March 20th, 2010 by julielindahl
Could this happen in Sweden?
Recently I’ve been thinking of how much mental space we could create if we collectively agreed to get rid of stereotypes. All of those small compartments we walk around with in our heads would suddenly be cleared away and we’d feel so much lighter. Just think of all of that space for real new perceptions and no reinforcement of tired old views by tired old media and advertizing (naturally I am not referring to this forward-looking publication). One of the thoughtful readers of this blog recently reminded me of a quotation from Walt Whitman that read “in me there are multitudes”. Aren’t all people and places like this? Over the years, I’ve discovered that Sweden is no exception. Yes, it is dark but it is also very light and several shades in between. Yes, people are quiet but they are also deafeningly loud and then there are the varying tones from the gentle nyckelharpa to the thundering Poodles. Hair is blonde but it is also dark, red, and every shade of mouse on the color spectrum.
This brings me to the business of gardens. Who thinks of gardens when they think of Sweden? Vast tracts of coniferous forest and flat tundra perhaps, but not the luscious, romantic gardens that we associate with that green and pleasant land, England. The fact that my interest in gardens first germinated in this land of hearty winter shrubs is in fact no coincidence. The Wall Street Journal noted in a survey undertaken sometime during the past decade that Sweden is home to the largest number of recreational gardeners in the world as a percentage of its population. When Martha Stewart sought ideas for her medium imperium from European gardens she came to Sweden and visited Zeta’s, among other Swedish gardens. This long country of thirsty and domineering birch is an unexpected gem of inspiration when it comes to gardens.
Even among those who are skeptical in this country, gardens are on their minds. A headline article in one of last week’s main daily newspapers read in translation, “For a mediocre gardener the best time is now.” The journalist, a veteran hobby gardener, was referring to the many times he had watched the dreams presented in the gardening catalogues of March devoured by garden pests, dry weather and other mischievous villains that gardeners perpeutally duel with. My point is, what other industrialized countries do you know of where an average gardener’s frustrations make headline news?
Perhaps it is because we do it against all odds in Sweden. Perhaps it is because of the Linnean tradition of fascination for the detail of all that makes its way out of the once hardened ground. Could it be a legacy of Sweden’s close peasant past or is it a symbol for progress and a society in which people have the time and economic means to fuss over the roses? I have often wondered why, and at the same time find it extremely freeing to be a part of Sweden’s little-known gardening fetish which defies all mental compartments about this country.
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For those of you who want to join Sweden’s gardening fetish:
8-11 April, Nordiska Trädgårdar, Älvsjö Mässa
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Tags: gardening, Nordiska Trädgårdar, stereotypes, Zetas
Posted in New Thinking, Openness, Outdoor Activity, Season, Spring, Uncategorized, gardening | 3 comments »
February 10th, 2010 by julielindahl
Space, the final frontier...
The birds are chirping and the snow on the ground is knee-deep. The light has a softness in it that belongs more to the future than it does to the now when the earth is still hard and the branches bare. These contrasts make the month of February an interesting and surprising time to be in Sweden and not at all the monotone freeze that this country has a reputation for being in until midsummer when the tourists begin to arrive.
Among the other contrasts that I notice this February are those that I see in the landscape of this country of supposedly charming rust-red houses trimmed with ‘carpenter’s delight’. A Sunday walk with my husband on the ice reveals a new and juxtaposing picture of architecture in Sweden and with this a shift in values taking place within a whole society. “This place is starting to look like America,” my husband comments as he notices the large waterfront houses that have shot up in no time. My husband is old enough to remember Sweden in the 1950s so there is the possibility that he could be exaggerating. On the other hand, during the fourteen years that I have had the opportunity to observe Swedish coastlines from the ice, things have clearly changed.
