The Ebb and Flow of Oerkracht: A Journey of Generosity and Self-Discovery

Oh, delightful – another tale of self-discovery dressed in Dutch vernacular (after all I am Dutch).

My ‘oerkracht,’ they say – because apparently ‘life force’ wasn’t quite exotic enough.

This term, with its unique Dutch force, resonates deeply with my personal journey of self-discovery.

Perhaps I inherited it from my distinguished ancestor, Homo erectus, from Java – you know, the one who probably invented fire while contemplating what lies beyond the universe, much like I did at the tender age of eight, founding my first political party between pondering cosmic infinities and the absurdity of land ownership.

Picture me, if you will, a whimsical cocktail of Pippi Longstocking and the Little Mermaid (because one fictional character clearly wasn’t sufficient to capture my essence), (that is how I am described in a love poem by a person who enters two couplets under), prancing through life with the particular burden of being too smart for my own good.

There I was, dispensing goodwill like some sort of benevolence fairy – while steadfastly avoiding any mention of money because heaven forbid a woman of our standing should discuss such vulgar matters.

Mother would have had a conniption fit at the mere thought.

However, my eight-year-old self had already drafted a manifesto about stripping away such artificial constructs and starting society anew.

Enter Dr. Loeda (yep, he of the love poem)—bless his prophetic soul—warning me about my metaphorical well running dry.

How terribly poetic, though not nearly as poetic as my childhood questions about what exists beyond the edges of everything.

This peculiar mix of high IQ and rebellion, paired with an anguishing awareness of the world’s coldness, has always been my particular cross to bear – right alongside the illustrious legacy of Duchess Schaffner, who probably managed her entire estate with nothing but meaningful glances and strategic sighs.

These days, I’m wrestling with a body that’s decided to stage its own rebellion and a mind that needs handling like some temperamental Frisian horse.  

The pasture of my experiences? Oh, it’s just bursting with wisdom – if only I could stop tripping over it.

Take my recent epic battle with the Christmas tree – a perfect testament to being gloriously abandoned by those who should have helped.

But fear not! Armed with nothing but an office chair (my noble steed) and the kind of desperate ingenuity that only comes from being utterly alone, I emerged victorious. Because nothing says “I’ve got my life together” quite like jousting with pine needles on wheels.

Here’s to the next chapter, then – where I’ll masterfully balance wisdom and generosity, probably while riding my office chair into the sunset, channelling both the primitive strength of Homo erectus and the refined dignity of Duchess Schaffner, all while my mind still wanders to those big questions that haunted my childhood.

Nothing says “personal growth” quite like learning to say “no” several decades too late.

Mother would be so proud, even if my inner eight-year-old revolutionary is still plotting to redesign society from scratch.

May harmony find you,

Irena Phaedra