Living in no man's land

We live in a time where everything seems to be happening faster. Performing, persevering, always wanting more: the system we live in demands a lot from us. At the same time, many of us feel something is off. That a different way of life is possible—a more balanced way, one in which we don't lose ourselves but rather find ourselves again.

In this blog post, I share my personal journey through this tension. It explores the emptiness of the old system, the longing for something new, and the moments when I glimpse how things could be different. It directly touches on Vulnerable Balance and the journey of Nuwara, the book's protagonist. Because her struggle is mine too—and perhaps yours, too.

I find myself in a transitional space, a kind of no-man's-land between old and new. The old system feels too constricted: performance, persistence, security, economic growth above all. It's a world where burnout is common and where connection is often under pressure. The new, on the other hand… it's not quite visible yet. As if I'm standing on a threshold, with one foot in the old, the other still searching for the unknown.

That space in between sometimes feels lonely. As if no one can guide me precisely in what this requires. Yet I know: this is also a phase of growth. Because in that emptiness, the space arises to ask questions. To explore: who am I, truly, beyond roles and expectations? How do I want to connect with the people and the world around me?

In Tanzania, I sensed a kind of answer. I saw a way of life there that felt so much lighter and more genuine. People took time for each other. There was space to laugh, to share, to truly be together. Nature wasn't something you visit occasionally, but a natural part of life. It touched me deeply. I felt: it could be like this .

And at the same time, back in the Netherlands, I realize how quickly the old system is swallowing me up again. The schedules, the pressure to perform, the expectations. The contrast between those worlds makes me feel more strongly now: I don't want to go back to the old way. I want to build that new one, even though I don't know exactly what it will look like yet.

For me, the book Vulnerable Balance isn't a ready-made solution, but a gateway. It's not a product that has to be a hit or a "perfect story" that solves everything. It's a conversation starter. An invitation to remember together who we truly are. For my co-author, Natasja, that's about field sensitivity—learning to listen to subtle signals and putting that wisdom into practice. For me, it's about wholeness—returning to the core, to a balance between progress and connection.

I've struggled along the way. I often thought the book wasn't good enough. Too thin, too fragmented, not quite in line with what I wanted. And I worried about what others would think. But I'm starting to see that that imperfection is precisely part of the message. The book isn't a finished monument, but a breath of fresh air. A snapshot of a quest. Because wholeness isn't about perfection, but about authenticity.

And it's precisely here that my journey intersects with the story of Nuwara , the book's protagonist. She, like me, stands between two worlds. On one side, the logic of technology, power, and progress. On the other, the call of her roots, her intuition, the wisdom of the earth. She knows things have to change, but she's still at the beginning of that path. Her struggle is also mine: seeking balance, staying true to yourself, and simultaneously staying connected to the people and the world around you.

Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Even when I felt lost, the source was present. Even in the emptiness, I was carried. What happens is not chaos, but a passage, a rite of passage.

🌱 This book, this story, this process—it's all one movement: back to wholeness. For myself. For Nuwara. For everyone who is willing to remember who we truly are.