The going gets tough as we hit a patch where the snow is so deep that it has insulated a layer of water between itself and the 40 cm-thick ice. We are forced to stop and look. On the shore just up in front of us we behold three houses that tell a story of the rapid transformation of a cultural landscape that is happening without almost anyone commenting. To the right, at the bottom of a low hill nestled among the trees is a tiny house that looks like a DIY sports cabin. It was obviously built to provide a simple base from which to enjoy the beautiful natural environment. To the left of this cabin is a slightly larger cabin with terrace and a small kitchen with running water. This place was also clearly built with life in the outdoors in mind. Even further to the left, perched up on the hill, is a great, grey house with no carpenter’s delight and a double garage. It’s long row of front-facing windows demonstrates that it is clearly built for enjoying the outdoors from the indoors. Before us we have the story of late twentieth century and early twenty-first century Sweden. There is a shift happening from outdoors to indoors and from nature to convenience.
Sense tells me that it is important to resist a glorification of the past. In mid-winter indoor sanitary facilities are a great blessing. I know what it is like to weather a Swedish winter without running water (we’ll leave that story for my memoir of island life which is coming out later this year or another blog entry!). On the other hand, there is something about the rapid emergence of these big and rather unoriginal houses in a very short period of historical time that is disturbing. How do we actually create more space for ourselves in modern society? Bigger houses mean greater use of energy, more cleaning and less time in the greatest space we’ve got: nature.
There is of course another trend and one I have reported about at my e-magazine. That is, the rapidly increasing popularity of hermit huts and tree houses. People with the resources are today prepared to pay a premium for the opportunity to live in a designer ‘box’ for a night because it gives them an opportunity to taste a form of freedom that is available on a path that society is slowly relinquishing.
Two days later my husband and I walked past a recreation of Lådan, a 20 m square functional-style house built during the early 1940s, by the famous Swedish architect Ralph Erskine and his wife. We peered into the windows of this house which has become a charming historical relic in our area. The double bed hung from the ceiling and could be lowered to the floor by a well-designed pulley. One of our friends remembers that the Erskines “hung their infant daughter in a small hammock outside” on the terrace when they had guests who came to visit them during the summers. Today most people cannot imagine choosing such a life – even if only for the summers. Yet we glorify structures created by people who have made a determined effort to enjoy ’space’ in other ways by showing off their homes as examples of fine architecture. I am quite certain that the new instant giants along the coasts of Sweden’s inner islands will never be revered in this way.
Obviously, we are confused about what it is that truly gives us a feeling of space and freedom in our society. There is a gap between what we want and the choices we make. The next time you are out walking, skating or skiing on the ice observe and think about it, and please do get back to me. I’m still trying to work out the most lagom (meaning just about right in Swedish) solution for meeting my need for space.
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For links to places and designers working with hermit hut and tree house projects in Sweden visit http://www.nordicwellbeing.com/web/design/more_design/Hermitic_Design.php.
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Tags: architecture, hermit huts, ice, space, Walking
Posted in Design & Health, New Thinking, Outdoor Activity, Physical Activity and Health, Skating, Space, Uncategorized, Walking, Winter, nature | Leave a comment »
January 26th, 2010 by julielindahl
A quiet moment in the hammock
Yesterday, as I was waiting to pick up my children from school outside their classroom, I began to think about sound. How much of it can we tolerate on a regular basis before it becomes too much? This was not just a calm reflection that fluttered into my thoughts and then out again like a meek white dove. Rather, it was a rude gargoyle that stared intently at me as the pupils in the neighboring classroom streamed out of the door, several of them screaming at the top of their lungs. The sound pitch was not just a momentary shout for joy at the end of the school day, rather it was a shrill sound that was unbelievably sustained like the sound of an Iron Maiden concert listened to without ear plugs. The teacher, who stood in the doorway, seemed unperturbed by all of the screeching and glanced at me with a peaceful smile that indicated everything was as it should be.
As I was driving the children home, I asked them what they thought about the noise. “You should hear what it is like in the cafeteria at lunch time,” they sighed, indicating that my recent experience was kindergarten compared to what they had been through during the day. I began to wonder whether our ten years of living on a remote island had left us ill-equipped for the decibel levels of modern society. I remembered the sweet silence which was like a balm on the temples. Just the thought of it calmed my pulsating forehead.
