Recently, I read the book Gewoon speciaal – kijken vanuit kindperspectief (‘Simply Special – looking from the child perspective’) by Bart Heeling, published as a hardcover and illustrated with drawings by Mariët van der Merwe. What started as stories on LinkedIn has become an easy-to-read and at the same time very wise book.
On his website we read: “It is my mission to give parents, teachers, directors, administrators (actually everyone involved in the development of children) insight into the function of behaviour. In doing so, I like to create awareness of how you yourself react to that behaviour.” You can read more about Bart’s work on his website and through that route, you can contact him for a lecture, workshop or training.

As a teacher in special education, Bart uses a very important and valuable principle: “These are children with a intense past or a sad present. (…) I have children in my class who are having a difficult time, instead of being difficult.”
That is a wonderful starting point and at the same time a challenge when it comes to interpreting and dealing with that behaviour. When we feel that other people are ‘being difficult’, it often says something about what we ourselves *find difficult*. What is it that the other person is showing that we find difficult to translate into the underlying meaning? What is triggered in ourselves by that behaviour? What pain, what unexpressed, unprocessed emotion is touched by it? Can we grow beyond that or, put differently… can we recognise our own inner child in the patterns of the child before us and can we see what was once difficult for ourselves, possibly see mirrored now?

Bart advocates looking from the child’s perspective and the book is a collection of short stories about his experiences with pupils, with which he illustrates aspects of the role of adults.
The chapters are divided by theme, such as ‘Our exemplary behaviour and feedback’, ‘Recognising the child’, ‘Recognising signal behaviour’ and ‘Dealing with disorders’, to name the themes of the first four chapters. Themes such as trauma-sensitive teaching, rethinking education and the connection between parents and school are also discussed.

Throughout, attention is paid to the influence of a disrupted stress regulation system, to the importance of coregulation, and to trauma as the source of difficult-to-manage behaviour or behaviour that is disruptive to the rest of the group. I was repeatedly moved to read how Bart tackles all kinds of situations and always keeps the underlying wound of the child in mind. For example, in the introduction to Chapter 6 he says that ‘it remains important to realise that much behaviour is a form of coping’ (page 89), or a survival strategy that a child has learned.

With it, the child can deal with what happens at home and what continues in other social environments. This is followed by a number of stories about how children themselves resolve arguments, based on intrinsic motivation, and about how an adult can use humour and an unexpected, funny reaction to take the sting out of a loaded situation.

Chapter 7, Trauma-sensitive teaching, is, in my opinion, the core of the book, because this is a theme that is essentially the foundation of all other subjects. The first book I read during my bachelor’s degree for ‘Cultural Anthropology & Development Sociology’, was entitled Small Places, Large Issues – a title that aims to make it clear that discussing what happens in a small place, in a small setting, is very often illustrative of very large subjects. This is also the case in Bart Heeling’s book. The stories show a world of children’s experiences. In the way Bart takes his role in these micro-interactions, it becomes clear how much he has an eye and heart for the big themes that lie behind the comments, behaviors and facial expressions of the children in his care. These themes create stress that does not always find a convenient way out; anger from nearby adults certainly does not lead to a newfound sense of security. In my opinion, his answers to what happens show his deep awareness and his constant striving to be the rock in the surf for the child, the regulated adult. What a relief that is for a child who grows up with unrest and chaos, sadness and loneliness, and what an inspiration Bart offers for everyone who fulfills a task in the lives of young children.

In his book, Bart takes a clear position on certain principles:

• Anger should be left behind at all times.
• When you are angry, children do not learn to know their own boundaries, but yours.
• Resistance is an expression of the need for control, which is necessary for survival.
• Positive experiences feed the child’s confidence in you and themselves.
• Recognition and reframing of a strong reaction to a stimulus helps a child to put things into perspective and relax.

This is a small selection of the statements that are peppered throughout the book and which are essentially all a call to the adult to examine their own framework of beliefs. I suppose there is a real chance that this exercise will lead many adults to conclude that they themselves are also ‘simply special’ and have their own dragons and demons to fight. A well-regulated, stable (other) adult is probably helpful for them too. May a book like this contribute to us all using the opportunities that exist to be a source of emotional support for others, big or small. In doing so, we contribute on a very essential level and in a gentle, powerful, compassionate way to the social well-being for which the foundation is laid in childhood, every (school) day again!

