There’s an insecurity in me that this blog heals. Heals, because I have to finish things here. I have to publish them. I have to be done. I have to decide on an ending and go with it.
I tend to use several words when I write, trying, searching, looking for whatever is the right one. There’s no right one. I’m just scared to settle on one. I want to avoid clarity, so I write everything as if I’m not looking at it.
Tag Archives: writing
The most important thing I’ve learned
You have to stop being disappointed in yourself.
I’m not talking about the conscious effort to deny the specific feeling. No, you have to stop actually disappointing yourself. And it’s not as difficult as you might think.
If you constantly try to clean more but never do, I’m not talking about stopping the disappointment you feel about your inability to do so. If you always say you’re gonna work out more but never actually follow through, I don’t care much about having more grace for yourself, although that might also be a thing.
What I’m talking about is to stop expecting certain things from yourself.
That might seem like a gloomy outlook to have for the rest of your life. But here’s the thing: I don’t know how many times I’ve thought “tomorrow I’m gonna get up early and be productive” and then failed to do so. Probably a hundred times. Several hundred. And that might seem stupid. It makes me feel stupid, that’s for sure. But what’s actually stupid is not that I’m constantly failing, but the fact that I keep thinking I’ll succeed.
Why do I do that to myself? When I know what works for me, why do I keep expecting myself to tomorrow be able to get up early and be super productive and happy and full of magical will power? Extending grace is good, truly, it’s unnecessary to feel shame over your inability. But if you want to take it one step further, you can also stop putting yourself in situations where you constantly need to dig yourself out of disappointment.
You’re allowed to be unable. I see it kind of like this: Have you ever played the sims? Sims 4 is my favorite, great game, you design your little character, and their house, and let them live their life. Or rather, you control their life.
If your sims character is unhappy, there are certain things you can do about it. You can put a nice painting on the wall, for example. When they walk past it a couple of green pluses will appear above their head, and their mood will rise (unless their character actually hates art or something like that, it is a little bit unpredictable). There are other actions you can take as well, but the point is that none of them is to tell your sim to be happy. There’s no command like that.
I like to think of my life a little bit the same way. As if I’m a video game character, that I have to put certain things around to affect a certain way. It’s like putting up walls to make a corridor, so the character will head towards the right things.
How do you build the corridor?
To make myself act productively in the morning, I need to leave the house. I need to work somewhere else, preferably a cafe. It’s nice if I meet someone there, but I’ve realized it’s actually not necessary. What I need is a specific bus or train to catch. I’ll probably get up as late as possible to still make it. But that’s okay. I’m not one for long, slow morning routines anyway. I usually can’t enjoy them even if I perform them. They’re aesthetically tempting, but I don’t like being in them. I just need to get out.
Now, gun to my head, could I get up early without that? Of course, I’m physically able to get up at any point. But I won’t. And what you can do in life really doesn’t matter half as much as what you will do.
When it comes to working out, apparently I need some kind of carrot. I skied a well know Swedish skiing race last year, and suddenly found myself training like never before. I continued, but only because I want to improve my time this year. I always thought that was toxic, to measure pace when you run or move. But I’m a competitive person. I love the measuring, apparently.
When you feel the heavy weight of something that you could, and probably should do, it’s good to ask yourself, but will I? And if you actually know you won’t, either accept that you’re not going to. And that’s fine. Or mercifully design the world around you to make sure you will. Whether that’s by seeking accountability or lowering the difficulty level or preparing and rewarding better. Find a way around the obstacle rather than constantly thinking your tomorrow self will have the will power to jump over it.
You don’t always have to grow and change. This is not about things that are inherently, morally wrong, but it’s about things that you can accept, and then adapt to instead of trying to prove some point, to no one. It’s like alcoholism, you don’t always reach a point where you can go back to something. These kinds of boundaries are not support for the weak, that should be taken away as quickly as possible, but part of what it is to build a life. And it is character, as much as willpower is, to see yourself clearly.
Poem!
I recently got a poem published. Is that not a bit crazy?? I was really excited about it for a short while, and then I forgot about it. And isn’t that more crazy? Why can’t we stay in the celebration, or in the contentment of things happening? So here, I’m gonna be excited about it again. It’s a poem that I actually wrote years ago, but then I stumbled across Ekstasis Magazine online, and felt like the poem would be a perfect fit. So, I sent it in, and got an answer that they wanted to publish it within a few hours. It suddenly just had its space.
If you want to, you can read the whole thing by clicking the screenshot below!
