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Archive for the ‘relaxation’ Category

The conversion of a speed tyrant

Friday, April 23rd, 2010

Have you come to your senses yet?

As I’ve been walking around under a cloud of volcanic ash wondering, like many, when aircraft are going to restore that reliable sense of speed we have got used to in our lives, my dog Lucy has been concerned with developments on the ground. As the earth softens and emits the many smells of the life within it, Lucy is in sensory heaven. It has been a long, dull winter without the aromas of the earth and only endless amounts of white snow that, to her chagrin, leaves her fur sparkling clean. For a dog, not walking around with something ill-smelling in its fur is the height of unattractiveness.

So far I have managed to stick to my new regimen of a long early morning walk in Drottningholm Park. It is a wonderful new habit but I fear that Lucy and I have objectives that are at odds. While I am seeking to break into a sweat, burn energy and tone muscles by keeping up a goose-step pace strictly between 6.30 and 7.30 am (when I have to be home to ensure that the children get breakfast before I start work) Lucy is in a timeless search for the smell of all smells. Like a connoisseur, she slows down at each tree to appreciate the many great smells that a tree bears: the smell of birds, squirrels, deer chewing at the lichen on the bark and of course canine buddies who have previously baptized the tree. Like a speed tyrant, I drag her forward and reprimand her for inattention to our schedule.

On one of the back paths we run into Crown Princess Victoria looking athletic in black followed by two noisy lifeguards. “Hej”, she comments gently to Lucy who naturally captures the spotlight with her timeless sense of joy. Then it occurs to me that not even a rushed crown princess who most likely has no desire to greet more beings during her precious early morning hours can resist being drawn in by that affectionate space that a dog creates. Even if dogs physically live in our harried world, spiritually they preserve that original authenticity of joy in the moment that just then seems to have no limits.

Lucy is all done with her pal the Crown Princess and has now found a snail to focus her attentions upon. The snail is crossing the road at a pace which is painful to observe. There isn’t a great deal of traffic here but all it takes is the occasional vehicle to send the snail to purgatory. My urge is to lift up the poor little critter and move it to safety on the other side of the road, but something tells me that we should let nature take its course. Lucy and I watch the snail with ears pricked until finally its trail has left a shiny line across the road. We look up and find that a vehicle has been waiting for us to be done with snail hour.

Although she can be annoying I cherish my dog. How else would I learn to appreciate the delicate progress of a snail?

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For anyone contemplating purchasing a furry friend check Svenska Kennelklubben. If you are interested in a Lucy check Golden Retrieverklubben.

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The Sound of Silence

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010
A quiet moment in the hammock

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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More than a Song

Monday, June 8th, 2009
Swedish musicians at the annual Midsummer Festival in Munsö

During the past years we’ve become increasingly aware of the way that music, theater and art can set free our dopamin and oxytocin so that we de-stress and recover faster. “Our what?”, you might ask. Yes, well, in the same way that viagra has taken its comfortable place in our vocabulary, these marvelous calming biological substances that we can produce all ourselves, given the right conditions, are moving in to stay. In Sweden and elsewhere in the world significant research is underway to decipher what actually happens to us when we, for instance, listen to Sibelius or view a Carl Larsson painting. Since 2005, the Swedish government has promoted various initiatives, including research, concerning the linkage between culture and health.

As you know, I am a devotee of Nordic Wellbeing which in itself is a cultural approach to health. This weekend, however, I was reminded of the dopamin/oxytocin deluge that happens when two cultures meet in peace and in a mutual celebration of their music, dance and local dress. Sitting on the grass at Ekebyhov Palace in between my son’s final trombone concert and my daughter’s final violin performance for the year (we have a lot of good hormones in our home but perhaps less quiet), I was delighted to find that Stockholm’s Culture School had been invited to do some special ‘foreign’ performances.

