Music is good for everyone,

Music of the soul. On rainy days like everyone listens to music that the rain. Soft plop the tones down from the boxes in the hearing. The brain is put to work and while the listener enjoy be exiled there. Just suddenly comes on these days the Sun of the summer by and gets tickled by the music sense summer sigh. - Why is that so? Depressive situations let that tickle would not permit and say even in cakes and chocolate. There they are happy and the depression is just away from them. Music can be and the rhythm that the pastry by the day lets hear the puff of whipped cream. If you have somewhere to want to think the thoughts can be great. The brain make the substances that when listening to otherwise release. Shortages of hormones make the listener deaf to the sounds and not in the quiet room is Dancing Satyr of the head. When my head was struggling with the trauma of the past did the music that well. Sometimes I hear ideas that want to eliminate that by all music to ward off, but that leads to endless thoughtlessness. Music makes clever, music connect and music does man live longer. Why do I think that? As said I was traumatized by a PTSD post traumatic stress disorder, that regularly culminated in negation and rejection of me. An environment that is loved and where my hearing had no place. PTSD is a disorder that after a series of failed to qualify and systematically denied events reaches psychosis. So fairly serious. - Recognizing the trauma is in every piece of music written. Especially if the music with the capital M is. Sometimes there is a message as we know it from religious music as it 'Erbarme Dich' of Bach from the well-known Matheus Passion. There is, in my view, not music that told nothing and also Cracking and Taste, Anita Franklin, John Lee Hooker, Santana, Queen, Buckshot Le Funk and ELO tell the story of unity of spirit and phrases. Spirit is the inner knowing, knowing and identify values that are important and which are different for each individual. The phrases are the tops of the virtue, the ecstatic feeling of belonging, everything what is important and where the human hand cannot reach. Music is bringing life in resistance and deed and by laying the link please let the brain grow. Connections for each healthy man between all brain areas of and if that man is done through loss or trauma can each person grow by the power that is ringing out from the music. Who want to deny a different pleasure in life than is the recipe simple: Stop thinking; Stop feeding; Stop with music; In short stop working. - Just like vitamins, B12, Omega fatty acid and carbohydrates, the brain motor on incentives. Such as an internal combustion engine Pistons that the machine has stowage, propels the sound of the bass and drum the heart, bright vocals the empathy and the singing guitars the connections between all brain parts. Information from the head within the sound comes through the ear and leaves singing and whistling the head through the appropriate channels. The sound which assumes will not recommend, it is the music of freedom. As Augustine expressed it in a different context, cornonia, the circle of like-minded people. The circles of humanity, formerly, it now and throughout all of time people will sing. Not because they are wickedly happy. They are just busy with everything what man makes man to: the music of the spheres. - Where I now to listen? Sublime FM; check out my personal real must for music if you want to eat some yummy.

My daughter dances

Lysanne is painting a dance. - My daughter dances Each fairy dances. Lysanne, my dear girl is such a fee, which the dance sees as life fulfillment. Ballet and the executions in her little home decor room complete with sleep. They see that the lessons learned had left today, when my daughter ask her about the model proposed for the new garden. In the garden are levels and different light spots. That gives atmosphere and depth within a small boundary. Lysanne danced in different layers. The movement was interspersed with crescendo and freeze frames. The decor had minor spots and different experiential situations through the use of light and dark textiles, making of details and layering. The layering came twofold to expression: 1. the use of high and low, 2. perform various movement in the different levels. On this point there were layers and layers that make up the total experience meaning expression reflected did come. Ballet and K3 came together well reflected in movement and color image. This dance expression can not be denied Lysanne. Seeing and discovering partial layering is its own discovery. Questions is good and honest answers the equivalent of that is many questions. The intelligent people awakening. My daughters own intrinsic intelligence.

Tuin Carry Slee schreef een boek, een werk dat ik verfilmd zag onder de gelijknamige titel ‘Eva.’ Gegrepen volgde ik de personages op onze kleine TV. Mijn dochter en ik samen tegen elkaar op de bank. Kijk nu zie je een loverboy, vertelde ik haar. Let maar goed op want nu gebeurd er dit en dat en het gebeurde in de mooie goede wereld die film heet. De echte wereld is echter gruwelijker, daar zijn er geen goed agenten die de boel op het juiste moment komen redden. Zeker geen vader. In de echte wereld kijken deze mannen even opzij, wegens ontoelaatbaar of tegenstrijdig bewijs. In de echte wereld zijn er de opruimploegen die tot de voordeur komen en eenmaal gezien snel een ander doelwit uitzoeken. Dit laat de rechtelijke wereld even weg, onbruikbare informatie en opnieuw zonder telefoonnummer. Soms als ik in mijn paleistuin ben van het kleinste Koninkrijk op aarde, dan denk ik wel eens aan de wind uit de samenleving, of liever gezegd de windstilte van al die brave burgers die hen bijstaan. Het moddergevecht in de achterhoede van het front. Zo gaat het buiten onze tuinen. Aangeharkt moeten deze oases zijn, vrij van het vuil dat over de straat rondzwerft. Ik moest vandaag even wenen, van blijdschap en droefenis. Blij voor het leven met mijn gezin en droevig voor het recht, blind kijkt ze even opzij. Zijn ze weg, dan stellen de mannen blij het onderzoek in. Voor de lunch zijn de dapperen klaar, een broodje warme bal in de kazernetuin. Lekker!