What do we know about our ancestors? What do we really know about even our parents? Do we know what they went through during the early stages of their own lives? What emotions and inner beliefs played the leading role in how they met? What did they see in each other that led to our conception? Can we ‘attune’ to them, even if they are gone?

In many cases we know very little. We have an idea of ​​it, but we do not really know. We usually base our ideas about our parents on our experiences with them, on how they interacted with us and others, and on how they organised their lives. And even (or especially!) if we think: “I’m going to do that differently, because this approach doesn’t seem the best to me” or “I’m going to do that differently, because I’m furious about all the pain their approach has caused me”… precisely then there is a good chance that we will repeat patterns. With everything we recognise, or ignore and push away, we often forget that the experiences of our parents and other ancestors are stored in our cells and that whether we believe it or not, we are influenced by those experiences. These are tough, big, sometimes difficult to imagine realities that deserve careful discussion so that we gain more insight into how this works and how we can deal with it.

That is exactly what the book ‘Attuned’ does. Author Thomas Hübl is, in addition to being a writer, also a spiritual teacher and international facilitator of events where he focuses on intergenerational trauma healing and dialogue around oppression, colonialism and racism. He draws on the traditions of modern science, philosophy, theology and indigenous wisdom and rituals. This is a book that requires some prior knowledge for a good understanding, because it is sometimes complicated reading. At the same time, it reads almost like poetry and the meaning of what he writes is moving, comforting and enriching.
The basic premise is that everything and everyone is interconnected and that damaging practices in one place has energetic effects on all other places and organisms in the world:

The nervous system connects us to a complete record, a vast inner library containing all of one’s experiences across a lifetime. In fact, the human nervous system connects us to one another. Through transparent communication practices, we will learn to employ this evolutionary tool for deeper relational intelligence (p. 25, author’s italics).

That is a comprehensive idea. That idea also entails a comprehensive responsibility, because then you can no longer separate the damage you create over there from the situation over here, the pain in others from the pain in yourself – and the healing of the world from the healing you are willing to initiate within yourself.

Each of us has a chance to take part in this vital work, to bring our share of light and healing coherence to a struggling world. (…) By upholding our sacred responsibility to integrate trauma, we, in effect, remove our shares from the collective trauma field, lessoning the overall burden of suffering for others. This is not merely something some of us should do; it is work that all of us who are conscious and capable must do (p. 197, author’s italics).

As in many approaches to healing, Thomas’s work also has a strong emphasis on the importance of ‘embodiment’, awareness around personal experiences of sadness and pain and loneliness. You cannot ‘analyse’ the pain away; healing requires ‘presence’ – being present with your full attention and allowing the pain that is stored in your own cells and in the cells of loved ones, ancestors, acquaintances and distant strangers to penetrate into every fibre of your body. If you do not do this, there will be consequences:

Simply choosing not to know, feel, or reckon with the truth of who we once were is a decision to keep the truth hidden in darkness. (…) [B]y refusing to awaken to the consequence of the ancestor’s choices, we both suffer and perpetuate them. (…) When we carry unacknowledged familial or historical traumas, our ancestors are not in peace. As a result, our living nervous systems – and, therefore, our minds and bodies – cannot maintain a healthy state of flow (p.170, 171).

The result is ultimately illness and social malaise, as Thomas describes in various places in the book. It is therefore important to be aware of your own experiences with grief and loss, so that you can compassionately be conscious with what the other person is going through. This is often called ‘empathy’, but empathy is an exciting topic and requires personal development and awareness. A long quote:

How do I protect myself from taking on other people’s “stuff”? People everywhere seem to be looking for an answer to this puzzling question. In contemporary vernacular, the word empath is often seen as someone who struggles with what we might call “leaky emotional syndrome,” the problem of experiencing other people’s energies and confusing them with their own or simply feeling overwhelmed by others’ emotions. Some people may, in fact, have a higher de-gree of sensitivity, and they may suffer in this way. However, it’s usually not high sensitivity but a lack of groundedness and embodiment that causes the overwhelm – often rooted in attachment injuries. Healing the root trauma creates a more stable sense of embodiment, which allows a person to experience their high sensitivity as a gift rather than a curse. We might think of it like a tree with a very large crown of branches; it needs equally strong roots to stand (p. 91, author’s italics).

