To live or not to live - that is the question

Yesterday I got a good laugh when I opened my mail, as I received a document that I had ordered for some student grant application which stated my current status to be "alive". I'm glad that's been cleared now and made official. Anyway, as I was granted a life yesterday, I thought why not help someone hold onto theirs today. So, I went to donate blood, which was a nice experience just like the last five times I've done it, though I'm always questioning my decision when they take out the needle. However, as the recent theme has been living, I started to wonder what it really means. I am breathing, thinking, speaking and moving as do all the other people walking on this earth, but what does it really mean to be alive?

Repeating a day after another according to a routine is not the answer. Not even when the activities change, there could still be something missing. Writing it down, being organized and having a schedule might make it easier, but you go to bed left with a feeling of emptiness, a silent restlessness. Did I live today, did I feel one with the universe?

We sat down, drank way too many cups of tea and talked about life and love, trying to solve the mystery of existence. 

We stayed up all night talking when we were really tired but did not want to break the magic, waste the moment.

We finished a day of hard work, looked up and were greeted by a billion lights. 

I let it in, I let the feelings fill me up and I smiled, pure and lost for words.

That's when I've lived. I've lived in many other moments, too, but of the 21 years I've existed I'm afraid I haven't lived quite as many. All I can do is to remind myself to live at least one, tiny moment every single day. Because if I live every day, I must be alive, right?

Momentos pequeños

Cada vez que empiezo a escribir algo aquí, pienso un momento en la posibilidad de elegir otra lengua para el texto. Normalmente gana el inglés, pero esta vez, para variar, no. También porque, primero, pasó algo hace una media hora de que quiero escribir y segundo, he desarrollado un miedo tonto de escribir en español. No sé porque soy así; después de resolver el problema de hablar, de repente no me atrevo a escribir. De todos modos, ya es hora de que empiece a creer en mí misma, particularmente ahora que tengo un curso para que tengo que escribir cinco textos bastante largas.

Antes el problema fue mi actitud hacia los errores que hago hablando, y aunque he podido dejar de fijar mi atención en ellos cuando hablo, es diferente con textos escritos. Es como en mi texto el error sería más evidente, como revelaría mis debilidades, las que en conversación se puede olvidar o pasar en silencio. No sé, quizás son solo cuestiones de hábito y experiencia.

Entonces, la cosa que pasó. De hecho, no fue nada muy especial y para algunos quizás hasta sin importancia, pero tuve una conversación excelente con mi padre. Claro que normalmente hablamos de muchas cosas, de su vida y la mía, pero por una vez hablamos en serio. De su trabajo, de gestión de recursos humanos, de nuestras experiencias del liderato. Y no muchas veces he oído mi padre explicar tanto de un tema con todo detalle y un entusiasmo grande y evidente por lo que está pensando y contandome. De alguna manera me sentí orgullosa de él y me di cuenta de que somos muy similares. Compartimos experiencias, principios y intereses; creo que por sus palabras empecé a entender de donde vienen ciertas características de mi personalidad. Y por una vez, no fue solo un consejo de él a mí ni una explicación de mí a él; fue una conversación recíproca y por algún motivo, me derritió el corazón.

Together

It is funny how people can be connected. Connected by an event in the past, merely by a brief, shared moment that unites you in a look exchanged or an apology stuttered. Or by time spent together that has come to an end, binding you together in the memories. Or in an agreement never spoken, which unites you through distance, silence or time.

In secrets that can never be told, which are the hardest ones of all. Knowing too much, aware of the fact that ever saying it aloud would damage the other, willingly or not, can haunt you. Being caught between people's lives while they haven't got the faintest clue you are stuck in there, it tests your loyalty. To them, to the greater good, to yourself.

In an imaginary world that has yet to come true, in the stage of dreams and hopes. And even though it has never happened, and might never happen, you're tied together in a thought and you feel the connection already beginning to grow. 

It could be there for real, or it could be just a fantasy. It might unite you, it can drive you apart. After all it is only a hunch, a feeling of belonging in some strange level. But the thing is that once the connection has been made, it never goes away.

Under a sky full of stars...

... last night, after a long day of activities, being organized and in charge, surrounded by noise and laughter of the youngsters, I was feeling good. Tired, relieved, successful, small compared to the universe. I had my last camp maybe ever this weekend, and I have to say that this really is an end of an era. Six years and countless camps later, as many as seven only this year, I can honestly say that I've learned things I couldn't have anticipated when I started all this.

A camp is an organized, sweet chaos that consists of the total scale of emotions, operating with and for people, challenging yourself and being active and responsible twenty-four hours a day, up to nine days in a row. It doesn't even really matter who it is aimed at, though I've mostly done those for youngsters, it is always a very comprehensive experience. No matter how hard I try, I couldn't describe it exactly, or even if I could, you wouldn't understand, not if you haven't done it. Of course there are people who work on camps and might wonder what is so special about these ones, but I really believe that the orthodox camps have a special feature like no other. The religious aspect of the camps is the part  I have never really pondered in this blog, but I don't feel the need for it; it is personal, and that sort of  personal conversations people must earn.

