In in in inbetween


First I am going to say something about me. Then I am going to say something about the climate crisis and how I think we might survive/adres/live through it.

I´m going to say something about me- first- because I think one of the major problems of our time is that we lost the embodied story, we lost the stories that are real, rooted and personal. We mostly have abstract stories now; numbers and nonsense political variations over the theme of, or the story of, “powerlessness”. Blah blah blah.

I think we need stories more than ever, stories about real people, real struggles, real journeys because they can inspire us and make us think outside of the so called box that we currently inhabit. I think we need storytellers more than ever and I think we need elders more than ever but I also think like this; we, you and I,  will soon enough become somebodys ancestor, either in bloodline or in spirit. We will be carriers of story whether we like it or not and I want-  the deepest longing of my soul is-  that these stories will not only be stories of destruction and greed, unbelievable stupidity, ecocide, facism and war- but also a stories of sensitive beings who tried, who did their best… to understand the times they lived through.
Stories about how we protected and guarded the golden inheritance. Passed it on.
Some of our alternative stories, different from the dominant ones, need to survive the coming armageddon, the Ragnarok of our evil empire and so we need to speak.
Here, here, now hear me whisper;

In the old days the storyteller would be an actual person, with a body, and the story would be told in a definite setting, a place. And also; in a definitive time.
I think stories need this. They need; body, place and time.
Small creatures they are, stories, they feed off of body, place, time.
They´re very hungry. Almost starving.

In our world that is not always possible to tell a story from the position of a definitive body, in a definite place and at a defintive time – but we have the internet and so I´m sitting here, with this body, in this place, at this time writing this blogpost, fingers tapping as the storm is violently shaking the trees outside, the sea is roaring, Sigurd is still sleeping, this coffee is getting cold.
I think that´s why bloggers and influencers speak so much about themselves, they are trying to do this; they are trying to situate their story because this is what all good storytellers must do and this is what all good storytellers have always done. 
Don´t call it narcisism. Don´t call it ego. Find another word for it.

I think I have insisted on telling the personal story, the real story. I think I have thrown myself, my body, my place and my time into the collective consiousness as much as I possibly could- because I wanted to be a good storyteller, I wanted to be a better ancestor, I wanted to change the stories of powerlessness.
But it almost broke me, I wont lie. It´s taken me some time to heal. I´m weak as fuck and sensitive too, I´m a quivering jellyfish and I´ve been thinking that I shouldn´t do this; speak. 
I told myself that I was not made for speaking (up). I´ve told myself that there was something wrong with me because the criticism and the counterattacks hit me spot on and I felt shame. Every time. So much shame.
I´ve told myself that only the strong should speak up. That if one is to speak up one needs to grow a unpenetrable amor.

This time we live in requires that the sensitive also speak up. The weird, the different and the strange ones, the ones standing on the perimeters of accepted society because accepted society must change, the paradigme must change, the dominant stories must change.

“I will not be made into a “success story” with the sole purpose of validating my right to speak!” … I said to myself and then I went quiet in a sort of protest.
That was the time of the lone wolf.
That was the time of wandering about alone, very alone.
That time is coming to an end now. It´s been coming to end for quite some time.

This is was the introduction.



I live here now, by this tree. The tree has the shape of the fehu rune.

We have moved back to the homeland, Denmark, we live on a small island now named “Fejø”

I live in a tiny house, 12 squaremeters, Jeppe currently lives in a camper van, he wants to build his own tiny house in the spring, we want to live in tiny houses next door to each other.
We have moved because of landownership, because of money, we have moved because again and again we were confronted with the fact that we did not own the land we lived, built and worked on.
We own this land.
We only own it because people have read and bought my book.
We only own it because of you.
We own it because we dared to do what a lot of people were interested in and needed more information about. 
This is my deepest pride and this is my deepest gratitude.
This is a heartfelt thank you.

Its a small plot of land but it fits our needs since we have come to experience that we dont need a lot. The dominant story tells people that they need a lot, well, they dont, you don´t, you dont need a whole lot to get by.

The land is very fertile. Old appletrees and lots of grapes. Beach property.





My tiny house has the color of foxglove and I am surrounded now by ancient burial mounds and swans, symbol of the valkyries.

