October. My hands hurt from the cold when I don’t keep them in my pocket. I went on a walk down by the water, and it was so windy that my eyes teared up completely. On the way home I stopped by the supermarket. People looked at me weirdly as I bought milk and bread. I think I looked a bit crazy, windswept, hair messy from the wind and eyes like I’d been crying.
I haven’t caught up completely with the cold, and neither has nature. The moss down by the water was summer green. Most of the leaves as well. I took photos, because there’s something about it that I like so much. The sun, the water that starts without a border. There’s no beach, no rocks or sand. It almost looks like forest, and then just ocean in it. When it’s windy the waves rise and wash over the moss. I want to live in that little place.
Anyway. Blue autumn skies. October is cold, and sad, and bright.
We’re having fun, aren’t we, you and me? I read something about laughing with you when we get to heaven, us telling you our story, and you telling back the things we’ve missed. And isn’t that crazy, you’ll hear about it then, and you’re already here now. There really is no fear. What could go wrong? What power do I have to mess things up? I’m here for such a short time. Soon I’ll talk to you about memories from this earth. I’ve enjoyed walking here, so much. I’ll keep enjoying it. The flowers, the people, the cities. You’ve done a great job, I love it all. The waterfalls and the street markets. The sorrow and the late night laughter. What a nice world you’ve made. Short, like a good night story. Long, like meadows and growing old.
She has a house in the south of Sweden, and she lives in her own basement. Then she rents out the upper floors. She gets up at 3.45 every morning to be on time for her job at a restaurant. Right now she’s thinking about buying another house, to renovate and rent out. She’s a crazy person, really, in the best of ways. And actually the most hard working person I’ve ever met. Here are some photos of her fixing up her extra bike for me to use when I was visiting.
We met when we both lived in America, even though Linda is German. And then she moved here, to Sweden, a few years ago. She’s fluent in Swedish now, but we still speak English to each other out of habit. She has a dream about having a red house here, where she can rent out rooms and have a cafe and give people a place to feel at home. She had that vision and heard there was a lot of red houses in Sweden, so she decided to come here. She learned Swedish by being an au pair. Then she learned the hotel industry by going to Portugal for a bit and working at a hotel there. She went to Switzerland to do a school of baking. And she’s worked at a hotel restaurant here in the south of Sweden. She is a practical person like that, even with the big vision. She’s diligently collecting skills, putting the pieces together. And she’s already doing the things she wants to, by renting out the house she owns now and welcoming people there. It’s not the red house, yet, but she’s stepping into the things she’s dreaming about, bit by bit.
I went to visit Linda this summer, when I needed a place to rest. Disconnect from reality a bit. Her house is just by the train station in a small village, and I arrived while she was at work. Right inside the door there were a pair of slippers waiting. There was a post it note on them, saying that I should not get my feet cold. And then there were more post it notes. One note on the cupboard with a note guiding me to where there’s bowls and cutlery. Another on the fridge telling me to take food and ice cream. Other ones saying I can use the Wi-Fi, and the Netflix password, and that I should take a warm bath.
I kept all the post it notes. Took them off the fridge and wall and cupboards. They’re in my notebook now, bright yellow reminders.
I’m not naturally a very giving person, I think. I’m a bit better at loving through words and conversation. But even the parts we’re good at, we still need to practice, or at least be reminded of using. And we also learn love, from the people we surround ourselves with. It’s a lucky thing, a spoiled thing, that I get to spend time with people I learn from. I take and take. It makes me restless, almost. But I also learn. Hopefully absorb to give, or become.
We spent maybe most of our time painting the ceiling in her attic. White, a thin layer, so the pattern of the wood underneath could be seen through. And then we took breaks to put frozen pizza in the oven and eat it while watching The Office.
We went to the beach less than we had planned. It was a cold July. Humid, sometimes raining. But we did still go. And I went by myself a couple of times, after she’d gone to bed, just taking my own walks.
It’s so different what you need in different seasons. And this was a good trip, giving me exactly what I needed then. Love, pizza, something practical to do, and the sea.
The problem when you have too much is that they’ll think it’s you.
They’ll see what you do, and they’ll think it’s you.
They’ll think it’s you, solving all your problems, and working your life together for good. Sometimes you need to be weak, to show where your power comes from.
Like in the bible, when God told Gideon that He would be with His people, and they would defeat their enemies. But instead of strengthening their army, God said that the army was too big. In the book of Judges, ch 6:
2 The Lord said to Gideon, “You have too many men. I cannot deliver Midian into their hands, or Israel would boast against me, saying ‘My own strength has saved me.’
The journey is to become weak. And it’s the absolute freedom of the gospel: to not have to be anything in ourselves. Take it as a gift, not an insult. Sometimes you think you need to be more, when actually you need to be less. We need more cracks in our jars made of clay, so that it’s the light shining through us that’s visible — not the outward glaze.
It’s been a summer of rain here in Sweden. It’s been flooding basements and causing roads to collapse. I guess it’s better than the south of Europe, where it’s been all fire instead. But when I came back to Stockholm and wanted to hike, the path was underwater.
At my parents place, taking summer walks.
Anyways. This post is supposed to be an update. And not just about the weather. I wanted to start writing on here again, so I thought I should start by sharing some of what I’ve been up to. I have gotten a degree since last posting, so I’m a journalist now. I guess. I’ve lived in Stockholm for about three years. I’ve gone through a break up, and I’ve spent the summer visiting people I like.
And now it’s fall. Autumn arrived yesterday, that’s how I wrote it in my notes. Dark skies. More rain. I woke up in an apartment I share with some friends and was confused. I knew I was in a familiar bed, but I couldn’t figure out where.
It’s the smell of this place. It reminds me of things, but not just of things that have happened here. This building also smells the same as the church where I grew up. And like old youth camps. So I wake up in the mornings with nostalgia, but I don’t know for what. I feel like my childhood friends should be sleeping on air mattresses next to me. I feel like my ex should be right outside the door. I feel like I’m 12 years old at Sunday school. It’s all blurry.
That’s my update. I’m a bit blue, but also excited for new cities, or old, wherever I’ll end up going. I have a lot of space to do whatever I want and go wherever I want. Horrible, really. I’m not a big fan of all these choices. The only thing I’d hate more would be to not have the choices. Anyways: I should start writing more, for the practice of it. So welcome back to this page. Let’s see where the season takes us.
The good thing about having most of your lectures over zoom is that you can upgrade from sketching in the margins of your notebooks, to spreading out brushes, paints and papers over the whole kitchen table. Watercolors are perfect for this, because they work best in layers; but I usually get too impatient and mess everything up. Having my attention divided helps me slow down a bit, and suddenly I’ve just made something. Here’s a few things I made during my lecture about.. something.
Today I had coffee with a girl in my journalism course here in Stockholm. I told her that I don’t know if I have the energy to build new social circles again. But even just saying that to her was a starting to build; a good day’s work.
Around New Years I try to live, and I succeed exponentially as the sun gets brighter and gives more heat.
Then I collect myself. About this time each year.
Some pieces have ended up folded over folding chairs, next to drying bikinis and worn, unread books.
I feel like I’ve left limbs: the excited wave of a hand, my feet over worn down stones, my heart over again, to shore after shore, meeting after meeting.
The confetti glitters
until it’s caught by the gravity of fall, and it sinks back down to me, all out of order and organization.
I need to make everything big enough to fit inside me again.
The clean up happens when the evenings turn dark. This is the inwards speaking, writing down, painting, time of making this experience make sense.
eirians 