Adoptee Remembrance Day

Today it is Adoptee Remembrance Day.

Adoptees are 4 times more likely to commit suicide.

A lot of us adoptees can not find their way back to the light.
The suffering is too much. Too painful, too lonely.

We all remember and honor you today.
May you be in peace and eternal light.

De hoeksteen

Ik voel koud aan, de rilling loopt over mijn rug. Mijn ademhaling stijgt naar mijn borstkas en ik begin te zweten. Mijn zicht vertroubelt zich voor mijn ogen. Ik sta stil. Ik kijk rond en zie weinig nieuws. Waarom voel ik me zo. Onrustig wiebel ik met mijn tenen, ik bal mijn vuisten en staar in mijn eigen mist. Een stem neemt een loopje met me en ik luister gedwee. Ik voel geen connectie. Ik snak naar adem. Hier wil ik niet zijn. Ik ren in mijn gedachte hard weg maar blijf stokstijf minuten lang staan. Ik kan het niet. Niet nu. Waarom niet. Ik voel teveel, maar zonder brug, het is een doolhof. Ik verbaas me over die hoeksteen. De hoeksteen die niet past in mij. Ik observeer het en wordt kwaad. Waarom doe je me dit aan, ja jij? Of ben ik het zelf. Ik geef een rotschop tegen de donkere steen en loop weg. Jij hoort niet bij mij, begrijp dat goed. Jij bent ooit aangeleerd door omstandigheden. Uit veiligheid. Bescherming. Ik ga krijt kopen en je opnieuw kleuren. Aardse kleuren die gepaard gaan met felle kleuren. Want dat ben ik. Dan kan ik je accepteren, na een tijdje wellicht omarmen en wie weet ook zelfs liefhebben. De connectie met mijn eigen brug. Mijn gekleurde hoeksteen.

The cornerstone 

I feel cold, the shiver runs down my spine. My breath rises to my chest and I start to sweat. My vision is clouding before my eyes. I stand still. I look around and see little news. Why do I feel this way. I wiggle my toes restlessly, clenching my fists and staring into my own fog. A voice makes fun of me and I listen meekly. I don’t feel any connection. I gasp. I don’t want to be here. In my mind I run away, but stand still for several minutes. I can not do it. Not now. Why not. I feel too much, but without a bridge, it’s a maze. I am amazed at that cornerstone. The cornerstone that doesn’t fit in me. I observe it and get angry. Why are you doing this to me, yes you? Or is it me. I kick the dark stone and walk away. You don’t belong to me, understand that well. You were once taught by circumstances. Out of safety. Protection. I’m going to buy chalk and recolor you. Earthy colors accompanied by bright colors. Because that’s me. Then I can accept you, maybe embrace you after a while and who knows, even love you. The connection with my own bridge. My colored cornerstone.

written 1st of October 2008.

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PS ZON

mei 2008

When the sun shines, the world changes. The world turns into a soft radiant sweet cheerful wave of people. What a difference. I smile continuously. It sucks that my car died this weekend, but oh well, the sun is shining! That I now have to go to the station on my bike and take the train to work, so be it. I’m still smiling. As long as the sun shines! The sun gives me a feeling of unprecedented freedom. The little moments still make me feel great. The brilliance of the sun’s rays in the water this morning. The old woman with her walker who speaks cheerfully to me. The child waving exuberantly at me from a distance. The conductor who is clumsy and jokes about it. The man next to whom I wake up gives me dancing butterflies. My boss who gives me a kind of hug in his way quite unexpectedly. And the ugly city pigeon that fortunately misses me by a hair. My summer is off to a good start.

May 2008


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Postcard generation

Many realizations when my aunt passed away at the age of 83 years old. A female soul who has been around me ever since I came to the Netherlands from Persia.

– I was named after her and she is my God Mother.
– She was born 2 years before World War II started.
– She was 2-6 years old during World War II.
– She and her brother (my father) got sent to family in Friesland as there was more food there during the war.
– She was a postcard writer just like her mother.
– She took care of me when my baby brother was born.
– Her son is as a brother to me.
– I have spent many beautiful holidays at the Maria Hoeve in Friesland with many other children.
– She loved good food and a good glass of wine.
– She e-mailed me once and never got the heck of it.
– She lived in Belgium for a few years, that is where I watched the Elfstedentocht at 5 am.
– She and I used to dance together in Mallorca in the sunlight before lunchtime.
And the list goes on and on and on.

Eli means a lot to me and I love her dearly.

She is in the eternal light now and healing her soul from this lifetime. The suffering is over for her. Bless her soul. Bless her life here on earth as my Dutch auntie.

Thank you for all you are to me.

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Finding Farideh at Middle East Film Festival 2021

Fantastic news!

Finding Farideh will have a screening in the cinema in the Netherlands!
Am thrilled to know that everyone here gets a chance to watch it on the big screen.
As yes that makes a huge difference!

Finding Farideh 
date: Saturday 6th of November 2021
time: 16.00 hour
place: Podium Zuidhaege in Assen
during: Middle East Film Festival 
including Q&A afterwards

Please note that Finding Farideh is 88 minutes (instead of 127 min)
Hope to see you there!

And this is the entire programm of the festival;

MEFF programma def low 2 (1)

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Sacred Songs by Sonja

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Passing over

When all of a sudden two beautiful souls pass over to the other side…. in two days time.

I am speechless..

Go for whatever you need to do in life.
Life and love is so precious.
Don’t hold back.

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Sacred Songs by Sonja

One of my favorite’s to sing…

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Poetry

Tranen verdrogen in het spoor van de rimpels
Huilen verstomt in het geluid van de wind
Woede blijft achter de muur van verlangen
Passie van de woorden verschijnt in zicht

De ondergesneeuwde missie wacht onder de berg van gevoelens
Door de tijd heen reist mijn wil om haar niet te onderschatten
Zich een weg banend naar de top zal zij zich openbaren
Opdat ook ik mijzelf een eerlijke kans geef in dit leven

-Farideh-
2006

Tears dried up in the wake of the wrinkles
Crying is silenced in the sound of the wind
Anger stays behind the wall of desire
Passion of the words appears in sight

The snow-covered mission awaits beneath the mountain of feelings
My will travels through time not to underestimate her
Making her way to the top she will reveal herself
So that I too give myself a fair chance in this life

-Farideh-
2006

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Class 1B

A few months back I discovered a notebook with a few essays I wrote when being 13 years old which was all an assignment of the class “Dutch”. They are all interesting to read though one of them, is one hell of a mind thrilling story. Unbelievable real and I must say it is a waterfall of dreams and hopes and my imagination goes wild at age 13. It is pouring with all of my emotions which have been inside of me my entire life. Sometimes I am spooked and touched by my own presence and expressions.. my imagination and dreams are keeping me alive. With pink glasses of courses. As the pink world a la Farideh is much better than the real world. Feeling so much love for that 13 year old me..

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Sacred Songs by Sonja

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