Of Woodcocks and Fighter Jets (Sweden) - ENGLISH

(If you prefer to listen to the audio recording, scroll down to the end of the post)

Shallow waves flow to the shore, splash towards the land, embrace the rocks and the reeds, slosh back into the all-oneness of the wide lake.

Bubbling, splashing, gurgling.

The call of a bird; the geese. Over there a cuckoo, which cheers the fresh green of the awakened forest. In addition the shallow melodies of the smaller feather friends, full of cheerfulness and merriment. And... the pigeons, calling out their spring feelings.

In the evening, the male woodcock goes about his usual course, letting out the hilarious frog-like mating call.

And then there is the mysterious call of an unknown bird, which in the twilight hours echoes brightly and clearly over the wide lake (in the meantime we have found out that it is black-throated loon (Gavia arctica), whose duck-like appearance seems much less spectacular than its call).

Now and then the bright buzz of a mosquito. Here and there a peck. Sometimes an ouch, because a forest ant has bitten us in the toe, thigh, or even less amusing places. But that's part of the awakened life of the north.

It's hard to live in paradise...

Yes, one could think that we have found an oasis in all the noise and haste. But just an oasis and so the harmony of the natural composition is disturbed again and again. Either by motorboats, or, when the wind is unfavorable from the highway far to the south of the lake. Worst of all, however, the peace of the forest is shattered by the oppressive roar of the fighter jets that do their saltos over the lake.

At our previous stop, also an idyllic forest lake, we experienced something that was so absurd, almost perverse, that it is again too funny not to mention it here.

After spending two beautiful days there with a super nice couple from the Netherlands, we were all to ourselves for a day. It was good to have a moment of peace and quiet again after the three weeks of cleaning up and leaving our winter quarters.

There, at the Ulverjoen (wolf lake) we could literally watch, how the warming sun elicited the trees, bushes and flowers, their lush green. It was a bath for the soul to breathe in the silence and harmony of the spring-rich lake.

But this silence lasted only a short time. Because the very next day two Norwegians came with their two vehicles and set up their camp right next to us. Since we are not the only nature lovers, and this was/is a really beautiful place, it is of course not surprising that we do not stay too long for ourselves. If they had really been nature lovers, that wouldn't have mattered at all.

But as it turned out, the two Norwegians had not really come to enjoy the peace and quiet of nature. The assumption is close that they just wanted to have some time off from their wives and children, and that they wanted to celebrate their temporary freedom with can beer and energy drinks in Sweden, which is much cheaper. In any case they drank in masses during the day, while they squatted in their camping chairs, staring at their cell phones to watch Youtube videos, and talking or laughing loudly about what ever they were watching.

Well, it was an exercise for us to still keep our peace, accept others in their being different, and continue to enjoy the beauty of the lake.

In the evening, while we tried to pass into the dream realm, they slammed their sliding door about fifty times. But we remained in our little peace, secretly hoping that the Norwegians would disappear in a day or two.

The next day, however, this hope vanished away, because a third Norwegian joined his buddies and now they built another huge pavilion with closed walls, in which they immediately disappeared. But they did not keep their noise inside.

In the night came then the culmination; we were just about to fall asleep, but actually far too loud film music sounded to us over. Could that really be?

Elouan was just drifting asleep, but of course the noise woke him up again. Of necessity, I got dressed and knocked on the pavilion. When the canvas was pushed aside and my gaze fell into the interior of the robbers' hole, I was astonished; there was a real living room set up in there. With a kind of sofa, floor lamp and a huge flat screen TV, with monstrous speakers. On a coffee table were empty cans, cigarette butts and chip bags.

"Are we too loud?", I was asked. At least they were aware of their volume. Or did that make the whole thing even ruder?

I remained polite, explaining that I didn't want to spoil their party, but we had a little boy who couldn't sleep with the noise. While I was still talking, the volume was turned down. They apologized and I left it at that. Without talking to Lou about it, it was clear that we would move on the next day. The fact that they increased the volume again shortly afterwards strengthened this decision. So it was.

As we drove off at midday, we looked back in the rearview mirrors and saw the hungover Norwegians staggering out of their campers.

