Choosing Art | Share Your Work 2025 07 28

A very long time ago, I became single. I was excited about the choice but also expected it would end up biting me in the ass. I expected a price to be paid.

And I was right;
Just not the price I anticipated.

Because couples can share burdens, decrease risks and pool resources.
One example is how medical treatment often requires someone to drive you and also to be the first line of emotional support as well as the first caregiver.
If you are single you seriously need to rethink your strategy here, since every medical visit means you have to rely on your social network, which can strain friendships and family bonds.

Being alone at gatherings or the existential idea of aging without next of kin, which were the abstract ideas I associated with being single, are not the first thing you should worry about.
It’s the day to day availability of someone who can step in and help you, either practically or just the soothing effect of having someone around.
My partner and me dropped on the couch every evening, with tea, cookies and cats. I have no memory of anything earth shattering or important happening there, yet it was so nourishing.

My old life dropping away took almost two decades.
And now I can truly say I am alone.
All the soft-landing support networks have become either less available, or there is a more narrowed down understanding of what we share.

So I am now the single I set out to be all those years ago.
Including the price I pay for that.
Yet I do not regret any of it.
The choice to label myself as solitary, like a tiger, was life changing and liberating.
And this year, when the edges of consequence have become razor sharp, has been the most creative by far.

When I was still with my partner I had no creativity to speak of.
Something was missing but it wasn’t the new love life as a single, that would prove to change my world;
It was creating.

The biggest thrill of being single is to have art at the center of your life.

Art is The One.


~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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No fear of flying | Share Your Work 2025 06 30

I didn’t go to Brad Pitt’s new movie F1 with the idea I was going to be transformed.
And maybe I wasn’t, but that it was something far more existential;
That I finally understood who I was.
And what my life was about.

Because when Brad Pitt’s character explains why he still drives, even though his F1 career stranded at an early stage – and it all went downhill from there – he knows crystal clear what he hopes to find every time he steps into a vehicle:
The feeling of flying.

As long as he has the occasional car to race, it does not matter that he is alone, has no job or financial security that we know of (he’s a hustler accepting only one-off deals) and is living from his van, which carries everything he owns in this world.
This man is on a chase for a feeling few of us will ever know, let alone comprehend.
And yet?
It was the first time I realized what I chase when I write.
And why I keep coming back to it, unswayed and relentless, and at any cost.

The feeling of flying.

I finally understand why I do not chase fame with my writing, under any of my accounts, any more than Brad Pitt’s character Sonny Hayes chases fame.
But that this does not mean that our passion is less fervent, or that our ambition has gotten soft around the edges.
Thanks to the movie F1, I now understand how much I want “it”!

Even when “it” does not come with anything impressive, but I now know:
– I live to write (like he lives to drive)
– I will do it to my dying day
– I will choose it even if it comes with extreme consequences

So now for the first time in my life, I have started rising early to write before breakfast.

When Sonny is told how dangerous it is to get back into the car again and race, he answers if he has to choose between life and driving, he will still choose driving a million times.
Driving is what he lives for.

None of us know how our story will end.

But some of us?
Are pushing mid-flight.


~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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I gave it all to her | Share Your Work 2025 06 16

Bears🐻, Lions🦁, Foxes🦊 and Cheetahs🐆

When I heard about the CIA model of four different roles for high-performance teams, I already had the blueprint of having three separate identities.
And initially I thought they matched up really nicely to the CIA model.

I had a Bear personality for socially demanding situations.
My choice of words clearly revealing this was not a role I considered my core identity.

And my Fox personality was the one able to solve highly complex problems.
She was the one who would be able to see opportunities, understand power dynamics, and be able to bend situations in her advantage.
Life was a game to her.

And then there was a third personality, who was there simply because that was who I had been since the past decade or so.

I have long suspected this third version of me to have come into being around 2012, with the rise of business coaching for women, on the internet.
But in hindsight, I think “she” was older, and was conceived (or split off) the moment I had started writing, which was in the 2000s/zeros.

Problem was I am in a career switch and didn’t see where she’d fit in.
But then I found the four different roles from the CIA, and suddenly saw what had happened!
Because this third personality?
Cheetah!

I’m still not a hundred percent sure where she (my inner Cheetah) originated from;
The writing or the new wave of female entrepreneurs?
But what was clear, was that I had not experienced that type of energy prior to that.

And the moment I did, I was hooked.
It was irresistible to move at her speed!

And now I finally knew who she was!
Or what: A Cheetah.

And I made a radical and of course very fast choice 😁
I gave it ALL to her.

All the work hours, I will ever have, and for the rest of my entire life;
HERS.

No more analysis.
No more contemplation.
No more strategies that take months or years to unfold.

She has 90 minutes.
But if there’s only 90s seconds?
She’ll take it.


