The winters are not a break, they are not hibernation, they are not “living in the now”, they are not gathering strength, they are not resting, they are not heavy breathing, stand still… no!
Winter is demon. Winter is war.
Our bodies might be recovering from the frenzy of working summers but the mind is at the oilfield, doing the heavy lifting and all of the welding. Winter is motherfucking hard and you don´t stand a chance. Out here.
We´re still good supply-wise
And sometimes the full moon walk among the trees and it´s holy. All of it.
The view is still spectacular
But this is my life and I call it “Save me”
I wrote about what has happened this year, it took me a couple of days, I realize now that I wont post it and this is the reason: I have an enemy. This enemy have been following me for years, hurt in his own way, just waiting for the right moment to strike back. The right moment was this winter, the attack was brutal and hit target. Bulls eyes. What I fear the most. My enemy did something so unbelievable that I can´t write about it 1) because you wouldn´t believe me and 2) because of shame 3) because of my children.
Shame grows inside. Shame kills. Attacking me and at the same time hindering me from ever speaking about it… this is how plants wither.
The reason why I deleted my story is that I realized how much it holds me down.
(but seriously, if you ever want to run into the wild, count your enemies, don´t be naiive)
(but it´s not only this story, there are more stories, we have been under seige on all flanks)
SHAKE IT OFF. LIT A FIRE. BURN THE HATE.
This is what my life has been like. This is the silence.
How to come back from this war? I´m covered in blood and ashamed.
Winter is demon. Winters are war.
Some winters are worse than others.
The mind is at work while the body rest- soon it will be time for the mind to rest and the body to work. I long for spring and for summer, a raw desire, animal need.
I don´t think life has to be a war and I don´t think we have to be warriors, it´s just that some of us come tainted, some of us carry a burden of sorrow- I can´t pretend this is not the case. I cant be that dream of downzising, decluttering, back to nature, simple living, I can´t be picture perfect, wildernessdweller, I can´t be happy go lucky and I can´t be particulary positive.
That´s why this is my letter of resignation.
I hereby resign as a columnist, reviewer, speeechgiver, author, blogger and “me”.
There will be changes. No media, no digital storytelling, no speeches, not anymore.
I might blog a little. I might work on a book. I don´t know. I know I need to feel free, not trapped, closed in and confined. This is a dead end and it can only result in me surrendering to the status qou. Rub my ego, throw me peanuts.
There are many reasons behind this move, many, many, but truth is that I wont spendt my life trying to get a “career”, I wont do it “for the money”, wont be entertainment, wont be stuck in a story.
SHAKE IT OFF. LIT A FIRE. BURN THE NEED.
I know where to go when I am hurt, I know how to tend to my wounds.
I learned this in the forest, I learned it the first year actually but I simply forgot, whirlwindbusy.
We´re going back to nature.
People come in flocks, we are pack animals, I forgot that too.
Maybe it´s how one should deal with winter. Move closer now.
It´s been five years now. Time to change.
I guess that´s why you need the winters.
I guess that´s why you need the dark. Maybe I need these wars (but I don´t) because I´m stubborn and strange, maybe it´s the only way to create holes in my armor, but allright then, I have been hurt.
I have been hurt.
SHAKE IT OFF. LIT A FIRE. BURN THE WOUND.
Ready your boots.
Choose a weapon
We´re going hunting.