Miffie, is a tall and chunky rabbit doll dressed in a white and blue sailor’s suit and a gold rimmed cap. He was mailed to me across the big pond by my Dutch cousin Meini. A little note with it read: “better one sailor in the bed than three in the air.” It was a reply to a humorous card I had sent Meini earlier and a derivative of the English proverb: “one bird in hand is better than three in the bush.” It’s also, a paradigm on our Dutch sailor blood, where when on ship during a storm you might end up in a different bunk. Miffie now has a place of honor on my bed and Gus, my grandchild, wraps him tight in his arms during his afternoon naps.
Something curious happened. One night Anna, a bit shy with long curly blond hair, and Marina, a determined personality with straight dark hair, two of my 7- year old grandchildren called.
“Can we spent the night at your house Oma?” Marina spoke. Ten minutes later the two ladies had walked in their pajamas through the alley down to my house.
“Anna, do you want Miffie to sleep with?” I asked. Nodding a big yes, she lovingly took Miffie and cloaked her arms around him to go to sleep.
The next morning, after bringing the children to school, I made up the beds. I shaped up Anna’s and noticed instead of Miffie a tiny soft rabbit and a monkey under the blanket.
Something curious happened. One night Anna, a bit shy with long curly blond hair, and Marina, a determined personality with straight dark hair, two of my 7- year old grandchildren called.
“Can we spent the night at your house Oma?” Marina spoke. Ten minutes later the two ladies had walked in their pajamas through the alley down to my house.
“Anna, do you want Miffie to sleep with?” I asked. Nodding a big yes, she lovingly took Miffie and cloaked her arms around him to go to sleep.
The next morning, after bringing the children to school, I made up the beds. I shaped up Anna’s and noticed instead of Miffie a tiny soft rabbit and a monkey under the blanket.
“Miffie, did you give birth?” I thought while straightening out the sheets. I began looking for the sailor in closets, under beds in different rooms, but couldn’t find him.
Upon their returning from school, I asked the two girls. I soon found out that Marina had taken Miffie away from Anna and had substituted the two little toys for him. Without words Marina took me to the spot where the sailor stood hidden behind a closet door. Cheered, I returned Miffie to my bed, where no longer closeted he is it!
The Dutch have a proverb that says “Now, the monkey comes out of the sleeve.”
It’s used at a time during a conversation when truth comes out similar to English equivalents “The cat is out of the bag,” or “Coming out of the closet.” The latter usually has a sexual connotation, where the Dutch monkey that’s coming out of the sleeve has not. That monkey embodies a whole spectrum of true human potential that could come either “out of the closet” or “out of our sleeve,” if we had the courage to be authentic.
I wonder what monkey could come out of my sleeve at this time in my life. I perceive myself as pretty authentic. What was I hiding in my closet? It wasn’t that sailor. Although born in Rotterdam, and loving the harbor, I hold a heart for the captain and crew of a ship.
Upon their returning from school, I asked the two girls. I soon found out that Marina had taken Miffie away from Anna and had substituted the two little toys for him. Without words Marina took me to the spot where the sailor stood hidden behind a closet door. Cheered, I returned Miffie to my bed, where no longer closeted he is it!
The Dutch have a proverb that says “Now, the monkey comes out of the sleeve.”
It’s used at a time during a conversation when truth comes out similar to English equivalents “The cat is out of the bag,” or “Coming out of the closet.” The latter usually has a sexual connotation, where the Dutch monkey that’s coming out of the sleeve has not. That monkey embodies a whole spectrum of true human potential that could come either “out of the closet” or “out of our sleeve,” if we had the courage to be authentic.
I wonder what monkey could come out of my sleeve at this time in my life. I perceive myself as pretty authentic. What was I hiding in my closet? It wasn’t that sailor. Although born in Rotterdam, and loving the harbor, I hold a heart for the captain and crew of a ship.
I notice my arm. It shakes and I feel the monkey working its way out… I tune in.
“You love magic and are very curious about it,” the monkey imparts. True, the
mystic in me has no end, as I like to find out all I can about non-dualism, even put it to the test; Holistic beliefs from centuries ago at times when monkeys had room to do what monkeys do when there were no sleeves. That’s what I like about my friend Erasmus in Rotterdam. He could embrace two opposites. I’d marvel if I could hold two, three or even more at one time.
Speaking of magic and holding opposites: I can be pretty contained, yet I also long for the wildness in my creativity. Take Karel Appel, that Dutch cobra of a painter. He hurls paint against a large canvas and just toils with energy. Cobra-Appel paintings and sculptures gather millions.
“These are barbaric paintings for a barbaric world.” He says. Right after WW II Appel united painters from Copenhagen-Denmark, Brussels-Belgium and Amsterdam-the Netherlands under the Avant Garde movement Cobra – with the idea to create a shift in thinking through modern art forms.
These times of environmental challenges feel to my Dutch self as a different kind of barbaric. I experience it as a storm at sea. It demands that I throw the creative door wide open, come out of the closet and let that monkey out. My world screams to overcome that comfortable and contained self and take some of that Miffie booty while navigating it to a different level of my ship.
“You love magic and are very curious about it,” the monkey imparts. True, the
mystic in me has no end, as I like to find out all I can about non-dualism, even put it to the test; Holistic beliefs from centuries ago at times when monkeys had room to do what monkeys do when there were no sleeves. That’s what I like about my friend Erasmus in Rotterdam. He could embrace two opposites. I’d marvel if I could hold two, three or even more at one time.
Speaking of magic and holding opposites: I can be pretty contained, yet I also long for the wildness in my creativity. Take Karel Appel, that Dutch cobra of a painter. He hurls paint against a large canvas and just toils with energy. Cobra-Appel paintings and sculptures gather millions.
“These are barbaric paintings for a barbaric world.” He says. Right after WW II Appel united painters from Copenhagen-Denmark, Brussels-Belgium and Amsterdam-the Netherlands under the Avant Garde movement Cobra – with the idea to create a shift in thinking through modern art forms.
These times of environmental challenges feel to my Dutch self as a different kind of barbaric. I experience it as a storm at sea. It demands that I throw the creative door wide open, come out of the closet and let that monkey out. My world screams to overcome that comfortable and contained self and take some of that Miffie booty while navigating it to a different level of my ship.