A break, the countryside.
Sunshine.
Walking on clay, endless roads, sitting on the field contemplating the world.
Sleep, dreams. Stars.
So many stars that your head spins around.
Rain.
Wet shoes.
Laying my head, waiting for the weekend,
waiting for the rain to stop,
waiting for you.
concrete jungle book
After spending nearly two weeks in bed in a coma-like dream, I decided it's time to go. And I went. A 48-hour train-tram-ferry-foot-bus-hitchhike-foot trip passed all smoothly considering the state I left Finland in. Arriving in Germany, I didn't feel like I was entering a foreign country. It was rather like coming home; here are my friends and also my flat would be here somewhere waiting for me.
After that everything was a catastrophe. No details here, since I still don't know if it's funny or just tragic. No, wait - it is funny. First all my stuff was gone. Then my computer. And then just everything and everybody. Lost, broken, late, damaged. And yet it was one of the highlights of the year, sitting alone on the street with a kitchen cupboard, watching the rainclouds roam above, having no home or belongings apart from that damn cupboard that was too heavy for me to carry anyway, and then - spotting a giant 2-meter tall plastic ice-cream on someones balcony. What the fuck? Starting to laugh. A man walks by, starts to laugh too. I'm in Berlin. It will be allright.
Now I feel like I was living in a jungle. The birds sing so loudly that you can't even hear the traffic. Somebody has painted a sun on my ceiling.
My flat is so cold that I'm sitting on the balcony to keep myself comfortable. It's September.
After that everything was a catastrophe. No details here, since I still don't know if it's funny or just tragic. No, wait - it is funny. First all my stuff was gone. Then my computer. And then just everything and everybody. Lost, broken, late, damaged. And yet it was one of the highlights of the year, sitting alone on the street with a kitchen cupboard, watching the rainclouds roam above, having no home or belongings apart from that damn cupboard that was too heavy for me to carry anyway, and then - spotting a giant 2-meter tall plastic ice-cream on someones balcony. What the fuck? Starting to laugh. A man walks by, starts to laugh too. I'm in Berlin. It will be allright.
Now I feel like I was living in a jungle. The birds sing so loudly that you can't even hear the traffic. Somebody has painted a sun on my ceiling.
My flat is so cold that I'm sitting on the balcony to keep myself comfortable. It's September.
berlin
Oh, how to describe it.
Maybe like this: I drank two cups of coffee and now I've been awake for nearly 36 hours straight.
Maybe like this: I drank two cups of coffee and now I've been awake for nearly 36 hours straight.
Shoes
I leave Finland. I'm moving, it's all a bit spontaneous but it just feels perfectly normal. Or the word "crazy" has lost its meaning to me, as everything around me seems to be more or less out of the standards.
Mama cries when I leave, which is weird, because she never cries when I leave. I don't feel anything, not now, it's just absurd to think about time an relationships.
At the harbor I have the feeling that someone is looking at me. It's a guy from Tartu, a handsome one. Do you want to sit together, I ask, but he is already pouring me tea from his thermos. "Of course." I tell him my unicorn story, and other such things, and we are laughing against the wind on the deck of the boat that is rocking and jumping up and down so that I feel really really drunk.
And it feels good to hug somebody who smells like forest.
And then I'm in Estonia.
I had a master plan in Finland: I have two pairs of red shoes, almost identical. Both pairs have the other shoe in a very bad condition, so I decided I'll take one of each, the good half of both pairs.
Then I'm in Estonia, and I realize I have taken two shoes for the same foot. Two for the right, none for the left. I have to laugh, this is so typical. This kind of shit happens all the time, at least to me.
Well, surely I have other shoes, the ones I'm wearing. But these are big sturdy hiking boots, and in Germany it's still 24 degrees and summer (fingers crossed!).
I'm waking up in four hours, so better get some sleep.
Mama cries when I leave, which is weird, because she never cries when I leave. I don't feel anything, not now, it's just absurd to think about time an relationships.
At the harbor I have the feeling that someone is looking at me. It's a guy from Tartu, a handsome one. Do you want to sit together, I ask, but he is already pouring me tea from his thermos. "Of course." I tell him my unicorn story, and other such things, and we are laughing against the wind on the deck of the boat that is rocking and jumping up and down so that I feel really really drunk.
And it feels good to hug somebody who smells like forest.
And then I'm in Estonia.
I had a master plan in Finland: I have two pairs of red shoes, almost identical. Both pairs have the other shoe in a very bad condition, so I decided I'll take one of each, the good half of both pairs.
Then I'm in Estonia, and I realize I have taken two shoes for the same foot. Two for the right, none for the left. I have to laugh, this is so typical. This kind of shit happens all the time, at least to me.
Well, surely I have other shoes, the ones I'm wearing. But these are big sturdy hiking boots, and in Germany it's still 24 degrees and summer (fingers crossed!).
I'm waking up in four hours, so better get some sleep.
licht, liebe und leben
(I'm switching off all the censorship for a moment and allow myself be just as hippie as I feel now. I have to do it, otherwise I'll explode. )
I'm in love.
It's good that the human heart is expandable because there is so much to love.
Why does it feel like a stupid cliche to write about love? Love is not a cliche, nor a cult, nor a sin,
but it is Everything. And separated from the feelings of haterd, fear and jealousy it becomes just light. A light that shines upon all and everything. Have you noticed how similar the words love, laugh and life and light sound like? Because they are the same.
It's not necessary to ask "who do you love?". I just love. It's a love without an object, and I want to share it with you.
something new
I'm on fire, I feel like jumping around but since I have to take it easy and can't use all this energy in a physical way, I'm writing and writing and there's probably smoke coming out of my brain. My parents are laughing at me. It's good that I have some self-esteem these days. Otherwise I might be hurt. What is there to laugh about, damn it, don't tell a young person in the middle of her inspiration to calm down.
Ahh. What I wanted to say. The surgery was ok. Not pleasant, but I'm alive! Still, it amazes me from day to day that I'm living. How is it possible that I'm this lucky, that we all are? All of us, we are alive! Hooray!
just a stream of thoughts on a sunday afternoon
Based on random searching on Couchsurfing, I'd say that 90% of the people are calling themselves open-minded. More than half of the profiles are talking about freedom, or being a free spirit.
I must confess, I also used to have the classic "I'm open-minded" statement on my profile.
We like to call ourselves open-minded, but what does it really mean? Is it just a cool word to define oneself, is it to show that you're open for some things that "close-minded" or conservative people dislike? Or does it, as I'm afraid, mean being tolerant only towards people like yourself (who might be considered "alternative" or "different")?
And we all like the word "freedom". Such a big word. Free spirits, free love, free world. So much used, but what do all these things mean to us? Are we living them, instead of just talking about them?
When I had the word open-minded standing on my profile, I got a lot of suggestive messages from men saying that they like open-minded girls and would like to get to know me closer. Sometimes it got a bit disturbing. I'm experiencing the same in reality - having some sort of vibe of freedom seems to make me "available" for anyone to grab. And they do grab and hold on tight. Why is freedom so often mistaken (only) for free love, and by love I mean sex?
When I had the word open-minded standing on my profile, I got a lot of suggestive messages from men saying that they like open-minded girls and would like to get to know me closer. Sometimes it got a bit disturbing. I'm experiencing the same in reality - having some sort of vibe of freedom seems to make me "available" for anyone to grab. And they do grab and hold on tight. Why is freedom so often mistaken (only) for free love, and by love I mean sex?
If there is such thing as "free love" in terms of casual sex, it must come with mutual respect. All freedom brings responsibilities, and seeing freedom or someone's open-mindness as an easy way to get laid is just a bit strange to me. Freedom is to be able to set your own limits, and to respect others limits that they have set for themselves (not necessarily the same kind of limits that society is setting us). I believe that all creatures are to be approached with respect and a bit of carefulness. But then again it's hard to maintain such carefulness but not turn it into something that would be isolating people from one another - I guess today's world is just so big, so full of people, so full of different norms and laws and rules how to live, ideas of what is normal and what is not, that it gets more and more difficult to find your own comfort limits and to sense how the other person has set theirs.
I can understand why "free people" are easily found attractive. Of course a certain kind of free spirit in a person is exciting, appealing and interesting. It's an offer for an adventure, without commitment. We are so damn afraid of commitment, responsibility and boundaries, as all these are seen as the same, and as the opposite of freedom. When you have boundaries, you are in a prison.
We want to be nomads, rootless, just freely floating through our lives, we want to be forever young and free. We want to live this dream and hold on to it so tightly that at some point it turns against us. The search of the freedom becomes our prison. We are not able to stop. We are not able to grow, because all the time we are running around.
Is this running after freedom, in some cases, actually just running away from ourselves?
We're running away from our own restricted minds and our own limited selfs, trying to capture the treasure of freedom in somebody else. In this other person we want to see the embodiment of freedom, because we can't find or define freedom in through ourselves.
(I know I'm generalizing a lot her, pardon me)
In conservative families, or in cultures where the women's liberties are very limited, it may be an attempt to maintain one's personal freedom to wear "western" or revealing clothes, make-up, and high heels. Then again, in a society like ours, where everything is over-sexualized and the beauty standards have become a huge industry, women rebel against that in the name of freedom, burn their bras and dress up in alternative ways, staying away from the conventional fashion magazines. And then there becomes the rebel against this, saying that we have the right to be feminine and show our bodies just as we want.
And here I am, being so different, rebelling against what people are writing in their profiles, questioning something just because it's popular.
Breaking the box, and building a new one right next to it. Labeling yourself as something else in order to remove the old label.
It seems that you are only different when you make an effort to be different.
Is the act towards freedom always rebelling against something?
I suppose that in the ideal situation, each person could define for themselves how they want to be like, regardless of the surroundings. Could we take such unlimited freedom? If we were all able to create our own reality and our own rules in our minds, could these realities be easily combined into a collective one? Do we need an authority, a law or a religion, or a "common custom" to tell us who we are, what our limits are and how we're supposed to function in this world?
I understand that individualism can go too far; one can get lost in their own freedom. If freedom equals individualism, that is. I'm not saying it does. To me freedom means a new kind of unity, real connection between people. A surrounding where everyone is respected and supported as an individual (and encouraged to find their own path), but at the same time treated as an equal member of the community.
The real challenge in life is to grow strong, but to remain open and receiving. To stay respectful to yourself and towards others, but to be open for change and questioning.
So, as far as this word "open-minded" is such a confusing one, I'm not using it anymore. What my CS profile states now is this:
Keep questioning conventional structures, push your boundaries, seek for alternatives to the standard way of living.
Stay free from forcefully fitting yourself or others under any specified roles or labels. Not as easy as it sounds like, we are all so damn stuck in our habits...
Keep questioning conventional structures, push your boundaries, seek for alternatives to the standard way of living.
Stay free from forcefully fitting yourself or others under any specified roles or labels. Not as easy as it sounds like, we are all so damn stuck in our habits...
But all the rules are only in the mind; by changing the mind we can change the surroundings.
isla ihmemaassa
Eipa ole ihan yksinkertainen juttu sailyttaa terveellista, vegetaristista tai vahakulutuksista elamantapaa taalla Venajalla.
