37 Jesus on Ice and Argentina 1: yearning and longing

One day before Christmas eve. Sunday.
I am completely cooped up in my house. The street along the Lake is glazed by frost. The Lake itself is frozen. But the surface is too thin to escape, especially for this chunky boy. A dense fog envelops the world.
Living in a cocoon.
It is 11.15 now and I witness a miracle. Somebody walking over the water just 20 meters from the place where I overlook the lake. No, not the Holy One- it takes one day anyway before he will be born.
A duck. Slipping and sliding with huge feet. Skating? Its bill is black and the blue green on its wings hits my eyes.
He stands still. Waves its head. Is he greeting me? Or is it a she? Before I know the answer she or he is moving into the mist.
"Good morning mister duck."
I wonder: did it freeze when the Holy One walked over the water? Or must we really consider it a miracle?

And how about the miracle I was looking for when I started my trip to Argentina?
I started off to look for happiness, for Shangri La, for the Promised Land. Did I reach it?

11.23 The sun is coming in. Gives birth to a silver world. Two swans skim over the grey and blueish surface of the frozen Lake. Inside the house the smell of Senseocoffee. The sound of Skyradio and its tear jerking Rosanna. The singer can not get her, so much seems clear.

But what about Argentinia?
I never went to Argentinia. Of course. One day I was listening to a song of an Italian emigrant. He is on his way to the promised land:Argentinia. The ship that will bring him is in mid-ocean. The sky is covered with stars. Overwhelming. And he cries out his hope for a better future and his sadness over the loved ones he left behind. Explosive set of feelings. Root of the Tango.
And just like Slauerhoff I left my home and started living in The House At the Lake.

Slauerhoff the dutch poet and novelist was a " yearning specialist". He left home and not always
lwithout the sweet influende of opium, he went to Shangri La, to China. Writing the most moving poems. All Rosanna-like: about the unreachable key to happiness.

Not long ago a met a young man from Shangri La, China.
"Are you happy?"I asked.
"No. No. I am not happy. I am completely in love with a girl from Chengdu. But not possible. Thousand kilometers between us. I long for her, I yearn for her, every minute of the day."
"But you are married?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love your wife."
"Of course, 2 children. I am happy. But I miss her."
"Who?"
"My girl in Chengdu."

Also helped by a beautiful essay of Camus, by a letter of one of my sons I slowly rediscovered that no Promised land can be the key to my happiness. That the happiness lies in the sensual experiences that can hit you: the colours, the funny daily things. Work and passion. I am a great yearner and I dimmed this habit. There is no person more important than me. Nobody can make me happy. I am the only one. No postponement of happiness. Daily target.
So I am on my own and make it a habit to enjoy it. The Slauerhoffian yearning in the end is a shallow exercise.

I like working. For Schouten&Nelissen in whatever capacity. I deeply enjoy the cooperation with
Anne, Ton, Henri, Marcel, Gonnie, Dineke, Lonneke, Theo, Vera, Chris. and the many persons I am working with. We are always on a creating track. Not dreaming. Practical. Often succesful. I love them. I feel accepted. I enjoy the way they value my contribution. I enjoy my passion.

And I finished my novel. And I will have it published this year.

But what fired my yearning? And what about love? What about living together.
Next time.
I will dig out the answers from under the Christmas tree.