Tag Archives: Courage


Walking through the Flevopark I saw this scene and took a picture of it. It shows a tree that has fallen down, lifting its roots in the process. The roots have ripped along a mat of soil from the ground, revealing disturbingly well arranged bricks. The tree, no longer standing, is now growing branches from its trunk. Out of the view jump an awfull lot of questions and speculations into my mind.

One might ask why the tree fell over, since it doesn’t seem too heavy, but you’d immediately answer: because as you can see, it barely has roots. True, but why is that? It seems obvious at first: it could not grow roots because of those bricks. Then again, why did it not simply reach through, disorganize them, and find its stability deeper down? Those little seedlings below sure didn’t have a problem with that. Well, one could answer, it did not root deeply because it was positioned at the height of the water and it did not need to look any further. In which case the bricks may have nothing to do with the downfall whatsoever.

What are those bricks doing there, anyway? They can’t be there for long yet, because they’d have had too much time to sink away or lose their structure. But someone arranged them there deliberately. Why? Surely not to support the establishment of the vegetation? Are those bricks under the entire park? And what are they lying on? Sand? Concrete?

Will the tree survive, now that it has claimed a bigger land? Will the branches form new stems, and will the stem grow new roots? Was this all part of its plan? I doubt it. Even though I admire the trees courage to keep growing after this disaster, I suspect the water will quickly suck its way through. It is probably rotting already, on its way to be pulp in a few years.

So what are we looking at here? Is this humans millionth failed attempt to do something constructive with nature? Is this a painful proof of how we don’t even manage to keep our city parks in one piece? Is it a millionth tragically failed attempt of nature to make something out of our ridiculous inventions?

Or is this a success story and am I missing out on something essential? If you have a clue, please let me know.


The Butchers and the Mum

An army guy had to die in Woolwich. Why was that?

Some Ecuadorian tribes have an interesting approach to mental illness. Instead of looking for the origin (and the cure) inside the crazy, they study the patient’s social environment. Following that philosophy, some treat these people in small communities, which often proves very effective.

Right after the Muslim boys had killed the British soldier, Ingrid Loyeau-Kennet appeared on the spot. Puzzled, she started conversation and found that they had killed this man. Unarmed, she allowed them to approach holding their bloody knives and simply asked them “why?”.

In his speech, David Cameron calls this lady a hero. By speaking to them, she distracted their attention, allowing the police to surround and conquer them. She may have saved other men from heaving their throats slit or skulls bashed in. Unarmed, a hero. But the media forgot stressing the power of honest attention.

Why did the murderers not slice the lady apart? Where did she find the courage to face them in such a tranquil way? I think they were sharing something deeper. Regardless of her motives, Mrs. Loyeau-Kennet showed genuine interest. Had she not, I guess she would have been a stain on the road, to be washed away and forgotten by the mob. It was her attention that compelled the butchers, and brought them to temporary peace. A simple “why?”. So they told her that they did it out of revenge. It has been England itself that sent their army to kill these demons’ brothers. The lady listened.

She was the hero, the attackers were the bad guys. I quote Cameron: “That is why there is absolutely no justification for these acts and the fault for them lies solely and purely with the sickening individuals who carried out this appalling attack.” In his speech, Cameron moves the discourse from Britain vs Muslims to Britain vs single maniacs. Locking them up means solving the problem. He speaks of unity, but ends up equally divided. In condemnation of two of his own citizens.

If one lady can stop these people from harming themselves and others purely by listening, imagine what a society could do.