The book is an impressive combination of knowledge about physical, mental and spiritual processes. Thomas thus shows in a holistic manner how all these aspects of human existence are related. He sees three fundamental human rights in this context, namely ‘the right of being, the right of becoming (the unfolding of potential), and the right of belonging (the right to build healthy relational bonds and to experience oneself as part of a community)’’ (p. 19). Without respect for these ‘fundamental expressions of the soul’ (p. 19), mutual bonds and social systems, including families and governments, will collapse, according to Thomas.
When we develop the skills associated with ‘relational intelligence’, an interpersonal dynamic is created that stimulates growth:

To heal the past and create greater coherence in the present – ​​and, therefore, more availability to the future – three steps are essential: reflection, digestion, and integration. (…) When this process is allowed to happen, especially in the context of a supportive environment, we often experience positive changes or posttraumatic growth (p. 125,126, author’s italics).

It sometimes feels like an impossible task, with everything going on in the world, to maintain the feeling that you can make a difference, but Thomas has a positive view on this:

Only a small number of us – a critical mass, if you will – is required to engage before a new level of collective coherence becomes established in sympathetic resonance, ringing like a tuning fork across the field, inviting the entire world to join (p. 190 ).

“But the problem is way too big!”, you may shout, “and it is not about me at all, because it is about the planet, ecological problems and climate change. These issues must be solved!” Attention is also being paid to this:

Gus Speth, the American environmental lawyer and former US senior advisor on climate change, has said, “I used to think that top environmental problems were biodiversity loss, eco-system collapse, and climate change. I thought that thirty years of good science could address these problems, I was wrong. The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed, and apa-thy, and to deal with these we need a cultural and spiritual transformation” Speth is right, of course, but it’s important to note that the selfishness, greed, and apathy he mentions are , in truth, only symptoms of the larger problem, which is our unaddressed collective shadow and unhealed collective trauma. It is our willingness to awaken to, experience, and transform these root causes that create the cultural and spiritual transformation Speth prescribes (p. 189, author’s italics).

This is a book where reading once is not enough; this is a treasure chest to which you can return regularly to absorb what is said even more thoroughly and to integrate its wisdom even more deeply. I underlined a lot of things and put lots of comments and emojis in the margins so I can easily find back the valuable passages. It was wonderful to go through the chapters together with colleagues from the ‘book club’ within my Compassionate Inquiry-community and to share with each other what the text evoked. I highly recommend such a review of ‘Attuned,’ as well as much of the other work by Thomas Hübl that can easily be found on the web. Every year he also hosts the online ‘Collective Trauma Summit’ – also a source of valuable insights.

Earlier this week I discussed the introductory chapters of ‘I swear allegiance – Being yourself in a uniform world’, written by Michiel van der Pols. If you’ve also listened to the podcast episode with him by now, you will have heard that we also discussed the cover of his book towards the end.

I was curious about the contents of the book, but initially sensed some hesitation in myself because of the somewhat nationalistic-looking cover. My husband decided in the early 1980s to refuse military service on grounds of conscientious objection and I wholeheartedly agreed. The whole concept of military aggression was something I did not like and swearing allegiance to an organisation (or uncritically following protocols that are scientifically outdated) has also been a very complicated concept for decades. The title, ‘I swear allegiance’, in red (‘I’), white (‘swear’) and blue (‘loyalty’) on the cover, supplemented on the top one-third with a Dutch flag under which a hand with two raised fingers can be seen against a dark gray background… I was not sure how I was supposed to interpret all those symbols. Strangely enough, due to the design the two raised fingers (ring finger, little finger and thumb folded in half) looked like a raised middle finger at a quick glance. Was I supposed to factor that suggestion into my interpretation and expectations…? I did not know. The subtitle, ‘Being yourself in a uniform world’, already gave a strong nuance to a few things and the description on the back also gave me the feeling that something special had been achieved with this book.

That is indeed my conclusion after reading: this book deserves wide attention, which is why I asked Michiel to be a guest in the ACE Aware NL podcast ‘Raising Resilience’. His vision is a passionate plea for a different social view of dealing with emotions. When leaders are aware of the impact of early childhood trauma and truly integrate the knowledge about the impact of suppressing emotions, their leadership style will change. Of course it is important that trauma sensitivity becomes part of the society-wide DNA and that children grow up without ACEs. However, when the insights become embedded in the culture of large, important organisations, there is at least more room for people to heal, especially when they were unable to develop the desired resilience in childhood. Particularly in the high-risk sector, where people do important and regularly also dangerous work to guarantee the peace, freedom and safety of others, it is important that the mental and emotional well-being of employees receives the care it deserves. This calls for attention to the culture in the organisations concerned, so that all kinds of dynamics take on a healthier character and resilience is supported.

