I want to thrive not as an act of resistance, but simply because I am 60 years old, and I don’t want to give away what’s left of my life waiting for some better time that might not come before I go
Loved this Rita, I am with you at 73, I want to thrive until the end. Being fully alive and useful is my mission and intention.
As I live in the UK, I have the privileges of a health care system, that still functions. I don’t use it as my health is my responsibility and I take good care, a sort of self Finka .
We have a corrupt , inept , but still threatening government dedicated to controlling our freedoms, so there is much for an old rebel to do and thrive on. 💗
And I love this. I hope to be a thriving old rebel, too. So glad you still have a functioning health care system, should you need it. Thanks for writing.
I think about this a lot. About thriving at 53 and beyond in this current whatever-this-is in the US. About keeping my community strong and taking time for connection and pushing myself just a little to find joy. I’ve lived in Europe and grew up in Canada and I’m grateful to have had those experiences, to know there are pros and cons to every place. I dont have any answers, other than (for me) getting outside, remembering to reach out to friends regularly, trying to get enough sleep and exercise and letting myself do things that feel fun - reading a book, playing with watercolors, dancing in the kitchen - to keep me from losing my hope and my general okayness. I appreciate your thoughtful take on this and hope that others chime in with their thoughts.
Thank you Alana--I really like this: "pushing myself just a little to find joy" And for the reminder that there are pros and cons to every place. (Under no illusion that Sweden is a utopia.) I've pushed myself a lot in my life for all kinds of things, but probably not joy. Won't that be ironic, if it is a time of greater difficulty that brings joy to more of us? Maybe we need it more now than we have before? Like you, I don't have many answers. Just a lot of questions. Thanks for chiming in!
In our area “no bad weather, just bad clothing” is an oft spoken maxim, but when it’s -40°F, we know that the clothing required is shelter with a heat source. And by almost any metric, I am not thriving, but I am surviving which all things considered feels like thriving. What I think your post points out in a metaphor of picnics - is that it’s worth as much joy even when there isn’t as much ease. (And maybe even joy because we’re still here in the unease.)
This may be the worst time in our history (or not - this isn’t even close to the most challenging/scary time of my own life despite the world stage) but it certainly isn’t the worst time in history. And yes, I feel like we could have more nice things than we do and we’re teetering on having even fewer, but I come from a line of women on both sides of my family who have lived through tougher times who would tell me we see what we focus on. I’m choosing to see surviving as thriving right now because those are the clothes I need for the weather.
I was so happy to see a post from you, Rita. I’ve been thinking of you!!
I wanted to highlight the lines in this that most speak to me, but I'd just be copying and pasting the whole thing! I'm not sure if your part of the country is considered midwest, but you have a sensibility that I've come to think of as midwestern; I see it in you and a few other friends from the middle part of the country. Perhaps it is borne of living in a much harsher natural environment than I've lived my life in. I am not thriving, either, by most metrics. And I wouldn't say I am thriving, either. Maybe what we can hope for is moments (or hours or even days) of thriving? And those help us survive? I know my need to learn these lessons and explore these questions is evidence of the good fortune I've lived with thus far (in spite of times that have been personally more challenging/scary). I'm sure glad to be exploring all of it with you. Always appreciate your perspective, Kate.
Yes!! We are midwesterners here. Though Jesse would argue I’m a Michigan midwest which isn’t the same as the midwest nice version you find here. (He’s probably right; my people are “kind, not nice” types and if I could pick a motto, that would be the one I want.) Either way, it makes me smile to have you call that out.
You saying that you’re not thriving when you’re not thriving is an honesty I appreciate!!
Yes! I have said for years that I am kind, not nice. 🙂 Can I make that my motto, too? Glad to have given you a smile, and I hope you know I meant that as a compliment.
Thriving at 60 and beyond has occupied much of my thoughts lately. How does one do that in the current environment and as a single woman before I can retire from an educational system that does not change. Thank you for the essay and the thought provoking questions it inspires.
I wish I had good answers for your question. The things about education that never change broke me. I know how strong you are. I wish you didn't have to be. I think one reason I want to thrive now is to reclaim some of what I lost/gave away. It's been a process. We should get together for a long talk when you're feeling able to leave.
