SNOWCORE

Snowstorm has happened. Again. Strong wind, snowflakes falling down like fine powdered sugar would be pured from the sky, or flour. It started during the night already, that wind spinning snow in the air, and then the storm continued through the whole yesterday. Even this morning it was still snowing. Sunshine and snow altogether; similar to April showers. And yes, April will approach us soon.

I am not sure if this is totally common Finnish spring; I was reading in Helsinki and, well, Turku flowers had already started to pop out. However, we still have real winter. Loads of snow. Piles. Hardcore. Snowcore.

Now I understand a bit better Finnish joy and craziness which occur when Juhannus, Midsummer, is celebrated. We wait so long to see the proper daylight. We wait so long for the winter to disappear, for the snow to melt, for the ice to be gone with the snow, thus making our paths less slippery. We wait so long to enjoy mild breeze rustling in birch woods again; green, so green woods. We wait long for the ecstasy of summer music festivals. We wait long to kiss in the midnight sun. We wait long for mosquitoes to inhabit swamps and lake-shores, we wait long for mosquitoes to invade our sweaty skin. We wait long for the awakening of those jolly moose-flies on behalf of which we would cover our heads carefully when enjoying our hikes within deep Finnish forests. Well, at first, we have to hike through frosty darkness to get a sense of life and love again.

All in all, it is a long waiting for the summer. But when it happens, and I have seen summer happening in Finland, it appears in all its glory.

PLASTIC FLOWERS

Me vedämme käteen kun maailma palaa. Vaadimme lisää kulutettavaa. Tilaamme sata kanavaa harhaa ja muovikukkia muovipuutarhaan.

Aivolävistys - Muovikukkia muovipuutarhaan

I was given a flower last week for International Women's Day, the 8th of March. The flower was a pink tulip. Until today, it has been living here in my room. Finally, as every flower withers, this tulip has withered as well. And I felt sorry when I had to throw it away.

Flowers are something I like, although there is a small detail: I don't like flowers to be cut and put into the vase. Bouquets and such things are not for me. Well, in a way it is nice to get a flower from a guy, like the intention and all, yet a ticket for a gig, in example, could impress me much more than roses.

Cut flowers look nice - for a short while, until then they die. I have not searched for any info how exactly this flower industry functions and how it affects the environment; just the fact of cutting a flower off, kind of killing a living thing for decoration purposes only, hurts me. Same goes for picking up flowers in the nature; I prefer to observe them where they grow.

Now I have replaced that withered tulip with some fake ones. But I have also started to wonder how and where these white tulips were made, by some kid somewhere in Third world countries, for instance - and how the production affected the environment. I still hope the situation is not that bad and fake flowers, if done properly, can be more ecological; still it all feels as an enchanted circle. Nevertheless, I can also perceive this fake flowers in my room as a constant remnant/warning there is a fake and plastic world of highly developed Consumer Society within a first-class European country lurking behind my window...

ON FORGETTING

''The present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future.
In truth, all sensation is already memory.''

From Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami

The past has always interested me. Memories; even my two latest plays have been dealing with memories and the past. I know well sometimes it is useless to long for the things that are gone. I know well things change, and sometimes they change in a way that hurts. So it is. Yet there are still issues in this life I cannot understand. Perhaps I am too naive, perhaps I just cannot accept this world as it is.

What has partly brought me to Finnish language and culture was this communication I have had; well, the tag friendship can sometimes feel as a good, nice and polite mask for all the emotions floating beneath. For sure I was thinking a lot about meanings, values, purposes of friendship at that time. Friendship became a theme I have been exploring and rethinking over and over again. However, in my opinion, if the friendship is real, without that fake cover of the word only, without serving just one Ego, one does not have to think about friendship that much. Real friendship just exists. Both Egos equal.

It has never happened to me that I would finish a friendship. At least not in such a way. Overall, it felt cruel. There was one person, the Other in my life for some time - and the relationship was important for me. Finally, I have kind of realised the relationship seemed more important to me than for the Other, but still. So far, this has not been my way. Being in an active contact with somebody, and then just cutting it off. Theoretically, the Other is now gone from my life, as this person has never even existed. Regardless the traces left behind.

No, this has never been my way. And I still cannot get it. Why such things happen? All that time, the energy exchanged, was it all for nothing? Words meaningless and empty. Is a human relationship just something one can cast away so lightly? One day, the Other is in your life, this Other kind of cares about you, and you care about the Other. There is a contact, two lives are connected. Then, things change, the Other is gone. Silence. You do not exist for the Other no longer. And vice versa? Well, it depends, I guess.

Sometimes, words are said in affect. Pain, anger, disappointment, and all that. The friendship that finished died within a couple of sharp letters. But still. After some time, the Other is still in mind. After some time, one perhaps feels slightly sorry for what has happened. Then, there is this battle. You somehow do not wish to meet the Other; it still hurts if you see the person. However, you would like the Other to recall you. You still hope the Other did not perceive you just as some kind of a chatbot, robot, or something. A paradox of emotions. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside yourself, you still wish to see the Other again. To talk. To tell over some coffee how life goes now, after all this time, and so on.

Yet you do not know what the Other is thinking. You perceive the Other as a closed fortress with high walls, guarded with Other's personal Gods and Goddesses that are impossible to overcome. Cold and distant Other, forever lost from your world. And you so wonder if the Other ever thinks about you. Nevertheless you have existed once for the Other much more than you exist now. Finally, as nothing moves and silence just grows bigger, you end up with the thought the Other has probably forgotten about you. Is it really so easy to forget?

Writing this from my particular experience, I think I am not among those that can just cut off people as they would never exist. New people bring new energies and new interactions; still the ones from the past would keep their places in my mind. It depends, but still. I cannot replace people like things can be replaced. For me, it is hard to forget people with ease. It all feels cruel; or it just reaches beyond my naive mind.