Tag: life journey

The right choice only exists in the present moment

A friend of mine who recently moved back to her home country after living and working a long time abroad in Kenia expressed her struggles to adapt, feeling torn between the two worlds and questioning whether she made the right decision.

Does this really exist: the right decision? It feels all too familiar to me: wanting to get it right, therefore spending time considering a lot of facts before making a decision. I did this often in my life. But nobody can get it perfectly right because everything is subject to change and we just aren’t clairvoyants. We don’t know how the future will unfold. 

And we could never possibly know all facts, all parametres anyway. In hindsight, we will know more, but in the very moment of decision-making we did not. 

But even with an abundance of facts and carefully weighing pros and cons, there is no guarantee that I get it right or will feel happy about it afterwards. It could work out either way.

That’s my experience with moving to other countries. Knowing a lot before making the move did not spare me inner conflict or struggles. Knowing less and following an impulse, a feeling can surprisingly work out very well on the other hand.

There is a reason why human decisions are very much based on feelings rather than facts. Where AI is binary – we most certainly are not. Only I can know if something feels right for me, but my feelings can also be quite complex and ambivalent. 

Allowing myself to rely on my intuition as an important part of what we humans call decision-making is essential, instead of pretending that it is just a fact-based process.


May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears. 

(Nelson Mandela)

Moreover, decisions are always a choice, a reflection of my current circumstances and mindset. And all that inevitably evolves and changes.

It makes no sense to blame myself for a decision I made in the past. At that moment I was in a different place and in a different situation. I did not know what I know today. I was younger. My values, preferences, priorities were different, and so were my mood and my emotions. 

Things change. We change. Our perspective changes over time. Our level of maturity evolves, our health changes. 

And so we make the best decision we can under these circumstances at that point in time. That is enough.

Since I came to understand this, I don’t view it in the right/wrong context anymore. This isn’t black or white. 

The need I felt for a long time, to take the “right” decision was deeply rooted in perfectionism which developed during my childhood when I was not allowed to make mistakes. Recognizing it helped me change my perspective. 

The right choice – if I can call it that – is always a temporary thing: it only exists in the time and space we inhabit in the present moment.

Now when I make a choice I know it’s to either stay on the path I am on or take a turn somewhere at a crossroads which will spin me into a different direction. Every choice has consequences and only time will tell if I remain comfortable with them or whether I will feel the need one day to make an adjustment and take another turn.

It has a lot to do with personal values and priorities: what’s important to me? What do I need in my life? It always comes down to these questions. And we need to liberate us from other people’s expectations in this regard. I’m the one who has to live with my choice – not someone else.

Just like healing, our life journey is never unfolding in a straight line. There are lots of turns or doubling back, and that is perfectly ok. My priorities change as well over time because I am not the same person I was years ago.

Being torn between two sides facing contradictory feelings after making a choice is very normal. Again, nothing is black or white.

But no matter what we decide – even if a decision turns out not to be the optimal one – we always gain insights. We grow and develop new interests and suddenly new opportunities come our way. It’s interesting to see where life takes us when we are open. We only realize it in hindsight.

A very personal example for me is an unhappy relationship I had in my twenties. A positive event during that time however, was a holiday we spent in Ireland.
I fell in love with this country immediately. Some time later it led me to do a four months’ stage in Dublin, which in turn sparked my wish to come back to live and work in Ireland, something I eventually managed to do.  

That was a clear turning point in my life, starting to work for an international company and then, many years later moving to the Netherlands. 

I would not be where I am today had it not been for that holiday in Ireland decades ago. Many wonderful friends I found that way – some at work, some by chance encounters – I would have never met. Finding a place I call home, gaining insights about myself – sometimes through tough experiences – I am grateful for what I encountered. 

So I clearly cannot say that if I could go back in time I’d make a different choice, because then I’d be a different person with a different life. 

There is no alternative universe to explore – this life is all we have got.

Let’s make the best out of it.

Life’s impermanence

Preparing the move of my parents to a care home during the past months brought up sad feelings for me, very suddenly. The time has come to say farewell to their apartment they have been living in for 12 years and to the life they were used to.

It’s a journey coming to an end, and it’s also a first farewell we children have to say, before the final chapter approaches.

It is sad. Sifting through all their belongings, deciding what they will take with them, what my brother and I will take with us, and what will be given to charity is after all, a hard step. 

Right now it takes place only in my mind: trying to remember what’s hidden in their cupboards and drawers, and where I need to watch out for possible surprises once I will be on site in a few weeks’ time and actually doing it. 

As usual I want to preempt getting stuck in the process by something that I have not thought about up front, because I want all to go well. It is a tight schedule for both my brother and I – him living in a different city than my parents and me living in a different country.

All their possessions – many of which are very dear to them – tell a lot about their life together, about their hopes, aspirations, love and struggles. It’s what remains of a life.

It is not just about the complex organization of their move, it has a very emotional component.

I want to give them the chance to be happy in that new place, but I am also aware that it will be quite a shock for them. The loss of control and full dependency on others is the reason why a lot of people who move to a care home facility die within the first 2 months.

Many objects they were used to and saw daily will no longer be around them. That goes for crockery and cutlery, their wineglasses, their bedlinen, their towels. They will be dependent upon others to wash their laundry, clean their space, give them food, or even a spoon for a tea bag. They will not brew their own coffee anymore in the morning.

On the other hand, of course, a weight is taken off their shoulders. They have not been able to cope anymore with daily life for a long time and struggled a lot. But there is a downside to everything and I know it will not be easy for them to adjust.

