This blogpost has felt like a Fata Morgana. Whenever I thought I had the start of an idea it lured me closer and closer, but then dissipated into a heavy hot July air, leaving me sweaty and tired and slightly stressed. Then when other horizons shifted away as well, some to do with new adventures that did not materialise, gritting my teeth was maybe not the best reaction. 

A sort of invitation then appears in a newspaper article. Bruno van den Elshout, photographer and artist, leads workshops of ‘horizon watching’ at the coast near his home in The Hague; not far from Amsterdam. For a small fee (by Dutch standards) you are invited to join him at the beach watching the horizon for 24 hours. You could of course do this all by yourself, but it seems that self reflection is sometimes helped by being able to mirror ourselves onto other souls in a common endeavour. Bruno van den Elshout declares that the 24-hour horizon-watching exercise could have the same effect on you as a 10 day silence retreat in Tibet, or be even more valuable as you are so much closer to home and to your daily life and more able to take with you the inspirations you encounter.

The newspaper article describes the author’s experiences throughout the night and day that follow. It encompasses the ecosystem of human emotions, which is what appears to make it such a powerful experience. From resistance to acceptance, from anger to energy, from resentment to love, from worry to letting go. A micro-retreat then, maybe similar in nature to the micro-adventures proposed by the English outdoor adventurer Alastair Humphreys, who wants his micro-adventures "small and achievable, for normal people with real lives”. And while they are very different in their approach - one being focused on mindfulness and dissuading too much activity, while the other encouraging active physical involvement - the aim to both seems to stretch out the mind into new horizons. These could be physical, mental or cultural. They also share the idea of doing this close to home with limited means of time, money and gear. In that we meet up again with my Fata Morgana of finding Silence and Solitude in Amsterdam in July. My own horizon-watching though is infinite, one could say. I cycle to a nearby park during my lunch break, spread myself out under a wonderfully shady tree and look up into the shimmering blue loosing myself in it for half an hour.

Photo credit: I took this photo in Oosterpark in Amsterdam, on a swelteringly, hot summer day, looking at the horizon and listening to the birds, planes, street cars, church bells searching the infinite in it all. 

Audio credit: Sounds of the city in summer

Newspaper article quoted: De Volkskrant, Tuesday 24 July 2018