However, organisations such as the military and the police have very old social roots, from which the hierarchical structures can be explained. That makes it quite an endeavour to bring about a paradigm shift. In Chapter 7 Michiel gives an overview of the history of the armed forces from the 15th century. The strict, hierarchical climate is often a barrier to empathy. The fear of making mistakes and being punished for them feeds a very toxic culture within this (and every other) organisation. Michiel experienced this firsthand: “It felt like things were always serious within the barracks. As if it was always war and that was why we had to treat each other this way. (…) Good behaviour is rewarded, bad behaviour is punished” (p.215), possibly with a reprimand, fine, service or curfew as a result and, if more serious, with disciplinary measures from the Military Criminal Law. Deviating from the uniformity in behaviour is quickly seen as difficult and threatening and often makes someone unreliable in the eyes of those ranked higher (p. 216). That clashes with how Michiel now looks at it, namely: “The more authentic and self-confident, the more reliable, as far as I am concerned” (p.326). According to Michiel, being in touch with your own emotions greatly improves your professionalism. This vision is revolutionary for organisations where the following of orders is often still prominently anchored in the system.

Michiel’s vision is based on insights he has acquired as a breakthrough coach. These are closely linked to insights from the trauma field, in which emotions and feelings are seen as the inner, guiding compass. They are signals from the body that tell you what to do. Michiel has summarised his insights in five red threads:

1. Motivations (about the motivation for career choice: from the head, not from the heart)
2. Identity (on the degree of identification with the professional role)
3. Feelings and emotions (about the difficulty in showing them and acknowledging your own needs)
4. PTSD (about PTSD as a drop in a bucket already almost overflowing due to childhood trauma)
5. Lack of sense of safety (about difficulty being completely yourself, both in childhood and now)

Chapters 3, 4, 5, and 6 are devoted to these aspects; a large number of stories from people in his coaching practice show how these themes played a role for them in their professional and private lives. The difficult sides of it meant that people got stuck on all kinds of fronts and ended up in a personal crisis. That those people were willing to appear in Michiel’s book by name and rank and share the story of their recovery process demonstrates the need and willingness to show vulnerability. In this way, others can also find courage to change the way they deal with emotions in their work. In the book and also in the podcast, Michiel says he sees himself as an interpreter of their message, which has many similarities with his own story.

It is nice to see that Michiel makes a link between leadership and parenting: “Raising children is almost the same as leadership. You role model life for your children and with your behaviour you are their mirror. To what extent are you able to see yourself as a parent and can you also see your child for who they really are? (…) The extent to which the parents are true to themselves is the mirror for the child to be true to themselves” (p.201). Mirrors… a beautiful and concise image! After all… the cultures in certain organisations and in societies as a whole (medium and large systems) are a reflection of the small systems in which we grow up in our family of origin. When we feel seen there and feel free and safe, we can contribute in a constructive, resilient way to any organisation or system.

As always, I also read Michiel’s book with a pencil in hand, so that I could make notes on beautiful passages and important phrases. There are so many of these underlinings that I cannot discuss all of them, as much as they are worth mentioning. In short: go read that book, dear people! Somewhere Michiel mentions the possibility that he has ‘flattened’ and simplified things too much, but that was certainly not my experience when reading. I read a wonderful story with specific nuances and many relevant case studies. The fact that Michiel is so open about his own deficit in knowledge and awareness at the beginning of his career gives the book a lot of persuasiveness to me. He asks questions that matter and makes statements that matter, such as this one on the last page, when he summarises what he believes is needed for a holistic approach to people’s life story and thus for a cultural change: “It takes courage to let go of old behaviours that no longer fit the times of today. (…) It requires the will to be true to ourselves above all” (p.328). Wow, what beautiful closing words – what a magnificent, almost spiritual inversion of the words on the cover!

Through a post on LinkedIN I became aware of the work of Michiel van der Pols, who, as a former marine, focuses on guiding people who get stuck in the high-risk sector. He does this in his role as a ‘breakthrough coach’, in which he works with people to find out where the behavioural patterns that are currently obstructive once originated. Over time he has discovered clear patterns in this and in his book  ‘Ik zweer trouw – Jezelf zijn in een uniforme wereld’ (‘I swear allegiance – Being yourself in a uniform world’), he explains in detail those patterns, which he calls ‘red threads’, in nine solid chapters. After a hesitant start, I was quite fascinated and quickly finished the 300-page book, published in the spring of 2023.