Well, there was something good about all this. Because in the charming town of Arvika, where we restocked our food, we met Tom. Tom is also a former journeyman and now a local carpenter in Arvika. He has got himself a really nice workshop: at the harbor, with a view of the fjord.

At his workshop we could grind some paint of our camper, which became quite porous during the winter. That was really good, because we didn't feel like spreading our microplastic all over the beautiful nature spots. Also, we were able to wash Elouan's diapers and more laundry.

And finally, we ended up in the place where we were all to ourselves for two weeks, experiencing the smooth transition from spring to summer.

Little by little, the old slag of the turbulent winter months leaches out of us and we immerse ourselves in these tiny moments of absolute deep relaxation.

These were and are of course the most beautiful moments, both for us and for our beautiful son Elouan, who is very happy that we have more time all together again. And especially that we are constantly outside. All day long he plays joyfully with the water, or eagerly collects sticks for the fire. With his little saw he even helps us to make small wood, but he keeps a respectful distance when we split the bigger wood with the axe. In this way he learns freely and playfully the practical things of our everyday life.

He even takes over the dishwashing with great joy and even gets angry when we take the bowl out of his hand to rinse it. Of course, we hope that he will continue to do the dishes with such enthusiasm in the future. We will see...

Elouan also becomes familiar with the creatures of the forest and the lake. When the water striders form shallow circles on the still lake, he watches them with a curious mind. Full of suspense, he follows the funny movements of a leech in the shallow water.

And when a grey-feathered bird flies past in elegant waves, Elouan calls the wagtail cheerfully by its name.

During the day he laughs with the seagulls and in the evening, when the geese call for night, he imitates them with joy. When we are lying in bed and there is a "Quack, Quack, Quack!" in the air with a final, long-drawn-out smack, he knows very well that this is not a flying, love-struck frog, but the woodcock.

Every day, the shine of his awake eyes delights us anew. And we will do our best to ensure that he retains this sparkle throughout his life.

It feels so good to be simple again. With us, with the animals and plants, completely in the calm rhythm of the natural being. Completely at peace, surrounded by harmony.

And yes, from time to time there are motorboats around, and the fighter jets, which probably have their station somewhere in the area, are truly a pain in the ass. But these are only small moments in between. Most of the time it is peacefully quiet.

And yes, there are motorboats here from time to time, and the fighter jets, which must have their station somewhere nearby, are truly an atrocity. But these are only small moments in between. Most of the time it is peacefully quiet.

But sometimes there is also a storm raging within us, a restlessness, a difficulty in fully engaging with peace. In all the quiet moments, we also do a lot: for example, we are almost constantly repairing things. But it's hard to keep up, one shirt is barely mended before the next one has a hole in it. Or the petrol cap won't open any more.

Lou is also working on her path as a Doula, which forces her to spend hours in front of the screen. Me, on the other hand, I practice fire-drilling and other wilderness skills, with the goal, to teach those skills one day to others. Or I go stalking with the camera to take some photos for this blog. And then, of course, we are parents. Anyone who has children of their own probably knows exactly how limited the time for free creativity is.

Sometimes we have the impression that we have to do something else. Or even more. More of the many projects we are working on, or finally finish them. Find a good way to financially master the life we live. Or that we want to live in future. Investing even more energy to finally find a suitable place to stay.

Or we argue because one doesn't understand the other. Or we get along again and listen to each other calmly. Or, or, or.

Most of the time, however, we are simply grateful for opening ourselves to the beauty of life. That we allow ourselves the time to watch the long sunset of the North, yes, to soak up all the colours and sounds. And we thank ourselves for dedicating the time to our being as a family, especially to our son, which seems to be needed for a happy togetherness.

The longer we stay in paradise, the easier it is for us to simply be. The calmer our mind is, the more we feel the unity with nature.

As I said: it's hard to live in paradise. Because it became so small.

Well, but let's be serious;

It is brutal, what violence this noise exerts on the natural vibrations. Harmony is poisoned by disharmony.

The few hours of flight exercise directly above us, was felt in our whole system for quite a while. The noise of the jets almost drained and oppressed our state of being, which had tuned into the calm rhythms of being in nature. Which itself found back to its state of nature.

How may it feel then to all the beings, which permanently stay in the garden of Eden?

