacuum and there is enough going on in the world to either never come out of bed again, or never come down from the barricades again. Neither are an option for me. One thing is burning holes in my heart more than anything else: the ongoing terror Israel is unleashing on the Palestinian people.
Until very recently I did not post about Gaza. I finally did a few weeks ago. With an emotionally charged call to “black and white” a situation, just to make it stop. No more of all of us flailing in the grey areas. It triggered some responses beyond my personal perspective. This is the nature of free speech. I woke up to find out one person had commented, triggering someone else to comment on that in a way that escalated quite quickly, and painfully. The comments had been removed before I woke up. I never read them. But I reached out to the person verbally attacked to check in. This small series of interactions to me is so symbolic of the mountains of inter-generational hurt people have been weighed down by. And only more is being added, every second, as we speak.
I held back for a while and carried out my protest quietly, with personal letters and emails sent daily to people in a position of political power, to urge them to intervene on behalf of the Palestinian people. I vowed not to turn a blind eye, and have been following various channels of information diligently.
It may sound like some bizarre masochist special kind of self torture but I look every man, woman and child murdered, whose photos reach me through various channels, in the eye for at least two minutes. If I know their name, I will say them out loud.
Don’t look away. We cannot afford to look away. It is not just the fate of the Palestinians at stake, even though that is already more than enough to cause a collective, global revolt. It is our humanity at stake here too. Over 200 armed conflicts are being fought on our planet. Democracy has eroded to the point of becoming inrecognisable. Right is on the rise, everywhere. The list of “issues” where we have lost the plot is endless, from immigration to misogyny to mental health.
Because my way of engaging with the world is just my way, not a gospel of universal truth proclaimed, I have been working my inner dialogue on Gaza into essays. It is a stream of consciousness, reflecting how I have observed and engaged these past months.
Due to the sudden heatwave and my body’s response to that I have not been able to finish the first instalment. Normally I save up posts for the Sunday Brunch roundup, but this week I will send them as I go (3 parts in total, I estimate).
In the meantime I encourage you to engage with these voices on:
Palestinian poet Mosab Abu Toha
State of Siege by Ahmad Ibsais (who also publishes academic papers on law here)
Antony Loewenstein’s podcast “the Palestinian Laboratory” (also a book)
Francesca Albanese, special rapporteur for the UN and international expert
Amira Hass / SAVAGE MINDS
Gideon Levy, author of the book Killing Gaza
Breaking the silence, stories by former IDF soldiers
There are many more like Norman Finkelstein, Rashid Khalidi, Arielle Angel, and Lana Tatour. I prefer to look at it from as many angles as I can.
As a cultural studies nerd I can also recommend reaching back to the works of Edward Said.
Orientalism (1978)
The Question of Palestine (1979)
Culture and Imperialism (1993)
He in a way anchors me when I go deep into deconstructing every image, every word, all the framing of every part of the story. If like me, you also grapple with:
Western media framing, propaganda, and who is granted the authority to "speak" or be believed.
The erasure of Palestinian identity and history.
The use of liberal humanitarian language to justify colonial violence.
Then Said’s insights into how language, literature, and culture serve power structures are useful in decoding the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Look carefully at how it is all narrated, denied, and rationalised by states who yield all the power and media outlets that serve someone.
Who I don’t know, but they don’t serve me. Gaslighting, manipulation, bait and grab, superiority, insults, dismissive attitudes, and blatant lies are not usually the way you win me over, no matter what the subject matter is. I prefer building bridges, not watching, or helping, you burn them all.
Said was a fierce advocate for Palestinian self-determination, grounded in universal human rights, and his commitment to non-violence, secular democracy, and coexistence, gave him a decent compass. We need his mind, his focus, fierceness, and his elegance now more than ever.
May Palestine be free.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY
When my mother announced she was going to marry my step-dad, she was anxious about my reaction. I gave them my blessing by making it all about me. I said: Good. Then I finally have a reason to celebrate father’s day.
I don’t really know anymore how we got there, but from playing around with the word “pumice” we went to foot spa. Which then lead to the curious situation of my mum and I trying to persuade my dad to subject himself to a Sunday father’s Day Home Spa. I was already picturing him with a shower cap on his head to cover the hair mask, a pink face mask and something blue and bubbly to stick his feet in before being “pumiced.”
He said no. We wailed. He said no again. We tried bribes and blackmail, but alas, he won’t budge.
Shame my sister said. It would have made a great photo.
Love to all. And I do mean all.
XXL