“Be yourself”, I said to someone.
But he could not: he was no-one.
This is my rendering in English of a short Dutch poem by De Génestet (1829-1861). It was playing through my head just now. Someone told me yesterday to just be myself. I was wondering whether I was going too fast and told her she was slowing me down. In a good way. And that was her answer: just be yourself. This sounds infinitely simple. But it kind of gave me some consolation. It is hard during these times – and at all times – to know how to respond. To know what is most helpful to say or do. And in the end it just comes. Whatever that is. An impulse comes from the heart. An interaction with all the conditions emerges. The wish to be helpful sometimes comes in the way of acting. But the action that is born spontaneously is often the right one, or at least the one that was born, so is therefore there. Is myself. It is being myself. Whoever that is. Or could be. Or could not be.