A further question poses itself to us more and more:

Is there somewhere in Europe still a place, which is fundamentally free from enginge sounds? Outside the extreme zones of mountain peaks, or deep caves?

Nevertheless, last year we actually lived for two weeks at a lake where at least for the time of our stay there was no noise. It was so quiet at times that we thought we could hear the roar of a highway. A look at the map, however, told us that this could not be possible.

But not far away from the lake there is a wind park, which one would hear if the wind was blowing from that direction. And then there is of course the military station also quite nearby, from where there are certainly also test fly their fighter jets and bombers from time to time.

If not in the vast, uninhabited forests of northern Europe, then where? Even further north? Above the Arctic Circle? But there, they say, harvesters sometimes mow down hundreds of hectares at a time. What's left behind is rutted earth, tattered bushes, dismembered trees as far as the eye can see.

And the idyllic nomadic life of the reindeer herders has also become modernized. With their snowmobiles, sometimes by helicopter, they keep their huge herds together.

For almost a year we have been in the vast forests of Scandinavia. There is much, even very much, that we have learned to love. First and foremost, there is the abundance of silence, which, despite everything, is very much there.

Nevertheless, we have been surprised at how rare this silence absolutely is.

When I speak of silence, I do not mean the absence of sounds, not even of human sounds, but the absence of noise - that is, of disturbing sounds that do not fit into the vibration of the composition of nature. Normally, these disturbing noises are caused by machines controlled by humans.

Even deep in the forest, away from busy roads, harvesters, sawmills, chainsaws, or even jets or machine guns roar.

The forest of the far north is a logging area. And sometimes a military training zone.

However, I must make it clear once again: Noise is not a permanent condition here, as it is in most of southern Europe. Most of the time it is peacefully quiet and the rampant blueberries and heather give the forest at least a wild charm.

It's just different from what we expected.

Well, that is probably how it is. Truly quiet outdoor places, where only the melodies of nature enchant our consciousness, are very rare, at least in Europe.

But the birds keep flying, the fish keep snapping at mosquitoes, and the wolves and bears are said to be romping around (even if there are far fewer wolves than in Germany. They are hunted vehemently).

Nature, it seems, is not too impressed by jets and such things. We humans also have our methods of feeling deep peace even in the largest hell of noise. And we can always get used to anything.

Nevertheless: Humans, perhaps not only us, will lose a great treasure if we can no longer visit places of natural rhythms, vibrations and sounds.

Places where man himself can feel his original state again and where it is easy for him to open his senses to all the beauty of Mother Nature; a feast for the eyes of sky, earth, water and the sunlight flooding everything, a magic of the multitude of all colors, patterns and tones, in which are interwoven all the vibrant life of buzzing insects, billowing water circles, shivering grass, the gentle strokes of the winds, cloud towers - and fragments, the abstract contours of a lichen, and much more. A living watercolor.

Whoever has found his deep peace and love towards life in such a place, knows what I am talking about. He can imagine in what a perfect paradise people once lived. And what peace must have been an integral part of their being, by being a part of everything that surrounded them: of life and of death.

That was before they measured the world, subjugated, plastered and sonicated. Before they deprived themselves of peaceful death, natural rhythms, sounds and ways of life.

Now the world is as it is. And it is of no use to meet it with impure unpeace. For in spite of noise and haste, and sometimes incomprehensibly deep hatred, the world is certainly not a bad one.

Mankind in puberty experiences an adventure from which it will proably learn a lot. And who knows where life may still take us. Hopefully not, but maybe it must be Mars, or perhaps an even more distant place.

But at some point, I believe, the collective consciousness of mankind will return to its roots. Will take root, in the dear earth, which carries and nourishes us despite everything.

At some point, I believe, the collective consciousness of mankind will take root in itself, deep inside, where the heart beats in the same vibration, like the waves that hug the shore, like the leaves of the trees that curl in the wind, and like the silent flood of sunlight in the forest.

At some point, I believe, the collective consciousness of mankind will again feel that it is only a mental boundary that separates his inner nature from the nature that surrounds him. And it will dissolve this border again. In order to be in deep peace and in all-oneness what it is in the state of nature.

Maybe sooner than later.

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