The string of health research coming in from my favorite Swedish health site, Netdoktor.se, verified that I am not alone in thinking about the noise. The research looks at the effects of MP3 players and traffic on our hearing. Overall findings show that increasing numbers of us are admitting that we cannot hear properly well before the grey hairs start to show. Our hearing sustains damage at 90 decibels, a level well below the 120 decibels produced when an aircraft takes off. The decibel levels we were up at outside the classroom door made takeoff seem like a mild yawn.
What do we do about the noise? We have got to the point where even in Sweden, with its modest cities and vast tracts of wilderness, people are in danger of going deaf early. All over the world, the machinery of life (the food processor, the vacuum cleaner, and the car) may have ‘educated’ humans to tolerate increasing decibels for modernity’s sake. Now it is time for us to assume control based on our human needs. Just as there are innovative programs to awaken the sensory perception of children to the flavor and texture of good, fresh food (as opposed to the dangerous over-processed rubbish we have been led to believe is food), we need innovative action to reintroduce an appreciation of sound that entices us to listen rather than lose our hearing.
The sound of silence is beautiful. It is just that most youngsters today will never have the chance to recognize it because they have never experienced it.
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Tags: children, decibels, hearing, Silence, Sound
Posted in Silence, children, relaxation | 8 comments »
January 12th, 2010 by julielindahl
Sweden from the ice
If you are trying to find a new perspective on things this January there are few better ways to do this than by looking at your usual surroundings from a different vantage point.
As the mercury crept up from minus twenty to a balmy minus five this Sunday I began pacing around the house so as to become irritating enough for other family members to pay attention. ”It’s time for us to go out,” I pleaded with my husband and children who were wrapped up in their cushy winter cocoons with their respective hot coffee and hot cocoas. No one showed the slightest enthusiasm, save Lucy the dog who sat at the front door with ears cocked watching my every move with her chestnut eyes.
Eventually everyone slipped on their snow gear in the hope that I would be less irritating when we returned. As we crossed the first bridge that connects Drottningholm Palace to the city of Stockholm, in the distance we noticed a wide path on the frozen waterway that had been created by the indentations of many boot soles in the snow. People were walking back and forth to and from Stockholm on the ice. A woman pushed a pram through the snow with difficulty. This brought back fond memories of pushing a twin pram.
A sign for hot waffles with cream and strawberry jam lured my family off the main road. The cafe was crowded and I suggested we build up an appetite for dinner instead. My husband tested the ice on the frozen waterway near the cafe. Even if you know the ice, it is always tricky being the first. In the distance we noticed someone driving a truck over the ice. This convinced us that it was safe enough to walk around Lovö, the island that we live on.
Walking around the islands of Stockholm like this is a walk into history. The water or the ice was the most logical way to travel in the past. Seeing my island from the ice was like seeing a lost perspective. I remembered the grand steps at Drottningholm Palace that led down to the water. They didn’t make any sense today except as decor. Yet they made perfect sense in days gone by when the most comfortable way to arrive at the Palace was from the water.
As we approached our neighborhood from the frozen waterway I barely recognized the houses. For most of the days of the year, I saw them from the other side. Now they looked different. Life looked different. It was incredibly invigorating. Better than a day at the spa (which I never get around to), I thought.
If this weather holds it looks like we are in for one of the best skating seasons I can remember. Check out the links below for a little information to help you with seeing Sweden from the ice.
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www.utsidan.se: general information about equipment and read interesting personal accounts of getting out on the ice.
friluftsfrämjandet.se: general information about equipment, safety and interesting destinations to visit with organized groups that anyone can join.
www.skridsko.net : everything you ever wanted to know about ice skating in Sweden.
http://www.smhi.se/Produkter-och-tjanster/professionella-tjanster/sjofart/istjanst-1.1706- Check the daily ice map from the Swedish Meteorological Institute’s Ice Service (Istjänst).
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Posted in Island, Landscape, New Thinking, Outdoor Activity, Season, Skating, Uncategorized, Winter | 2 comments »
January 5th, 2010 by julielindahl
Life and the unfolding of history don’t seem to like abiding by our predictions, particularly (and fortunately) our bad ones. From this point of view, we should perhaps consider starting each year with an outlook that a friend of mine in a deep personal crisis suggested to me just before Christmas: Things will turn out well,” she argued, “just not in the way you think.”
