Sylvia's Journal

I woke up full of aches and pains more than once during the night and again in the morning. One of the pains was in my left big toe. I recognize the big toe pain from a gout attack I had many years ago. Now the big toe pain is gone but my body still feels as if it ran the marathon.

Yesterday the city was empty, as cities are on sundays in most of the world, and somber under an overcast sky. This made it the perfect day for finishing loose ends form last week, preparing for next week and cleaning out my email inbox now that I am more securely connected again. All this took the entire day.

One of two highlights of the day was breakfast. It was the most lavish spread I have ever seen; fit for a king (and president I might assume). The big dilemma at the start of the new day was where to begin? Pour myself some ‘young coconut’ juice with a splash of Champagne? And then some freshly baked croissants, almond and plain, with lavender honey or shall it be a banana shake? Take the fresh tropical fruits plain or with any of four kinds of yogurts or go straight to the muesli which is made exactly the way I used to make it in Holland as a child? The amazing array of breads in a basket was out of bounds. A little card said: not for consumption, for decorative purposes only. There were other decorations that were out of bounds, such as a large cylindrical vase, nearly half a meter tall with layers of pastel colored marshmallows and almonds. I am sure that, somewhere on the internet there is a website for ‘buffet decorations’ where people get their inspiration for such displays. I continue to fill ill at ease in a place of such extravagance in a country that has so many poor and malnourished among its people.

As part of my preparation for coaching I read about trust, mutual trust in particular. One aspect of that is sincerity. Do I tell the same version of a story to everyone or do I re-script is depending on the audience? One thing I am learning from public journaling is that I have to recognize what part of my writing is pure observation and what part is interpretation. Public journaling is good practice and a good discipline; actually the same discipline that is required for emails: would I be comfortable if the person I write about, or who observed the same event, reads my piece? If the answer is ‘yes’ I can hit the ‘Publish’ or ‘Send’ button; if the answer is no, I need to return to the facts and revisit my telling of the story. As a writer I can of course do whatever I want, embellish, adding little flourishes here or there or generalize what was very particular. But I’d get into big trouble quickly if I didn’t realize I was doing that.

During my last massage Abi, who is dabbling in astrology, remarked that I may not have enough water in my life. Many years ago a friend did my astrology chart and told me I did not have enough earth in it. I have since taken up gardening and hope that this has taken care of the imbalance. Maybe the plane crash was about too much air. And now it is water, she thinks. I heeded Abi’s advice and packed a small watercolor kit in my luggage and today I painted a Tanzanian still lilfe of fruits, collected from the fruit table at breakfast: two small plums, a banana and a tiny mango. I have lost the touch a bit but it was fun and afterwards I could eat the still life while admiring my rendering of it – fruits that will never spoil.

The second highlight of the day was dinner. I went to see Marc in his much more down to earth hotel and we had a simple dinner sitting outdoors. Marc teaches public health at Harvard and has started his own organization – D-Tree International – that is ‘bringing evidence-based medicine to frontline workers wordlwide.’ He gave me a demo on his PDA and even I could have been able to determine whether someone on retrovirals need to see a doctor or or not. Pretty nifty.