After the foreword by the commander of the Marine Corps, Michiel explains in five introductory pages what led him to write his book. In it he is immediately very open about how he had suppressed all kinds of emotions within himself for years, which eventually came out forcefully: “As a child I felt little room for my own opinion (…) I did not talk about my own problems (…) and in the Marine Corps I just continued this behavior” (p. 17,18). In the sessions he gives, such old family dynamics turn out to have a major influence on current beliefs and behaviour patterns for many people. These are often so deeply ingrained that it proves difficult to get rid of them, but “Growth within a comfort zone is only possible to a very limited extent” (p.21) and so change takes a lot of courage. The rest of the book is essentially about the underlying mechanisms and the steps needed for change. The book is rich in candid stories of people in the high-risk sector who, together with Michiel, have taken on the challenge of change and thus restored the emotional connection to themselves.

From page 27, Michiel explains the core of his ideas in eight pages. Children are born with basic needs and develop ways to get them met; the child “protects itself against what is experienced as unpleasant” (p.27). The closer the child can remain to their authentic core, the healthier and happier they will be. If the child becomes disconnected from itself and becomes alienated from that authenticity, then we speak of trauma. The more adjustments the child makes, the more compromises it makes, however subtle and invisible they may be to the outside world, the more the inner balance will be disturbed, with all possible long-term problems: “If you adapt yourself for a long time and are not true to what you need, the body will react to it. The imbalance will manifest itself in burnout, depression, addiction, PTSD, cheating or entering into unhealthy relationships” (p. 29,30). An adapted identity is created, as it were, which is confused with one’s own identity.

Relationships and work environments are selected in accordance with that adapted identity and the high-risk sector can then be attractive: it provides a strong identity and encourages adapted, (literally and figuratively) uniform behaviour. In other words, the culture in many high-risk organisations is such that people who have learned to adapt can apparently function well for a long time. The suppression of emotions in particular (needed to be able to do the demanding, often dangerous work) ultimately, however, very often leads to the emotional bucket filling up and overflowing.

In Chapter 1 Michiel tells his personal life story. He looks back on how he unconsciously learned to shut down and block his emotions at home, how he got used to doing everything alone and relying only on himself, how his role as a marine gave him something to hold on to and an opportunity to show that he mattered, how individualistic thinking was skilfully converted into collective thinking, and how he realised at one point that by taking the military oath he had promised obedience and submission to a system that could also punish him if he did not (properly) comply ( p.51). Many of his motivations were inauthentic; they were choices made from a sense of emptiness, where he gave up much of his authenticity in the quest for safety.

Due to various events, he became aware that he could show more of himself, because in doing so he also got to see more of the other person and could build much deeper connections with others (p.64). The meeting with his current wife, whom he recognised before he knew her, opened his heart completely and made it clear to him how much he had hidden himself for years. His attention shifted from focus on the judgment of the outside world to loving attention to his own inner world. He embarked on an intensive personal healing journey and this also gave rise to the courage to choose a different course professionally. That is how he became a breakthrough coach: his experiential expertise became the basis for guiding others who are looking to reconnect with their authentic selves.

Michiel felt a deep urge to shape his new profession as a coach in such a way that he remained true to himself: “In a no-nonsense and impactful way, I wanted to help others to break through their blocks on their emotional world and to face their fears of ‘just’ being themselves. (…) If I don’t do that myself, how can I help someone else?” (p.70).
The breakthrough he grants his interlocutors is that through the timelines he works with, they find their way back from thinking with the head, from analysing, rationalising, complicating and minimising what lives inside of them, to feeling with the heart, to tolerating, validating, accepting and integrating – the way we start our lives as babies. As a result, space can arise to grow towards true knowing from the source, towards realising and manifesting, towards sensitivity that, as humans, connects us with the divine.

The second part of this book review will follow later this week, in which I will discuss the ‘red threads’ that Michiel has found, in addition to a number of theoretical points that are discussed in the book. I also had a wonderful podcast conversation with him, which will be online in between these two blog parts. Keep an eye on the socials!

Earlier this week we shared Part 1 of this book review; today you read Part 2.

