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Space & Time for Your Wellbeing

Archive for the ‘Spring’ Category

The devil is in the discipline

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

Spring cleaning in the mountains

As the snow melted and the water began to trickle through the crevices this Easter, I could feel it running out of me. The stress of winter which had been created by dark days and nights of sitting in front of my computer squeezing in as much as possible now began to subside as the light season of outdoor play returned. To encourage this process, I decided that I would live for several days without connecting to the Internet (I pray that the Editor of The Local will forgive me). During all of the time that I have used the Internet – say, the past couple of decades – I had never felt that need but more recently my mind and body began to show clear signs of requiring a break.

It wasn’t that I lived without a computer. Rather, I continued writing my contracted book each day. The difference is that I didn’t hook up to the Internet. This leap into the unknown was encouraged by the fact that I am in the mountains where you have to stand on the right mountain to get your mobile broadband to work. I guess I am standing on it so that I can post this blog entry, but the slowness of doing almost anything on the Internet up here eased the decision to break with it for a few days.

As usual when you give yourself some space and time, perspectives which can lead to change and personal growth emerge. The conclusion I came to during these Internet-free days was that the web is one of the greatest anomalies of all time. It is at once the most important contribution to the wellbeing of all people AND the greatest threat to the wellbeing of all people. The sharing of knowledge and information not only for survival but a better standard of living is unparalleled. Lives have been saved because of the Internet. At the same time, the threat it poses to the physical and mental health of active users is an issue that we have brushed over until now but that we are going to have to face quick smart.

Over the years, I’ve dipped my toes into the rather thin and highly-polarized debate about the effects of Internet use on our minds and bodies. Some argue that since the means by which we access and use the Internet are developing so quickly, it is hard to say what effects it is having. Others, in particular those who are in touch with what happens to children and teenagers as they interact with the Internet (see my previous blog entry about Facebook and youngsters), conclude that clear limitations need to be placed on our Internet use if it is truly going to be of any use to us. Some researchers have even concluded that either we are all going to suffer from some form of ADHD or our brains are going to have to evolve to handle the bombardment of stimuli that the Internet delivers. In a few decades there won’t be anyone to award the Nobel Prize to, one researcher argued, since no one will have the focusing capacity that is required of a Nobel Laureate.

Personally, I think this is a bit extreme. This is not the first time that the devil has been painted on the wall when it comes to new technology. At the same time, I see a need for a new discipline around Internet use which we might have to formalize as education. People are burning out, running into walls, starting to look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and becoming overweight because they don’t know how to control their relationship to bytes. Up here in the mountains during the spring it feels easy to let go of the Internet for a few days and then return to it with greater judgement. However, it’s back in the everyday of our working world where e-mails and urls surround us that we might need help to get a grip.

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For further interesting discussion and links about the Internet and us see my blog entry The worst predictions don’t come true. If you’ve got any interesting information on health and the Internet please do share!

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The Road to Lambarudd

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

I'm worth it!

With great excitement and eager to reach out to the world anew, I had just launched my new Facebook account. This certainly is not the first time that I’ve launched an on-line communications tool but it is the first time that I began to wonder about the new tools by which we measure ourselves. There in the left column I had one star out of five for post quality and zero interactions. Granted, I had just launched the page and so no one knew about it, but these messages did stick in my mind as I turned off my computer and headed out for a walk in the equally uninspiring mud that covers the country roads after this winter of ample snow. Looking down my path, I repeated those disturbing terms – one star for post quality, zero interactions – and began to identify with the horse droppings on the path ahead. Don’t get me wrong – I do love social media for the way that it helps me to meet people who I would otherwise never know (you perhaps!), but the whole business of measurement on the Internet seems to be going into overdrive so that it can be counterproductive.

To my right and left there were in fact very beautiful experiences to be had. Tiny villages dating back to Viking times dotted the landscape. Several of the rust-red cottages showed evidence of being originals dating back many hundreds of years. It wasn’t hard to imagine looking into a window and seeing a woman sitting at a weaving loom from which a new pattern that people everywhere would admire and replicate for generations to come was emerging. My thoughts became entwined in this image. How had this woman created her pattern? Surely not by wandering around the village and asking the neighbors what they liked to look at (i.e. how many stars and interactions might my idea generate?).  Her inspiration would most likely have been the shy emergence of nature in the early spring and that irresistible sense of anticipation that goes hand-in-hand with it. As for the pattern, was it beautiful simply because many people would eventually like it or did it have its own inherent beauty? Was it worth something in and of itself? Was this woman worth something, whatever the future success of her brainchild, the pattern?

As I turned the corner on the road leading down to the small early medieval village of Lambarudd, my thoughts came to a head: of course she is worth something and so is her pattern, because this capacity to make something out of nothing and believe in it enough to create it is the way that humanity moves forward.  At middle age, and having experienced plenty of ups and downs, I have enough skin on my nose to know this and to handle the starting stats on my Facebook page with a bit of perspective. Yet if we look at the increasing psychological ill-health of youngsters (a major focus of research at Sweden’s Karolinska Institute), in particular Facebook-obsessed teenagers, we find that younger generations don’t consider their ‘patterns’ and, by association, themselves worth anything because the Facebook and other social media gods have come up with a random rating system that is misleading. Looking upwards, I took a deep breath and exhaled my irritation. Hanging above me on an old telephone line was an assortment of sneakers that had been tied together and thrown up in the air.  Are we creating a society in which youngsters are hanging up their sneakers and great ideas because the bar is just too high?

