Working as a nomad for HSP's

24 december 2025  A warm house has arrived here in Granada—not just the four walls, though that was the start—but the community of like-minded souls, the warmth of the electrical heater, the birds singing outside, and the music filling the air. Most of all, the warm gratitude I feel in my heart for every person who contributed their energy and attention to this place since just 2 monhts to create it from an empty shell. This is exactly what I wished for about a month ago, when I was in Barcelona. Having come out of the cold, I have a room to sleep in, an unbelievable view of the sea and mountains, and a kitcehn to make my food in.. now as I sit here and write my blog, the smell of melting butter in the pancake pan creates a warmth, and the memory and feeling of the cheesy pancake i made, a leftover from last Sunday. The lights twinkle on the window sill, waiting to be arranged properly. A warm house has arrived… and I was part of the circle that created it. Grateful for the owners,...

As I was walking back from lunch today—from Casa Gil to the volunteers’ house—my colleague and I spotted a small chair by the roadside. It was made of wood and leather, simple and sturdy. I was happily surprised, almost amused, by how perfectly my need was met in that moment. I’ve been sitting and working on a cold floor here, on the top floor, third piso, in the Granada area.  Without hesitation, we carried the chair home with us, one side each. At first, I used it in my room.  Later, as the sun began to set, I took it outside onto the terrace.  That’s when I was caught off guard by the beauty of the view—the sea stretching out under a glowing sky. It brought back memories of Curaçao, watching sunsets with a drink by the beach. But this time was different. I didn’t romanticize the sea. I saw it clearly, with its depth and its dangers. “It’s a tough world out there on the ocean,” echoed through my mind. Capricorn season, perhaps.No muckign around just straightforward hone...

It’s sábado—Saturday—in Granada, Spain, and it was one of those very typical days:  going out to do the shopping and getting stuck in traffic along the way. The town closest to my home and co-living place, Motril, is practical and straightforward. It has the usual Lidl and the Chinese superstore. We came back with two Christmas trees, decorations, and all the groceries needed for the weekend. Christmas is approaching quickly—just four more days. It looks like we’ll be busy with cooking and a party, and I’m quietly hoping that both the old and the new will meet in a calmer way this year. What am I feeling? Happy. Content. Surprised. It’s been a very long time since I last had a Christmas tree. The last one that truly mattered in my life was probably when I was married. After that, there was one in a spiritual place, but it carried no real emotional value for me. Last year, I wasn’t even in a house with a tree at all—December and January passed so quickly, almost unnoticed. Only Febr...

Last Quarter Moon — December 17, 2025 Standing on the terrace of my new place in Andalusia, I watch the last wisps of morning dew drift over the mountain hills, blending with the smoke of burning leaves. In the far distance, the sea reveals itself. It could be that I’m mistaking the flat horizon for water, seeing a ship where there is only a mountain peak — but I doubt it. Andalusia… I need to research it. After spending a year moving between Spain, Finland, and France, I still feel curious about where this next station has brought me. This stop feels special, I know that — and yet it is also just another knot in my rope of service. This place needs me most of all as a stabilizer. Between people who are awake but scattered, others lost or depressed, and the calm, grounded South American energies — I find myself becoming the calm, wise sister this time. 2025 has been a year of growth and letting go. Just two more weeks remain — then we hit the pavement running in January 2026. Amid thre...