Kierran noin kymmenen ruokakauppaa, suurta ja pienta, ennen kuin onnistun loytamaan pussillisen linsseja. Sen sijaan joka ikinen kauppa on pullollaan sailykkeita, lihoja, kekseja ja viinia. Erilaisille hilloille ja marmeladeille on pienimmassakin lahikioskissa varattu yleensa vahintaan yksi kokonainen seinusta.
Tuoreiden vihanneksienkin kanssa on vahan niin ja nain; kaikki on pussitettu valmiiksi valtaviin pakkauksiin, ja pohjalle sullottu mahdollisimman paljon pilaantuneita yksiloita. Vihannesten shoppailu on tosiaan kuin ostaisi sikoja sakeissa.
Sian korvikkeita en ole juuri nahnyt kauppojen hyllyilla. Ita-Euroopasta tuttuun tapaan papusailykkeissakin on sikanautaa seassa. Epaonnistuneen eko/vegekauppojen metsastyksen jalkeen onnistun lopulta loytamaan erilaisia soijatuotteita - nimittain lihakaupasta!
Hedelmaosastolla liimaan hintalapun suoraan omenan kylkeen, kun haukankatseisen myymalanhoitajan silma valttaa. Kassalla tulee kuitenkin stoppi: myyjatar hermostuu omenastani, pudistelee paataan, repii lapun irti omenasta, pakkaa omenan muovipussiin, punnitsee sen uudelleen ja liimaa uuden hintalapun pussin kylkeen. Kaupan paallisiksi saan venajankielisen saarnan hedelmaostoksien pyhista kayttaytymissaannoista.
Paikallisten kasvissyojaystavieni viikkomenuun kuuluu mm. sellaisia ravitsevia ateriakokonaisuuksia, kuten makaronia, ketsuppia ja keitettya porkkanaa, seka paljon vaaleaa leipaa voilla ja juustolla.
Taytyy vaan totutella siihen, etta taalla kaikki on nurinkurista. Postiauto nayttaa poliisiautolta ja painvastoin, supermarkettien ruoka on kalliimpaa kuin pikkukauppojen, parhaat vegaaniruuat loytyvat lihatiskien alta. Kaiken lisaksi paahtava helle on pakottanut paivarytmin sellaiseksi, etta syon aamiaista kolmen jalkeen, ja istun yot ulkona "viileasta" 25 asteen helpotuksesta nauttien.
Kierran noin kymmenen ruokakauppaa, suurta ja pienta, ennen kuin onnistun loytamaan pussillisen linsseja. Sen sijaan joka ikinen kauppa on pullollaan sailykkeita, lihoja, kekseja ja viinia. Erilaisille hilloille ja marmeladeille on pienimmassakin lahikioskissa varattu yleensa vahintaan yksi kokonainen seinusta.
Tuoreiden vihanneksienkin kanssa on vahan niin ja nain; kaikki on pussitettu valmiiksi valtaviin pakkauksiin, ja pohjalle sullottu mahdollisimman paljon pilaantuneita yksiloita. Vihannesten shoppailu on tosiaan kuin ostaisi sikoja sakeissa.
Sian korvikkeita en ole juuri nahnyt kauppojen hyllyilla. Ita-Euroopasta tuttuun tapaan papusailykkeissakin on sikanautaa seassa. Epaonnistuneen eko/vegekauppojen metsastyksen jalkeen onnistun lopulta loytamaan erilaisia soijatuotteita - nimittain lihakaupasta!
Hedelmaosastolla liimaan hintalapun suoraan omenan kylkeen, kun haukankatseisen myymalanhoitajan silma valttaa. Kassalla tulee kuitenkin stoppi: myyjatar hermostuu omenastani, pudistelee paataan, repii lapun irti omenasta, pakkaa omenan muovipussiin, punnitsee sen uudelleen ja liimaa uuden hintalapun pussin kylkeen. Kaupan paallisiksi saan venajankielisen saarnan hedelmaostoksien pyhista kayttaytymissaannoista.
Paikallisten kasvissyojaystavieni viikkomenuun kuuluu mm. sellaisia ravitsevia ateriakokonaisuuksia, kuten makaronia, ketsuppia ja keitettya porkkanaa, seka paljon vaaleaa leipaa voilla ja juustolla.
Taytyy vaan totutella siihen, etta taalla kaikki on nurinkurista. Postiauto nayttaa poliisiautolta ja painvastoin, supermarkettien ruoka on kalliimpaa kuin pikkukauppojen, parhaat vegaaniruuat loytyvat lihatiskien alta. Kaiken lisaksi paahtava helle on pakottanut paivarytmin sellaiseksi, etta syon aamiaista kolmen jalkeen, ja istun yot ulkona "viileasta" 25 asteen helpotuksesta nauttien.
Индиан экспресс
Chaotic traffic. Extreme heat. Sweating. Strange food. Visiting temples. Pollution. Diarrhea.
I thought I was in Russia, not India...
I thought I was in Russia, not India...
another
We sit in a dusky park of lost souls and free souls in the 4am smoke,
I lay myself back and watch the obscure tree branches dancing over my head.
There is a poet and his saxophone,
there is the fiddler on the roof,
and there is smoke, everywhere smoke.
My whole life is like a strange dream, I can no longer tell when I'm awake and when I'm sleeping.
Pink moon,
we sit there until it's early instead of late,
the air is so thick that it's not clear if his eyes are closed or if they are deeply fixed on mine.
I lay myself back and watch the obscure tree branches dancing over my head.
There is a poet and his saxophone,
there is the fiddler on the roof,
and there is smoke, everywhere smoke.
My whole life is like a strange dream, I can no longer tell when I'm awake and when I'm sleeping.
Pink moon,
we sit there until it's early instead of late,
the air is so thick that it's not clear if his eyes are closed or if they are deeply fixed on mine.
one night in
The most beautiful day.
Crowded streets of St.Petersburg in the late-summer heat. A ride on an old scooter, the breeze on your face is hot and dry, like if you were somewhere in the Middle East. Babushkas selling watermelons and stockings, street dogs laying in the shades, empty beer bottles everywhere, and girls on high heels, Russian girls with their curls and red lips, it all runs in front of your eyes like a fast film, over-exposed. Sunrays, bare skin, the heavy hot air hovering above all. Hold me tight, he says, and so I do.
Capturing these streets, this air, these skins, with old-school cameras and plaid shirts, like proper eastern hipsters, you are laughing with exitement and exhaustion.
An afternoon break with fresh mint tea. Middle and north east more and more mixed up. Shisha pipes, beetroot salad, women with their flowered scarfs, in the city of gold and rust.
In the park there is a man with his guitar, he plays two more songs just for us. An artist, he says, and then we stop an old Russian lady on her evening stroll, a real lady with a long dress and a white hat, first she wants to ignore us but then she stops, she stops and she smiles. You are so young, so young, she laughs, and she feels herself young too, after 20 years of feeling old.
Tell me about the change, I ask as we are following the river and eating our last food. We talk until there is no reason to talk more, and then we drive to the sea. It's past midnight already, but the sea is there and the air is still hot, this strange hot air together with the familiar smell of the Baltic sea, my sea. It's all like a strange dream, dogs running on water, everything blue and blurry, we sit on a tree trunk, silent. There is a temple, and the hare krishnas are still awake, they invite us in and we laugh together with them in the blurry night. Russian disco music on the backround, faraway dreams from faraway beaches, people searching for people and inside these walls people searching for the divine
We drive back to the city in silence. Drunken strangers guiding our way. Police cars, opening bridges, white nights become blue nights and finally all-day darkness, in this city of gold and rust.
I sleep.
Crowded streets of St.Petersburg in the late-summer heat. A ride on an old scooter, the breeze on your face is hot and dry, like if you were somewhere in the Middle East. Babushkas selling watermelons and stockings, street dogs laying in the shades, empty beer bottles everywhere, and girls on high heels, Russian girls with their curls and red lips, it all runs in front of your eyes like a fast film, over-exposed. Sunrays, bare skin, the heavy hot air hovering above all. Hold me tight, he says, and so I do.
Capturing these streets, this air, these skins, with old-school cameras and plaid shirts, like proper eastern hipsters, you are laughing with exitement and exhaustion.
An afternoon break with fresh mint tea. Middle and north east more and more mixed up. Shisha pipes, beetroot salad, women with their flowered scarfs, in the city of gold and rust.
In the park there is a man with his guitar, he plays two more songs just for us. An artist, he says, and then we stop an old Russian lady on her evening stroll, a real lady with a long dress and a white hat, first she wants to ignore us but then she stops, she stops and she smiles. You are so young, so young, she laughs, and she feels herself young too, after 20 years of feeling old.
Tell me about the change, I ask as we are following the river and eating our last food. We talk until there is no reason to talk more, and then we drive to the sea. It's past midnight already, but the sea is there and the air is still hot, this strange hot air together with the familiar smell of the Baltic sea, my sea. It's all like a strange dream, dogs running on water, everything blue and blurry, we sit on a tree trunk, silent. There is a temple, and the hare krishnas are still awake, they invite us in and we laugh together with them in the blurry night. Russian disco music on the backround, faraway dreams from faraway beaches, people searching for people and inside these walls people searching for the divine
We drive back to the city in silence. Drunken strangers guiding our way. Police cars, opening bridges, white nights become blue nights and finally all-day darkness, in this city of gold and rust.
I sleep.
karelian blueberries
We travel towards the north, through great forests and abandoned villages around Karelia. I breathe the fir trees and the swamps, I taste the blueberries by the road and I soak in the midnight sun. It's magical. Old women with scarves around their heads, selling berries and vegetables, dirty little food stalls, children with curious faces and muddy feet. Houses that are falling down, sceneries looking like I imagine Finland 70 years ago. This car is a time machine, and it's taking me into the unknown future through the forgotten past.
night tigers
I'm scared. I'm scared for a week straight, and I know I have to go through this in order to get the access to some kind of a next level of understanding.
I fight against my fear until I come to accept it. I realise that the best way to cope with fear is to know it as well as possible. To know the object of your fear; what it is and why it makes you feel afraid. When you know your own fear, it can't hurt you.
So I'm learning.
I understand that all my life I've been facing my fears.
I was six years old when I fell off a horse, and refused to go back to the stables. But since that I have done exactly the things that make my heart jump. I was afraid of speaking, speaking in public, afraid of the way I talk and afraid of people watching me. So I learned what it is to perform and to be watched. I was in a theater group for years.
I was clumsy, I started dance classes. It took years to get to the same level as the others, years until I felt somewhat comfortable in my body.
I was afraid of telephones. Calling strangers. I couldn't do it. So I decided that the only way to get out of it is to call as many people, as much as possible, until I'm too tired to be afraid. I worked as a salesperson through telephone, called all over Finland, it was a nightmare back then but at least I'm not afraid of phones anymore.
It's like Ronja the robber's daugther in Astrid Lindgren's book. Ronja is terrified of the forest and there are all these dangers and strange creatures trying to attack her. So her father tells her; go and learn what it is to be afraid. And she learns. She runs in the darkness, jumps over the gorges, meets the terrifying creatures face-to-face.
I guess the keypoint in facing one's fears is that it has to be voluntary. Otherwise the trauma might just get bigger. To consciously decide to learn about such deep emotion as fear, it really takes courage and when you do it, it really teaches you some great lessons.
What is the ultimate fear? Death. Losing control (of one's life, status, the current situation, posessions or relations).