When first I came to this municipality near Stockholm 13 years ago, there were two shelves reserved at the local ICA for ‘odd’ ingredients such as curry. When my children started at their little ‘Bullerby‘ day care out on Munsö, I noted that there was one human being in the vicinity with a slightly darker shade of skin. When my Columbian cleaning lady’s car was set on fire by a bunch of bored skinheads, I was reminded of the extent to which the segregation of cultures is a bad thing for everyone.

Up on the stage at Ekebyhov on Sunday we listened to young and old playing music from Eastern Europe and the Middle East, and watched two Indian girls dancing to a Bollywood theme song. At the very end of these breath-taking performances, a stout West African in local dress beckoned all of us sedentary Caucasians to rise and lift our arms into the air. “Come on Sweden!”, he shouted with that irresistable African rhythm in his voice, “let’s do this together!”  There was nothing that could touch this crowd as he moved us along with his great sense of beat. The dopamin and oxytocin flowed forth.

To speak in plain English about what actually happens when cultural traditions meet in this way, we come back to the theme of this blog. Everyone gains mental space from the feeling that there is a new freedom to move in previously untried cultural spaces. And time – doesn’t it just evaporate among friends?

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Nordic Wellbeing Community

Nordic Wellbeing Community

Visit the brand new forum for the Nordic Wellbeing Community and give us your thoughts on culture and health!

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Twittering for Real

Sunday, May 24th, 2009
A sunny afternoon in Drottningholm Park

A sunny afternoon in Drottningholm Park

It’s the place where twittering isn’t 140 characters including spaces. It’s a place where your brain is allowed to be in a mode of  spontaneous rather than directed consciousness (leading to exhaustion and stress). It is a place where noticing the fine detail is a path to gaining a broader perspective, and where things are not at odds as they often seem to be wherever we look these days. There is flow which is the key to all authentically fulfilling experiences. The amazing thing is that it is usually free and you can go there at any time. Where is this and why aren’t people there more?

As you already know from my previous blog entries, I am a big fan of the park. What you might not know is that this 2009 marks 100 years since Sweden’s (and Europe’s!) first national parks were established and that today, 24 May, is the high point of this celebration. In honor of this happening, Naturens år 2009 has been established, a site filled with superb greenery, inspiration and events that all of you, my fellow tree huggers, will adore. Visit also The Swedish Society for Nature Conservation for more.

What is it that we should be celebrating? Parks, whether city parks or great national wilderness parks, have become  places where nature and its most avid offspring, humans, are learning to co-exist and even help one another along the way. In this sense, the park is a greenhouse of hope and optimism for the future of our planet.
Tulip beds in Drottningholm Park

Tulip beds in Drottningholm Park

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Combatting our Speed Crisis

Friday, May 15th, 2009

Slow and deliberate is better than fast and uncertain. Most of us know that and the older we get the more we know it.  The problem is that it sounds undynamic, not with it, not up to the speed of the split-second society that we live in.  ‘Slow’ today is like ‘green’ was about 20 years ago. Nice idea, probably needed but not urgent and certainly nothing most people can afford.  My own feeling is that in another 20 years we will have reached for slow where we are today with green. There will be just no question that we have to do something about it. Of course, you could argue that green and slow go hand in hand but I am not so sure.  Cars still screech out of the supermarket parking lot loaded with ecological food as though they were in an old Starsky & Hutch chase.

So if we are headed for a general speed crisis, where burnout and ‘running into the wall’, as we say in Sweden, are becoming a block to our further development as societies, what can we do now to make sure that we don’t go there? Yesterday I took a break from Nordic Wellbeing and went to my Tai Chi class. Since I grew up watching people in Singapore and other places doing this en masse in the park, I am always tickled to join this class of four eager westerners led by a serene Swedish man dressed in black robes who teaches us the names of Chinese-named positions with an ever-so-soft southern Swedish accent. As I am doing the bird’s plume, I notice that by concentrating entirely on what I am doing at that moment and doing it in a measured way, the headache disintegrates and the pulsating shoulder soreness diffuses.

