Three weeks in Europe and no tourist days. On the cruise we had been ill. In Milan we were going to screenings and meetings and parties, but in Amsterdam we were on our own. No tour, no plans, we just rode the train to old Amsterdam and started moving about. There were very few tourists. It was like all the Americans had left the continent. It was just the 'real' Europe and us. It was just the people who lived here on this clear and cold Monday. They are the ones who live along these canals. They rarely stop on bridges to appreciate the history, the human achievement, or even the view. They don't stop to appreciate it because they live it, they are it, they are keeping it alive. We found out later, this was Amsterdam's diamond district, an historically prosperous area hard hit by Nazi's seeking to remove Jews in WWII. Many assassinations, had taken place. Many historic films had been shot. Fortunes had been made. Fortunes had been lost. It is a place for artists and free thinkers. Many creative endeavors had begun here. We were just another brush stroke in an impressionist painting that reeked of love and tragedy, movie stars and presidents, kings and billionaires. It is humbling and overwhelming. We were in the creative crucipel. On previous trips we had been on someone else's schedule, but this time, our own private Europe had been an open door. Yes we made some mistakes, we ate some things we should have avoided, we even got ripped off a few times, but we did Europe on our terms. And Europe made us feel welcome. As we walked through Amsterdam’s 17th century golden age, I thought about the last three weeks and all we had seen in Europe. I caught a glimpse of a deeper meaning of this rather expensive, sometimes difficult journey. It is like our own potential. Sometimes we think we should be achieving more than we are and we may try to fill the void between our goals and our achievements by spinning even faster. Maybe that void should be honored for what it is. It is like breathing room where basic threads of consciousness can be woven into the tapestry of human accomplishment. It is where the material world is expressed as revelation. An understanding that can hold the most difficult polarities is alive and well. And while some of these basic threads doubt their own value, this tapestry of grace is woven anyway. A tapestry that covers all unworthyness.