It occurred to me that there is no dimension of society in which this thought has been truer than in the way that we communicate with one another. During the past decade there has been a great deal of concern from health experts and others (myself included) about our apparently decreasing ability to experience the here and now. The pace and accessibility of communications meant that you could stand in front of a person but be speaking to someone else miles away all of the time. The alarm bells began ringing: were we becoming social automatons unable to experience what was happening around us and always interested in the next moment and people who were far away?
When social networking online started taking off a la Twitter, things seemed to be getting even worse. People were daily obsessed with entering affectionate one-liners to people they didn’t know and were unlikely ever to meet. Technology seemed to be unraveling the immediate society and happenings around us. Not only that, experts argued (and continue to argue) that our increasing obsession with speedy communications in the virtual world could be undermining our ability to concentrate (and thus make it impossible for us to find any worthy winners of Nobel prizes in the future). In a paper I wrote about the subject of social belonging, I posited that our virtual lives would rob of us of our emotional intelligence because we couldn’t see the people we were communicating with. When my children started becoming interested in mobile telephones I worried, not only because of the possible anti-social consequences, but because I worried about the unknown long-term health consequences of walking around with a mobile phone plastered to your ear.
We still cannot draw any definitive conclusions when it comes to the totality of how our new communications technology is affecting us. My sense is that we never will since it is changing all of the time. Yet when I consider each prediction, I find that we seem to be muddling through. Twitter has got us thinking about the value of ‘the moment’ more than ever. Youngsters don’t tend to hold mobile telephones to their ears, rather they hold them safely away from their heads and use them like typewriters to SMS their friends. Evidence is emerging that virtual life (particularly in the form of games played from time to time) can encourage concentration. Increasingly we see one another on-line and thus are able to see whether the person we are speaking with is wrinkling their nose or smiling. Terms such as ‘the global community’ or the ‘global village’ seem to make more sense than ever. The world doesn’t seem to be coming unglued.
When I set out to use my first mobile phone which to me looked more like a bomb detonation device, I did it with excitement and trepidation. Could this really be a good thing? I could not imagine that fifteen years later, I would be walking around with a wafer-thin device in my pocket that could tell me my schedule, what the weather would be for the next week and how to get in touch with any of my friends in a matter of seconds (without even holding the device to my ear). Things may not turn out the way that you think but quite frequently they seem to turn out.
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For more on the subject of technology and society check media thinker Douglas Rushkoff’s books as well as The Columbia School of Journalism.
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December 17th, 2009 by julielindahl
When I was growing up, the idea that you could learn something from your children wasn’t on the radar screen. If there were parents who felt this way, it was because they were weak and not prepared to take responsibility. In more recent times, rock stars and others have made this modern wisdom, but I am not certain whether it is an idea whose worth has genuinely been digested.
Since I’m an ‘invandrakvinna’ (immigrant woman) with Swedish children, I’ve learned much of what I know about the country that is my home from them. When they were young, they forced me to sit watching Astrid Lindgren’s immortal ’Alla vi Barn i Bullerbyn’ (The Bullerbyn Children) with them over and over again. I learned to sing ‘Små Grodorna’ (Little Frogs) dancing around a midsummer pole with all of the attendant crouching and hand motions. I learned what a proper Lucia has to be equipped with just before Christmas.
Recently, I learned some astounding things from them about this country. At an exhibition they arranged at their countryside school they explained to me that the inventor of the classic Coca Cola bottle was a Swede named Alexander Samuelsson (1862-1934). Swedes have a reputation for soaking up American culture easily (many immigrated, of course), but who would have thought? The inventor of the zipper, for which I am sure most of us are eternally grateful, was also a Swede (Gideon Sundback, 1880-1954). The pacemaker, the adjustable wrench and the de Laval nozzle (used in modern rocket engines) are among many other items that Swedes invented during a concentrated period of history that seemed to churn out one great invention after another.
