On impermanence, pride and petsitting
A postcard from the platform (letter 289)
Hello hello learn-it-all,
Greetings from den Haag, Netherlands. Today’s digital postcard comes to you from a train platform somewhere between “here” and “wherever is next.” I’m sharing this as a snapshot of movement, of a life lived in backpacks, of small moments that feel oddly special.
The photo above is of me two weeks ago, thumbs-upping my way through another Dutch station, carrying what looks like an entire sporting goods store on my back. Every time I move houses, I am like a nomadic turtle. My home strapped to me. Colorful and chaotic.
I wanted to share something more like a feeling this week. It’s a poem from my five months so far of bopping around the Netherlands and noticing. This is a little imprint of this season of pet-sitting, plan-filled sublets, and family stays.
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On Impermanence, Pride, and Pet-Sitting
Pride It feels loud Seen as a sin To be self-righteous as extra peacock feathers Pinned to a checkered fedora. But I need pride to be louder than the doubts The fear of defeat The criticisms The unsolicited advice The ideas from others that pull me. People whisper that she looks lost That she needs help, But this isn’t forever. It’s impermanent just as life is. This word permanent— It grinds gears Because nothing is. That’s grim Almost so factual, it’s nihilistic. But people latch onto it for the sake of security— A need to manage their fear But me? A pet sitter. Some twentysomethings have babies. And I watch chickens. Roaming in the field. Never knowing how one chicken’s head was decapitated Or why the dog recoiled into a retracted behavior. The dog might’ve killed the chicken, but no one will ever know. She is swimming in the impermanence. Never knowing the next time, if ever, To pick this dog’s poo Or eat that chicken’s eggs Or hear the kind kitty’s motor pur Or gasp at the condoms in the teenager’s sink drawer Or make sparkly water with this SodaStream Or make milk foam with that instant frother Or stumble upon a hidden bookcase full of sex erotica Or borrow an e-bike with a baby seat attached Or sleep in a Dutch library on a pile of pillows Or walk past a ‘melk salon’ full of fresh cow milk. I live out of my backpacks. And I am proud. I am proud because I used to outsource packing to others The planning was too much. Because the overwhelm of packing Defeated my brain. Before spring break I’d wait until the last minute Then beg my sister to do it with me. Or before college My brother’s girlfriend helped me Convincing me to leave my mom jeans behind. Or when leaving Hawaii, Emily and Sara supporting the sorting of stuff. I am proud because attachment to physical things runs in my family. My Polish grandparents passed over a decade ago Their house is a storage unit. I am proud because every time before I move, I give things away Even if it’s just skinny socks and a spool of yarn. Because the weather has changed And realistically, if that scarf starts, the project won’t end. And because it makes space, And most importantly, It takes kilos of weight off my scoliosis curved spine I live out of backpacks. And look like a gypsy vagabonding around, With sneakers strapped to the sides. My beige bead with brown strings As a keychain hanging off the zipper Of the rainbow Nylon Cotopaxi strapped across my chest Reminding me of the festival in the Thai mountains The day I turned 29 Feeling accepted as I am— Wild and free. To now, receiving Long stares of regal Dutch ladies lingering on me “Is she homeless?” they think. Yes she is. Because in this season she was sitting pets And exploring places On a budget Moving on from decision fatigue Channeling fierce independence. And realizing a traveler’s life is not romantic. It’s exhilarating Yet, exhausting. I am proud of how I move. How I pack. How I let things go. How I squeeze the pulp of the temporary without needing to make it mean something permanent. And now she is open, Seeing where she’ll be held for a little while longer. And where she’ll feel inspired to stay.
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I hope this tiny postcard finds you wherever you are, whether it be nestled, wandering, overwhelmed, cozy, proud, or somewhere in between.
Here’s to living lightly, carrying only what matters, and letting the rest be beautifully impermanent.
With a backpack and a wave,
Jen
PS - in case you missed last week, I wrote a little reminder to slow down :)



carry only what matters. that's a great life motto
You remind me of the woman who backpacked along the California pacific coast trail on her own! You’re so brave :)