It´s not like I have HEROES but I might have…. immense respect for certain people. It´s more than professional respect (professional respect can be dense as a mountain and install awe in me just the same, a kind of paralyzation “How can I work when this kind of talent exists in the world?)
But it´s more than that. It´s a kind of star-struck-ness.
“OH, how you went through the underworld and how you brought back with you eternal wisdom from the dead!”
So what you see here loyal, loveable readers is me with people I respect intensly and this is how I look when I´m scared shitless.
(Ursula Andkjær Olsen and Suzanne Brøgger- both authors of the certain kind of autobiography that I pretentiously pretend to write. We were meeting to talk about a possible collaboration)
I´m sitting at the central station as I write this. I´m travelling to Stockholm to partake in the Dark Mountain Workshop– an event at the national Riksteatren, an exploration: how can we, as artist understand and work with climate change? How can we process this new reality? What kind of words, what framework, HOW?
It´s an artistically journey… into the unknown, into the dark, the sorrow for we are not there to come up with “solutions”, we are there to understand.
(If you are in Stockholm I really think you should come. The first event is tomorrow night. I´ll be the log lady, you can be the sensitive one, tickets here)
And here is an article about what “climate change” even means or have grown to mean, how the meanings are spongy, normative and difficult to handle. Tell me what you think maybe?
Sitting in the central station, surrounded by music and people passing by, the most well lit place in the world, refugees and privileged travellers passing me by (funny how quickly we grow accustumed to the new reality), I´m reading a book and I stumble across these lines:
“The decent- and the darkness into which it leads- have their own value; the journey to soul is not a misfortune or a neccesary evil. In Western cultures, we rarely enter the underworld except when abducted (…) by a great loss or depression. The the decent can be harrowing indeed as we enter a blackness of fear we wont escape. With no guides or allies, no preparation or relevant skills, and few inner resources to call upon, we´re not likely to enjoy the journey. But we may yet benefit from the experience. Better to be carried off than to not go at all. Abduction is the soul´s way of pulling us down towards it if we will not voluntary step through the gates and over the edge”
… and then it suddenly makes sense to me.
When we went to the woods it was a journey downwards and inwards, it was not a choice, it was indeed and abduction. We didn´t know what was happening. It took years to understand, I´m still struggling that´s why I even have this blog in the first place: I tell the story until I understand.
I fear that I might begin to understand.
It´s about the underworld. It most be. The underworld and the dark woods- it´s the same thing.
It´s the unknown, the untamed, the refugium, it´s where the wild things are. It is demonised and sanctified all through history.
It´s about THAT kind of courage.
To go into the dark woods.
To not know how it ends.
(there is more to tell. The culmination of a personal conflict before the end of this week, a column I wrote for newspaper Information, the mobilisation in Paris, all that needs to be done snowfall, the spiralling inwards has begun, winter is near, I spasmodically hold on)