Communing with you here—in this way, at this moment— feels sustaining and like a treat amidst the ashes. It feels like the fika I can hope for and, yes, ENJOY right now. I love hearing about your time with your child and I must admit, it sounds like a mythical kingdom, which is equally compelling and alarming. I am so thrilled for them to have that reality and equally horrified at how it sounds as possible as a flying dragon taxi service here.
Your piece and your stance make me see that I have chosen to show up as the reality I want out of expedience, personal necessity of the moment, and a sense that time is short and waiting for ideal conditions is a luxury/ delusion I can no longer afford. I am doing this in safe spaces now because my personal reservoir is in drought conditions, but the more I live in that way the more it seems impossible not to. Like the balance has toppled and living any other way feels false and now requires more energy than just letting go and accepting the climate, geography, system in which I live and exist. I am my own micro climate — maybe that is what those of us in inhospitable zones can hope for— not as struggle but as the zone in which me most thrive. And a place others might, too.
And an equally chewy response! I read it yesterday (but could not respond until now), and I'm still gnawing on "I have chosen to show up as the reality I want out of expedience, personal necessity of the moment, and a sense that time is short..." I'm wondering what it means to show up as the reality we want. Or what it might mean. I'm wondering how many of us are doing that.
And this: "Like the balance has toppled and living any other way feels false and now requires more energy than just letting go and accepting the climate, geography, system in which I live and exist." I felt such a thump of YES when I read these words! I am so tired of striving to make my reality something that it isn't. I spent my whole career working to be a "change agent" in a system that never changes (not really--see my exchange with Christine, who I have known for decades) and it is so freeing to stop. To accept the weather. To stop trying to anticipate and control it. There is no flying dragon taxi service here. But here is where we are.
Sending you so much love, Emily. I wish you weren't in the ashes right now. I wish we could have proper fika together to talk about all of it. I suppose this will have to do, for now at least. I'm grateful for what we get. We can be our own dragons, yeah?
Here’s to future fikas and to being dragons. And for me, showing up as the reality I want is the stripped down version of what I am at this age. I feel I have aged into someone I like and simply want to show up as her without much muss or fuss or explanation. I think we are all tested at the moment to see who we really are and finding ways to be that person in one on one ways and splashier ways as folks are inclined or able. The thing about my personal moment is I had no time to pack or plan, I simply have to meet it from where I am, not from fond future ideal self. With what I had in my pockets on tbe day I got a diagnosis. So there’s some weird freedom in that. Like macGyver ? Finding your way through with that old chewing gum and that piece of string…
I understand exactly what you are saying. There is freedom in leaving your old reality without time to grab much of anything. My situation is different from yours, but I've recently been stripped down too. Wouldnt choose either of our circumstances but I will take the gifts that come with it. Feeling more able to claim who I am and just be who I am is one of them. I love how you've articulated that here.
What a wonderful piece! You had me at fika, of course, since you know I lived in Sweden and partly raised my daughters there and know exactly of the quality of life of which you speak after living there 18 years. Now I am back to living in Europe, this time in Spain, Barcelona, where my eldest daughter lives and not far from the youngest daughter in Paris. Being close to them was the main driver for me to move back to Europe (fortunately in possession of a Swedish passport), but I am particularly grateful to be out of a US that is under assault by this administration, with so many people being hurt and more who will be harmed. There is a different way, as you so beautifully describe in the way you take that Swedish phrase ‘There is no bad weather; only bad clothes,’ and weave it into such a powerful and thought provoking metaphor for what we each must do to find a sense of comfort and belonging. Rita, I would so join you for a fika if I could! We’d talk for hours, I’m sure 💗
I would love to have fika with you! (I am eating a cookie and drinking tea while writing this, and it feels as if that almost counts.) I'm grateful for the ways in which we are able to connect, and I'm happy for you that you have that Swedish passport and can be close to your daughters. Looking forward to talking soon 🙂
Lovely essay, Rita, and so much of it rings true for me as well. I’m the daughter of Dutch and German immigrants who came to Canada in the early 50s, and unfortunately I think I’ve lived and breathed loss and envy for most of my life. It was SO HARD to go visit the Netherlands as a child, to see the lives my cousins lived, to hear them conversing with my grandparents and to not be able to do that myself. And it certainly didn’t help that my parents weren’t thriving in Canada (which had nothing to do with Canada per se and everything to do with incompatibility and isolation). Unfortunately my husband and I kind of repeated history with our own children, moving provinces right after our first child was born, and then not returning (which was the deal at the outset) but going even farther afield. As you know we (my husband and I and our kids) lived in the US for just over a decade before returning to Canada. I think Canada does a better job of having its citizens build shelters for each other than the US does (sorry), but the Scandinavian countries are far and away the leaders in this.
