Ironic, isn't it, that the one thing that made me take AT lessons in the first place, is the one thing that didn't change in the direction I hoped for. I've stopped singing yet again, and quite definitively this time. And the world didn't end. No drama. No huge void. Not even a sense of loss this time. No sense of having thrown away 20 or so years of investment or achievement. No fear of losing music alltogether; I know now that there will always be music in some form or another, if I want it.

And with that, out goes yet another part of old 'self'. It makes me wonder what 'self' is anyway. Much of how we see ourselves is determined by how others see us, by the roles that are assigned to us by the outside world. It's hard to change people's perception of who you really are, or are becoming. I think it may even be impossible, especially with people close to you, like family. Like mothers. The outside world is pretty much a given. The only thing that I can control is my reaction to the outside world. Stay true to my self, the self that is slowly starting to emerge from all the layers of attributes, opinions and worries.

I catch myself daydreaming again. Tempting as it may be to drift away like that into a comfortable world, I need to remind myself that this is not a good thing. It takes me away from the here and now. And stop explaining everything. There's no need to.

Pilots that fly in low visibility conditions, at high altitudes or at night may fall subject to spatial disorientation. This means that the pilot cannot determine his position in relation to the earth, because there are no visible objects in the immediate vicinity of the plane that serve as cues.

Without these cues to hold on to, pilots can get so disoriented that they end up flying upside down without realising. Even though the instruments at the dash clearly indicate that the aircraft is upside down. A typical first reaction of any pilot in this situation is disbelief and inability to accept the true sitation as stated by the instruments. Not unwillingness, but literal inability. “This cannot be". The lucky few that survive only manage to do so by refraining from acting on their instincts, ordering themselves to trust their instruments, not their senses.

"This cannot be". It's what I thought at my first AT lesson. It's what I thought when I found out that something else had changed inside, yet again. Like getting a new pair of eyes and looking at things for the first time. No, not looking at things, but seeing things for what they really are for the first time. Could things really be this simple, and hard at the same time?

"This cannot be". It's what I think now when I look at how things are evolving today. It's like being flipped back upright after having been flying upside down for thirty years. My first reaction would be to give my plane another flip back, and keep on flying the old way. It's so much easier, at least you know where everyone stands. Except that you don't.

We just got a visit from the ARBO-man. Dutch readers probably know what I'm talking about; for the rest: an ARBO-man is a guy who is responsible for office-related health issues within a company. The existance of such a function is, of course, a good thing. I mean, all my colleagues have some kind of pain or complaint. I do, too. Actually, I don't know anybody who doesn't. So it's nice that there's someone who cares about us office workers.

But what really, really annoys me, is that the ARBO-man has only one solution: change the chair.

Repetetive strain injury? Change the chair. Lower back pain? Change the chair. Stiff shoulders? Change the chair mevrouwtje. And no, I cannot get you a stool, or take the armrests off. That's very bad for you mevrouwtje, because these armrests are there for a reason. The latetst NEN-standard prescribes the use of armrests for all office workers, you see? And from today on mevrouwtje, we only supply chairs with a nice bend in the backrest, so that you get to relax more. You don't want a backrest? Well, that's against the standard, and besides, it's bad for you. I mean, mevrouwtje, look at the way you're sitting. That's completely wrong to begin with, and so is the posture of your colleagues, so no wonder you've got complaints.

*teeth-grinding mode on*

I hate it when people call me mevrouwtje. And that's only the smallest problem I have with ARBO-mannen.

Due to a move from American to Dutch servers, my log has been temporarily unavailable. I hope everything is solved now.

On the positive side: from tomorrow on, my website will be a lot faster, and the new servers are located just a bike ride away, instead of an 8-hour flight. OK, I know this last reason is nonsense, but it nevertheless gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to have my bits and bytes this close.

"All of a person's viewpoints, concepts about life and religious convictions are a manifestation of his energy. If one's mind is strongly conditioned, it is as if one measures everything with a crooked ruler; he can never measure anything accurately. If one's aim, however, is to know the truth, then one must straighten and refine one's measuring instrument, for if the instrument is faulty, one cannot perceive realitiy precisely.

When the nervous system of a human bein is restored and refined, one becomes calm and objective. One can then see clearly and discover that although there is diversity in the universe, there is unity behind that diversity. One may intellectually learn, understand, and accept the unity of the universe, but this is very different from arriving at the unity through personal spiritual purification. Struggling to perceive unity is not spontaneous experience of and participation in unity itself."

Last week's chi gong lesson was very uplifting. The blueprint sensation that I already have occassionally for my legs, extended to my entire body this time: while doing the exercises, I all of a sudden was able to, well, melt into some kind of logical and natural position, like I could fold myself around some preformed frame of myself.

It's hard to describe, but when I stood like that, without any tension, narrowing, questions or doubt, it felt like this was the only way I could ever want to stand. I didn't feel any need to shift, move, ask or even think.

Very uplifting indeed, but also very humbling, because it made me realize that, well, who am I to interfere with myself? And who am I to believe that I cannot cope without me, as in me-maaike-with-the-brains? This intellectual me is only 30 years old, whereas my other me is driven by something much older. And much wiser too.