I want them to be happy, but all I can do is trying to soften their landing in that new reality. By being mindful and attentive, and making sure they can feel comfortable and have sufficient objects around them which serve as a reminder of past times. Like books, plants, photos, paintings, placemats or decoration. It’s often the small and simple things that bring joy.

I also need to acknowledge their feelings and deal with difficult situations that might arise, especially with my mom. My dad is easier to handle: he is pragmatic and accepts his dwindling capabilities – physically and mentally. But my mom is fighting reality as always, so for her it will be hard. Deep down she knows it is the best solution and she even said so in her more clearer moments, however, even her dementia will not let her ignore the obvious: that it is a big change.

Personally, I need to deal with these aspects as well: the factual side which means intensely project managing a lot of stuff, but also handling the emotional impact it has on me. It is hard. And I have no guarantees that my parents will be happy. I can only strive to enable it as much as possible.

Have a little faith
You’ll see it’s alright
Take a little time to breathe
The tide turns eventually
It comes in, it goes out
If you’re ever in doubt
Just have a little faith.

(Have a little faith - Son Mieux)

Going through this process turned out to be a reminder of the nature of impermanence. It reminds me of my own mortality, and that we cannot take any worldly belongings with us when it’s time to go.

My parents will lose a place they loved, but I realized that I will lose that place, too. The sadness I felt surprised me a bit at first because I have no strong connection to that place, but this feeling arising showed me what lies underneath and what I need to acknowledge for my own life.

And it made me question all the stuff that I have accumulated in my own apartment, and whether it is about time to gradually let go of more of it, bit by bit. Doing it feels liberating.

We come empty-handed into this world, and that’s how we will leave it. All of us. It’s important to have no illusions about it.

This is what the 5 remembrances mean in Buddhism:

We are all of the nature to grow old, to get sick and to die. There is no escaping that.

We will lose the people and the places that we love.

The only things we can take with us are our actions.

(Plum village podcast episode 82)

Even though these words might feel like a threat hanging in the air, it actually helps to focus on the present moment which needs our full and undivided attention. In the present we need to fully show up. Whatever we do, whoever we are with. 

Enjoy and appreciate what is in front of me and be grateful for it. The present moment turns into the past in the blink of an eye.

Everything in life is subject to change. That is just reality. That change is not meant to haunt or to taunt us. Its purpose is to teach us every day to be grateful and focus on what is really important in life.

Whatever I am currently working on, all the plans I make – which importance will it have in 50 years from now? Impermanence puts things into perspective when my head starts spinning.

Resorting to meditation whenever I felt overwhelmed by the complexity of the current situation, helped me. That’s why I keep on doing it as often as I can, striving for a daily routine. Like this morning when I got up with my head full of racing thoughts, then decided to stop myself in my tracks by sitting still and focusing on my breathing for 15 minutes. It brought me calm and I felt better equipped to start my day.

Of course, all my planning is a mere attempt to gain as much control as possible over the future. 

It does not mean everything is actually going to work out as I want to. But my worries might also not come true. 

The thoughts I started repeating to myself: it will work out eventually. There is no reason why all things should go wrong. And when issues come up then I will manage them. It’s not the end of the world. 

Some food for thought:

What do you do when your head starts spinning?

What stops you from worrying too much?

How can you be more present in your daily life?

The memory tree

My Christmas tree is actually my memory tree. 

Every year again I decorate it with mainly the same pieces of Christmas decoration that I collected over many years, from different countries. Some I bought, some I received as gifts from friends or family or people I have been working with, and some I made myself. 

All these pieces carry memories with them which I treasure, reminding me of past times and people. Souvenirs. Each year I thoroughly enjoy decorating my tree, and in the weeks approaching Christmas and beyond, I often look at my tree, evoking the happy memories connected to these items. 

It makes me feel at home, grateful for the friendship I received, those enjoyable moments with others, the time I got to spent in different countries. It’s the feelings connected to these objects that come up every time I look at them. 

With time, I have some stories to tell which are connected to this small collection – which consists of so much more than just beautiful objects. They represent different times and stages of my life’s journey.

There is the Romanian ornament egg I received as a gift from my colleagues when I visited them in Bucharest some years ago (not long before covid made travel impossible). That’s how I learnt that these eggs are also used as Christmas decoration in Romania.

The beautiful felted heart and the Newbridge Christmas tree hanger which my Irish friend Naomi gave to me.

The colourful hangers I bought in one of the pound shops I frequented in Dublin so many years ago, which still have not lost their colours.

The nice and practical Dutch paper ball ornaments I got in the first year after I moved to Utrecht.

Quite a few handcrafted delicate wooden Christmas tree ornaments I found at German and Dutch Christmas markets.

And of course, my own creations like the crocheted snowflakes and felted stars.

The tree itself is also part of the collection. I bought it while living in Dublin for 12,99 Irish pounds at Penney’s, and it is now some 25 years old (and still looking good). It has moved with me from Dublin to Germany and then to the Netherlands. Meanwhile its losing some of its fake pine needles each time I take it out of the box or store it away again – which I did today.

All these memories are my very own, they live and will die with me,  like a lot of things existing only in someone’s heart. Sometimes we might tell a story or two to a friend about what a specific object means to us. Otherwise, this fabric of life remains largely hidden. I love to share some of these stories with my friends. It’s like giving them a present, sharing a piece of my life with them.

A friend of mine used a lovely expression when sending me her wishes for this New Year: We have an empty year in front of us waiting to be filled with good and heartfelt friendship. 

That’s a fitting description of what I am planning to do, continuing to create many more moments of joy and happiness with the people I love and cherish. Creating memories we will hold on to.


Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us. 

Oscar Wilde

What does your memory tree of look like, and what do you connect with it? 

Which of your memories do you share with your loved ones?


For more inspiration have a look at my resources section.