I touched on this phrase of yours above — ‘Perhaps the Swedes can have the attitude about weather that they do because of all the shelters they’ve built for each other, the kinds of shelters we don’t have here.´ — but I just wanted to write it out in full. I completely agree and would even go so far as to remove the ‘perhaps.´
As to the idea of thriving no matter what, I wish I could offer some good food for thought. I think I’ve always just been focused on surviving, and have taken moments of happiness more as respite, a sense of being in a place of calm in a storm, rather than any notion of thriving.
Just last week, I had a conversation with a local friend that was so similar to this exchange. Her father came to the US from the Netherlands, and she voiced the same experience of visiting grandparents and envying cousins there. Her parents never taught her Dutch; she said it was their language to use when they didn't want the kids to know what they were saying, and they stopped once they began to understand it. The more I listen to the experiences of others and reflect on what's happening in my family, the more I see the ways in which immigration (or simply moving far away) is a rupture. Her dad came here because her parents felt there was more opportunity here. At that time, while Europe was still rebuilding after the war, that was true. And her mother was American, so it meant loss no matter which country they chose.
There is always good food for thought in what you share. Sending wishes for many moments of respite, for true joy and comfort. I was so glad to see that your election results went so differently from ours. I take delight in the Canadian stance (what I've gotten to see of it) to their belligerent southern neighbor. I'm glad to know you're there and not here.
Some fika is certainly better than no fika, to be sure. And I so appreciate you declaring that your life is happening now and you will be doing all you can to make it as vibrant as possible. I'm with you. I'm here for you in all the kinds of weather. xo
I loved every bit of this story but especially your writing.
It's extremely challenging at the moment to avoid staring into the abyss but here in our bit of darkest Canada, we prioritize drinking excellent tea with homemade cake whenever possible! During the winter, I have gone full-on pagan and circle the windows with little white lights that I put up in November. It helps. I also go outside no matter what the weather, even if it's only in the back garden and frolic with our Border Terrier, Stanley. I often take my phone outside (even in winter) and set it to the 'Merlin' app, which hears and identifies bird calls. Often, even though we are in the city, there will be 15 or 20 stalwarts still singing away, back and forth, no matter what season it is and I find this deeply moving. At the moment, all the Warblers are swinging back into town so it's an exciting time. (And I am not even a true birder! It's just encouraging somehow ...)
Thanks again Rita for this thought provoking take xo
Winter birds are so uplifting! And I love the idea of going full-on pagan. My daughter is now living at a very northern latitude (maybe only 4 hours of true daylight around solstice), which I think must be very challenging. I'd have to go full-on cozy, too. Excellent tea and homemade cake sounds wonderful. (No coffee for me.) Your whole note felt so good 🥰
"Starting with fika, in whatever way I can have it. Because some kind of fika is better than no fika, always."
Yes! This is so good. I always get a little sad on Sundays—there’s this tension between all the things I want to do and all the things I feel like I should do. Your message is meeting me exactly where I want to be. Some kind of whimsy is better than no whimsy at all. (I’m using “whimsy” in place of fika here. 😉)
I’m more convinced than ever that I’m meant to live in Europe—especially after reading this post.
I always get a little sad every afternoon, for the same reason. Last week I started making a list in the morning of all the things I want/need to do in the day. I put stars next to the things that are highest priority. It's been a good reality check on how much time is really available AND on how I'm prioritizing things in my life. (I should write something about it, but that's not on my list today 🙂) I'm hoping to get better at putting stars next to whimsy that is for no one but me.
I think I would only like to live in a European country if I'd been born there or had moved there when I was young. (Even then, there would be as much loss as gain.) Trying really hard to figure out how to be OK here. My lifelong project.
