A Material Christening

_"Well, the truth is out again: long live material things."_[^1]

A new dock cap, canvas backpack, and second-hand wool jacket, procured just hours earlier, were on parade last night as I met up in the city with a dear friend. As often is the case, we discussed both everything and nothing in equal measure over some Guinness and bokbier. Having other plans, we parted ways earlier than expected. I walked my friend to their next destination, and elected to enjoy a leisurely walk to a metro stop a bit further away. The frost is quickly setting upon us, here in Amsterdam, and I was in the mood to savor the brisk night, given my warmth from my newly-acquired jacket. Overcome with the spirit of the season, I decided to stop at the Kerstmarkt by Rembrandtplein.

Unsurprisingly, the currywurst I decided to enjoy was overpriced, in only the most fair way possible by these tourist-facing endeavours. No matter, I figured, 'tis the season to be grateful and generous with one's wallet, even if it is for kitschy food items. I stood alone observing the ice rink, drinking area, and reading the advertisements on the wall surrounding poor Rembrandt yearround.

Though I had all these new things, with plenty more to be acquired on the horizon, I was affronted with a lingering negativity. Amsterdam seemed to me, both now and in the past, to be a desperate city, attempting its best but knowing its best would not always be enough. What 'best' and 'enough' meant in this context, I was, and am, uncertain. It was nights like these, even with a Bible in my coat pocket, that gratitude seemed such a difficulty.

Though overflowing with love for the time given on this earth, love for the context of modernity seemed far from my grasp. The feeling persisted through the currywurst, the walk in light rain, and metro ride. As I imagined while scribbling my thoughts during that ride, the negativity lingered further, requiring a decent night's rest to shake it. Something I have not been able to manage in the past week or so.

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[^1]: A letter from Etty Hillesum, Westerbork transit camp, dated 8th August, 1943. This phrase is spun somewhat sarcastically, mevrouw Hillesum is lamenting the necessity of requesting more and more material things when writing to the cities from the camp. Though she clearly wishes it were not the case, it is an unavoidable human reality that our material things count for more than we can credit them.