How did this happen? The flourishing of engineering companies and a critical period in the Industrial Revolution when young men aspired to become the heroes that inventors were considered to be is one explanation. However, digging deeper, one finds that it may well have boiled down to something more basic. Society began to pay attention to the importance of children for the future and with this the critical need to educate them. The introduction of universal primary education by the Swedish Parliament in 1842 made Sweden one of the first countries to recognize the importance of education to development.
What goes around comes around. Maybe if we listened more to our children we’d learn more about how to make our society one that all of us would enjoy living in more. And wouldn’t it be fun to see King Carl XVI Gustaf shaking the hand of a Swede over a future Nobel Prize?
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For a collection of great Swedish organizations that listen to children, see my list of links in this blog.
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December 5th, 2009 by julielindahl
The snowberries dot the bare bushes like jewels on an elderly dame. Even without their leaves the bare branches look regal in the midday sunlight that illuminates the crown of frost on aged nature. The leaves crunch like ice wafers under our feet – my feet and Lucy’s paws, to be more precise. Lucy gallops ahead of me, energized by the stainless steel rays of the winter sun on this impeccable midday in Drottningholm Park.
We veer off the groomed paths where the gravel has been raked into patterns. In a minute Lucy’s white underside is suddenly muddy brown as we enter Naturstigen, a small loop into the forest behind the palace where we can get a little dose of Nordic wilderness. Of course, it isn’t wilderness at all; it just gives that impression. In fact, as we walk along the narrow path through the forest, we come across a series of information stations, equally spaced along the length of the path, where white plaques give us a historical narrative.
A Bronze Age (1700-500 B.C.) boat lies on display under a simple roof out here in the middle of nothing but forest. Further, we learn, this boat would have floated well above our heads at the time when it was used because this area was the lake bottom at that time. We move on and find a large stone slab with straight, wide grooves in a Y-form. There is no question that someone used this repeatedly over time – as it turns out, during the Iron Age (1300-500 B.C.) to sharpen tools. Next to it another stone with its center sunken and smoothly hollowed out, is what archeologists guess was a sacrificial stone dating back even further in time. All of this information is related for sighted and non-sighted people (in Braille) on the plaques, just to ensure that everyone gets the story.
Almost anywhere else I’ve been in the industrialized world, such artifacts are in museums, in glass cases or at least roped off. If you’re lucky, you might find an English translation, but forget Braille. Here, they are directly accessible and possible to view (even if you cannot see) in environments that mirror the reality of the surroundings that they might have been used in. I can relate many other similar experiences of this astounding free access to history in nature in Sweden, yet it never ceases to amaze me each time that I experience it.
In a country today known for being rule- and queue-oriented, the continued freedom of access to historical gems in nature such as Naturstigen is a very great achievement by a modern society. I often hear Sweden being criticized for being a bit too law-and-order focused. If you look under the surface, however, you will find a fierce love of freedom of access and a delightful unbridled spirit.
Lucy hops over the ankle-high wooden rails lining our pathway to check out the smells under the trees. She’s a loyal creature, but it is her irreverence I adore. Hey, she is Swedish, when all is said and done.
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For more on walks in this blessed corner of the earth just outside of Stockholm visit Ekerö Kommun
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Posted in Allemannsrätt, Culture and Health, Landscape, New Thinking, Openness, Park, Season, Winter, nature | Leave a comment »
November 26th, 2009 by julielindahl
Pumpkins on a Swedish doorstep
There are many American holiday ideas that Swedes are more than ready to give a whirl. Very often, however, most of it really is just ‘giving it a whirl’. My children have already dropped Halloween, claiming that they are too old for it and that it isn’t really that popular. Through the years, I’ve noticed that biggest of American holidays, Thanksgiving, cropping up here and there. However, when I saw Thanksgiving on the web site of Riksföreningsverigekontakt, an organization devoted to the preservation of Swedish language and culture wherever it exists in the world, I began to wonder whether something serious was happening.