I had a long discussion with a good friend about this topic. Facing the ultimate fear. She was saying that it's essential to go through it in order to gain a deeper understanding. Now I see what she meant. You can't know what life is unless you know what death is to you. You can't know your strenght unless you know your fear.
And getting to know the fear is a way to remove certain blocks in your mind (which at least in my case have been restricting my access to the deepest parts of "me" or that part of myself that is connected to the universe). The fear is there to protect you, but is it also there to protect some universal understanding?
I might be going too far, connecting the personal growth and the collective mind, but it's interesting to look at the collective consciousness as a state which has a secret door. To find this door (you may call it the door of perception, or some kind of an enlightening if you like), one must break trough their on restricted mind, and one way might very well be through fear. Is that way so many spiritual rituals are connected with fear of death?
I didn't want to make this post too rambling, and here I am already way out of the line...
This fear I was talking about in the beginning of the post. It was there for a week, until I accepted it and looked straight into its eyes.
I knew how it would be, right from the start I knew. I knew there would be a thunder, I knew there would be an awakening, and I knew there would be singing. And so there was.
Too much for a blog.
I fight against my fear until I come to accept it. I realise that the best way to cope with fear is to know it as well as possible. To know the object of your fear; what it is and why it makes you feel afraid. When you know your own fear, it can't hurt you.
So I'm learning.
I understand that all my life I've been facing my fears.
I was six years old when I fell off a horse, and refused to go back to the stables. But since that I have done exactly the things that make my heart jump. I was afraid of speaking, speaking in public, afraid of the way I talk and afraid of people watching me. So I learned what it is to perform and to be watched. I was in a theater group for years.
I was clumsy, I started dance classes. It took years to get to the same level as the others, years until I felt somewhat comfortable in my body.
I was afraid of telephones. Calling strangers. I couldn't do it. So I decided that the only way to get out of it is to call as many people, as much as possible, until I'm too tired to be afraid. I worked as a salesperson through telephone, called all over Finland, it was a nightmare back then but at least I'm not afraid of phones anymore.
It's like Ronja the robber's daugther in Astrid Lindgren's book. Ronja is terrified of the forest and there are all these dangers and strange creatures trying to attack her. So her father tells her; go and learn what it is to be afraid. And she learns. She runs in the darkness, jumps over the gorges, meets the terrifying creatures face-to-face.
I guess the keypoint in facing one's fears is that it has to be voluntary. Otherwise the trauma might just get bigger. To consciously decide to learn about such deep emotion as fear, it really takes courage and when you do it, it really teaches you some great lessons.
What is the ultimate fear? Death. Losing control (of one's life, status, the current situation, posessions or relations).
I had a long discussion with a good friend about this topic. Facing the ultimate fear. She was saying that it's essential to go through it in order to gain a deeper understanding. Now I see what she meant. You can't know what life is unless you know what death is to you. You can't know your strenght unless you know your fear.
And getting to know the fear is a way to remove certain blocks in your mind (which at least in my case have been restricting my access to the deepest parts of "me" or that part of myself that is connected to the universe). The fear is there to protect you, but is it also there to protect some universal understanding?
I might be going too far, connecting the personal growth and the collective mind, but it's interesting to look at the collective consciousness as a state which has a secret door. To find this door (you may call it the door of perception, or some kind of an enlightening if you like), one must break trough their on restricted mind, and one way might very well be through fear. Is that way so many spiritual rituals are connected with fear of death?
I didn't want to make this post too rambling, and here I am already way out of the line...
This fear I was talking about in the beginning of the post. It was there for a week, until I accepted it and looked straight into its eyes.
I knew how it would be, right from the start I knew. I knew there would be a thunder, I knew there would be an awakening, and I knew there would be singing. And so there was.
Too much for a blog.
gifts
I decided to rely on the good old 30-liter backpack once again, and everytime it just amazes me how much I can fit in it. This time I needed to be prepared for anything from a huge metropol to total wilderness. A sleeping bag, mattress, tent, kettle, knife, raincoat, flashlight, food, hiking shoes, a warm sweater and two cardigans. Sandals, dress, the second biggest camera that I have, sketchbook, incence sticks. I'm just waiting for the moment when my bag falls apart. It's a miracle this hasn't happened yet. But so far I've needed every single thing I packed, and have not needed anything I don't have. Great.
Another thing that amazes me is how life really seems to give exactly what I need. Like when I had no shoes in Barcelona and refused to buy new ones, just within minutes I found a lovely pair of red sneakers, my size, my colour, abandoned on the street. There were no shoelaces, but my travelmate happened to have a pair in her pocket. She had carried them around for who knows what reason, but was now happy to give them to me.
Last week I met a girl, a hitchhiker, she came with us to the north but had nothing warm to wear so I gave her my clothes. And after a couple of days is was dressed in new clothes, clothes that were so much more beautiful than the ones I gave to the poor hitchhiker. It's like a big circle of giving and receiving, you pass something on and it will come back to you in some form at some point. Or it will go to the one who needs it the most, at least I hope so. Am I just lucky, or naive, or is life really so full of miracles as it seems to be right now?
And just yesterday I was thinking about how I need to buy new film for my camera, and was also looking at some lomography cameras and dreaming about Prague and simplicity of capturing moments. Just an hour later I met a guy who firstly gave me film (I didn't tell him I need it, he just came and offered it to me). Secondly, he told me that he works for a lomography company in Russia, "I can give you a camera if you want."
Then later that evening, I was driven around the heart of St. Petersburg with an old moped (and nearly crashed with a bus, but this was maybe not worth mentioning). I got a place to sleep, a grapefruit for dinner, I even got a home but this is too big to talk about yet.
And after just a couple of weeks of travelling, my backpack is so full of presents that soon I won't be able to close it anymore.
Gosh, I'm really trying to smile at people to give at least something in return. I really hope I'm capable of more than that. Today I was walking along Nevski Prospekt (the main street of St. Petersburg) barefoot, with a little message of bounty and simplicity in my heart.
The sad thing is that not many people accept it. They drive behind their black windows, stare at their mobile phones, and on their faces I can see a disgust towards a poor person. (Here barefooting can be really seen as a sign of poorness, not of freedom).
But some of them smile back.
Another thing that amazes me is how life really seems to give exactly what I need. Like when I had no shoes in Barcelona and refused to buy new ones, just within minutes I found a lovely pair of red sneakers, my size, my colour, abandoned on the street. There were no shoelaces, but my travelmate happened to have a pair in her pocket. She had carried them around for who knows what reason, but was now happy to give them to me.
Last week I met a girl, a hitchhiker, she came with us to the north but had nothing warm to wear so I gave her my clothes. And after a couple of days is was dressed in new clothes, clothes that were so much more beautiful than the ones I gave to the poor hitchhiker. It's like a big circle of giving and receiving, you pass something on and it will come back to you in some form at some point. Or it will go to the one who needs it the most, at least I hope so. Am I just lucky, or naive, or is life really so full of miracles as it seems to be right now?
And just yesterday I was thinking about how I need to buy new film for my camera, and was also looking at some lomography cameras and dreaming about Prague and simplicity of capturing moments. Just an hour later I met a guy who firstly gave me film (I didn't tell him I need it, he just came and offered it to me). Secondly, he told me that he works for a lomography company in Russia, "I can give you a camera if you want."
Then later that evening, I was driven around the heart of St. Petersburg with an old moped (and nearly crashed with a bus, but this was maybe not worth mentioning). I got a place to sleep, a grapefruit for dinner, I even got a home but this is too big to talk about yet.
And after just a couple of weeks of travelling, my backpack is so full of presents that soon I won't be able to close it anymore.
Gosh, I'm really trying to smile at people to give at least something in return. I really hope I'm capable of more than that. Today I was walking along Nevski Prospekt (the main street of St. Petersburg) barefoot, with a little message of bounty and simplicity in my heart.
The sad thing is that not many people accept it. They drive behind their black windows, stare at their mobile phones, and on their faces I can see a disgust towards a poor person. (Here barefooting can be really seen as a sign of poorness, not of freedom).
But some of them smile back.
First encounters
Since summer 2009 I've been trying to travel to Russia. Every time there's been something standing in the way: vegetable gardens, falling in love, tooth infections, just about anything you can think of. But I knew that it just wasn't the right time yet. Postponing plans, with Russia starting to feel more and more like an imagination land rather than something that really exists.
But it does exist, very much, as I see now.
After over a year of planning and pondering, it was simply approriate to leave as I did. On one Friday evening, all of a sudden, I decided that the time has come, so I went to get some waterproof clothes just minutes before the shops closed, packed my bag, and two hours later I was already on my way towards the mysterious East.
You might say that there were some strange demons in the way of getting to Russia. But then my rescuing angel definately came in an even stranger form. Sergey was a tattooed chain smoker and an ex hammer thrower with 200 kilos of body weight and apparently no fear of death (this I concluded based on his way of driving). I filled in my immigration card in the middle of the woods at 4.am, hands shaking from the freezing wind, and right after the border we stopped to buy two bottles of vodka. Sergey's nostalgic sigh "Ah, Russia" made me realize that in a way I had travelled further away from home than ever before.
We arrived in St. Petersburg early in the morning, and the city was greeting me with dusty rays of the rising sun. It was love at first sight.
But it does exist, very much, as I see now.
After over a year of planning and pondering, it was simply approriate to leave as I did. On one Friday evening, all of a sudden, I decided that the time has come, so I went to get some waterproof clothes just minutes before the shops closed, packed my bag, and two hours later I was already on my way towards the mysterious East.
You might say that there were some strange demons in the way of getting to Russia. But then my rescuing angel definately came in an even stranger form. Sergey was a tattooed chain smoker and an ex hammer thrower with 200 kilos of body weight and apparently no fear of death (this I concluded based on his way of driving). I filled in my immigration card in the middle of the woods at 4.am, hands shaking from the freezing wind, and right after the border we stopped to buy two bottles of vodka. Sergey's nostalgic sigh "Ah, Russia" made me realize that in a way I had travelled further away from home than ever before.
We arrived in St. Petersburg early in the morning, and the city was greeting me with dusty rays of the rising sun. It was love at first sight.
keeping time pt. 2
"Mother, I'm ready! I'm finally ready!"
"For what?"
"Huh? I don't know..."
(No, you are not ready, you're just different than you were a moment ago. And in the next moment, you will be a bit different again. This is called change, or development if you wish. Growth. It's all just about different realities in the "now", the essence of what we call time.)
blogging and camping
Travel blog, personal blog, thoughts about life -blog, art blog... I still don't know whether I should try to combine all of those or just keep them separately (which might become just as chaotic in the end).
Any ideas? Do you find it more convenient to have all the different stuff on the same page, or rather find different topics from different blogs? I don't even know who might read this, and here's the problem:
My art and criticism I'd like to share with as many as possible.
Travels I'd like to share with friends and other travellers.
And personal thoughts and dreams with friends only, I like keeping "an open diary" for myself, even if nobody ever reads it.
I haven't really been writing here at all, which is a shame, since I used to keep a Finnish blog for years (since 2004- can you believe it?) and really enjoyed it. But it was always a bit too personal to be public, and then I couldn't really use it for public information/thoughts sharing.
Today I will buy a tent. I decided it needs to be big enough to fit two.
h2o+co2+sun=...