As mentioned, ‘Vadervuur’ (‘Father fire’) contains many essential questions, questions that require an open, self-reflective attitude and Jeroen therefore says: “Conscious and involved fatherhood is not for the faint-hearted” (p. 42). He points out that there is a difference between relaxing and escaping; there is also often a difference between what we want to be and think we are, and what we actually do (p. 47). This field of tension calls for regularly recurring moments of standing still, saying goodbye, leaving behind and mourning (p. 54). It also has common ground with the ACEs we may have endured as children. This can be a complicated theme, especially for men. Being tough, persevering, not complaining… these are qualities that are often still valued in men, even though they can get in the way of involved fatherhood. In this kind of reflection, ceremonies can be helpful, rituals that mark transitional moments. That is one of the reasons why Jeroen and Wendy so much love the sweat lodges they regularly organise (and of which I am a devoted visitor). Sweat lodges are a way to give very physical attention, time and space to what lives inside you. Ceremonies of any kind can help you stay emotionally in touch with what’s important to you and establish how you want to set boundaries so that you can safeguard and protect the “sacred space” (p. 59) of your true Self, your home, and your family. This creates a safety experience for everyone.

In this exciting and challenging parental adventure, you can therefore sometimes use some wise advice. The ‘elders’ (not the ‘elderly’ – not the old, but the mature, wise people) are of great importance in many cultures. In the western world we are not so familiar with this (anymore). There are actually two directions to that concept, and both require vulnerability. The younger father can learn from the older one, from everything that he has already lived through. And the reverse is also true: older fathers (and grandfathers) can also learn from the new insights that the younger fathers share. That is why Jeroen is happy that his groups are very diverse, as was also apparent during the theatre evening. Many ‘experienced’ fathers in Jeroen’s groups are willing to grow further in a new personal and social reality, with new knowledge and experience, with a little less ego. Even if your family is older, if your children have already left the house… then as a parent you still have an influence on your family culture and the ‘being a role model’ that Jeroen advocates at the beginning of his book remains of great influence and meaning: “Every master should be proud when his pupil surpasses him. This is how we move forward together” (p. 67).

What we take with us from those who came before us shows the way we were ‘marinated’ as children (p. 79): “The better you know the nest you come from, the finer the nest will be that you will build for your children” (p. 80). In one of the chapters in this section about parents, Jeroen states that they are usually deeply rooted and that mostly it will not be so easy to get them moving. He says that the chance of change is greatest if, as a father, you take action yourself and don’t wait for your parents to take steps. Although I agree that you can take steps yourself if your parents’ approach does not match your own vision of life, I would like to add some nuance to what those parents are (still) capable of. Unlike Jeroen, I am already a grandparent and that role also requires a reorientation. I have noticed that this is also a powerful motivation to get moving, to dig up the roots a bit and to investigate whether they can be encouraged to new growth with some unearthing. That can be very beneficial for the fresh lots on the tree (and regularly attending a sweat lodge is very helpful… 😉).

There is much more beautiful stuff to tell about ‘Vadervuur’, but I would say: go read it, that book; as a young father you will get a lot out of it, but as a mother too. The book gives air to breathe, is soft and friendly, has funny self-mockery and cheerful humour. The holistic approach is a relief. It encourages recognising and acknowledging one’s own emotions, those within yourself and those in your original and current family system. Have faith in yourself and in your child and remember: “Role-modelling is developing yourself with your children as external motivation” (p. 147). This also requires learning to say ‘sorry’ to your child, so that your relationship continues to feel safe and you do not abuse the unavoidable power that you have as a parent (p. 168). You will have boundaries, but so does your child and they mutually deserve to be respected. This stimulates your child’s authenticity.

At the same time, it is also nice if there is a certain limitlessness, a pure and sincere enthusiasm that is linked to eagerness and a feeling of abundance. Jeroen describes it as “happy, thank you, more please” (p. 223), a way to break free from the often so intrusive ‘scarcity thinking’ that is usually based on trauma. Thinking in terms of abundance, from authenticity, without a mask on, gives a different personal and family dynamic. That is not always easy, but that is why Jeroen ends the book with his motto: “We do it ourselves, but not alone” (p. 229), as an invitation to find each other and learn from each other. This is an important invitation, because the belief that we have to be ‘strong’ and that we have to do the hard things in life alone is one of the common trauma responses after a childhood with ACEs. Jeroen’s encouragement for openness, social connection and reaching out to your peers, your fellow fathers, is therefore an important message.

I really enjoyed ‘Vadervuur’ and one of these days the podcast with Jeroen will also be online. We spoke shortly after the book came out and had a wonderful conversation about all of these themes. You can find the podcast here .