This past camp year has been probably the most educating one, mainly because I have spent so much time in that environment. I already wrote some things after the last longer camp in July, but I feel like this part of my life with all its lessons is something I need to talk over to process and cherish everything I've gained. The reason for this year's significance is not only the high number of camps; it's also a stronger aspect of reflection in relation to my previous experience as a leader, as a part of a team and as a woman.

I find my flaws more easily, for example. Not in a self-loathing way of blaming myself for everything that went wrong, but I feel that I am more capable of admitting that alright, this is where I could have acted differently or that this speech I gave was not sufficiently informative or clear. I am more aware of what kinds of features I appreciate in people and what gets on my nerve, regarding others as well as myself. I've also learned how important it is to look deeper than the surface to understand people, and even though one might judge, make assumptions or doubt others merely based on actions or appearances, there is always, always something more. Something, that makes the person who they are for real, and often acknowledging that might be just what that person needs.

I am grateful for all the opportunities I've been given in this field and I will surely be able to exploit this whole experience in my future profession. I will hold dear all the memories of laughing hysterically after a few not-so-well-slept nights, improvising a play that keeps changing, sitting by the campfire gazing at the stars, immersing in conversations about everything and anything and going to sleep at night with a smile on my face for a job well done. And anywhere I go, I'll know that there could be someone whose life I've been a part of, which is a pretty nice feeling

When the night falls

The mind is a curious place. It can make you remember, or make you forget. Self-defense and self-destruction, separated by a fine line. In it we can live another life, be another person or just curl up under a warm blanket and stay still.

It can produce words, the keys to the histories so rarely told, however complicated or shameful. The bridge between the imaginary and the real, from the heart to the lips. The answers to the questions, hidden within. Words; the downfall, the salvation. The power, the companion.

The home of emotions, although they always seem to crush your heart instead. The place of reason, of logic, and the nest of memories. Of knowledge, which really is all I have.

And I wonder how I can look into my eyes and still wonder what she looks like.

Busy doing nothing

How nice it is to just chill at home, in the place where I grew up and spent the carefree summers of sunbathing, berry picking and swimming. Now it is just a week of that after all the work and studying, but it is enough. It is even warm, at least for us Finnish people!

On Saturday we saw a bunch of relatives, as we were celebrating my grandmother's 80th birthday. It was really emotional to see her so fragile, but I am really happy how she managed the few hours of greeting the family and eating. It was a fun day, I got to wear my awesome dress I bought from Spain and I even performed there playing the piano. I am so proud of myself, I hadn't played for months and after two days of practicing (okay... more like two hours) I did really well. I heard there were teary eyes, even. And afterwards my mom's cousin came to give me a hug and thanked me for creating "a timeless moment", which was probably the nicest compliment I've ever got for playing music. 

Yesterday I helped my little sister pack her belongings, as she will be moving to Jyväskylä next weekend, it is really nice to have her there from now on! This morning I had to get up pretty early as I needed to be in front of the computer exactly at 9.00 am to sign up for this year's courses. So, a new year and definitely new adventures await!

Now I'll go pick up some berries, since I'm still here and it's summer and it's warm and I'm home. And that's pretty awesome.

Back to reality

It still feels so weird to be back home. Not that I was away for that long, but after Spain I spent the weekend at my sister's in the capital so being back in Jyväskylä is kind of strange, especially after such a different scenery I was in.

But anyway, my trip went great and I am so happy. I had been waiting for it for so long and it was more than I could have even hoped for or imagined. It was exciting, fun, memorable, educational and so much more; sometimes even scary, frustrating and exhausting, but I guess traveling always is, especially when you're doing it for a bit longer period of time at once. I got to use my Spanish skills, which I realized to be at a very good starting point for the exchange, which was sort of a relief. 

I could produce half a novel to write down everything we saw and did, but I think that I could just bring up something more significant, as I feel like the trip taught me a lot about myself and gave a much needed break from everything. Funny, how being physically far away also gives you distance from the emotional and mental issues you're dealing with.

I learned to walk a little bit slower, to think a bit more calmly. I took my backpack and went, without a plan, without hurry, without a need to accomplish something.

I let moments to fill me completely; I immersed myself in a beautiful view, in a good book, in a bite of delicious food. Most nights I went to sleep satisfied, knowing I had had a really good day filled with experiences. I could have taken a thousand pictures, but none of them could have captured the experiences I had.

I also learned that traveling requires boldness to say exactly what you want, what you feel like doing, and how you are feeling. It is extremely useful in everyday life as well, but when traveling, it somehow comes up in a more crucial way. And as traveling is a luxury to me, it is so important to make it a journey for me. Not to be selfish, but to appreciate yourself.

And to sum up everything else, I could make this list of words that wraps up the essence of my journey: walking, pavo real, parks, heat, views, exhaustion, wine, pinchos, reading, friends, erizo, freedom.

And when I was in the train coming back to Madrid from Aranjuez, there was this woman reading a book. She started dozing off while reading, leaning her head against the wall. At some stop she woke up, and adjusted her position so that I saw the title of her book, which was "No abras los ojos". I laughed so much.

I had moments of complete clarity when I honestly thought I could even live there someday, and I still think so. But still, when the plane started landing to Helsinki and I started to see the forests and the familiar views, I knew I was home, and nothing could ever beat that.