I eat my lunch in the woods at least six days a week, and sometimes, yes, the most inclement days are the most special. Living alone, this is possible, but only because I'm lucky enough to live somewhere with plenty of places to walk. Not sure how that translates to anyone living in, say, Texas, where almost everying is private and no trespassing. A friend of mine who lives in Japan tells me he can walk anywhere - it's not in the culture to post against trespassing. That's a big part of the puzzle, too: right-to-roam laws in places like Germany, the UK, and Scandinavia.
Yes! Are you familiar with Antonia Malchik's book A Walking Life or her newsletter On the Commons (https://antonia.substack.com/)? She writes extensively about both walking and issues of land ownership and the ways in which our ideas about it shape our environments. A writer I deeply appreciate.
When I was 25 I was one of the first 10 peopled hired for a brand new concept store in the USA called Ikea. It was my first actual contact with Swedish people and although we all liked each other very much, the differences were glaring. To wit: on a sunny, cold February Philadelphia day before the store opened we were eating lunch but the Swedes weren't to be found. They were all standing outside, leaning against the building, no coats on, faces in the sun. Meanwhile the rest of us were gobbling down our hoagies and running back into the warmth of the store.
One tiny difference. It wasn't particularly easy to be outside in that cold but it was worth it because they appreciated the winter sun in a way that was impossible for the rest of us.
Sorry this is so long.
I've been so fortunate to visit Sweden and my Ikea friends so often here in Europe. And while Germany and Italy are decidedly different from Sweden there is the European sense that free time counts. Chatting for an hour counts. Relaxing and not living as if this might be your last paycheck counts.
I tremble inside for American life and even more for those who are not able to see that another way is even remotely possible.
I'm so grateful for having learned that. From the Swedes in the February sun to the farmers in Italy to my walking companions here in the Black Forest. I'm so grateful.
Thank you for your wonderful writing Rita. It brings forth so many thoughts.
Oh, no apologies! I love that story! And in just a few words you captured what I felt: "...there is the European sense that free time counts. Chatting for an hour counts. Relaxing and not living as if this might be your last paycheck counts." Some people here love to go on and on about freedom, but I want the kinds of freedom my daughter and her Swedish family have. I so much wish more here could see that another way of life is possible. Thank you for writing, too, Diana. I love seeing your perspective.
Thriving is something I think about in terms of quality of life, not in terms of financial windfalls. I know that for me being attentive to the small joys in my life helps me feel I'm thriving, but I am mindful of not shouting too loudly about good things in my life. Too many people are suffering, insecure, at loose ends, so talk too much about what is good with me seems tone deaf.
I completely agree that financial windfalls are separate from quality of life (once you've reached a certain threshold of income). Your comment has me wondering about what ways of sharing good things is helpful and what is not. Shouting too loudly is for sure not, but I know it helps me when others share what they are appreciating. It reminds me to step back and appreciate what I have, too.
Rita, this is provocative and important. So many of us seem to be writing to similar themes. How do we make the most of the time we have? How do we press on despite the chaos being inflicted on us by our government (I use the term loosely as I don't feel we're being governed so much as bulldozed).
My former boss and longtime friend celebrated a birthday this week. This past December he was caught in a garage fire that left him badly burned but able to be on his way to a full recovery. His response to my good wishes: "Thank you. It's good to be alive!"
What will we do with our one wild and precious life?
I am thrilled that you were able to spend time with your daughter, that she is happy, that the two of you made new stories together. And I'm thankful for how you translated some of that experience into this piece.
I suspect we are all trying to write our way to answers to these questions. I hope I will always be able to feel that it's good to be alive, like your friend.
I said to Kari that I'm trying to get back to a routine - ideally a better one than I had before, but atm, I'm feeling the lack of structure. What's actually clear, especially after reading this, is what I'm seeking is a lifestyle, a pace of living rather than a routine. While I believe I could craft it, there's so much noise in my head about resolving certain important issues before the year ends, that I can't focus without the fear shrieking at me to get a grip. It's an uncomfortable feeling having to prioritise - yet again - financial security over my mental and physical health. I know you know and understand this constant and frustrating dance.
If only the concept of the universal basic income was taken seriously, the lives of people everywhere would be transformed, and we'd get more truly useful and content individuals back into the workplace - albeit working at a place and in a way - that is good for them. Unfortunately, we seem to be moving further and further away from such progressive thinking. If only Scandinavia could take us all.
Loved this Rita, I am with you at 73, I want to thrive until the end. Being fully alive and useful is my mission and intention.
