Lingering Light

We celebrated Midsummer last weekend – ‘we’ referring to whole Finland. For me Midsummer is more or less a sacred thing and I like to spend it quietly, taking long walks in the nature, being outside at night, abandoning reason for a while letting myself believe there is more in this world than that we see and sense.

This year Midsummer felt even more significant than usually; perhaps due to Shakespeare’s 400^th anniversary. I must admit I haven’t read Shakespeare all that much: I’ve only read some of his best known plays but shamefully his sonnets are still a new thing to me. However, the proper way to celebrate Midsummer this year was obviously to re-read Midsummer Night’s Dream. Oh how I love that play! Since I’m a devoted fan of Tolkien one might say I cannot embrace both Shakespeare’s and Tolkien’s version of faerie – but I do. As different as they are they’re both dear to me and very fascinating. In July I’ll go to Suomenlinna open-air theatre to see the play. Suomenlinna is a former sea fortress which nowadays is inhabited and a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is a part of Helsinki and consists of several islands. If you ever come to Finland it’s worth seeing.

As much as I enjoyed the most magical time of the year (also great time for spotting bats, I saw quite a few of them) there was something missing. I think I’ll write more about it later since it will be quite a lament.

This cloud kind of looks like a galloping horse. Or then it's just

my inner horse girl dreaming once again.

Meetings Ere Twilight

A few nights ago I got company on a walk. Dusk had already fallen and suddenly I heard strange noises from the woods. Then I saw them: two adorable fox cubs, staring at me curiously. I think there were more of them; the entire little forest was ruffling softly. It really was one of the most pleasing encounters I’ve had this summer. I apologize for the poor quality of these pictures – I only had my cellphone with me.

It was summer solstice last night. It was full moon, and magically beautiful too: it was barely above horizon and seemed very large. There is something very peculiar about summer solstice, as well as midsummer. The latter is yet to come and I’m looking forward to it.

Existential flu

It’s not the first time I’m feeling like this and I know it won’t be the last.

Perhaps you know the feeling – in fact I’m sure you do. I just don’t have a name for it so I’ll try to explain as well as I can.

This is it. This is how I feel. Thank you, Tove

Jansson, once again. And thanks to my lovely

mother for buying me this reassuring mug.

It’s the feeling that takes over you when everyone has fallen asleep and you’re the only one still awake, unable to sleep; this has been the case since I was a kid and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep comfortably with others in the same room. It’s the feeling when all noises cease and suddenly it is all quiet. It’s the feeling when you’re surrounded by people, there’s a lot of chattering and in the middle of all that you begin to realise you don’t fully belong. And yet, even though you know you don’t belong you fear the moment those people will be gone. It’s the feeling when everything is normal and yet so utterly, terribly out of place. You cannot put your finger on it nor can you explain it but it is even harder to shed the feeling. And then, all of a sudden, there is an icy lump of a great weight in your stomach and you shiver – and you realise how alone and out of place you are.

It’s usually happens at night or one of those times when you sense something is different even if it’s not. You want it to be over, you want to calm down but you can’t.

An apology is in order, I think: I ramble quite a lot but usually there is at least a little bit of sense somewhere. So I’ll blow my nose and wait for my existential flu to pass.

And a year has passed

I can’t believe it’s been one whole year already… Dear sir Christopher, I’ll be thinking about you today. But then again that’s what I do every day – not knowingly, perhaps, but the times you come to my mind are not rare. Thank you once again for everything, not just the work and the voice.