Such magic happens to your head after spending some overly peaceful time in an old cottage, swimming in the lake naked in the sunshine...naked as children, without any sexual context. Ah, how we all must miss such nudity. I felt like a beautiful being (not a child, a woman, a girl, just a non-human being) floating in the Mother Earth's womb. A friend of mine once said she would like to become plant plankton. Now I see what she meant. How magical would it be like, to live floating in the womb from day to day, making love with the sun in the form of photosynthesis...
I read a book written by a 92-year-old wonderwoman. She called herself "the lover of the Universe". Lover, as in girlfriend. Rakastajatar. Milenka. Is there a better word in English?
Well, I am one of those now.
I read a book written by a 92-year-old wonderwoman. She called herself "the lover of the Universe". Lover, as in girlfriend. Rakastajatar. Milenka. Is there a better word in English?
Well, I am one of those now.
When words can't tell...
(click to view the bigger picture)Valitettavasti ylläoleva kuva on todellinen. Sen on kuvannut Munir Uz Zaman Bangladeshin vaatetyöntekijöiden mielenosoituksissa, muokkaus on omaa käsialaani. Jälkimmäinen kuva on H&M-mainoksesta muokkaamani uusi versio, "vastamainos".
Helsingin Sanomat kertoo seuraavaa mielenosoituksista:
"Muun muassa ruotsalaisketju Hennes & Mauritzille alihankintana vaatteita ompelevat työntekijät vaativat palkankorotuksia.Poliisi taltutti kapinaan nousseita työntekijöitä pampuilla, kyynelkaasulla ja vesiruiskuilla. -- Meneillään olevissa palkkaneuvotteluissa työntekijät vaativat takaisin myös rästissä olevia palkkoja. Lakkoilijoiden mukaan vaatetehtaat eivät ole reagoineet vaatimuksiin. "
1) väkivaltaan, jolla oikeuksiaan vaativia ihmisiä kohdellaan
2) vaatteiden halpuuteen, joka perustuu sille että joku jossain joutuu kärsimään
3) sekä koko vastaavanlaisen bisneksen halpamaisuuteen (engl. cheap tarkoittaa sekä halpaa että epäreilua. bloody tarkoittaa paitsi veristä, myös verrattavissa esim. suomen kielen ilmaisuun "sairaan" tai "helvetin" halpaa); vaihtoehtoinen suomennos kuvalle olisikin "Helvetin epäreilua".
Sadly enough, the picture with the little boy and the police is real. It's from the factory workers' wage protests in Bangladesh, taken by Munir Uz Zaman, edited by me. The second picture is H&M's ad edited by me.
"Bloody cheap" refers to three things:
1) the shocking violence used against the workers who are only demanding for basic rights
2) the cheap prices of the clothes are based on suffering
3) to point out that the business itself is cheap (=unfair)
This is what the Guardian says about the protests:
"Children are caught up in clashes with police as at least 15,000 protesting garment factory workers block key roads in the Bangladeshi capital Dhaka, the latest in a string of protests over low wages and poor conditions. Police fired tear gas and used water cannons to disperse the workers, who sew clothes for some of the top names in western retail, after they blocked a major intersection in the north of the city"
guardian.co.uk
Kriittistä
tämä on vastine äskettäin lukemaani juttuun huuhaa-uskomuksia sekä koulukasvatusta koskien. huomaa kyllä, etten ole pitkään aikaan kirjoittanu mitään vastaavaa, lukioaikoina tää olis mennyt ihan rutiinilla mutta nyt piti tosissaan tapella että sai lauseet pysymään kasassa. varsinkin asian tiivistäminen oli pirun hankalaa. eikä suomenkielikään oikein enää meinaa sujua, yli puolet ajatuksista tulee englanniksi. harjoittelemallahan se varmaan siitä taas lähtee, pitäis kirjoitella enemmän "virallisia" juttuja...
(English translation to be published...)
Rakentava kriittisyys edellyttää laajakatseisuutta
Arno Kotro kommentoi 25.6. HS:n pääkirjoitussivulla julkaistussa ”Koulu ei kasvata huuhaa-kriittisyyteen” - kirjoituksessaan jyrkästi tiettyjen uskomuksien todenperäisyyttä ja tarpeellisuutta, sekä esitti kiinnostavan ehdotuksen lisätä kouluihin kriittisen ajattelun opetusta.
Kriittinen ajattelu on parhaimmillaan rakentava, mutta pahimmillaan rajoittava väline maailman ymmärtämiseen, jonka taitavaa käyttämistä kouluopetuksella olisi mahdollista tukea. Taitamattomasti käytetty kriittisyys voi kuitenkin helposti johtaa liialliseen skeptisyyteen, ennakkoluuloisuuteen tai toisten ihmiste elämänkatsomuksien arvottamiseen. Siksi tulisikin kiinnittää erityistä huomiota siihen, miten ja millä asenteella kriittisyyteen opastetaan. Kotron ehdotus ”koulun pitää herätellä miettimään, miksi uskon niin kuin uskon” on sinänsä hyvä. Jos filosofianopettaja kuitenkin jo keskustelunavauksessaan toteaa tylysti myös, että ”huuhaata ei tarvita mihinkään”, on koko aiheen käsittely vaarassa jäädä valitettavan mustavalkoiseksi.
Selittämättömiin ilmiöihin uskomisen taustalla on yleensä henkilökohtainen kokemus tai tunne, jota on tietenkin hankala todistaa tieteellisesti. Tällaiset uskomukset eivät kuitenkaan hylkää tieteelliseen tietoon perustuvaa maailmankuvaa, vaan parhaassa tapauksessa täydentävät sitä. Samoin kuin taide, myös mystiikka voi tuoda harrastajalleen paljon arvokkaita elämyksiä. Niinsanottuihin huuhaa-uskomuksiin liittyy jo nyt valtavasti ennakkoluuloja, minkä vuoksi moni peittelee elämänkatsomustaan leimautumisen pelossa. Näiden ennakkoluulojen ruokkiminen ja henkilökohtaisen henkisyyden määrittely ”huuhaaksi” tuskin ovat sellaisia tehtäviä, joihin koululaitosta tulisi valjastaa. Yksipuolinen asenne näkyy Kotronkin tavassa niputtaa kaikki epätieteellinen lentävistä lautasista reikihoitoihin saman hömppäkategorian alle.
Huuhaatakin on monenlaista - viikkolehtien horoskoopit ovat hyvä esimerkki uskomuksien kaupallistamisesta, eikä niillä ole juuri mitään tekemistä alkuperäisen astrologian kanssa. Vaikka ”huuhaalla” myös rahastetaan, Kotron mainitsema vaihtoehtohoitojen ”iso bisnes” on todellisuudessa hyvin pientä verrattuna länsimaiseen lääketeollisuuteen, joka kaikessa tieteellisyydessäänkin on saanut joitakin hyvin epämiellyttäviä ja korruptoituneita piirteitä (olkoon tieteellistä tai ei, minusta ihmisten hoitamisen muuttaminen kylmäksi bisnekseksi on aina moraalisesti arveluttavaa). Vaihtoehtohoitojen tieteellinen tutkiminen on luonnollisestikin ongelmallista ja näyttö vähäistä, mutta jos joku uskoo reikiin ja kokee sen edistävän hyvinvointiaan, en näe siinä mitään erityisen haitallista tai torjuttavaa.
”Huuhaa-kriittisyyden” sijasta pitäisin tärkäenä sitä, että koulussa tarkasteltaisiin erilaisia uskontoja ja uskomuksia historiallisesta ja poliittisesta – ja miksei filosofisestakin – näkökulmasta. Lisäksi erityisesti mediakriittisyyteen kasvattamisen voisi aloittaa jo peruskoulussa, media ja viihdemaailma kun taitavat lopulta olla ne nykyhetken suurimmat huuhaan tuottajat.
Jokaisen olisi hyvä oppia ymmärtämään tieteellisen ja kokemuspohjaisen tiedon ero, mutta jälkimmäisen vähättelevä leimaaminen hömpäksi ei ole hedelmällinen lähtökohta evästää oppilaita taitavaan ajatteluun. Taitavuutta on se, että kykenee käsittelemään ja hyödyntämään elämän monipuolisuutta. Oppilaita tulisi kannustaa arvostamaan tieteen ohella myös henkilökohtaista tunneperäistä näkemystä, sekä ymmärtämään, ettei näiden tarvitse olla toisiaan poissulkevia asioita. Tämä tarjoaisi parhaat puitteet sellaisen maailmankuvan muodostamiselle, joka on samanaikaisesti sekä jaettu että henkilökohtainen.
juhannus
A typical question heard in the Finnish summer night, and a demonstration of the responses by very old, the old, and the present me:
A strange guy: "Hey baby, can i love you tonight?"
The very old me: "...." (blushing and looking away)
The old me: "Stop calling me baby and go fuck yourself!"
The present me: "Yes, everyone can love me. Just not physically."
Strange guy: "What?? Do you mean that the mental one feels better?"
Me: "Yes, it's great. You should try it!"
Hmm, I still seem to draw the same kind of attention, but at least my own reactions have developed a little bit. Besides, this time it was quite a simple honest innocent question. Who wouldn't need love?
I hope he finds it somewhere.
jan
prahalaisen puiston mustikkapuun juurelle lasketut unet ovat tänään luettavissa tämänkin naisen kasvoilta näennäisen levottomuuden alta
XXX is the new happy
time for shopping...
my mind is rushing like crazy.
(maybe i am)
this morning i got a call from mumbai. is it too much to say that i love hearing a familiar voice from a place that feels like another universe?
tomorrow i'll start fasting. and fast writing. must. put. these. thoughts. into. paper. then. into. action. period.
(ps. i'm sorry for the embarrasing quality of the writing here which seems to be getting worse and worse as the sun grows brighter and brighter and my heart starts to sing more and more melodies. fuck words, like one well-bearded person would say. no, i'm not talking about marx...)
love you all
my mind is rushing like crazy.
(maybe i am)
this morning i got a call from mumbai. is it too much to say that i love hearing a familiar voice from a place that feels like another universe?
tomorrow i'll start fasting. and fast writing. must. put. these. thoughts. into. paper. then. into. action. period.
