All Hands on Deck

The first thing after tea had to be my renewed reading of Job, both in The Book and in Carl Jung’s Answer. I do not want to go into this any further now. I sincerely intend to write here some day about what I’m learning of this Old Story on human suffering. But as for now I do not yet feel confident enough to express myself. Especially where Jung’s analysis enters the stage. I’m praying for more focus and patience and some deep self reflexion.

So it still was early this grey sunday morning when I reached the seaside. There were already many beach walkers on their way along the low tide surf line. And a few kite surfers holding their Moons over the rough rolling waves. While making photo’s, I tried to cross the Laguna and climb onto the Zandmotor Peninsula. But the water level appeared to be too high. Even for my impermeable pants.So I got classical wet feet in my boots.

I say “classical”, because as a kid, playing along the half frozen canals in front of our home, I often returned with soaked boots and pants. Cracked through the all too thin layer of ice…
One time - on my mother’s birthday mid November - I went down all out through the fresh ice. Probably I would have drowned if the milkman would not have heard my cries for help. Thanks to his attention and rapid rescue action, I was brought home all wet and freezing.

I was put under extra woollen blankets in my parent’s bed - a unique privilege - and was allowed to play with a Swiss block hut. I vividly remember the small brown building beams. Today I endured my cold wet feet for some extra time. To make pictures of the Gulls surviving on the sandbar in the chilly Northwestern. With a big smile I left them behind on their wrecked out post and returned to our small and comfy apartment as quickly as possible.