I return home to a hungry family. “What’s for dinner?” precedes “hi” or any other greeting. I know they love me but they’re hungry and I represent food. Car keys are thrown on the front table, shoes are torn off, the pan gets slung onto the stove. Stop! I close my eyes, remember the bird’s plume and say to myself: “measured and deliberate”.  I switch on some of my favorite Nordic Wellbeing music and stand in the kitchen like a conductor taking her time to eye the orchestra before starting the symphony. Attention adds every ingredient, awareness handles every utensil, care places every plate. Dinner doesn’t feel like a chore, it feels like living.

We’ve got Slow Food, Slow Tourism and I am sure a mass of other slow things that are cropping up.  Like everything with a big label, content tends to become over-generalized or misconstrued. What all of these terms really mean is that we need to stop, breathe and, before we do the next thing, decide that we are going to be measured and deliberate about how we do it. And if you want to see some real quality come and watch me next Thursday evening doing the bird’s plume in Drottningholm Park.

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For more about what ’slow’ really means I recommend In Praise of Slow and the Relaxation Room at www.nordicwellbeing.com

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Learning to Live

Sunday, May 10th, 2009

Sometimes you have to get sick in order to learn to live again. On Friday morning I woke up feeling as though I had swallowed a pineapple whole with the hard outer husk still on. This led to a desperate cancellation of weekend events in which my husband called one party after the other using my mobile telephone while I sign-languaged my messages to him. I have to admit that I was genuinely sorry to miss Nordic walking with some good buddies in Djurgården. Once we had flipped our way through the social rolodex, however, I relaxed my head back onto my IKEA ergonomic pillow and realized that by default I had actually carved out what seemed to be a free weekend for myself. But aren’t weekends always supposed to be free? It doesn’t seem so for most people I know these days.

My husband sped off to his engagement for the day, the kids sped off on their bikes and there we were, Lucy the dog and I, with the day wide open. After taking the Garbo approach to dressing so as not to be seen (scarf, sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat),  I tied the obligatory little black doggy-doo bag to Lucy’s lead and we set off for a brief and non-pressured half hour in Drottningholm Park.

It was the most glorious day: not too hot, not too cold. The fountains at the palace ran in perfect formations against the clear blue sky. Everyone in the park seemed to be extra pleasant. Best of all, I had absolutely no commitments or deadlines for the day.  I was free as a Canada goose in Mälaren. I sauntered past the multi-colored display of pansies, and purchased 12 of them while Lucy flirted with the tourists.

As I walked back past the 19th century zone of the park with its free and easy naturalistic style (as opposed to the rigid 18th century style of the Versailles-imitation side), it struck me that a simple half hour of unstructured enjoyment in the fresh air is what so many of us are missing; even in our so-called free time. As societies we have come so far in many ways but there has been a high cost: that is our ability to grasp life and experience it with all of our senses, (and dare I say this?) not just with our electronic calendars switched on; and if it comes down to writing “unstructured time” somewhere in that calendar, do it! It is as essential as the air that you breathe.

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For more about learning to live check www.nordicwellbeing.com!

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Duck Meditations

Friday, May 1st, 2009

When something unexpected happens most of us spend a bit of time and effort trying to resist it. We are by our nature status quo creatures. Very often, though, there is a small kernel of truth in that happening which, if you nurture it with a little attention, can give you just what you need.

In order to get to the park at Drottningholm, Lucy the dog and I have to cross a very busy road. As we stand patiently waiting for the lights to change, a gigantic freighter truck motors past us well over the speed limit. The rush of wind is so strong that it blows us backwards. Both of us feel as though we’ve just had an involuntary face lift. The main road is a stressful, pressured place to be. Suddenly that morse code-like sound begins to click and it’s safe for us to cross over to the other side into that royal sanctuary of fountains and gilded gates.

As we cross, we notice two ducks waddling eagerly in the opposite direction towards one of their buddies.  She is sitting so snugly on that green hill overlooking the traffic that she must have a good thing going, they think.  As they reach the middle of the road, one of the ducks decides that she needs a little freshening up and stops to clean her feathers with her bill.  The drivers have their feet positioned just over their accelerators, ready to speed off as soon as the ducks have crossed the road. The ducks don’t move.

