Christmas and the tiny house

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I do love christmas. Always have. But in recent years it has taken on a deeper meaning than simply my love for food, alcohol and a glam-rock fascination for everything that glitters.

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Mistletoe has always had a special place in my heart.

I live mostly in Norway, and from October on, it’s dark here. Cold and dark. The sun barely, if at all, rises and the more time you spend outside, either out of doors or out of society, you notice. And in a smaller house, where the walls are thinner both against the cold and against the things that lurk in the shadows of the world, you notice even more. And after the first horror, come to appreciate that there is still a time and space for the darker and stranger things in the world. It is a time for those things that are never given any space the rest of the year, chased away with light and noise, things that are needed and beautiful and necessary.  It is a time for secrets, for nature to rest, a time for freezing or starving to death either physically or mentally and while it’s a challenge to secure against the first, it’s even more difficult to secure against the latter, for you rarely see it.

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That merry tinsel on your tree? This is what it’s meant to be.

Therefore,we sing happy songs, and light candles, and decorate and make room for the deeper colours, read poetry and light fires and drink. As the line more or less goes; eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you’re probably dead. It is a sacred time, even for us who are not christians, possibly even more. because while the christian idea is one of the quick fix, the permanent solution, we know that winter will come again next year also, and after that, a new spring.

Frankenstein and his plastic fantastic monster

I would have made things a lot easier for myself if I had been willing to use plastic more, but I’m not. I have talked about this before and today I will elaborate.

It’s easy when faced with the pollution and environmental disaster that plastic is causing to simply dismiss it as an evil thing, but that’s not the reason, not in itself. The problem with plastic is not only that it’s unpleasant to touch, that is has no smell, doesnt reflect or contain the light, and because of that, its invariably garish colours. It is an aesthetical pollution even when not thrown in nature. But the real problem isn’t plastic in itself. The real problem is the dream of the everlasting.

Plastic is a result of our society’s fixation on conservation, but conservation like butterflies are conserved in a jar, dead, hollow shells. It is a result of the christian ide of the eternal kingdom, our idea of heaven is a place where nothing ever changes, even though most of us really would find that to be a hell.

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example of things with very different timeline, some more vapid than others

It is deeply imbedded in our culture that creation is good and destruction is evil. And even if we have found ideas from older cultures, and can repeat like parrots that without destruction, there is no creation, we don’t understand it, not emotionally. What is made is not without implication, for every thing that is created, something else isn’t. And I will say this again; matter is not infinite. 

The problem with plastic is that it is locked in its form. Even if it is recycled into other things, it can never be anything else than plastic, its basic building blocks are frozen, and those building blocks are made from something. By making more plastic, we drain the world of recourses in more ways than just the process, we kill the would in more ways than just by the suffocation of nature. We drain it.

Myths and literature has always warned of this, the nordic myth of the åsgårdian gods’ attempt to take Balder out of circulation and lock him in eternal existence, narrowly prevented by Loke. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and his attempt of pretty much the same thing as those gods, creating an eternal form, taking matter out of existence. Today, the monstrosity of this is often presented as physical deformity, but the monstrosity of Frankensteins monster is in it being matter out of place, out of existence.

I am, of course, devastated every time I break a treasured mug etc. I do appreciate the beauty of things, living or not. But to appreaciate things is also to leave them alone, to care for things while they exist and also to see what they consist of and that those things one day can be completely different, as you too shall be.

 

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When is a door not a door? When it’s a window.

I have been redoing the hatch in my roof lately,resulting in large gaps and a feeling of vulnerability for the elements and the universe in general, curiously in quite a different way than leaving a window open does. This has a bit to do with a window being possible to close of course, but also that I’m increasingly aware of the lines and borders drawn between me and the rest of the world by wood and nails.

My house is not a heavy, dense thing made out of brick and glava and three layers of insulated smartglass wired to an app. When there’s a bit missing, it’s missing, any gap is an opening to the world.

In the western world, and in Norway in particular, we have become accustomed to a house being a microcosmos, a solid barrier between us and everything that might be out there, people, animals, rain, snow or wind. The houses here are regulated with thermostats to such a degree that it’s hardly necessary to open a window at all.

This has also made it possible for us to believe that we are indeed removed from the rest of the world, that we do not live on earth, we live in a house. thinking that what happens outside our walls matters little as long as we can close our door. We have stopped living in the world and started living in houses, and now the world is dying because we have used it all to build ludicrously large houses and spew the waste from the building and our living back out into nature. Humanity need to reconnect with its home. A house is a dwelling, not the world.

That, of course, doesn’t mean it can’t be comfortable, cared for, made beautiful and meaningful. But it’s still a place in the world, not outside it, as people here seem to believe.

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Here someone has created a small bit of indoors at a bus stop, from the last town where I was parked.

 

Waste not…

Living in a very small house with no running water or other means of quickly disposing of your garbage brings awareness to one thing; humans are bloody disgusting creatures. I mean really. The sheer amount of waste and rubbish and filth and dust created by one (quite small) human is staggering.

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I will spare you the illustrations on this one and instead post a picture of some lovely and not at all symbolic waterlilies 

I spend now probably two to three hours each day just keeping things clean and that still leaves me with the question of what to do with such things as dishwater. Now you may think that when you live in a large house with plumbing all your waste is brought by fairies to a magical land of loveliness, but all sanitary stations rely on chemicals, creating on the whole more problems than they  solve.

I still use the ‘normal’ garbage system with local recycling opportunities for household rubbish, and my toilet remains is neatly disposed of in appropriate compost heaps (the toilet is actually my least problem, sanitarywise, I thought is would be te greatest)

The biggest problem is really the water, the water used for dished and laundry and me. Humans create a great deal of mud. I really believe that the greatest problem is the idea that we are meant to live all our lives indoors, so that even the largest house will be small compared to the amount of space needed to not overtax one space with our treading, our weight, our waste and water. All of this is not a problem when spread over a large area (and, of course, properly dealt with and not just left anywhere) but when clumped together on a small space by too many of us creates nothing but death and suffering, to put it dramatically. Living in a small space has really made me aware of how much space one human being takes up, and how little of that space needs be indoors.

Meet my monsters

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it time to introduce you to the many little monsters of La Chouette, The owls, of course, are excactly what they seem

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My sofadragons you have met before, here they are basking in the morning sun.

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Or candle light, same difference. In the corner, you can get a glimpse of the fellow here, Pan himself reciding over the fruit bowl.

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And underneath the library, on the opposite wall, is my drinks cabinet, protected by other happy little forrest creatures.

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So cheers to a happy Hallowween from the house of tiny monsters!

Life on the threshold

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I have found that I spend most of my time, when the weather allows, on the porch. That is, the small step that serves as a porch. Not inside, not outdoors. This place holds something special for me. I don’t suppose I’m alone in preferring these places, but one so rarely hears anything written about the importance of the exisistence of such spots. At one’s home and in society. The places in between, the places that are the threshold. Not just a thin line between this and that, but a place in itself. Most of the things I like, only exists in these spaces. I think one of the most important things for me in my new life is to make this inbetweenworld larger, more spacious, create a room that is in itself inbetween and by this, make more room for the things inbetween in the world of ideas and creatures.