I motored over to my local ICA to check whether the cornmeal, canned mashed pumpkin and frozen turkeys had made their way onto the shelves and freezers. All I could find were sweet potatoes, which don’t quite add up to Thanksgiving dinner. Then at home that evening on the radio that keeps me company in the kitchen, I thought that P2 was broadcasting something that they called ‘music of thanks’. There it was again. Thanksgiving was gatecrashing our pre-Christmas experience of bare trees and darkness.
I am an American (amongst other things) but wasn’t raised with Thanksgiving dinners because my German mother preferred goose on the 24th of December. Late November was just too early for all that fuss. Throughout the years, I have been invited to Thanksgiving dinners in various parts of the world by kind persons who thought that I would miss it. In fact, they introduced me to it and my conclusion is that we need Thanksgiving much more than we do our religious holidays.
The whole world, including Sweden, needs to smoke peace pipes, lay down its arms and show thanks and appreciation for the riches that the earth has delivered. It needs to show more of the humility that comes hand in hand with giving thanks, because that is one of the qualities that will save us. We need Thanksgiving now, everywhere, more than we ever have.
Today The American Club of Sweden humbly organized a Thanksgiving dinner for the homeless at Stadsmission in the heart of Stockholm. I bought some of those sweet potatoes from ICA and rustled together a few pies which I dropped off at the event. Thanksgiving is on my calendar to stay one way or another. It is a lagom (just right) idea, in the best sense of that favorite Swedish term.
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Tags: humility, lagom, peace, pumpkin, sweet potato, Thanksgiving, turkey
Posted in Culture and Health, Festivals, Season, Winter | 7 comments »
November 16th, 2009 by julielindahl
A Viking happy to muddle through in Swinglish
Language isn’t generally given it’s due credit as an essential dimension of personal wellbeing. After 5 days in Paris, however, I’ve been reminded that our capacity to communicate with one another easily and thereby to get past the stereotypes of one another’s cultures, is absolutely critical to how we feel about where we are.
I’ve got a bit of French buried in there somewhere after studying it for a term and I did start life in a Latin language (Portuguese). Still, I found it difficult to enjoy some of France’s greatest national monuments, arguably some of the world’s greatest, without any English translations available to read. I stood in front of the Mona Lisa only being able to offer her a smile back but unable to learn more on the spot about what makes this small, dark portrait so famous. At the world’s richest collection of items from the French Revolution, a young ’student of history supervising the museum visitors shook her head at the number of times it had been necessary to repeat that, “yes, those are the clothes worn by Marie Antoinettes’ children during their imprisonment”. It isn’t the sort of thing you want to have to say fifty times a day.
During my visit, there were displays of modesty, such as this one and very many expressions of frustration at the inability to cross linguistic borders. A woman working in the post office nearly had cardiac arrest over my inability to understand how much it cost to send a postcard to Sweden. A waitress looked like she had bitten into a dry baguette when I was unable to understand that the restaurant had run out of croissants. I ended the day feeling like Rowan Atkinson, who in his irresistible sketch of the devil, welcomes the French (and the Germans) to hell.
Sure, I should take responsibility for the fact that I cannot speak French and learn it. At the same time I seem to recall that even on the remote island of Adelsö near my summer island, the signs include English language explanations of the Viking remains. The peoples of the North have a streak of practicality in their culture which says that you can’t make visitors work that hard. Sweden is a small country and perhaps this is another explanation for the fact that you can manage in any of its cities in English language without learning a speck of Swedish. This fact has its downside because it means that there are people who can live in Sweden for years without getting past ‘kanelbullar’ (cinnamon rolls). One can argue that The Local just made this trick easier, but on balance I think it is an admirable project devoted to crossing linguistic and, with this, cultural barriers.
They say that there is no place like home. For me that is on my Swedish island(s) where I can cross in and out of English and Swedish at will without having to think too much about it. In many ways, Sweden has been at the forefront of the ongoing project to be a modern society. When it comes to language, values such as linguistic modesty and a willingness to meet visitors halfway are ones that I believe will in the future count heavily for determining whether people experience that society as a desirable one to be in.
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Tags: English, France, French, Language, Sweden, tourism, wellbeing
Posted in Culture and Health, Language, New Thinking, Openness, Tourism | Leave a comment »