True to her retriever breed, Lucy stands ever-ready to fetch the ducks. I hold her back expecting someone to step out of a car and hurry the ducks along. Instead, shoe soles lift from pedals, engines stop and radios sound. Miraculously, everyone seems to have relaxed into this moment of feather freshening despite meetings and schedules. Why hasn’t anyone got out of the car to shoo the ducks along? Is it against Swedish law? My best guess is that everyone in the busy, harried traffic actually needs this time out which the ducks have conveniently created.

Eventually, our feathered friends waddle on and the engines start up again. Everyone seems to be in a more relaxed mind set, however. No one’s racing anywhere. What was it now that was so important? Perhaps the motorists don’t remember or maybe things just look different after 10 minutes of duck-induced meditation.

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Mountain Spring

Wednesday, April 15th, 2009

No sooner than the tulip leaves are small folds of green making their way out of those bulbs that have been waiting all winter for the light and warmth, my family decides that it’s time to head back to the winter. It’s always two against three at Easter time. Lucy the dog and me against everyone else. In families minorities still don’t seem to win although they seem to be doing so elsewhere these days. So here I am away from my two islands, in a mountain cabin noticing out of the corner of my eye that we have got a snow storm underway. A phone call with my mother who lives in sun-baked Florida tells me how happy I should be that the little chocolate eggs I will be hiding outside on Easter Sunday for the annual hunt won’t become mushy blobs wrapped in foil that has been pecked open by birds.

The snow storm subsides and the sky blanket of grey begins to thin.  Lucy and I step out for a stroll. She stretches her long white body and sniffs the air. Something is underway. In a few short minutes the mountain sun is reflecting the pristine white so that every cell feels as though it is being recharged after all of these months of darkness. We continue onto the cross-country tracks with no one on them for miles around. Lucy pricks her ears, cocks her head and adopts that prize-winning retriever stance that surprises her mother (yours truly) who has always treated her as a floppy, immature child.  A ptarmigan (willow grouse) trying to escape our gaze with its whiteness realizes that it has been spotted and rushes across the snow.  We look and listen more carefully. The spring is underway in the trees here too. The towering spruce chirp with birds hopeful for a good new season.

Then suddenly I hear the flow of water; not just a trickle but the steady flow of a proper stream. It is a thrilling experience to hear the strong flow of water when all you can see before you is ice and snow. Just when everything seems that it is the way it is, if you are watching and listening closely change is underway. I shut my eyes and think about this. Sometimes I think I can learn more by shutting my eyes and listening to a stream in the snow than I can learn from all of the books in the world. So, perhaps coming to the mountains in the spring isn’t all baloney after all.

I have often thought that we should have meditation spots in cities where people can stop and just notice the water trickling or some such. Of course, there are the parks but I was thinking of land marks that are more deliberate. Everyone would feel more satisfied and I am sure that we would have less violence. Until then, close your eyes this spring and listen to the trickling water, the chirping of the birds and feel the warm light of the sun. There is nothing more important that you could be doing this Easter.

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Highlights from Follow Sweden

20 things to know before moving to Sweden

As diverse as Sweden is, there are a few societal norms that are distinctly Swedish. Understanding a handful of them will hopefully prepare you culturally before you relocate. When you're invited home to a Swede, you better be on time and take your shoes off, writes expat Lola Akinmade-Åkerström. Read more »

How far can English take you in Sweden?

Sweden is a country where almost everyone can speak English. So why bother to learn Swedish? Edina Varnagy from Hungary managed with English for a whole year but then found that Swedish could open doors – to a job, a social life and greater understanding. Read more »

Blog Update: Julie's Nordic Island

12 February 21:30

The consciousness of one »

"The ice dripped in the winter sun. It was the first day when the light had been intense enough to cause dripping in the sunlight. To hear it was an extraordinary wakeup call. The cycle was happening again as it always does, always will (or so we think). I imagined that on my summer island, the bees..." READ »

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