As I live in the UK, I have the privileges of a health care system, that still functions. I don’t use it as my health is my responsibility and I take good care, a sort of self Finka .
We have a corrupt , inept , but still threatening government dedicated to controlling our freedoms, so there is much for an old rebel to do and thrive on. 💗
And I love this. I hope to be a thriving old rebel, too. So glad you still have a functioning health care system, should you need it. Thanks for writing.
I think about this a lot. About thriving at 53 and beyond in this current whatever-this-is in the US. About keeping my community strong and taking time for connection and pushing myself just a little to find joy. I’ve lived in Europe and grew up in Canada and I’m grateful to have had those experiences, to know there are pros and cons to every place. I dont have any answers, other than (for me) getting outside, remembering to reach out to friends regularly, trying to get enough sleep and exercise and letting myself do things that feel fun - reading a book, playing with watercolors, dancing in the kitchen - to keep me from losing my hope and my general okayness. I appreciate your thoughtful take on this and hope that others chime in with their thoughts.
Thank you Alana--I really like this: "pushing myself just a little to find joy" And for the reminder that there are pros and cons to every place. (Under no illusion that Sweden is a utopia.) I've pushed myself a lot in my life for all kinds of things, but probably not joy. Won't that be ironic, if it is a time of greater difficulty that brings joy to more of us? Maybe we need it more now than we have before? Like you, I don't have many answers. Just a lot of questions. Thanks for chiming in!
In our area “no bad weather, just bad clothing” is an oft spoken maxim, but when it’s -40°F, we know that the clothing required is shelter with a heat source. And by almost any metric, I am not thriving, but I am surviving which all things considered feels like thriving. What I think your post points out in a metaphor of picnics - is that it’s worth as much joy even when there isn’t as much ease. (And maybe even joy because we’re still here in the unease.)
This may be the worst time in our history (or not - this isn’t even close to the most challenging/scary time of my own life despite the world stage) but it certainly isn’t the worst time in history. And yes, I feel like we could have more nice things than we do and we’re teetering on having even fewer, but I come from a line of women on both sides of my family who have lived through tougher times who would tell me we see what we focus on. I’m choosing to see surviving as thriving right now because those are the clothes I need for the weather.
I was so happy to see a post from you, Rita. I’ve been thinking of you!!
I wanted to highlight the lines in this that most speak to me, but I'd just be copying and pasting the whole thing! I'm not sure if your part of the country is considered midwest, but you have a sensibility that I've come to think of as midwestern; I see it in you and a few other friends from the middle part of the country. Perhaps it is borne of living in a much harsher natural environment than I've lived my life in. I am not thriving, either, by most metrics. And I wouldn't say I am thriving, either. Maybe what we can hope for is moments (or hours or even days) of thriving? And those help us survive? I know my need to learn these lessons and explore these questions is evidence of the good fortune I've lived with thus far (in spite of times that have been personally more challenging/scary). I'm sure glad to be exploring all of it with you. Always appreciate your perspective, Kate.
Yes!! We are midwesterners here. Though Jesse would argue I’m a Michigan midwest which isn’t the same as the midwest nice version you find here. (He’s probably right; my people are “kind, not nice” types and if I could pick a motto, that would be the one I want.) Either way, it makes me smile to have you call that out.
You saying that you’re not thriving when you’re not thriving is an honesty I appreciate!!
Yes! I have said for years that I am kind, not nice. 🙂 Can I make that my motto, too? Glad to have given you a smile, and I hope you know I meant that as a compliment.
Thriving at 60 and beyond has occupied much of my thoughts lately. How does one do that in the current environment and as a single woman before I can retire from an educational system that does not change. Thank you for the essay and the thought provoking questions it inspires.
I wish I had good answers for your question. The things about education that never change broke me. I know how strong you are. I wish you didn't have to be. I think one reason I want to thrive now is to reclaim some of what I lost/gave away. It's been a process. We should get together for a long talk when you're feeling able to leave.
Communing with you here—in this way, at this moment— feels sustaining and like a treat amidst the ashes. It feels like the fika I can hope for and, yes, ENJOY right now. I love hearing about your time with your child and I must admit, it sounds like a mythical kingdom, which is equally compelling and alarming. I am so thrilled for them to have that reality and equally horrified at how it sounds as possible as a flying dragon taxi service here.