The Garden, An Alzheimer study

The Garden study of the Alzheimer Foundation To an interview Alzheimer Netherlands. Supplemented with data from my tutorial. Part 1. The garden there is no understanding without a deeper recognition of the thoughts. Part 1 Gerrit says goodbye as Director at 55 years of age. Together with his wife he undertook travel through the world after his retirement. On his 58th was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. He responded already different and partly as a result, the doctor who examined him came the first symptoms of the disease on the track. The diagnosis came as a shock and unexpectedly for everyone. His wife and he were activated by the first symptoms themselves to visit a doctor. His father was previously to Alzheimer's disease died. Gerrit knew so what him after the diagnosis and discussed this presumption also stood waiting with its surroundings. Part 2 Euthanasia was discussed and Joke, his wife with whom he had a loving relationship, did. They understood her husband and his unwillingness to experience the same as his own father ever happened. Along with the great plan life went further and Gerrit went for a day to day care of the nursing home. Together they had that House select for its proximity and facilities. Gerrit was the dearest at home, in the garden. The place where all conversations had taken place in front of the camera, between the Green and the singing birds. The paradise of both of them wanted to maintain by being there Gerrit. Close to his love, his wife to whom he so much wanted to make clear. A life wild Gerrit reframe, a world without that other person who had Alzheimer 's. Gerrit felt not entirely understood and clung to his Joke. Part 3 Gerrit loses control over his Amygdala and prefrontal cortex. Behavior, and affectionate love feelings are no longer sent from perception. Imbalance of spiritual values was a fact of life. His wife pulled it emotionally and physically anymore. ' Whole days around me, him he sucks me empty. ' Gerrit followed her everywhere by the spaces. In this way, he was always in his experience at her and she never alone. Gerrit: ' together is for me paradise. ' Part 4 Gerrit went for four days to the nursing home, a room with four people and curtains. There was no privacy between the steel bare beds. Long corridors without recognition so that even the sisters there verwaalden. In the House he goes painting, landscapes. The garden appeared in various forms on his medium-sized cloths. Fierce brush strokes showed intense emotion see, color is close to each other and the existence opens in the search for harmony. The garden, paradise was subject for his fixed caregiver who walked with him through the wooded area. Part 5 ' you have at home a beautiful garden Gerrit? ' ' Yes I have along with my wife Joke a beautiful garden. ' ' Is that your garden or the hare? ' ' It is our garden, but a little more of her. She has the hands. That I didn’t have. ' Part 6 Gerrit went further backwards but also in this stage he continued to discuss ' every step was after all euthanasia ' valuable to live for. In the weekend Saturday on Sunday as Gerrit to Joke went, he attacked. He wanted death, right now. His wife could not be more in the needs of her husband. The world of Gerrit became more and more packed with confusion and unwarranted suspicions. His ability to act was largely closed off from his will to act. Movements were heavier and the voice disappeared before the eyes of his beloved. Part 7 Gerrit sits in a wheelchair and clapping to the beat of a song is to. The central nervous set began to degrade on cerebral level including the peripheral nerves. Dysatri is a fact and of Euthanasia is certainly no more at this stage. The areas of Wernike and Brocke are actively disturbed and begins to hear things that aren't there Gerrit which he combined with the fears and rest images from his own garden. There is from the desire of Gerrit, who his wife was very still, a palliative regime entered. The nursing home doctor could not move in earlier conversations Gerrit in respect of its last wish a ruling. Joke they can so often visited him and chatted with her husband on good days. Contact was evasive and the world of her husband turned out to be withdrawn and anxious. Gerrit left the single room that he had gotten after recording and went back to safe room. Between others that were just as he. Part 8 Apraxia followed by hemiopraxi was the last stage of the physical integrity of the physical man, as his wife her husband Gerrit had always known. In bed by the many emaciated work to make contact with the world and the instant keeping his failing organs, got a choke pneumonia Gerrit. Three years after the diagnosis Alzheimer's disease died at the age of 61, Gerrit. "I've struggled, God knows how I've been so busy with him. Now everything is over. God it is over for him. '

Christmas 2012

Illustration: Um and Aum, 2012. Christmas night sounded the bells while my cigar slowly burnt. The sound sounded hopeful though the night. Even resisted the thoughts in my head. Thoughts to those who are and those who slip me this fate still waiting. Alfa and Omega from the bells by the dark night born in me. The morning 1st Christmas day, at the hour of the Solstice I put my stone for the living. Those who no longer can. My hands, head and hart feel heavy as the small rock the Earth touches the bottom of the Bonsai. The ritual renewed my vows and make the road open to the new. 2013 is for me the year of research: Somatic disorders, energy merger and literature. For us, the new is already entered. A dwell light in the expectation of hope. A happy Christmas an a prosperous 2013 to you all!