(ps. i'm sorry for the embarrasing quality of the writing here which seems to be getting worse and worse as the sun grows brighter and brighter and my heart starts to sing more and more melodies. fuck words, like one well-bearded person would say. no, i'm not talking about marx...)
love you all
i can't identify myself as a part of any "group" anymore. i'm not a student, not a photographer, not a traveller.
nor am i an activist, anarchist, artist, hippie, nomad. all of these "genres" seem just as narrow as all the other boxes. then what is there really outside the box? nothing? air? spirits? have i become dead, non-existent?
it's a real paradox: the first step into "finding yourself" is realising that you can never be searching for yourself.
no one is ever fully complete. so where is this big process called life going? where is it taking me, or am i supposed to take it somewhere?
do we ever find answers or do we just stop asking questions at some point?
let me explain about the box thing. for example, these "alternative" circles here seem somehow so closed... the division between "us" and "them" is just as clear as within the so-called normal people that we are so much blaming for being so fucking narrow-minded.
how can we ever change the world if we only want to change it for ourselves? we are taking this role of "the fighters" and those others just don't understand a thing...and moreover, we don't even WANT them to understand. we want to have them to be blamed for everything, to be the damn scapegoats. we want to be in this group, with likeminded people, making stuff and doing things and organizing actions only for ourselves. what are the reclaim the street parties that i see here? partying with your friends, giving the finger at your enemies. getting support for your own ideologies and beliefs, getting your own speciality and existence approved. supporting your own ego by glorifying your own life choices compared to "the others"?
i don't think this division is doing any good to anyone.
i want to find another way.
to be able to care for others, one needs to be feeling well. so by increasing each individual's wellbeing we could increase the general "loving&caring&sharing" in the world. how to do this? i want to find out.
i don't really believe in aggressive actions anymore... what can we achieve by interrupting big conferences or chaining ourselves into the powerplants?
ok, it does give the power "back to the people", delivers a certain message and raises conversation, but who listens to this message? i'm afraid these acts will only separate "us" from "them", creating this gap between activists and the so-called normal people. especially when it's not in our control how the message will in the end be delivered to the majority, because most of them will only see what the tv shows them and hear what the news tell them. and we already know how these messages are being delievered in the mainstream media.
these reports are only creating negative image about the whole concept of activism. they are making basic human rights, such as demonstrating, look illegal and suspicious. the majority will want to separate themselves from such negative acts and therefore also the ideas behind the acts.
besides, it's much easier not to think, not to be conscious, and to remain inside the box (either one of the many boxes).
why would you care for anyone else when you have your own mess to clean? i suppose when one is healthy and happy they can start thinking about others more and more. and by spreading happiness they will again become happier and happier in their own lives. basically, this could be like a giant snowball of happiness rolling around the world.
but we need to stop thinking with terms like "us" and "them" and only sharing the happiness within our own circles. why would we want to exlude the majority if the aim is to fulfill more than just our own egoistic needs?
i'm working on a concept based on these thoughts, and sooner or later they will be put into a bit clearer words and hopefully some physical changes will follow. what, how, when - let's get back to that.
peace,
isla
nor am i an activist, anarchist, artist, hippie, nomad. all of these "genres" seem just as narrow as all the other boxes. then what is there really outside the box? nothing? air? spirits? have i become dead, non-existent?
it's a real paradox: the first step into "finding yourself" is realising that you can never be searching for yourself.
no one is ever fully complete. so where is this big process called life going? where is it taking me, or am i supposed to take it somewhere?
do we ever find answers or do we just stop asking questions at some point?
let me explain about the box thing. for example, these "alternative" circles here seem somehow so closed... the division between "us" and "them" is just as clear as within the so-called normal people that we are so much blaming for being so fucking narrow-minded.
how can we ever change the world if we only want to change it for ourselves? we are taking this role of "the fighters" and those others just don't understand a thing...and moreover, we don't even WANT them to understand. we want to have them to be blamed for everything, to be the damn scapegoats. we want to be in this group, with likeminded people, making stuff and doing things and organizing actions only for ourselves. what are the reclaim the street parties that i see here? partying with your friends, giving the finger at your enemies. getting support for your own ideologies and beliefs, getting your own speciality and existence approved. supporting your own ego by glorifying your own life choices compared to "the others"?
i don't think this division is doing any good to anyone.
i want to find another way.
to be able to care for others, one needs to be feeling well. so by increasing each individual's wellbeing we could increase the general "loving&caring&sharing" in the world. how to do this? i want to find out.
i don't really believe in aggressive actions anymore... what can we achieve by interrupting big conferences or chaining ourselves into the powerplants?
ok, it does give the power "back to the people", delivers a certain message and raises conversation, but who listens to this message? i'm afraid these acts will only separate "us" from "them", creating this gap between activists and the so-called normal people. especially when it's not in our control how the message will in the end be delivered to the majority, because most of them will only see what the tv shows them and hear what the news tell them. and we already know how these messages are being delievered in the mainstream media.
these reports are only creating negative image about the whole concept of activism. they are making basic human rights, such as demonstrating, look illegal and suspicious. the majority will want to separate themselves from such negative acts and therefore also the ideas behind the acts.
besides, it's much easier not to think, not to be conscious, and to remain inside the box (either one of the many boxes).
why would you care for anyone else when you have your own mess to clean? i suppose when one is healthy and happy they can start thinking about others more and more. and by spreading happiness they will again become happier and happier in their own lives. basically, this could be like a giant snowball of happiness rolling around the world.
but we need to stop thinking with terms like "us" and "them" and only sharing the happiness within our own circles. why would we want to exlude the majority if the aim is to fulfill more than just our own egoistic needs?
i'm working on a concept based on these thoughts, and sooner or later they will be put into a bit clearer words and hopefully some physical changes will follow. what, how, when - let's get back to that.
peace,
isla
9
the darkest time of the night, but still i know that the sun will rise again in a couple of hours.
just a few words in my head; significant and yet irrational words rising from the past, hopefully showing the future.
another nine days have passed. nine days spent in the basement, painting, writing, taking care of people i love (this is really something.)
the funniest collection of people around; techno music, arabic prayer calls, neurotic cleaning, grandmothers, dreadlocks, a newborn baby, online gaming and the most stereotypical finnish middle-aged man living under the same roof.
now that's what i call craziness.
(amsterdam was nothing compared to this).
just a few words in my head; significant and yet irrational words rising from the past, hopefully showing the future.
another nine days have passed. nine days spent in the basement, painting, writing, taking care of people i love (this is really something.)
the funniest collection of people around; techno music, arabic prayer calls, neurotic cleaning, grandmothers, dreadlocks, a newborn baby, online gaming and the most stereotypical finnish middle-aged man living under the same roof.
now that's what i call craziness.
(amsterdam was nothing compared to this).
runo_kilpailu
hienoa !
kirjoittakaa nimettömästi tai nimellä varustettuna runoja tai "pienoisnovelleja" tänne näin kommenttina tähän postiin, tai mulle sähköpostilla (kaisaveera gmailissa) tai facebook-viestillä.
tämä on siis runokilpailu. paras yritys palkitaan ehkä jotenkin jos hyvä tuuri käy.
kunniaa ja mainetta et saa ellet pistä vähintään nimeä ja syntymäaikaa ja luottokortin numeroa mukaan.
runojen ja/tai pienoisnovellien aiheet ovat:
1. "näin minusta tuli mies"
2. "onnettomuus pispalassa"
maksimipituus 15 sanaa.
vastausaikaa on vuoteen 2012 mennessä.
runot suomeksi tai englanniksi.
---
[ ENG ] - - -
this is a serious competition. so be ready to get serious.
post a comment with a poem or a short story.
the topics are
1. how i became a man
2. an accident in pispala
the lenght should not be more than 15 words per poem/story.
deadline is in 2012.
write in finnish, please. i know you can do it. (if you're retarded you can write in english too.)
the winner might get something or might not - some fame at least, and you'll get to read other people's masterpieces! go on, write!
kirjoittakaa nimettömästi tai nimellä varustettuna runoja tai "pienoisnovelleja" tänne näin kommenttina tähän postiin, tai mulle sähköpostilla (kaisaveera gmailissa) tai facebook-viestillä.
tämä on siis runokilpailu. paras yritys palkitaan ehkä jotenkin jos hyvä tuuri käy.
kunniaa ja mainetta et saa ellet pistä vähintään nimeä ja syntymäaikaa ja luottokortin numeroa mukaan.
runojen ja/tai pienoisnovellien aiheet ovat:
1. "näin minusta tuli mies"
2. "onnettomuus pispalassa"
maksimipituus 15 sanaa.
vastausaikaa on vuoteen 2012 mennessä.
runot suomeksi tai englanniksi.
---
[ ENG ] - - -
this is a serious competition. so be ready to get serious.
post a comment with a poem or a short story.
the topics are
1. how i became a man
2. an accident in pispala
the lenght should not be more than 15 words per poem/story.
deadline is in 2012.
write in finnish, please. i know you can do it. (if you're retarded you can write in english too.)
the winner might get something or might not - some fame at least, and you'll get to read other people's masterpieces! go on, write!
persian
kaunis harmaa ilta tampereella.
päivityksiä elämästä, jossa ei tällä hetkellä tapahdu mitään. mikä on ilmeisesti ihan positiivinen asia.
söin äsken perunamuussia sängyssä. se tiivistää kaiken olennaisen: sen, ettei minulla ole hampaita enkä saa suuta auki; sen, että keittiö on liian kaukana. eikä se ollu edes oma sänky.
tosiaan, mun piti lähteä tänään pietariin, mutta olen tampereella.
musta on hieman häiritsevää, että saan sairaalasta mukaan särkylääkkeiden ja antibioottien päälle kodeiinia, johon koukuttuu ja kuolee suomessa vuosittain enemmän ihmisiä kuin heroiiniin.
"eikö näitä saa pienemmässä pakkauksessa?" kysyn apteekissa.
ei saa, ja apteekin täti vielä kirkkain silmin selittää, että tämä on sitten hyvää vaikkapa yskään, jos sulla jää näitä pillereitä käyttämättä.
siis että anteeksi mitä? minä kyllä juon yskään mieluummin mustaherukkamehua ja yrttiteetä ja LEPÄÄN, kuin nappailen kolmiolääkkeitä.
olo on tänään hyvin eriskummallinen.
sain rakkauskirjeen, joka oli kirjoitettu niin epäselvällä käsialalla, etten ole oikeastaan edes varma, onko se rakkauskirje ensinkään.
pöydällä on cantaloupe-melonin kuoria. tekisi mieli syödä jotain oranssia.
päivityksiä elämästä, jossa ei tällä hetkellä tapahdu mitään. mikä on ilmeisesti ihan positiivinen asia.
söin äsken perunamuussia sängyssä. se tiivistää kaiken olennaisen: sen, ettei minulla ole hampaita enkä saa suuta auki; sen, että keittiö on liian kaukana. eikä se ollu edes oma sänky.
tosiaan, mun piti lähteä tänään pietariin, mutta olen tampereella.
musta on hieman häiritsevää, että saan sairaalasta mukaan särkylääkkeiden ja antibioottien päälle kodeiinia, johon koukuttuu ja kuolee suomessa vuosittain enemmän ihmisiä kuin heroiiniin.
"eikö näitä saa pienemmässä pakkauksessa?" kysyn apteekissa.
ei saa, ja apteekin täti vielä kirkkain silmin selittää, että tämä on sitten hyvää vaikkapa yskään, jos sulla jää näitä pillereitä käyttämättä.
siis että anteeksi mitä? minä kyllä juon yskään mieluummin mustaherukkamehua ja yrttiteetä ja LEPÄÄN, kuin nappailen kolmiolääkkeitä.
olo on tänään hyvin eriskummallinen.
sain rakkauskirjeen, joka oli kirjoitettu niin epäselvällä käsialalla, etten ole oikeastaan edes varma, onko se rakkauskirje ensinkään.
pöydällä on cantaloupe-melonin kuoria. tekisi mieli syödä jotain oranssia.
a day without money
Morning: I wake up from my friend's lovely countryside house. The sun has already been up for several hours, even though it's only 9 o'clock. For this reason I love Finland.
For breakfast I eat rye bread (another reason to love Finland) with cucumber, tomatoes, margarine and tofu. All found from a dumpster behind the local grocery store. I also take some fruits with me as snacks.
We set off to a nearby village where Tero is studying glass blowing. In such a hot day feels absurd to step into the big hall full of open fires, the sweaty air burns your cheeks and bring tears into your eyes. The glasses are beautiful, though. They have made an installation out of "melted" glass bottles (that actually remind me of Dali's watches) and an old vacuum cleaner. Sadly I have no picture of it.
