Van tempus fugit! For now, there’s nothing that needs doing.”

10th September 2023. 10:37 a.m. It’s hot today. It’s going to hit 35 degrees and I’m already seeking some shade, a bit apprehensive about the impending afternoon. With only my eldest daughter at home, the house is quiet. She too cherishes the silence, taking immense pleasure in the rare moments when she can have time just for herself. No sister to entice her into fantasy games that can easily consume an entire day (this time, they’re setting up a detective agency). No boisterous little brothers whose shouting pierces the quiet, wrapping the house in a cloak of haste and inexhaustible energy – sometimes joyful, but often like a tempest of anger. No, it’s quiet today. And I find myself wandering through my thoughts as I contemplate yesterday’s tasks. And then it strikes me: when was the last time I wrote a blog post? It’s been a while, that much is clear, but I can’t pin down exactly when. So, I decide to look it up.

It’s been more than a year! Time flies… Over 12 months, 52 weeks, or indeed, 365 days. So where are we now?

We’ve since transformed the large grange into a home. A harmonious and cosy blend of stone and wood, lots and lots of wood. Thinking about how many raw planks we’ve planed, sanded, and treated makes my head spin. But the result? A beautiful home. A haven. Our haven.

The old house, where we dwelled for more than two years, has been left behind with a great sense of relief in our hearts. It was cold, dark, and unwelcoming. However, in the meantime, we’ve already fashioned two rooms in that house. A true transformation. Bright, warm, and cosy rooms where we currently mostly welcome family and friends. But these rooms are designated for guests of ‘Het Gedachtegoed’, and we’re proud of them.

And of course, we’ve done a fair bit of work here and there in the garden: building terraces, setting up a water well, creating pastures for the animals, and taking our first steps towards a vegetable garden.

In short, we’ve been anything but idle. So yes… Time flies. And while I sometimes catch myself succumbing to despairing thoughts like, ’this won’t end well,’ ‘it’s moving too slowly,’ or ’the resources are depleted,’ I repeatedly realise, upon reflection, that what we’ve achieved in this time span is monumental. But the journey is still long, even if I dare think a first milestone is within sight. And ‘milestone’ might actually be the wrong word. It’s more of an anchor point. A point from which we can begin thinking about the launch of ‘Het Gedachtegoed’. We’re on a journey towards a desire. Not THE desire, but A desire. And what that truly means, or the form it should take, is never entirely clear. And that’s okay. It keeps us searching, weighing up decisions, embracing the creative process. A path occasionally marred by frustrating detours, yet often these same detours lead to encounters with people who give you that needed push to carry on. To be clear, it’s a demanding process. Not just the physical building, but the inherent alienation that comes with it. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in my head. Thinking, worrying, reading, only to think, worry, and mull things over again. Yet, in recent years, I’ve been preoccupied with the physical, with my body: tearing down and rebuilding. Donned in work attire, armed with tools, and engrossed in manual labour, I’ve often felt like a carpenter, an identity unfamiliar to me. It’s been a journey, rebalancing mind and body, confronting the physical limitations of one’s own body daily, and equally grappling with one’s own lack of expertise and skills. And although this journey could metaphorically represent an inner one, lugging bricks around, screwing down terrace boards in the blazing sun for the umpteenth time, or sanding wood repeatedly out of necessity, you do sometimes question what you’re doing and if this is truly how you want to spend your life. Who am I? What do I want? And while the satisfaction after completing a task is immense, it can be daunting to realise how many such ’tasks’ still lie ahead. An awareness that often sparks moments of crisis, leading to a full-blown crisis. Yes, it’s a bumpy road. It’s essential to occasionally seize the moment, pause, and reflect. To then decide that within this intangible stretch of days, weeks, and months, coloured by motherhood and work, there should also be room for small joys. Tiny islands of reprieve amidst the daily grind of ‘must-dos’. ‘For now, nothing needs doing’. And while that seems straightforward, even easy, it’s incredibly hard. You always want to press on, even if just to bring that first anchor point closer. And it took a while for me to understand that by incorporating these breaks, and hence shifting how I manage time, work, and fundamentally my desires, it naturally brings that anchor point closer. Because it’s in these moments of rest that I rediscover my love for thinking, seeking, and instinctively make room for creativity. And that’s where great ideas are born. Insights into the approach of tasks that often unexpectedly speed up the entire process.