What summer is like
I was running today and I was listening to music and I almost didn’t hear the sound of water running along the side of the road, ringing like bells as it swept across the rocks. And I felt bad for not really listening to it. The sun was almost setting and the grass on the side of the road was golden. The trees in the forest were turning blue from the shadow of dusk.
It was summer and I should enjoy it more, instead of just running past it, instead of listening to music in my headphones. But then I stopped feeling bad and enjoyed the music. And I enjoyed the sound of the water in the background as well, and the sight of the trees. When you feel bad for not enjoying something enough you are actually enjoying it. You are just stuck in guilt at the same time. To fully enjoy it you can do exactly what you’re already doing.
The shame of having to try
Why are we ashamed of effort? Or is this just me?
I was watching a video where this girl talks about preparing for a preaching. She was going to talk for about 35 minutes at a conference, and she prepared for it a whole year. First just by keeping it in the back of her mind, but later by starting the actual, practical preparation. She felt like she was supposed to talk about the Bible, which is kind of a big topic. So she spent hours researching, looking at different overviews and thinking about ways to put the whole story into her short teaching. She got up extra early, stayed up extra late, and fell asleep while reading. She preached the story for friends and family to get feedback before landing in the final product, the best way to express what she wanted to say.
And all I could think was: That’s a bit embarrassing. I wonder if the other speakers put in that much effort. And if I did that, I wonder if I would tell everyone I did, or if I’d say ”Ahh I just threw it together, it wasn’t that much work.”
It’s a bit of a subconscious thought pattern, but I was wondering why those thoughts do come up. Why do I feel some kind of second hand embarrassment over someone putting effort into something?
If I give someone a gift, I always act as if it’s not a big deal. As if it’s just a second hand thought. To make sure they don’t feel bad. But why, is that not just a bit rude?
And when doing things, I think my brain naturally plans according to me putting the least effort possible into something. “How quickly could I get this done?” I think it’s leftover thoughts from school, back when I needed to schedule homework and study for tests. “Okay, if I write that in three days, spend a week studying for that, and plan for that presentation the night before, I’ll have time for everything”. But it’s become a bad habit. And the problem is that when I’ve started to think like that, it’s difficult to put in more time than what I’ve calculated for something. If I have a task due in a month and know I could do it in three days, it’s not like I’m gonna do it right now.
It’s practical, to be able to evaluate approximately how much time something will take. But I was thinking, when listening to that woman talk about her preaching, that I should also spend a lot more time on things. When I can at least, and I usually can. And I should care more, or rather admit that I care. Always, so much. There are journalists who follow stories for years, painters who spend hours on the smallest little corner of a painting, people who spend weeks preparing for a dinner party that then passes and turns into a memory. I love that.
So, my thought for this new year (kind of new year, I’m not accepting that it’s almost February already) is this: Let’s care more. Let’s put months of preparation into small artworks, or speeches, or moments. Let’s be overly attentive, overly loving, more than trustworthy. Instead of thinking, how can I get this done in the fastest way possible, think: how can I get it done the slowest? What would that look like?
It doesn’t look cold, just golden.
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.
Tuesday morning prayer
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.
Sunday thoughts (12)
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.
The rainy summer of 2023
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.
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.
And I wrote a blog post, a long time ago, about how sometimes it feels like you’ve already left a place even if you’re still there. And that’s.. that’s it. I have that feeling often, like I’m long gone. And now it’s showed up in my life again. I’m a little bit late, always a little bit late, in leaving.
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.
Thoughts from yesterday
You learn more from the sky if you study it as a poet than as a scientist.
(That’s a sentence that just kind of “sound good”, but I mean it very seriously. I chose an extra astronomy class in school as if it would bring me deeper into the mystery of open space, but most of the lectures were spent memorizing complicated mathematical formulas that described the distance between stars, and I got answers in amount of light years, but it wasn’t really what I was searching for.
I was thinking about it lately, because I was looking through the Narnia books and read this:
“In our world a star is just a big ball of flaming gas.”
“Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is, but only what it is made of.”
And I was thinking that stars can feel so non-romantic when we’ve learned their chemichal/biological components. But on the other hand we know that people are mainly made out of simple H2O, and that doesn’t seem to take the magic out of us. We know that we’re more than what we’re made of. Maybe it’s the same with the things in nature that science seems to have taken the mystery out of.)
I guess because it’s what poetry does, it doesn’t try to erase the mystery, it tries to carry you deeper into it.
eirians 