the nights of Psalm 91

If on an evening, just before the turn of the year, you feel anxious about the future, even terrified of going to bed in an hour because of the mind monsters that whisper horrible truths out of the darkness...

Just let it be. Accept that these are the evenings that must happen to you, as they happen to everybody else. Let the whispers slide past you and away into the walls. Their truth is not the whole truth because you are not alone and someone is fighting for you. If it becomes too much to bear, get up and make yourself some hot chocolate and read a book that makes you smile in the middle of the night. It's OK. You will lose some sleep, but there will be other, better nights.

You don't always have to be the hero who slays the monsters. It's OK to be weak tonight. Just trust, and rest, and know that you are loved and that morning is on its way.

covered

Waking up, well rested. Knowing it's late in the morning by the muted grey light. There won't be any real daylight today - the ever-present blanket of clouds is thicker and darker than usual.

Forcing myself out on a run, the first in a long time. The rain starts falling - it's unusually warm for December - but as soon as I come home, exhausted, wet and with freezing toes, the rain is turning into snow.

I had been planning to go into town. But it's becoming clear to me that I don't want to go shopping, don't even want to see friends. I want to stay in my warm flat, light the candles, make some vanilla coffee, watch the snow fall over the bay as the darkness grows thicker.

I want woollen socks and dreams of the future.

christmas in the rain

It's that time of the year, according to Facebook:

Pictures of babies in Santa hats. "Standing in the queue at the fish seller's for some X-mas delicacies." Blurry, proud snapshots of Christmas trees or homemade chocolates. "Traditional pies now in the oven, holidays can start!"

My friends and peers are all busy cooking for in-laws, wrapping presents and decking the halls. I cleaned my flat, put up one string of fairy lights and brought out more candles. Tried some Christmas music but couldn't stand it and went back to One Republic. Maybe I'll take a stroll around town, avoid all queues and instead sit in the coffee shop and watch the seasonal stress around me. And alone at home, sipping mulled wine and reading a novel, I wouldn't wish for anything else.

Except you to share it with me, and a puppy playing at our feet.

coffee and zoology

Bookshop staff are interesting people. Where else do seemingly normal, non-academic people have conversations like this around the coffee table:

Staff member #1: "The Latin name of the lynx is Lynx Lynx."
Staff member #2: "And the common crane is Grus Grus."
Staff member #3: "And magpie is Pica Pica."

the restaurant at the trend of the universe

My workmate Butterfly and I have found a new favourite place for lunch.

The kind that does a nice salad ( chèvre with pomegranate, anyone? ), tasty soups with lots of black bread, and a complimentary homemade cookie with the coffee. The kind that is slightly overpriced for slightly too small servings. The kind whose clientele are the successful, the trendy and the ones who like to hang around the successful and trendy (I and Butterfly fall into the third category ). The kind with beautiful décor and original art by a local artist on the walls. The kind where you have to squeeze yourself in at a far too small table and sit in your neighbour's personal space. And, fascinatingly, the kind where the staff seems to consist entirely of male models.

It is also the kind of place where a gang of musicians can be overheard discussing their next tour, a student is talking to a friend on Skype, office workers are divulging details about their businesses and a man in a Gant sweater is asking his adult daughter whether she needs money ( she doesn't ). It IS difficult not to eavesdrop when you're sipping your soup in their personal space, after all.

Butterfly and I usually eat without talking to each other much. There are far more interesting discussions going on around us. People say things like "That's a Burberry over there" and "She thought I was crazy when I suggested a trip to Baku, Azerbaijan". And then there are other distractions - did I mention the staff?

open your mouth and change a country

"It's not fair, how is anyone supposed to resist chocolate?"

Three strangers, all women, bond over the chocolate bars on sale at the grocery store check-out - in two different languages. I feel strangely elated when I walk out of there ( yes, with chocolate ). I like laughing with strangers.

