Amsterdam

It seems like a lot longer ago than it has been since I was sitting in a quiet boat floating down the canals in Amsterdam. The return to real life certainly did not come gently. And yet, my mind keeps going back to the gentle sharing of facts and history that the skipper of that boat kept up throughout the tour. 

I learned things I hadn’t known before about the city built on a swamp that shouldn’t be able to exist, and how it has maintained a seemingly precarious balance beautifully for 750 years. I saw beauty in the quirks and slightly off-kilter places, and the reality that people are free to be themselves there was palpable. It is a place whose welcome and encouragement connected and still connects the world. I felt more at peace there than I have in very many places I’ve ever been. 

I felt like me there.

Returning to the country of my birth was a more foreign experience than I knew it could be, but I have gotten reaclimated and life has marched on. Finding common ground on a different side of the world definitely set the stage for stretching beyond what has always been when I got back, though. 

We spent this past weekend experiencing a wide range of new things on many levels. And as we lived and loved in new and growing ways there was definitely an increasingly real understanding of the phrase, “Home is where the heart is.” 

I could very much be at home in Amsterdam. People were welcoming and friendly. Places were beautiful and welcoming. And I was comfortable and confident being myself. But I am also very much finding home where we live now, also. Not as much in the warm welcome of strangers or the beauty of places I have known variations of for much of my life… but in the community that has grown to be a home I never dreamed possible. Both are very much felt experiences of home in recent weeks and I am thankful for their juxtaposition.

Near the end of the canal cruise, we floated by the house where Anne Frank hid during the writing of her diary. I had known it was there but wasn’t certain that we would go past it on this particular tour. When the building came into view and the skipper started talking about it, there was a kind of internal collision that occurred. This was not just a story from my childhood. There was a real place in this very real city where that very real human had been hidden from very real evils that have long seemed far-removed from my lived reality. 

Seeing it as the adult I am now in the life I am living made a world of difference in my experience of it. All the scared parts of childhood collided with my adult advocacy and healing in an instant. 

On the wall outside the museum next door is a quote from Anne’s father, Otto. It was one of the last pictures I took in Amsterdam and has stayed with me in the weeks since I’ve been home. 

“We cannot change what happened anymore. The only thing we can do is to learn from the past and to realise what discrimination and persecution of innocent people means.”

That’s what I am working to assimilate into my being now. The lived experience of being in a place like this, of looking into a space where humanity struggled to survive the worst of evils by hiding away, of being on the outside of that without taking on the role of evil, of knowing the weight of privilege and the responsibility of awareness.

I want to love in ways that honor humanity in all its forms because I believe that only in living that kind of love out loud can we hope to change the world. The hateful actions of individuals do not cause the most harm. It is the apathetic response of groups who perceive themselves to be unable to make change which result in chaos and the harms that are all too common. 

Love is the answer to it all. Not because it’s happy and rainbows, but because a healthy love counters apathy and empowers the compassionate and empathetic response that will ultimately win over hate. 

This week… month… year… has been rough. And there is no indication it’s getting any easier. I’m learning what this balance looks like in new ways every day.

Step back when you need to. Start with loving yourself by setting boundaries around what you consume or participate in. Lean in when you need to. Start with loving you by allowing yourself to be who you have always been. Whether leaning in or stepping back, be gentle. Live with compassion. Love with boldness. 

Drop your eyebrows.
Lower your tongue from the roof of your mouth.
Relax your shoulders.
Hand on your heart.
Breathe deeply. 

You’re not alone. Check in. Reach out. 
I love you.
💜💜💜