Every morning I sit in the chair facing east. You can’t really see the sunrise because of all of the trees but I enjoy to watch the subtle changes in the colours and in the sky.
Every morning a flock of great tits (I can´t believe their called that in english, is this true? is google translate mocking me?)… I’ll begin that sentence anew. Every morning a flock of great tits come to my east window to quarrel (I can’t take this seriously. I can’t write about what the great tits do every morning) and eat the nuts.
Every morning I sit in the window facing east. It’s a ritual of sorts. Then I check my mail while the cabin slowly heats and the child watch a movie or snuggle with his dad. There’s a lot of reasons why I’m online and I’m not entirely totally ok with my use of the internet in general but that’s that. Sometimes I’m a viking warrior participating in some kind of rebellion. Sometimes I’m a broken postmodern woman desperately trying to avoid… real life.
The great tits are gone now.
To summarise: First part of the yule calendar was about giving/receiving, buying/selling and the concept of gift. This part of the yule calendar is about community. I’m not entirely totally ok with the concept of community. That’s why we don’t live in a village or in a closer knit community, this is why we live alone in the woods.
On one hand I fall to my knees in respect and admiration of human connectedness when I think of community, human hope, all of the best in us… on the other hand I have serious issues which my post yesterday may have reflected a tiny little bit.
What I have learned so far writing this yule calendar: I need to be better at separating things. What I do as a charity and what I do… expecting some kind of something in return. For instance writing this blog. Is this as a charity? Do I do it for my own sake? Is this a gift? Do I want your loyalty or love in return? What is it? I need to understand this better.
Regarding community: I won’t feel bad for being a lone rider, some people are, we shouldn’t all be the same. On the other hand: This lone rider is lonely. This lone rider can’t do everything alone.
Two things happened by email today while sitting by the east window looking at the subtle changes in colours, looking at the great tits and at observing the frost- and somehow these two things happening by email made so much sense. Kind of like poetic justice that they should happen. Today of all days.
A reader decided to give to me a lot of money. He says I have given him much. He says he´s happy to give to us money, this is only a just exchange he says, we have traded words and realisations, I guess I trade in that.
This is gift economy. There are all kinds of ups and downs regarding gift economy, there are all sorts of challenges and problems, do I owe him now? Is this a fair trade fair? But there is also… a very, very beautiful gift. In it’s own right.
I was worried about the money. Really worried.
There is gratitude and security, there is a sense of worth, that what I do matters.
Then another thing happened too.
I know a woman who lives further north. She’s a bit older and she has lived here much longer. Like us. Off grid, primitive, self-sustained and all that. She calls this “living on the edge” and she says then you live on the edge you get to explore the topic of dependency.
She’s also says that relationship-wise you need to have very clear agreements and always balance in the accounts (emotionally) even more so than when you live in a place where you can look away or distract yourself. Living like this means that you become each others world. For real. Really.
She’s says that there are two stories regarding us, the people who live like this. There’s the official story, the story we tell those who still live in all that which we left behind. And there’s the real story. She tells me to never stop telling the real story too.
And then we write about winter. How we fear winter. This fear is deeply installed. Winter is not here yet but I know it soon will be. I can smell it in the air. I fear it. I know how it will be. Winter will take it toll.
Beautiful and silent, oh, how I like it when the snow slowly falls, to calm me, to hide the ugly, such a slow beautiful snow. The snow is never the problem. The darkness is. The loneliness.
Winter is not just a season here where I live. Winter is a war. “We made it!” is the sentiment of spring.
Winter is such an existential fact. Such a great event. We made it! We made it!
Only we didn’t. Not just yet.
I tell her my worries. She tells me that I have done this before and that I´m not stupid. She writes with such eloquence. Such strength and clarity.
This woman means a lot to me. I can tell her things (by email because she’s weird like me and don’t particularly enjoy the company of others) that I don’t tell anyone else.
I think she’s a wise woman and I think everyone needs a wise woman in their life. Wise women are needed.
There are many ways to connect. Let’s not forget that.
So many ways – not just one.
That was what I had to say about community this morning.
Here’s a picture capturing exactly how I feel about community