I'm going to talk to people more. Strangers in the grocery store, the people at the next table in the café, my neighbours. It is not often done in this silent country of reserved Finns, but I'll do what I can to change that. And become more like my father in the process. He was a shy Finn who dared to overcome his nature and bond with strangers. Over chocolate, if nothing else was available.

days of malady and menace

Sore throat, headache and a stubborn fever. A small price to pay when I get to stay home for days and do the following:

* Eat tons of Dennis the Menace icecream ( good for the throat )
* Watch everything good, and not so good, that's been made for television ... White Collar, House, Arrow, Hotel Hell, The Nobel Prize Banquet, Solsidan ... and some daytime Finnish television I could have done without
* Overdose on tea with honey
* Grow pleasantly forgetful
* Instead of staring at a computer screen, study the brief December daylight play across the ice on the bay
* Stare at a computer screen anyway but for good reasons, like Pinterest
* Make myself a finger food plate of avocado, cucumber and cheese - options are limited when the shop is an exhausting 300 meters walk away
* Text with friends and bask in their sympathy for my condition
* Cry with laughter while watching old episodes of QI. ( Not sure how beneficial such laughter is to my recovery. )
* Have a man bring me pizza
* Follow, at a safe distance, various workplace crises by occasionally checking email - and not worry about them
* Snooze under a blanket while a winter storm is howling outside
* Feel sorry for myself
* Feel extremely privileged

pieces

I see so many lost souls when I look around. Wounded people desperate for a father or a mother, or both. Where did all the fathers and mothers go? Or was it the children who ran away and now bitterly regret it?

My heart aches for them. All these strong and capable souls, the crying and pitiful ones, and the hard-hearted and ruined ones. All broken-hearted.

And I'm helpless to help them. I, the strongest, most pitiful and ruined one, the soul of a thousand broken shards.

feeling more blue than white

Day of Independence, and Finns bravely try to celebrate.

Try to have solemn parades, try to honour war veterans, try to light the blue-white candles in their windows, try to throw parties. The tradition that actually seems best suited to the season is snuggling up on the sofa and watching TV - the endlessly long, black-and-white film classic The Unknown Soldier and the annual President's Ball ( for celebrity spotting and outfit mocking ).

Because snow is falling and the cold and darkness press heavily on everybody today. The 6th of December is exactly at the junction between autumn storms and the first winter freeze.

I firmly believe that the somber Finns, well-known for secretly being proud of our country but always bad-mouthing it in public, would be a happier people if we could celebrate our country on a sunny summer's day. Having picnics, boat trips, outdoor concerts and barbecues with cold beer, instead of trying to survive its birthday at a time when sunshine is banished and said country seems determined to kill us.

I'm on my way out - to a warm house to bake gingerbread cookies and sip mulled wine. Maybe I will survive after all.

life lessons in black fur

I had a  poodle,  once.

We were babies together, clumsily toddling around a little garden, me squealing joyfully as I grabbed his curly puppy fur. We grew up together and I took him for many a walk, annoyed with his constant tugging on the leash. He also took many unauthorised walks on his own around the neighbourhood whenever he managed to find a way out of the house - this poodle loved his freedom.

Then I had a Labrador.  I was thirteen, a lonely, skinny teenage girl, and he was a stout puppy who grew at an alarming rate and turned into a bulky, headstrong dog. Before long, he almost weighed more than I did. This proved to be a challenge when we were out and he frequently decided to take off - at a run - in a different direction than the one I wanted. I developed some amazing muscles for a teenage girl, along with a strong determination that has taken me far later in life. I trained him myself. We had quite a few battle of wills but in the end, he turned out a very good dog, loyal and loving. And I, the lonely teenager, discovered that I was neither alone nor weak and useless.

And then, I had a  collie.  Technically, she was not mine. I lived in staff accommodation at a hotel where I worked and she turned up out of the blue, a runaway sheepdog. She loved everyone, and everyone in the staff house loved her back, so she moved in. Attempts to find her owner, or a new owner to give her a real home, all failed. She was a great companion on long walks in the wilderness around the hotel, except for the time we were caught in a thunderstorm and she was so scared she tried to walk between my legs all the way home. She was also the centre of conflict, great drama and a few conspiracy theories, as she had to be hidden away from the hotel boss who hated her and more than once tried to get rid of her. He finally succeeded and we never saw her again.

I think it's safe to say I would not be who I am without these dogs. Three great loves, three heartbreaks when I lost them.

hibernation contemplation

Back to my winter existence of huddling under a blanket, hugging my laptop, burning candles, sipping something, watching storms go by, wondering why I'm so tired.