Your piece and your stance make me see that I have chosen to show up as the reality I want out of expedience, personal necessity of the moment, and a sense that time is short and waiting for ideal conditions is a luxury/ delusion I can no longer afford. I am doing this in safe spaces now because my personal reservoir is in drought conditions, but the more I live in that way the more it seems impossible not to. Like the balance has toppled and living any other way feels false and now requires more energy than just letting go and accepting the climate, geography, system in which I live and exist. I am my own micro climate — maybe that is what those of us in inhospitable zones can hope for— not as struggle but as the zone in which me most thrive. And a place others might, too.
What a wonderful and chewy post!
And an equally chewy response! I read it yesterday (but could not respond until now), and I'm still gnawing on "I have chosen to show up as the reality I want out of expedience, personal necessity of the moment, and a sense that time is short..." I'm wondering what it means to show up as the reality we want. Or what it might mean. I'm wondering how many of us are doing that.
And this: "Like the balance has toppled and living any other way feels false and now requires more energy than just letting go and accepting the climate, geography, system in which I live and exist." I felt such a thump of YES when I read these words! I am so tired of striving to make my reality something that it isn't. I spent my whole career working to be a "change agent" in a system that never changes (not really--see my exchange with Christine, who I have known for decades) and it is so freeing to stop. To accept the weather. To stop trying to anticipate and control it. There is no flying dragon taxi service here. But here is where we are.
Sending you so much love, Emily. I wish you weren't in the ashes right now. I wish we could have proper fika together to talk about all of it. I suppose this will have to do, for now at least. I'm grateful for what we get. We can be our own dragons, yeah?
Here’s to future fikas and to being dragons. And for me, showing up as the reality I want is the stripped down version of what I am at this age. I feel I have aged into someone I like and simply want to show up as her without much muss or fuss or explanation. I think we are all tested at the moment to see who we really are and finding ways to be that person in one on one ways and splashier ways as folks are inclined or able. The thing about my personal moment is I had no time to pack or plan, I simply have to meet it from where I am, not from fond future ideal self. With what I had in my pockets on tbe day I got a diagnosis. So there’s some weird freedom in that. Like macGyver ? Finding your way through with that old chewing gum and that piece of string…
Here’s to dragons. 🐉 💜
I understand exactly what you are saying. There is freedom in leaving your old reality without time to grab much of anything. My situation is different from yours, but I've recently been stripped down too. Wouldnt choose either of our circumstances but I will take the gifts that come with it. Feeling more able to claim who I am and just be who I am is one of them. I love how you've articulated that here.
So grateful for you and your amazing conversations here!
Same same same 💜
Rita, this is such a beautiful post. Thank you.
Thank you, Sue. ❤️
What a wonderful piece! You had me at fika, of course, since you know I lived in Sweden and partly raised my daughters there and know exactly of the quality of life of which you speak after living there 18 years. Now I am back to living in Europe, this time in Spain, Barcelona, where my eldest daughter lives and not far from the youngest daughter in Paris. Being close to them was the main driver for me to move back to Europe (fortunately in possession of a Swedish passport), but I am particularly grateful to be out of a US that is under assault by this administration, with so many people being hurt and more who will be harmed. There is a different way, as you so beautifully describe in the way you take that Swedish phrase ‘There is no bad weather; only bad clothes,’ and weave it into such a powerful and thought provoking metaphor for what we each must do to find a sense of comfort and belonging. Rita, I would so join you for a fika if I could! We’d talk for hours, I’m sure 💗
I would love to have fika with you! (I am eating a cookie and drinking tea while writing this, and it feels as if that almost counts.) I'm grateful for the ways in which we are able to connect, and I'm happy for you that you have that Swedish passport and can be close to your daughters. Looking forward to talking soon 🙂
The same here, look forward to our next virtual fika together. ☕️
Lovely essay, Rita, and so much of it rings true for me as well. I’m the daughter of Dutch and German immigrants who came to Canada in the early 50s, and unfortunately I think I’ve lived and breathed loss and envy for most of my life. It was SO HARD to go visit the Netherlands as a child, to see the lives my cousins lived, to hear them conversing with my grandparents and to not be able to do that myself. And it certainly didn’t help that my parents weren’t thriving in Canada (which had nothing to do with Canada per se and everything to do with incompatibility and isolation). Unfortunately my husband and I kind of repeated history with our own children, moving provinces right after our first child was born, and then not returning (which was the deal at the outset) but going even farther afield. As you know we (my husband and I and our kids) lived in the US for just over a decade before returning to Canada. I think Canada does a better job of having its citizens build shelters for each other than the US does (sorry), but the Scandinavian countries are far and away the leaders in this.
