I told you I don´t like thaw and I don´t.
However some phenomenons related to thaw captures me. The purple mist above the lake last night for instance, it made me think of fairy tales and hidden lands, ancient knowledge plus courage, one should have courage, one should always dare to enter the mist.
And the sunset came in waves.
It was like veils.
A spectacular evening. I spent a great deal of time staring. Staring is good. Especially when you have fish tank eyes.
Cabin fever is getting to him. For me it´s different. I´ve been in solitary confinement forever I guess I cope better, he wants to use his hands and his muscular strength, I just want to sit here. Stare. Into the mist or the abyss or whatever.
Winter is definitely a time for letting things sink in deep. Winter is definitely a time for regrouping, rethinking, regaining. Winter is motherly comfort and fatherly… something with stern (or the other way around).
It´s a most needed time of year, without it we would go insane, pushing forward, always, fighting. Winter is all about gut feeling… feeling it, listening to it (take your time, eat well)
He´s ready to move on now but I don´t think I am.
This sunday I turn 40. It affects me much more than anticipated.
I think about death a lot. I think “What do I leave behind, what have I accomplished, really and truly?”
The answer is as obvious as it is smothered in banality. What I leave behind, my legacy… it´s the kids.
Everything else have been nothing but small waves on a river that you can never step into twice, a dance of veils. It wont go down in history. It wont matter (on the other hand: who told us that everything should matter, all of the time, that everything should go down in history, be epic! I think this is most disturbing. But I feel it)
I get sad when I think about the time I have wasted, the things I gave my attention and time, my effort, my energy, my life. So much time I spent, pondering about details, trying to find a deeper meaning where there was none, I should have acted on my knowledge YEARS before I did.
Ambition is the worst part of it. Driven by ambition I have lost sight of my course countless times. Lowered myself. Sold myself cheap. Given in to insecurities, surrendered to envy. What a waste of life!
Searching high and low for the cool crowd, some way out of the solitary confinement only to realise, again and again, that the cool crowd does not exist. Sometimes I thought “Well, fuck that, I´m going to be the cool crowd then and if you want something done etcetera etcetera etcetera” other times I just gave up. I´ve given up more times than you can count, more times than I care to mention.
There is much loneliness connected to walking on the forest paths.
Which is why you need winter. You need to Stop! Stare! Realize! (Ice! Ice! Ice!)
We were walking up the car the other day, we had to go to town to gather some supplies. The track is solid and our sledge can carry much weight, it´s good, I felt accomplished.
We were talking about the past. He said something about the hardships we´ve gone through, he said ” You know that we get shit done, don´t you?” and I said “Yes”, then I said something about being stubborn and then we walked in silence for a long while, I was thinking about our miseries and hardship, how much we have gone through, really, you wouldn´t belive it, when I write about our life, the good and the bad, only 10% gets transferred through the letters and the sentences, this is something I struggle with, I want to be better (see poem below)
Walking through the dark woods, kid on sledge, husband towing, thinking about the shit we have gone through, almost 40 years of age…. well.
This is about the meaning of life.
The meaning of life actually matters. It does. Let´s not pretend that it´s ridiculous, funny- let´s throw away the ironic distance, it´s not like the 90ies where that great ANYWAY.
You want to live a life that matters. You want to transmit the life that was given to you… outwards.
It´s not like we have time to waste, soon we´ll die.
So yeah. That´s the message.
Woke up to a beautiful sunrise and a warm wooden house. Suddenly remembered this about the past:
I was a single mother in Copenhagen, one room apartment, the twins must have been around 3 at that time. I read a poem, wrote it down, put it in a frame, hung it on a wall, I think it is only now – close to 40- that I really understand:
“We are transmitters of life
as we live, we transmit life
and when we fail to transmit life
life fails to flow through us.
That is part of the mystery of sex. It is a flow onwards.
Sexless people transmit nothing.
And as we work, we can transmit life into our work
life, still more life, rushes into us, to compensate, to be ready
and we ripple with life through the days
Even if it is a woman making an apple dumpling or a man a stool
if life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding
good is the stool
content is the woman, with fresh life rippling into her
content is the man.
Give, and it shall be given unto you
is still the truth about life
but giving life is not so easy
It dosn´t mean handing it out to some mean fool
or letting the living dead eat you up
it means kindling the life-quality where it was not
even if it´s only in the whiteness of a washed pocket-handkerchief”