These are the wetlands, this is the homeland, the homeland, the sun, the light, the elderberrytrees… all that I know, knew and grew up with. 
Sometimes it makes me feel a thousand years old but in the good way…



… but I can´t say that I´m not conflicted about it for I am.
This is a giant leap of faith from my part. I am terrified and I don´t know if I can live without the deep woods, I don´t know if I can live this close to people and I don´t know if I´m ok again with the homeland, oh, this sorrow.

I have finished the raw writing of my next book. 
I am desoriented and in a state of in-between. In between stories. In between certainties. I know for sure though-  and this is the only thing I know- that everything changes and that one should never become the posterboy of a lifestyle because becoming stuck in a story in the worst thing that can ever happen to a storyteller.

I know that I must always be the one living in between. I have come to think it´s my destiny and I´m trying to make peace with it. I´m sitting here, this is my second cup of coffee and Sigurd is awake now, the storm is still roaring outside, and I´m trying to deal with it.
I think I was raised to always seek out certainty, predictability, but the forest changed me, deeply, and I realize that this state of in-between is probably… permanent. 
Until it´s not. 
Then I will be certain for a while and then that certainty will fade and die just as the leaves on the trees in autumn. It will probably be spectacular.

I remember when the forest whispered to me; “everything changes and so must you” and there was this cycle of life and death, slime and blood, rot and rosebuds.
I think that certainty is pointless. 
We exist in a state of flux and must align ourselves to our surroundings.

This is what I had to say about the climate crisis and how we might survive/adress/live through it.


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9 thoughts on “In in in inbetween”

  1. Reading this, makes me want to be a better story teller. …it really does.

    I am a carpenter/farmer/historian/husband/ father/grandfather..two weeks ago, as I was reading, I came across a proverb that really spoke to me. It was a proverb about using a dull ax. “The duller the ax the harder the work;
    Use your head: The more brains, the less muscle ”
    I was never taught how to sharpen things. That little proverb is a metaphor for life… how much energy am I expending just because I am going about something in an inefficient way? I can be sincere in my desire to do something and stupid and dull at the same time. Better to stop, learn what is required and keep my edge honed. My ancestors are from the lowlands of northern Germany..Ostfriesland. The freelanders… from what I’ve read, that area reminds me of the pictures of where you are currently. They turned swampy, wet lands into fertile farmland..brought those skills to America, and turned the same kind of ground into some of the most fertile farm in the world. Sending you love and greetings as you and Jeppe, sink your roots into your new place. DM

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am looking forward to hearing about your tiny house and if this living style suits you. I am looking forward to whatever you choose to write about because it’s always thought provoking.


  3. To me your storys always represent a window. An open window. An open window of possibilities, hope and freedom. Movement, development and connections is was you tell me about. Thanks for constant inspiration ❤ Birthe


  4. I really do not have anything intelligent or witty to add… just “Wow!” to both the writing and the photos. Looking forward to whatever more you choose to share. Peace!


  5. dear Andrea,
    Good afternoon. Your photos look like where I live! Including swans on salt water.
    Am happy to hear you have made it to an anchoring place.
    “Thinking globally” while looking through the prism of home is one thing that seems to me to be important, Being Here Now made into a physical manifestation.
    Just my point of view. Others have many diametrically opposed viewpoints.
    All best,
    ~ abigail

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Dear Andrea,
    A very beautiful and inspiring life story from you, once again – Thank you!
    I know Fejø from long ago, when I was a child and I spent a Summer Holiday there with a school friend and her family in their summer house, which used to be an old school.
    Fejø is a very special place, I remember, and I know much has happened there since I visited the Island many years ago. More families have moved there in recent years and there are fruit orchards, where some really delicious apples, pears and plums are grown, and then also sold in danish supermarkets, that I am always looking forward to taste every year in late Summer and Autumn.
    All the Best with your living and plans on Fejø!


  7. I just read your book. I wanted to, I needed to. I lived in the Swedish woods too. Alone, got injured and saw no other way then to go back to my home country. For years life has been strange to me. My body doesn’t handle the hard work of the simple life in the forest, all by myself. My mind doesn’t feel at home in “normal society” anymore. Books like yours make me feel less abnormal. The state of in-between, I recognize it. Very much. And like all the other things in life it changes, all the time. Thank you for writing your book and taking me back to the Swedish woods for a day or two. And thank you for making me realize again life there wasn’t perfect eighter. Your new home looks lovely, I wish you all the best there.



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