From Toijala we start hitchhiking towards Tampere, holding the good old "forward" sign. People are smiling at us. I am smiling even more, for it just feels so great to be on the road with Tittis again (even though it's only a short way this time), remembering all the crazy penniless worry-less summer days with tiny bags, old cassette player, broken shoes or no shoes at all... She is the one I hitched with to Amsterdam and back, my first longer hitchhike trip. No plans at all, no equipment, no money. We started hitching in Tampere, Finland with a sign saying "Amsterdam". We got there in three rides.
This time we are lucky again. A nice black-haired man drives us close to highway leading to Tampere, from where we immediately get a lift in a truck. The driver takes us close to the center. We walk through the city streets in the summer heat without shoes on, Tittis is pointing at everything she sees with total exitement. After the time spent in the forest she is going slightly crazy from all the people, cars, cafés and roller skates.
We spend a nice day going around the city, meeting our friend Marja and sitting in a park watching the ants and the clouds and everything in between.
At four o'clock I start walking towards the hitching spot again; I want to get to Jyväskylä for the evening, my brother's band is playing and it's been a while since I've last seen their gig. I stand with my thumb out for maybe 15 minutes, when a foreign van pulls over. The driver is middle-aged, wears dark glasses and looks slightly suspicious. I'm pushing back my prejudgements (hmm, which I might actually want to have while hitching) and get in. He agrees to take me all the way to Jyväskylä even though it's not really his destination. At some point, based on his stories, I am sure he's a drug dealer. But he isn't. It turns out that he's actually dealing diamonds with the Russian mafia. Or something like that. I don't ask about the details. He is making some questions about a possible boyfriend, but this time I am clever and start chatting about how we are actually planning to have a family soon and move into the countryside, and how much I'm looking forward becoming a mother... I hope this will distract him enough to forget any dirty thoughts he might have had about me. It works, and we spend the rest of the journey talking about our future plans. He tells me he would like to live in a wooden hut next to a lake one day. I tell him to go for it.
When we reach Jyväskylä, he says I shouldn't be hitching alone, and that I should be more careful with guys like himself. I agree, but I say that I'm really glad he was worth trusting. We say goodbye.
With mixed feelings and slightly shaky legs ( I did get a bit worried at the russian mafia part), I climb up a little hill in Jyväskylä to meet an old friend of mine. He is hanging out with some circus people who are practicing trapeze outside in the trees.
I realize it's time to go to the gig already, and to my pleasant surprise a stranger offers to lend me his bicycle. Gratefully I cycle to the youth center right on time to see the last three bands playing. My brother's band is the last one. It's strange to see my little brother on the stage banging the drums all sweaty and tattooed, still remembering so clearly the days when we shared a room, and how he used to dream about becoming a rockstar, practiced drumming with cardboard boxes before he got a real drum kit.
After the gig I realize how hungry I am. Where could I get food? It's already really late, not many shops are open (especially ones with some vegan food). But then it turns out that there's still some pasta left at the backstage, and the musicians have already left. I'm saving the rest of the food from going into the bin. New home in my empty stomach, there you go.
I go back to the park, where we make human pyramids, get to see a spontanoeus one-minute jane austen play, and talk about the world. People around us are drinking beer and throwing up on their shoes, this is the part of Finland I haven't missed.
When I get hungry again, I tell myself I will surely find some food sooner or later. No need to go shopping, as there is so much food waste in the world already. And just ten minutes later I'm eating a slice of a massive lovely Finnish sweet bun which was cruelly abandoned on a park lawn.
The walk home is long but lovely. I have shoes that I found on the streets in Barcelona; perfect size, perfect look.
Recently I read an article about food not bombs and dumpster diving. Why would anyone want to eat stuff that was in a dumpster, they asked.
Why would anyone want to buy, buy, buy, more, more and more stuff when the dumpsters are already full of edible goods still in their own packages?
I read 30% of all the food produced in the UK is going to waste. In the US it's even worse : 40-50%. I don't know what's the magic number in Scandinavia, but based on the dumpsters I have seen in Finland, and especially in Denmark, I would guess we are not much better.
And still we are talking about "a depression", finance crisis, threat of poverty, in our own country. There is not enough food in the world to feed all the population, it is being said. But it's not true - there is enough food, it is just being thrown away.
So now I have lived yet another day completely without money in an expensive welfare country. The idea does not come from wanting to save up, or because I couldn't afford to buy food or ride a car. This society is producing so much waste it could feed not only me but thousands of others. Most of the cars I see have three or four empty seats. I'm dumpster-diving fucking wine and roses and expensive cheese.
It simply doesn't make any sense to want everything new and shiny for as long as this kind of waste production keeps on going. So, until I find a better solution -
For breakfast I eat rye bread (another reason to love Finland) with cucumber, tomatoes, margarine and tofu. All found from a dumpster behind the local grocery store. I also take some fruits with me as snacks.
We set off to a nearby village where Tero is studying glass blowing. In such a hot day feels absurd to step into the big hall full of open fires, the sweaty air burns your cheeks and bring tears into your eyes. The glasses are beautiful, though. They have made an installation out of "melted" glass bottles (that actually remind me of Dali's watches) and an old vacuum cleaner. Sadly I have no picture of it.
From Toijala we start hitchhiking towards Tampere, holding the good old "forward" sign. People are smiling at us. I am smiling even more, for it just feels so great to be on the road with Tittis again (even though it's only a short way this time), remembering all the crazy penniless worry-less summer days with tiny bags, old cassette player, broken shoes or no shoes at all... She is the one I hitched with to Amsterdam and back, my first longer hitchhike trip. No plans at all, no equipment, no money. We started hitching in Tampere, Finland with a sign saying "Amsterdam". We got there in three rides.
This time we are lucky again. A nice black-haired man drives us close to highway leading to Tampere, from where we immediately get a lift in a truck. The driver takes us close to the center. We walk through the city streets in the summer heat without shoes on, Tittis is pointing at everything she sees with total exitement. After the time spent in the forest she is going slightly crazy from all the people, cars, cafés and roller skates.
We spend a nice day going around the city, meeting our friend Marja and sitting in a park watching the ants and the clouds and everything in between.
At four o'clock I start walking towards the hitching spot again; I want to get to Jyväskylä for the evening, my brother's band is playing and it's been a while since I've last seen their gig. I stand with my thumb out for maybe 15 minutes, when a foreign van pulls over. The driver is middle-aged, wears dark glasses and looks slightly suspicious. I'm pushing back my prejudgements (hmm, which I might actually want to have while hitching) and get in. He agrees to take me all the way to Jyväskylä even though it's not really his destination. At some point, based on his stories, I am sure he's a drug dealer. But he isn't. It turns out that he's actually dealing diamonds with the Russian mafia. Or something like that. I don't ask about the details. He is making some questions about a possible boyfriend, but this time I am clever and start chatting about how we are actually planning to have a family soon and move into the countryside, and how much I'm looking forward becoming a mother... I hope this will distract him enough to forget any dirty thoughts he might have had about me. It works, and we spend the rest of the journey talking about our future plans. He tells me he would like to live in a wooden hut next to a lake one day. I tell him to go for it.
When we reach Jyväskylä, he says I shouldn't be hitching alone, and that I should be more careful with guys like himself. I agree, but I say that I'm really glad he was worth trusting. We say goodbye.
With mixed feelings and slightly shaky legs ( I did get a bit worried at the russian mafia part), I climb up a little hill in Jyväskylä to meet an old friend of mine. He is hanging out with some circus people who are practicing trapeze outside in the trees.
I realize it's time to go to the gig already, and to my pleasant surprise a stranger offers to lend me his bicycle. Gratefully I cycle to the youth center right on time to see the last three bands playing. My brother's band is the last one. It's strange to see my little brother on the stage banging the drums all sweaty and tattooed, still remembering so clearly the days when we shared a room, and how he used to dream about becoming a rockstar, practiced drumming with cardboard boxes before he got a real drum kit.
After the gig I realize how hungry I am. Where could I get food? It's already really late, not many shops are open (especially ones with some vegan food). But then it turns out that there's still some pasta left at the backstage, and the musicians have already left. I'm saving the rest of the food from going into the bin. New home in my empty stomach, there you go.
I go back to the park, where we make human pyramids, get to see a spontanoeus one-minute jane austen play, and talk about the world. People around us are drinking beer and throwing up on their shoes, this is the part of Finland I haven't missed.
When I get hungry again, I tell myself I will surely find some food sooner or later. No need to go shopping, as there is so much food waste in the world already. And just ten minutes later I'm eating a slice of a massive lovely Finnish sweet bun which was cruelly abandoned on a park lawn.
The walk home is long but lovely. I have shoes that I found on the streets in Barcelona; perfect size, perfect look.
Recently I read an article about food not bombs and dumpster diving. Why would anyone want to eat stuff that was in a dumpster, they asked.
Why would anyone want to buy, buy, buy, more, more and more stuff when the dumpsters are already full of edible goods still in their own packages?
I read 30% of all the food produced in the UK is going to waste. In the US it's even worse : 40-50%. I don't know what's the magic number in Scandinavia, but based on the dumpsters I have seen in Finland, and especially in Denmark, I would guess we are not much better.
And still we are talking about "a depression", finance crisis, threat of poverty, in our own country. There is not enough food in the world to feed all the population, it is being said. But it's not true - there is enough food, it is just being thrown away.
So now I have lived yet another day completely without money in an expensive welfare country. The idea does not come from wanting to save up, or because I couldn't afford to buy food or ride a car. This society is producing so much waste it could feed not only me but thousands of others. Most of the cars I see have three or four empty seats. I'm dumpster-diving fucking wine and roses and expensive cheese.
It simply doesn't make any sense to want everything new and shiny for as long as this kind of waste production keeps on going. So, until I find a better solution -
YOU SLEEP - I EAT YOUR RUBBISH!
finland
I was living and working in southern France, near Perpignan, near the beautiful Pyrenees, on a little piece of land. Only nature surrounding me.
My days were spent doing yoga, digging in the garden, picking wild herbs, cycling around the countryside, writing, trying to learn a bit of french (i learned more norwegian than french, which is not a bad thing as such)
, and enjoying the Sun every day as it was greeting me in the mornings and setting upon my little shed in the evenings.
My hosts, Eva and Marco, were wonderful people and amazing artists, giving me lots of inspiration and sharing their stories. They have cycled in Africa and walked with a mule in Ecuador - of course with their instruments and scetchbooks. And I got a new friend of a very young age; Tamino the baby, with whom I got along extremely well and for the first time of my life thought that babies aren't that strange after all. I had loads of fun with this little person, discovering my inner child and getting amazed by little wonders of the world as to him everything was new and delightful.
My home was surrounded by apricot and almond trees, mountains and hills, and my only neighbors were animals. Snakes, wild boars, foxes and hawks were among the wildest encounters I made. Also wild rosemary, thyme and peppermint were growing all over.
After these weeks in the paradise I have returned to Finland, where everything else is gray apart from traffic signs. I know the sun will be here sooner or later, and luckily I have restored some of the southerm sun inside me. And that sun I'm taking with me where ever I go.
I arrived in Finland on a Thursday evening with a bag full of dried herbs, wet and dirty clothes, and a bird made out and old kettle and a bunch of scrap metal.
