The Feel Good Way

It is raining cats and dogs. Painters are repairing water damage coming from the floor above and half of my flat -including my office- has changed into a wharf. The other half is occupied by my husband who is constantly on the speaker-phone with people far off. I grab my stuff and leave.

The doorman is already laughing as soon as he spots me. I know exactly what’s coming, so I cut him off with a grin: “Why do Argentines act like they’ll melt in the rain and vanish down the nearest drain?” He shakes his head, still confused as ever, and asks why on earth I’d go out in this weather. I tell him, in Belgium, if we waited for dry skies, we’d all die of hunger. Here in Argentina, the unspoken rule is: if it rains, it’s canceled. Unless—miracle of miracles—it says “event will not be canceled due to rain” in bold and underlined. Oddly enough, that silly little back-and-forth with the doorman actually put me in a better mood.

I pop open my umbrella and head out. Large puddles have formed along the sidewalks. I think about how kids love to jump into them without hesitation. I don’t take it that far, but with my rain boots on, I walk straight through without a second thought. There’s something oddly satisfying about it—simple, quiet fun. Another delight. The streets are nearly deserted; only those with no choice are out here. Everything feels heavy and damp, the sky low and gray, as if the weather itself is in a bad mood.

I walk into a coffee shop and pick a table by the window, overlooking the rainy crossroads. It’s been a while since I worked from a café—these days, my new job mostly keeps me in the office. I had forgotten what this feels like.

I’m on a date with myself—something I began doing many years ago, after reading The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. The idea is simple: set aside time just for you. Head to a park, a cozy café, anywhere you can be alone with your thoughts. In the rush of daily life, we rarely pause to check in with ourselves. These quiet moments create space to slow down, to listen—not just to our minds, but to our hearts too.

For me, it’s always been the coffee shop. There’s something about being there that unlocks my creativity—ideas just pour out of me, through my pen, and onto the pages of my BuJo. It’s where my thoughts find structure, where my mind clears and I can finally hear what my heart has to say.

I always thought it weird, until I got to know Human Design.

It turns out I have a triple split definition, only 10% of the population have this definition. In Human Design terms, that means the defined centers in my bodygraph are divided into three separate groups. A bit technical, yes—but what it really means in practice is this: I need to be around other people to feel more complete and gain clarity. I don’t need to interact with them; just being in their aura is enough. Our energy fields naturally mix, and even without realizing it, we sense and absorb the energy of those around us.

So I sit in that coffeeshop, drinking my coffee, and let my pen do the rest. I need to do this more often. I need to make this date a weekly activity. Let’s work on that and put it onto my to do list!

Image is AI generated