I touched on this phrase of yours above — ‘Perhaps the Swedes can have the attitude about weather that they do because of all the shelters they’ve built for each other, the kinds of shelters we don’t have here.´ — but I just wanted to write it out in full. I completely agree and would even go so far as to remove the ‘perhaps.´
As to the idea of thriving no matter what, I wish I could offer some good food for thought. I think I’ve always just been focused on surviving, and have taken moments of happiness more as respite, a sense of being in a place of calm in a storm, rather than any notion of thriving.
Just last week, I had a conversation with a local friend that was so similar to this exchange. Her father came to the US from the Netherlands, and she voiced the same experience of visiting grandparents and envying cousins there. Her parents never taught her Dutch; she said it was their language to use when they didn't want the kids to know what they were saying, and they stopped once they began to understand it. The more I listen to the experiences of others and reflect on what's happening in my family, the more I see the ways in which immigration (or simply moving far away) is a rupture. Her dad came here because her parents felt there was more opportunity here. At that time, while Europe was still rebuilding after the war, that was true. And her mother was American, so it meant loss no matter which country they chose.
There is always good food for thought in what you share. Sending wishes for many moments of respite, for true joy and comfort. I was so glad to see that your election results went so differently from ours. I take delight in the Canadian stance (what I've gotten to see of it) to their belligerent southern neighbor. I'm glad to know you're there and not here.
Some fika is certainly better than no fika, to be sure. And I so appreciate you declaring that your life is happening now and you will be doing all you can to make it as vibrant as possible. I'm with you. I'm here for you in all the kinds of weather. xo
I loved every bit of this story but especially your writing.
It's extremely challenging at the moment to avoid staring into the abyss but here in our bit of darkest Canada, we prioritize drinking excellent tea with homemade cake whenever possible! During the winter, I have gone full-on pagan and circle the windows with little white lights that I put up in November. It helps. I also go outside no matter what the weather, even if it's only in the back garden and frolic with our Border Terrier, Stanley. I often take my phone outside (even in winter) and set it to the 'Merlin' app, which hears and identifies bird calls. Often, even though we are in the city, there will be 15 or 20 stalwarts still singing away, back and forth, no matter what season it is and I find this deeply moving. At the moment, all the Warblers are swinging back into town so it's an exciting time. (And I am not even a true birder! It's just encouraging somehow ...)
Thanks again Rita for this thought provoking take xo
Winter birds are so uplifting! And I love the idea of going full-on pagan. My daughter is now living at a very northern latitude (maybe only 4 hours of true daylight around solstice), which I think must be very challenging. I'd have to go full-on cozy, too. Excellent tea and homemade cake sounds wonderful. (No coffee for me.) Your whole note felt so good 🥰
"Starting with fika, in whatever way I can have it. Because some kind of fika is better than no fika, always."
Yes! This is so good. I always get a little sad on Sundays—there’s this tension between all the things I want to do and all the things I feel like I should do. Your message is meeting me exactly where I want to be. Some kind of whimsy is better than no whimsy at all. (I’m using “whimsy” in place of fika here. 😉)
I’m more convinced than ever that I’m meant to live in Europe—especially after reading this post.
I always get a little sad every afternoon, for the same reason. Last week I started making a list in the morning of all the things I want/need to do in the day. I put stars next to the things that are highest priority. It's been a good reality check on how much time is really available AND on how I'm prioritizing things in my life. (I should write something about it, but that's not on my list today 🙂) I'm hoping to get better at putting stars next to whimsy that is for no one but me.
I think I would only like to live in a European country if I'd been born there or had moved there when I was young. (Even then, there would be as much loss as gain.) Trying really hard to figure out how to be OK here. My lifelong project.
