Call of the North

(In the very end of the blog post you'll find the AUDIOVERSION)

The north is our happiness, and we swear to return.’ A vow, a promise. These lyrics lingered in our minds for a long time after we left Scandinavia two years ago. ‘The north is our happiness, and only memories remain within us.’, song continues. A promise that was destined to fade into memory?

Basically, we only wanted to return to Germany for a few months. We wanted to get our motorhome inspected, help my mother move to her new home, and Lou wanted to get her driving licence. We did all of that. But instead of heading north, life took us south, without our motorhome, to Italy, after a few hiccups along the way. Anyone who has followed our blog posts over the last few years will know the rough outline of what happened.

We lived in northern Piedmont for almost exactly a year, from midsummer to midsummer. We experienced and lived in community. We deepened friendships and made new ones. We also lost some. But were they real friendships in the first place?

We learned a lot. About true friendship, about true abundance, about true peace. Do you only serve peace if you always greet your counterpart with a friendly smile? Or does the path to peace sometimes require a punch in the eye (in this case, meant verbally)? But can violence lead to true peace? A question that probably preoccupies many people at the moment.

‘if it hurts, it is not love,’ said Shanti, my vision quest teacher.

Many questions remain unanswered. Above all: Where is our home? Where is our place? When we arrived in Italy, in the community on the mountain, we felt that we wanted to stay. It felt right. We had searched in Italy a few years ago and not found anything that felt fitting to us. But this time it seemed pointless to continue searching elsewhere. We almost believed we had found the birthplace for our next child. We brought all the things we needed from Germany and sold our motorhome. Because we really wanted it! Looking back honestly,it was probably more a learning place than a home land. Nevertheless, we gave the place, the people, the community and ourselves a chance. Hope kept us there, and the desire for it to be easy carried us through the difficult times.

And yes, there were always those moments when we thought we had arrived. And then there were those moments, mostly when we were embroiled in social conflicts, when we wanted to pack everything up and leave again. But one thing made it difficult for us to ‘fully embrace’ even the beautiful moments: the memory of the North. Yes, it was not the vow, but the memory that called us back to the North again and again. Why the memory, and not the vow? A vow is linked to honour. It is a powerful promise to someone or something. Our vow was directed less at the country than at ourselves. Seen in this light, there was no one but ourselves who would judge us if we had not kept our vow. And what sense would it make to judge ourselves because we would be happy elsewhere? In this context, the vow is something very rational.

But memories go deeper. They touch the most beautiful experiences of our soul and awaken our feelings. The call of the north resonated within us like a constant echo, and sometimes we didn't know what it meant.

While we were living at Terra Amica, we were always on the lookout for a place for our own little hut or yurt. But the places that appealed to us most were under different ownership. The places we were offered did not resonate with us. Rationally, some of them made sense, but they did not evoke a feeling of clarity and joy. In addition, the social network felt increasingly restrictive, like a spider's web in which we were entangled. At first, it seemed like a network that supported us and allowed us to participate. But this turned into a mistake. Even a lie?

When we had to leave Terra Amica, we were so disappointed that we almost left immediately the area, knowing that something more joyful was waiting for us.

But separating from some people brought us closer to others, and so we gave ourselves a second chance on the mountain. Above all, with another family and their three daughters, as well as Helen and Shanti, something like a new sense of community developed. Gardening together, rituals, VisionQuest leader training, cooking, lots of laughter, singing, drumming and much more made us warm to the idea of staying there again. But here, too, there was the issue of ownership, which prevented us from really settling in. In addition, the community around us was in a constant state of chaos.

Furthermore there were the constant memories of Sweden and Norway. Together with our family friends, we sometimes dreamed of going north and living in a Bullerbü community.

During this year's Vision Quest, enveloped in rain and fog, surrounded by barren birch trees, a feeling of clarity and calm came over me. In stillnes I could hear the Call of the North. Still not knowing what it meant, a decision was made: We would venture on a journey to the north. Lou agreed, because she longed to return to the northern landscape almost more than I did. So we decided to do a reality check. Only then will we know the truth: do we have everything we need in Italy, or is it the north (or somewhere else)? Is there something waiting for us in the north, or are these just dreams based on feelings – fuelled by memories? We'll see!

We imagined that we would be away for two to three months and then be able to make a clear decision. But even before we packed our bags, things changed on the mountain. It became increasingly clear that the place would no longer be the same when we returned. Would it remain open to us, or would it close forever with our decision to go north? It was now also clear to the other family that they would stay in Italy. Doubts began to creep into my mind. In the whole year we had spent on the mountain, I had never really fallen in love with the country. Not in the same way as I had with the landscape of the north.

It was only when our departure was certain that the feelings came: sadness, joy, melancholy. Crossing the stream one last time. Seeing the sun rise over the rock mureena one last time. A relationship with the country had been established. And with many people and animals. How would the community develop without us?

Despite doubts and uncertainties, we took the necessary steps. Everything was a bit haphazard and, once again, a bit of a rush job. But if we wanted to make the most of the Scandinavian summer, we had to hurry. So we bought a car, cleared out the flat and drove to Germany. There we found a caravan to join us.

For quite a while, we couldn't really believe it. Would we really be back in the beautiful north soon? On our last attempt, one breakdown after another prevented us from getting there; would we actually make it this time? We wouldn't believe it until we were actually there.

But on the motorway from Switzerland to Germany, we saw a sign: for quite a while, a car with the number plate ‘NOR - D’ (NORTH in German) was driving in front of us. Then another clue: at a service station between Nuremberg and Leipzig, we could buy original round Swedish Knärot sweets. So off we went to the north!

Even though our departure was later than we would have liked (summer in the north is short), we were actually on the ferry in mid-July! We didn't know what to expect yet. We had a rough plan. Last year, Elouan kept telling fantasy stories about his last trip to Norway. It seemed to him to be the most amazing country in the world because it had everything he liked to eat. He kept telling us how he picked huge mangoes and avocados in Norway. Would he be disappointed when we got there?

And us? Will it feel the same as in our memories?

When we arrived in Trelleborg by ferry, we didn't really feel at home yet. The very south of Sweden is hardly comparable to the densely wooded landscapes of central and northern Sweden. So we just drove on and on and on the first day until we arrived at a lake in northern Småland.

A sandy beach lined with pine trees and wide waters reflecting the light of the long summer days. Silence surrounds us, tranquillity spreads within us. 'At dusk, the call of the black-throated diver echoes. The land calls out to us: ‘Välkommen!’

Memories merge with the present. It feels like we have arrived. We breathe a sigh of relief.

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