Najaarsdag te Katwijk

Najaarsdag te Katwijk Wanneer wij parkeren op de boulevard te Katwijk regent het zachtjes. Over de duinenrij hangt een glijder boven duinen en zee, hij hangt er vrij zoals de vogels in de diep donkere lucht. Ver boven zee breken de wolken open, zij laten de zon vrij over de gebogen horizonten. We lopen het strand op in gelijke korte passen door het rulle zand. De zee-engte laat de golven vrij om de boten op de rede, zoals de getallen die mijn computer besturen de data vrij laat via de binaire structuren. Drie is de afgeleide van negen en een plus negen is tien. De logica omvangt mij gezin zoals de zeewind die fris door onze haren harkt, de gedachten komen met het schuren van de wind los en gaan vrij. Vrij als de vogels op de wind. ‘Krijg ik wat te drinken papa?’, mijn dochtertje Lysanne kijkt vragend met grote vraagogen. ‘Ja, straks is er drinken en een taartje.’ Mijn woorden doen wonderen voor haar kleine voeten. Samen gaan we zonder morren de zeereep af, in de richting van Scheveningen. Het Kurhaus zal nu druk zijn en de mensen lopen er zwijgend over de pier. Roze laarsjes klotsen in het water en de golven spelen het spel met het zand, een massa materie die de zomer se dagen vergeten lijkt te zijn. Geen schepjes in de branding of een verdwaalde standbal. Bij de standopgang niet meer de geur van zonnebrand en zomerse muziek, maar het ronken van terreinwagens die de zomer stukje bij beetje aan hat afbreken zijn. Een wagen loopt vast in het zand, terwijl hierdoor de fysica van het terrein vergeten lijkt te zijn. Schelpen anders dan de zomer zonder de talloze mosselen, opengebroken door hongerige kaken. De snavels zijn met de meeuwen landinwaarts, de voorjaarsstormen vooruit. Ik denk aan de fysica en aan het gaan door vreemd terrein. Golven worden krachten en de wind een eindeloze stroom van data. Een gedachte aan informatie verpakt in pulsen langs sterren en stelsels, het onbekende in Higgs deeltjes voorbijgaand. Nul is een maal nul, maal nul; ik ga verder en kijk opzij naar Wyna, de wind in haar haren. Mijn kleine dochter gaat ons vooruit. Zo zal het altijd blijven langs de vloedlijn. Niets bestaat hier niet. Alles is materie. Samen vooruit, de kleinsten onder ons het verst de toekomst in. Voorbij ons leven de oneindigheid binnen, de bloeiende tak aan de ooit zo dode olijfboom.

De Nintendo generatie aan de macht

De Nintendo generatie aan de macht De Nintendo generatie manifesteert zich, dit weekeinde voor mijn ogen op twee verschillende manifestaties. Twee pluimen op een gedeelde artistieke hoed, jeugd en jongvolwassenheid in een noemer, de Nintendo generatie. Zij laat zich kennen in vanzelfsprekende eruditie, het programmatisch bewerken van vrije persoonlijke artistieke thema’s. Barbie computer meets laptop; kortom, alles binnen de kaders van een bloemig mainframe. Lysanne (5 jaar oud)danste en zong als bloemenmeisje tijdens een balletvoorstelling te Zoetermeer en haar grote nicht Merel(13 jaar)speelde trompet in Spanbroek in een zeer diverse big band uitvoering waarin als grote ster Karin Bloemen schitterde. Susan Seegers ontlokte ook mij een traan met fantastische uitvoering in het Nederlandse repertoire. Rolf koster was als zanger in Spanbroek de grote gangmaker, zoals Eveline Castelein in Sherezade te Zoetermeer onze harten stal. Zoetermeer en Spanbroek wat hebben deze plaatsen met elkaar gemeen. Is het de ambitie van de burgemeester van Opmeer Hoog, die ongetwijfeld met Scheeringa tijdens de klanken van het orkest over deze ambities hebben gesproken. Een kleine tête en tête vier rijen voor ons. Poëzie werd er door deze generatie geschreven, ieder in het eigen aandachtsgebied. Zo is Nintendo: iedereen koopt alleen de spelletjes van de eigen voorkeur. ‘Fit in'; ’reste pas, les soirs sont dans mon mainframe.'