I'm thinking about Russia. It's a long journey and a part of me wants stability more than that. Something I haven't really had for years - a home, a time when no constant arranging of the future is needed. And at the same time I am running, away from something, towards something, does it really make a difference?
Inspiring days are back anyway, that's what matters the most right now. Re-discovering the creative side of myself, remembering how one can completely ignore the normality of space and time and flow freely through images, expressions, and the mind...
There is a great thunderstorm outside. Safe in my parents' living room I watch the lightnings cutting through the dark blue sky as my thoughts are flashing back to the field in Ähtäri after a long day of fence building. Legs brown and bruised all over, hair wet and hands dirty, we ran, inhaling the whole range of life in a single breath.
My days were spent doing yoga, digging in the garden, picking wild herbs, cycling around the countryside, writing, trying to learn a bit of french (i learned more norwegian than french, which is not a bad thing as such)
, and enjoying the Sun every day as it was greeting me in the mornings and setting upon my little shed in the evenings.
My hosts, Eva and Marco, were wonderful people and amazing artists, giving me lots of inspiration and sharing their stories. They have cycled in Africa and walked with a mule in Ecuador - of course with their instruments and scetchbooks. And I got a new friend of a very young age; Tamino the baby, with whom I got along extremely well and for the first time of my life thought that babies aren't that strange after all. I had loads of fun with this little person, discovering my inner child and getting amazed by little wonders of the world as to him everything was new and delightful.
My home was surrounded by apricot and almond trees, mountains and hills, and my only neighbors were animals. Snakes, wild boars, foxes and hawks were among the wildest encounters I made. Also wild rosemary, thyme and peppermint were growing all over.
After these weeks in the paradise I have returned to Finland, where everything else is gray apart from traffic signs. I know the sun will be here sooner or later, and luckily I have restored some of the southerm sun inside me. And that sun I'm taking with me where ever I go.
I arrived in Finland on a Thursday evening with a bag full of dried herbs, wet and dirty clothes, and a bird made out and old kettle and a bunch of scrap metal.
I'm thinking about Russia. It's a long journey and a part of me wants stability more than that. Something I haven't really had for years - a home, a time when no constant arranging of the future is needed. And at the same time I am running, away from something, towards something, does it really make a difference?
Inspiring days are back anyway, that's what matters the most right now. Re-discovering the creative side of myself, remembering how one can completely ignore the normality of space and time and flow freely through images, expressions, and the mind...
There is a great thunderstorm outside. Safe in my parents' living room I watch the lightnings cutting through the dark blue sky as my thoughts are flashing back to the field in Ähtäri after a long day of fence building. Legs brown and bruised all over, hair wet and hands dirty, we ran, inhaling the whole range of life in a single breath.
cycling around the french countryside,
nothing but me and the mountains and vines turning green,
neverending roads,
secret hideaway places along the river which is nearly dried out
wheels firmly on the sandy path, i look up and laugh and greet every single creature on my way:
hello bird, hello mosquito, hello old man on a tractor
i can't help it, life is just so exciting and so full of miracles
nothing but me and the mountains and vines turning green,
neverending roads,
secret hideaway places along the river which is nearly dried out
wheels firmly on the sandy path, i look up and laugh and greet every single creature on my way:
hello bird, hello mosquito, hello old man on a tractor
i can't help it, life is just so exciting and so full of miracles
barcelona
Thumbs out, stop the first driver while the midday heat is starting to tickle your skin
The man is from Morocco and his car has no windows
I have to keep my eyes closed, the wind is too strong on the highway,
and before I even realize, we are in Barcelona
Walking on the beach, the night restless and wild
Breathe the Sea
See the others further away drinking cheap wine from a plastic bottle
Nobody here but you can hear the buzz and hassle and dancing and excited screams from the previous summer and years before that
Run, the security and discomfort of shoes becoming just a distant memory
Footprints on the sand,
knowing that in seconds the sea will swallow them
But your handprints in the world, you hope they would last till tomorrow
The man is from Morocco and his car has no windows
I have to keep my eyes closed, the wind is too strong on the highway,
and before I even realize, we are in Barcelona
Walking on the beach, the night restless and wild
Breathe the Sea
See the others further away drinking cheap wine from a plastic bottle
Nobody here but you can hear the buzz and hassle and dancing and excited screams from the previous summer and years before that
Run, the security and discomfort of shoes becoming just a distant memory
Footprints on the sand,
knowing that in seconds the sea will swallow them
But your handprints in the world, you hope they would last till tomorrow
kasvispakko, nälkälakko?
Kirjoitus helmikuulta:
Päätös Helsingin kouluihin tulevasta kasvisruokapäivästä on tuntunut saavan erityisesti koululaisten vanhemmat takajaloilleen. Helsingin Sanomien nettikeskusteluissa manaillaan kilpaa idunpureskelijoiden ideologian pakkosyöttämistä, pelätään lasten terveyden ja jaksamisen puolesta sekä puidaan koko päätöksen tarpeellisuutta. Toivottavasti näiden närkästyneiden vanhempien mielipiteet eivät tartuta lapsiin turhia ennakkoluuloja. Mikäli yleinen näkemys kasvissyönnistä todella on "viherpiipertäjien salaatinpureskelua", toivoisin jonkinlaista asenne- ja ravintokasvatusta lasten ja nuorten ohella myös aikuisille.
Olen kuullut ja lukenut lukuisia väitteitä siitä, että kasvisruokapäivä olisi pakottamista ja lasten oikeuksien polkemista. Minusta on kummallisempaa, että lapsille syötetään pienestä pitäen tehotuotettua lihaa ja opetetaan, että se on ainoa oikea ruokavalio. Onko kukaan informoinut lapsia esimerkiksi siitä, että useimpien karkkien valmistuksessa on käytetty possun suolia tai nahkaa? Tai että herkkupyöryköitä varten kanoja kasvatetaan suurissa halleissa 20 kanaa neliömetrin kokoisella alueella ja ne teurastetaan muutaman viikon ikäisinä varta vasten ihmisten tarpeita tyydyttämään? Veikkaisin, että aika monelta lapselta voisi mennä nakkikastikkeet väärään kurkkuun, jos he tietäisivät, mistä se ruoka lautaselle on oikein tullut. Toki eläimet tappavat toisiaan, nimenomaan luonnossa ja luonnollisesti. Mistä se liha sitten kouluruokalaan saapuu? Ei suinkaan metsästä, niinkuin esi-isämme sen hankkivat, vaan laitoksista, joissa eläimiä pidetään tuotantovälineinä. Miksi pitäisi opettaa lapsille, että kyseisten asioiden syöminen on ihan luonnollista, tarpeellista tai jopa välttämätöntä?
Huvittavinta – tai kenties sittenkin surullisinta - oli lukea kommentteja vanhemmilta, jotka suunnittelivat antavansa lapsilleen kasvisruokapäivinä rahaa pizzeriakäyntejä varten, jotta nämä varmasti saisivat vatsansa täyteen kunnon ruokaa. Mitä se koulussa (tai kotona) normaalisti tarjottava "kunnon ruoka" sitten oikein on? Nakkeja, lihapullia ja kalapuikkojako - jauhomössöä ja eläinruohojen jämätuotteita? Itse muistan kouluruokailusta parhaiten sen kammottavan ruskean kastikkeen, josta lihanpalasia sattui lautaselle vain hyvällä tuurilla ja kovalla kauhomisella. Eineslihapullien ravintoarvo on surkea ja lihapitoisuus lähinnä vitsi, sen sijaan samalla hinnalla voitaisiin tarjota esimerkiksi maistuvia papu- ja linssiruokia. Kasvisruuan terveellisyyttä ja ravitsevuutta epäilevät voisivat minun mielestäni avata suunsa vasta siinä vaiheessa, kun se heidän ihannoimansa "kunnon ruoka" on jotain muuta kuin eineksiä.
Vegaaniliiton sivuilta löytyy esimerkki, jonka mukaan annos papupataa vie kaikkiaan vain noin kymmenesosan sianliha-aterian tuottamisen vaatimasta energiamäärästä.
YK:n maatalousjärjestö FAO:n mukaan eläintuotanto vaikuttaa kasvihuonepäästöihin enemmän kuin liikenne.
Suomessa viljellään lähes 80%:lla peltopinta-alasta rehua eläimille, joita ihmiset puolestaan sitten syövät, sen sijaan että käytettäisiin peltoja suoraan ihmisten ravinnon viljelyyn.
Kaikista kasvihuonepäästöistä karjatalous aiheuttaa noin 18%, mikä on todella paljon siihen nähden, kuinka helposti asiaan voitaisiin vaikuttaa.
Entä sitten "toiselta puolelta maailmaa tuodut herkut"? No, väännetään nyt edelleen rautalangasta, että suurin osa Suomeen tuodusta soijasta menee eläinten rehuksi. Lihansyöjä siis kuluttaa soijaa siinä missä kasvissyöjäkin, paitsi että sen LISÄKSI lihansyöjä kuluttaa vielä lihaa. Kuulostaako järkevältä? Ei minustakaan.
Lisäksi, monia proteiinipitoisia ruokia saa lähempääkin; suomalaista härkäpapua ja hernettä, vehnägluteenista valmistettua seitania... Myös hamppua voitaisiin hyödyntää nykyistä paljon enemmän, mutta valitettavasti sitä ei asenneongelmaisessa Suomessa tällä hetkellä juuri viljellä. Hampunsiemenistä voidaan valmistaa mm. maitoa, hampputofua eli hefua sekä huipputerveellistä hamppuöljyä.
American diet assosiationin mukaan
"vegaani- ja muut kasvisruokavaliot sopivat kaikenikäisille, kun ne on koostettu hyvin. Ne ovat ravitsemuksellisesti riittäviä myös lapsille ja murrosikäisille sekä raskauden ja imetyksen aikana. Kasvisruokavalioissa on monia terveydellisiä etuja: niissä on vähemmän tyydyttynyttä rasvaa ja eläinproteiinia ja kolesterolia ei juuri lainkaan. Sen sijaan kasvissyöjät saavat ruokavaliostaan enemmän hiilihydraatteja, kuitua, magnesiumia, antioksidantteja (kuten C- ja E-vitamiinia) ja fytokemikaaleja. Kasvissyöjillä on havaittu olevan pienempi painoindeksi kuin sekasyöjillä, samoin pienempi sydäntautikuolleisuus. Veren kolesterolipitoisuus ja verenpaine ovat kasvissyöjillä myös pienemmät. Heillä on lisäksi alhaisempi riski sairastua verenpainetautiin, tyypin 2 diabetekseen sekä eturauhas- ja paksusuolensyöpiin".