I eat my lunch in the woods at least six days a week, and sometimes, yes, the most inclement days are the most special. Living alone, this is possible, but only because I'm lucky enough to live somewhere with plenty of places to walk. Not sure how that translates to anyone living in, say, Texas, where almost everying is private and no trespassing. A friend of mine who lives in Japan tells me he can walk anywhere - it's not in the culture to post against trespassing. That's a big part of the puzzle, too: right-to-roam laws in places like Germany, the UK, and Scandinavia.
Yes! Are you familiar with Antonia Malchik's book A Walking Life or her newsletter On the Commons (https://antonia.substack.com/)? She writes extensively about both walking and issues of land ownership and the ways in which our ideas about it shape our environments. A writer I deeply appreciate.
Yes, in fact I think I read it because of your recommendation! She certainly covered the waterfront.
Such a thoughtful post, Rita.
When I was 25 I was one of the first 10 peopled hired for a brand new concept store in the USA called Ikea. It was my first actual contact with Swedish people and although we all liked each other very much, the differences were glaring. To wit: on a sunny, cold February Philadelphia day before the store opened we were eating lunch but the Swedes weren't to be found. They were all standing outside, leaning against the building, no coats on, faces in the sun. Meanwhile the rest of us were gobbling down our hoagies and running back into the warmth of the store.
One tiny difference. It wasn't particularly easy to be outside in that cold but it was worth it because they appreciated the winter sun in a way that was impossible for the rest of us.
Sorry this is so long.
I've been so fortunate to visit Sweden and my Ikea friends so often here in Europe. And while Germany and Italy are decidedly different from Sweden there is the European sense that free time counts. Chatting for an hour counts. Relaxing and not living as if this might be your last paycheck counts.
I tremble inside for American life and even more for those who are not able to see that another way is even remotely possible.
I'm so grateful for having learned that. From the Swedes in the February sun to the farmers in Italy to my walking companions here in the Black Forest. I'm so grateful.
Thank you for your wonderful writing Rita. It brings forth so many thoughts.
Oh, no apologies! I love that story! And in just a few words you captured what I felt: "...there is the European sense that free time counts. Chatting for an hour counts. Relaxing and not living as if this might be your last paycheck counts." Some people here love to go on and on about freedom, but I want the kinds of freedom my daughter and her Swedish family have. I so much wish more here could see that another way of life is possible. Thank you for writing, too, Diana. I love seeing your perspective.
Thriving is something I think about in terms of quality of life, not in terms of financial windfalls. I know that for me being attentive to the small joys in my life helps me feel I'm thriving, but I am mindful of not shouting too loudly about good things in my life. Too many people are suffering, insecure, at loose ends, so talk too much about what is good with me seems tone deaf.
I completely agree that financial windfalls are separate from quality of life (once you've reached a certain threshold of income). Your comment has me wondering about what ways of sharing good things is helpful and what is not. Shouting too loudly is for sure not, but I know it helps me when others share what they are appreciating. It reminds me to step back and appreciate what I have, too.
Rita, this is provocative and important. So many of us seem to be writing to similar themes. How do we make the most of the time we have? How do we press on despite the chaos being inflicted on us by our government (I use the term loosely as I don't feel we're being governed so much as bulldozed).
My former boss and longtime friend celebrated a birthday this week. This past December he was caught in a garage fire that left him badly burned but able to be on his way to a full recovery. His response to my good wishes: "Thank you. It's good to be alive!"
What will we do with our one wild and precious life?
I am thrilled that you were able to spend time with your daughter, that she is happy, that the two of you made new stories together. And I'm thankful for how you translated some of that experience into this piece.
I suspect we are all trying to write our way to answers to these questions. I hope I will always be able to feel that it's good to be alive, like your friend.
I said to Kari that I'm trying to get back to a routine - ideally a better one than I had before, but atm, I'm feeling the lack of structure. What's actually clear, especially after reading this, is what I'm seeking is a lifestyle, a pace of living rather than a routine. While I believe I could craft it, there's so much noise in my head about resolving certain important issues before the year ends, that I can't focus without the fear shrieking at me to get a grip. It's an uncomfortable feeling having to prioritise - yet again - financial security over my mental and physical health. I know you know and understand this constant and frustrating dance.
If only the concept of the universal basic income was taken seriously, the lives of people everywhere would be transformed, and we'd get more truly useful and content individuals back into the workplace - albeit working at a place and in a way - that is good for them. Unfortunately, we seem to be moving further and further away from such progressive thinking. If only Scandinavia could take us all.