“Lambarudd” read the letters etched into the wooden signpost at the side of the road. Here I was surrounded by what was most likely the origin of a commonly used word. For those of you who do not know it, “lamb” is a word that originates from the many small Scandinavian villages that survived by tending these woolly animals. Lambarudd was the plainest place on earth and its people had given the world a very important word. As I stood there on this small muddy peninsula of cottages jutting out into Lake Mälar, I appreciated being here. That is, not because the world flocks here or because it has a great Facebook page or highly visited site on the Internet, but because it has a strong inherent sense of self-worth.

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Concerning how the great new ideas of the future will emerge, I recommend reading Ambassador Matthew Barzun’s Blog Om Sweden entry about TED talk and the science of motivation. “Autonomy, mastery and purpose” rather than carrots and sticks seem to be the way that we are going to meet our future challenges.

Concerning lamb, check out The Nordic Wellbeing Cookbook for your Easter celebration.

If you want to increase my interactions in Facebook, you can visit me there at Julie’s Island or nordicwellbeing.com.

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Let the Multitude Bloom

Saturday, March 20th, 2010

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 media 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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You Are There

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009

In case you were too busy to notice it, I just wanted to remind you that you are there. “Where?”, you might ask.  In the time between hägg and syrén (bird cherry and lilac) which is so short-lived and delicate in the far North that modern life is in danger of not noticing it. We drive over it, chat and SMS over it, and blog over it (here I am…). Yet it somehow survives to return each year to offer us a powerful source of regeneration if we choose to source it.

Sometime back in the old days when we still took our winter shoes to the shoemaker for fixing in the spring so that they would be ready for the autumn, a shoemaker somewhere in the North decided that enough was enough. He sat exhausted in his workshop, took one look at the piles of ancient leather that had to be repaired before harvesting time, took one look out the window at the apple blossoms that were about to open and decided that he didn’t want to miss it all. He pulled out a slab of wood and on it painted with some of the faluröd color left over from re-painting his cottage, “Closed between bird cherry and lilac”. He laid down his tools with hands that had themselves become like the leather that he cut and polished everyday, turned the large key and locked the door. Passersby and people who came with their broken shoes during these weeks read the sign with curiosity, and immediately understood and respected the wisdom of the shoemaker.

This is the true story of this famous Nordic expression of time, between hägg and syrén, which has become a cultural institution in this part of the world. Even if most of us do not have the flexibility to just lock the door like the shoemaker, we can at the very least find the courage to sometimes put down our tools and know the extreme joy of this time.

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Watch out for more about participating in Spring as National Park Day approaches on 24 May! Watch www.nordicwellbeing.com for more about this.

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The Wonderful Zoo of Life

Tuesday, April 21st, 2009

I’m back down in Stockholm where the ice has melted and the weeds are growing strong.  Lucy and I saunter along our usual daily path in Drottningholm park, now with the sturdy colt’s foot growing on our path. These small yellow flowers have that stocky look about them, much like the flowers that manage to fight their way out of the ground during the 8 or so weeks of “summer” up in the very north of Sweden. As all of the people and dogs tread (and do other things) in the park, I admire the colt’s foot. How resilient they are to keep coming up each year despite all of the Nike soles and gritty paws that stampede over them each day.

Something slithers under the moist grass in the ditch next to the path. A small snake hurries past us, uninterested in Lucy’s social advances.  A duck ruffles its feathers just behind the bus stop at the roadside.  “The bus to town is late again”, it concludes, and waddles back down to the waterfront.  A hare hops clumsily through the tourist-filled mazes on the palace grounds.  “Haven’t they dropped any lettuce yet?”, it wonders.

Just as I was beginning to feel like I was living next door to a zoo, Lucy and I spotted 4 moose standing out in the middle of a field behind the park near the main road.  Two calves lay sunning themselves on the ground, and an adult female eyed us from her standing position with what seemed to be one of her older children by her side.  As we stood there eyeing one another, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps for all of these animals Lucy and I were the ‘zoo’.

Whoever the zoo is, my toddles around the park tell me that life is resilient. Civilization can co-exist with the wilderness with just a little respect. And might we create that? The answer seems to me to be simple: find our humility. So the next time that you see a moose consider yourself the zoo…

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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

Meet Sanna, 9 years old

Sanna is one of 2 million people in Sweden under the age of 18. Sweden is seen as a good place to grow up. The law makes sure children are well-protected and defends their rights and any organizations work with children's well-being. Read more »

Strindberg, king of drama

August Strindberg's plays shocked society, dazzled audiences and revolutionized drama. A century after his death, Strindberg, with his powerful, timeless themes, is celebrated around the world. Read more »

Blog Update: The Local's Blog

23 May 16:27

Prime Minister Reinfeldt chats with The Local »

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