~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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our (phone) consciousness | Share Your Work 2025 05 12

Last weekend I had the unpleasant, expensive and time-consuming pleasure of needing to replace my phone and using the service of a store where I bought a new phone, to transfer all phone related data.

When I went back in on Sunday, to finish the process of transferring the data between the two phones, I had decided to transfer the photos myself, so that’s still going on as I am typing this.

But all in all the whole process still took two shops, two days, and several hours when my phone, or phones, were handled by other people.

And having my data going through other people’s wifis, cables and close to other people’s computers while being completely unlocked, brought up quite the assortment of unpleasant feelings with regard to privacy and online vulnerability.

That I am “beyond” the point where I trust other people with my phone or computer.
I assume thinking about cranking up the safety versus convenience and versus the risk of losing access to your own vaults, will be a lifelong assignment.
And not one with easy answers.

But it did get me thinking why I believe my anxiety was more than just a knee jerk response to someone touching my phone.
And that reason is consciousness.

Because in yoga, the aim is to bring the consciousness into the body. The ultimate goal is that consciousness and body are one.
To experience body and consciousness as One.

Now this has never been easy but since 2013-ish, our consciousness is not just consumed by worldly affairs or external factors in general;
But our consciousness is being hacked and drained by algorithms harvesting data and then feeding what we like back to us.
And through our phones in particular!

Our phones are where our lifeforce, our consciousness, is being taken from us.
Because we are trained to GIVE our consciousness to it.

Instead of our body and our consciousness becoming one, and reaching enlightenment, what we experience is the opposite.

My mind and my phone have become One.
And I don’t want that.


~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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not the face of evil | Share Your Work 2025 05 05

I will save you the details of my motivation to start a new career
– although they would no doubt be relevant to the story – and instead just cut to the probably juiciest and definitely the darkest part of it so far.

I say “so far” because we cannot predict the future, right?
But I’m pretty sure I passed the test, and that the light inside of me will never go out the way it had just few months ago.
Regardless of what will happen.

So what was this dark moment?
It was when I had chosen a path that was solely aimed at worldly success, in (almost) every way.
Not counting my peace of mind and the eternal damnation of my soul, but I’m no expert on the latter.
I have no idea how strikt the access code to the afterlife is, nowadays.

But it definitely included status and admiration within one or two years, and I would be building towards having a state of the art financial portfolio around my retirement, preferably sooner.

There was a catch though:
I would probably make a significant contribution to destroying the world, both in terms of the human & earth resources globalized capitalism draws upon, as well as literally because my work would probably end up being used for military technology.

But I decided that it was about time I grew up and started to play with the big boys.
Innocence and a clear conscience were luxuries an adult could not rely on.

So the decision was already made when a workgroup to help amphibians cross the street, was installed in the city where I live.

This spring, for the first time ever, a road that had hundreds of dead toads and frogs on it every spring, is clean.
There are very few casualties this year, 99.9% was saved.

And I couldn’t go on with my plans to casually destroy the world.
Not with 40 adults saving toads so nearby.

Two days ago, a hedgehog was in the house where I feed them. For 2.5 years I have not missed a day, in feeding them.
But I rarely see one.

This was the biggest hedgehog I had ever seen in my life.
Well fed.

.
~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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breaking through boundaries | Share Your Art 2025 05 01

As a child, I remember the exhilaration of deciding I would start digging deep into our backyard sandbox.

It was located under the kitchen window, surrounded by a string of wood logs that separated the yellow sand sanctuary from the rest of the cottage garden, which my father had paved with old cobbler stones.
Just like he had made us the sandbox.

He had even created a solid but smooth rectangle-shaped log, like a kitchen counter.
While our mother was cooking, we were making sand cakes under her window.

Then one day, and I still remember the excitement of this, I decided to start digging down into the sandbox, with my little plastic digger, and NOT STOP!
And I have no idea what I hoped to find but I do remember being so curious.
I couldn’t believe I had not thought of doing this earlier.
But now I was on it!

Fiercely, I started digging.

Only to find out that at about half a meter, there were tiles.
I could not go any deeper and was heavily disappointed.

Never again did an exploration end in facing boundaries this impermeable.
But what I have discovered was even more shocking.

We are not just surrounded by invisible boundaries;
We as a society are our own henchmen in enforcing them.
And I’m talking about boundaries that date back to ancient Greece and Rome.

The philosophy of materialism, which would later evolve into capitalism.

In the real world we will always find a carefully, and not seldom lovingly, constructed barrier, designed to keep the world, such as dirty and possibly contaminated sand, out.

But inadvertently keeping you in just as you were about to have your breakthrough.

Our obsession with possessions means that when people talk about freedom, they mean financial freedom.
Then freedom of time.
Maybe body, although people who protect their physical sovereignty are extremely rare.

But if we’re not free in our minds we will never have freedom.

Our mind has become the floor of tiles at half a meter depth.
Impermeable.
And keeping us in.

.
~Suzanne Beenackers
Catacombe
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