- Mutta pitäähän lapsiparkoja nyt puolustaa tältä kamalalta salaattikuurilta, onneksi esimerkiksi diabetes ja verenpaineongelmat eivät millään lailla kosketa suomalaista elämää...
asuin koopenhaminassa taide/rakennus/ekokollektiivissa, jossa herasin filipin kanssa joka aamu argentiinalaisten kitaransoittoon. aurinko tervehti muistuttaen tulevasta kesasta, jota piti lahtea vastaan kohti etelaa.
saksaan liftaaminen meinasi ensin tyssata tanskalaiselle huoltoasemalle, mutta lopulta paadyimme puolivahingossa puolaan. sieltakaan poispaasy ei ollut helppoa, joten vietimme yhden erittain kauniin yon pienen lammen rannalla puolan ja saksan rajamailla, seurana kuu, tahdet ja nuotio seka kourallinen vesilintuja.
saksassa seurasi pari lyhytta kaupunkivisiittia, jonka jalkeen suuntasin sebastianin kanssa keskelle eramaata (maaplantti saksassa, joka on kauimmaisena kaikista moottoriteista). paistoin lettuja auringonpaisteessa, kavelin pitkin hylattyja rautateita ja opiskelin ranskaa ja venajaa kirgisialaisen elamantapareissaajan kanssa leirinuotion aarella. mulle tuotiin koivunmahlaa aamiaiseksi, ja lahtiessa aamu oli huurteinen ja kirkas.
matka ranskaan kesti yon yli, seuraavana aamuna herasin auringonpaisteeseen ja valimerelta puhaltavaan suolaiseen tuuleen.
liftasin ketin ja romyn kanssa barcelonaan. marokkolaisen miehen autossa ei ollut ikkunoita, joten jouduin pitamaan silmat kiinni suurimman osan matkasta, mutta aina valilla piti kurkistaa ohikiitavia pyreneiden upeita vuoristomaisemia ja oliivipuita.
tutustuimme ranskalaiseen jonglooriin, joka majoitti meita huoneessaan vallatussa talossa parin korttelin paassa meresta. juostiin paljain jaloin rannalla ja istuttiin aaltoja tuijottaen myohaan yohon asti.
tana aamuna palasin parisataa kilometria pohjoiseen, ja talla kertaa nain sumuiset vuoret koko komeudessaan.
perpignanin juna-asemalla vietettyjen tuntien jalkeen marco tuli hakemaan minua, ajettiin vanhojen linnojen, aprikoosipuiden ja pienten jokien keskella kohti uutta kotiani.
tulen asumaan seuraavat X paivaa/viikkoa/kuukautta/vuotta ranskalaisella maaseudulla pienella maaplantilla keskella ei mitaan, vuorien ja mantelipuiden ymparoimana, ilman sahkoa ja juoksevaa vetta, ilman naapureita, kasvimaata hoitaen ja aurinkovoimalla toimivia suihkuja ja muita kummallisuuksia rakennellen; ja toivon mukaan kirjoittaen ja piirtaen yha enemman. vahemman tapahtumia ja muutoksia ulkoisessa elamassa, sisainen maailma saa enemman tilaa kehittya ja tasapainottua.
filip on matkalla vastakkaiseen suuntaan, mutta luulen, etta jokin luonnonlaki vetaa meidat takaisin samalle puolelle maailmaa ennemmin kuin arvaankaan.
saksaan liftaaminen meinasi ensin tyssata tanskalaiselle huoltoasemalle, mutta lopulta paadyimme puolivahingossa puolaan. sieltakaan poispaasy ei ollut helppoa, joten vietimme yhden erittain kauniin yon pienen lammen rannalla puolan ja saksan rajamailla, seurana kuu, tahdet ja nuotio seka kourallinen vesilintuja.
saksassa seurasi pari lyhytta kaupunkivisiittia, jonka jalkeen suuntasin sebastianin kanssa keskelle eramaata (maaplantti saksassa, joka on kauimmaisena kaikista moottoriteista). paistoin lettuja auringonpaisteessa, kavelin pitkin hylattyja rautateita ja opiskelin ranskaa ja venajaa kirgisialaisen elamantapareissaajan kanssa leirinuotion aarella. mulle tuotiin koivunmahlaa aamiaiseksi, ja lahtiessa aamu oli huurteinen ja kirkas.
matka ranskaan kesti yon yli, seuraavana aamuna herasin auringonpaisteeseen ja valimerelta puhaltavaan suolaiseen tuuleen.
liftasin ketin ja romyn kanssa barcelonaan. marokkolaisen miehen autossa ei ollut ikkunoita, joten jouduin pitamaan silmat kiinni suurimman osan matkasta, mutta aina valilla piti kurkistaa ohikiitavia pyreneiden upeita vuoristomaisemia ja oliivipuita.
tutustuimme ranskalaiseen jonglooriin, joka majoitti meita huoneessaan vallatussa talossa parin korttelin paassa meresta. juostiin paljain jaloin rannalla ja istuttiin aaltoja tuijottaen myohaan yohon asti.
tana aamuna palasin parisataa kilometria pohjoiseen, ja talla kertaa nain sumuiset vuoret koko komeudessaan.
perpignanin juna-asemalla vietettyjen tuntien jalkeen marco tuli hakemaan minua, ajettiin vanhojen linnojen, aprikoosipuiden ja pienten jokien keskella kohti uutta kotiani.
tulen asumaan seuraavat X paivaa/viikkoa/kuukautta/v
filip on matkalla vastakkaiseen suuntaan, mutta luulen, etta jokin luonnonlaki vetaa meidat takaisin samalle puolelle maailmaa ennemmin kuin arvaankaan.
freedom vs. responsibility?
This was originally posted on CouchSurfing but I thought I'd share it here as well:
Many of us have given up or minimized several things (eating meat, consuming, wasting electricity/water, driving, etc) to abandon the unethical, non-environmental way of living that seems to be considered as normal in the modern western society.
But we are still all travellers. I still dream of travels to the other side of the world, especially going to South America to volunteer on organic farms there. But I see the contradiction in that; polluting the planet and supporting airline companies just so I could volunteer for protecting environment?
How, and why, do you travel?
In what kind of cases do you justify flying (or any other kind of polluting transport)?
Are we, in spite of living in an "alternative" way, still seeing Easy&Cheap&Accessible travelling as something that we really need and deserve? Of course it's impossible to give up absolutely everything, but where do you set your limits?
The only morally acceptable ways of transport I can think of are walking, cycling, sailing and hitchhiking. I've met so so many people who agree with this but still end up flying (for example) because "there just wasn't any other way". What if the other way is staying at home, or travelling only where you can get by your own feet?
I also agree with everyone that there certainly is a need to travel in order to gain better understanding of life, the humankind, the world, or of yourself... This need as such isn't in question, but how about the way of fulfilling it? For most of us - depending on where you live of course - there are so many places (actually, more than you could see in one lifetime) reachable by overland travelling. Would these places be enough to fulfill this need? Or do we need the whole world to be available for us?
Seems like many people are still travelling to get more and more names into their list of visited countries... sure you gain experience in this way as well, but at what cost?
And which experience would be more enriching; travelling on a train / by hitchhiking to China through Russia, understanding the real distance of the journey and seeing all the places in between, or flying to Beijing for two weeks and then straight back home? By no question most would choose the first one - but then there are some problems like time. What if you only made a couple of such journeys in your life instead of making the two-week long every year? Would this be a less enriching and satisfying way, do you think you would gain less understanding or less adventures like this? Just wondering...
Many of us have given up or minimized several things (eating meat, consuming, wasting electricity/water, driving, etc) to abandon the unethical, non-environmental way of living that seems to be considered as normal in the modern western society.
But we are still all travellers. I still dream of travels to the other side of the world, especially going to South America to volunteer on organic farms there. But I see the contradiction in that; polluting the planet and supporting airline companies just so I could volunteer for protecting environment?
How, and why, do you travel?
In what kind of cases do you justify flying (or any other kind of polluting transport)?
Are we, in spite of living in an "alternative" way, still seeing Easy&Cheap&Accessible travelling as something that we really need and deserve? Of course it's impossible to give up absolutely everything, but where do you set your limits?
The only morally acceptable ways of transport I can think of are walking, cycling, sailing and hitchhiking. I've met so so many people who agree with this but still end up flying (for example) because "there just wasn't any other way". What if the other way is staying at home, or travelling only where you can get by your own feet?
I also agree with everyone that there certainly is a need to travel in order to gain better understanding of life, the humankind, the world, or of yourself... This need as such isn't in question, but how about the way of fulfilling it? For most of us - depending on where you live of course - there are so many places (actually, more than you could see in one lifetime) reachable by overland travelling. Would these places be enough to fulfill this need? Or do we need the whole world to be available for us?
Seems like many people are still travelling to get more and more names into their list of visited countries... sure you gain experience in this way as well, but at what cost?
And which experience would be more enriching; travelling on a train / by hitchhiking to China through Russia, understanding the real distance of the journey and seeing all the places in between, or flying to Beijing for two weeks and then straight back home? By no question most would choose the first one - but then there are some problems like time. What if you only made a couple of such journeys in your life instead of making the two-week long every year? Would this be a less enriching and satisfying way, do you think you would gain less understanding or less adventures like this? Just wondering...
tämä päivä weimarischestraßella on ollut kulinaristisia elämyksiä täynnä.
aamupalaksi i ja s nauttivat lähileipomosta noudettuja eilisen päivän "kivikovia" sipulileipiä. leivät paahdettiin uunissa, minkä seurauksena i sai kolmannen asteen palovamman.
leipien seurana i ja s saivat nauttia auringonpaisteesta, django reinhardtista, luomuavokadoista sekä dyykatusta vaniljakahvista. kaiken tämän kunniaksi s poltti myös 1,5 savuketta.
makuaisteja hivelevä päivä jatkui s:n kokeellisella kurpitsapaistoksella, johon i halusi laittaa banaania, mutta hänet komennettiin sen sijaan tiskauspuuhiin.
ruuassa oli paljon chiliä, inkivääriä ja valkosipulia, ja se maistui erittäin hyvältä.
päivän muu ohjelma:
s on polttanut tupakkaa, piirtänyt sateenkaaren keittiön kaapin oveen ja lörpötellyt puhelimessa. kello 19 lähti kuljettamaan luomuolutta kolmipyöräisellä polkupyörällä ympäri kaupunkia.
i on kävellyt hermostuneesti ympäri asuntoa, kävellyt neustadtiin ostamaan muistikirjan, kävellyt takaisin, jatkanut asunnossa kävelyä. juonut kohtuuttoman paljon suklaateetä.
muuta huomioitavaa:
soijamaito on jäässä.
i:n palovamma on muuttunut ruskeaksi.
aamupalaksi i ja s nauttivat lähileipomosta noudettuja eilisen päivän "kivikovia" sipulileipiä. leivät paahdettiin uunissa, minkä seurauksena i sai kolmannen asteen palovamman.
leipien seurana i ja s saivat nauttia auringonpaisteesta, django reinhardtista, luomuavokadoista sekä dyykatusta vaniljakahvista. kaiken tämän kunniaksi s poltti myös 1,5 savuketta.
makuaisteja hivelevä päivä jatkui s:n kokeellisella kurpitsapaistoksella, johon i halusi laittaa banaania, mutta hänet komennettiin sen sijaan tiskauspuuhiin.
ruuassa oli paljon chiliä, inkivääriä ja valkosipulia, ja se maistui erittäin hyvältä.
päivän muu ohjelma:
s on polttanut tupakkaa, piirtänyt sateenkaaren keittiön kaapin oveen ja lörpötellyt puhelimessa. kello 19 lähti kuljettamaan luomuolutta kolmipyöräisellä polkupyörällä ympäri kaupunkia.
i on kävellyt hermostuneesti ympäri asuntoa, kävellyt neustadtiin ostamaan muistikirjan, kävellyt takaisin, jatkanut asunnossa kävelyä. juonut kohtuuttoman paljon suklaateetä.
muuta huomioitavaa:
soijamaito on jäässä.
i:n palovamma on muuttunut ruskeaksi.
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