We used to share the field outside our cabin with grassing cows and sheep and had to look out for steaming fresh cow dumps when running around. Sometimes one happened to step right into it and slip like Donald Duck on a banana peel. Hilarious - as long as someone else did it.
Sometimes my dad went out on the lake with the rowing boat and a fishing net to catch trout. He went out in the evening when the wind caused ripples on the surface of the lake. "When the water is quiet, the fish can see the net," he told me.
But when the water is quiet, the lake mirrors the mountains and the sky above and the world seems to have a secret copy, revealed only on this spot, on these beautiful days.
We arrived on a day like this. Summers don't last long enough anymore, but maybe it felt like an eternity for my almost 2 year old son, who visited for the first time. The contrast to the life he is used to in Florida is overwhelming.
We go swimming in the lake every year even if the temperature is far from inviting and the water is biting our feet. Not swimming perhaps, but dipping. 5 seconds is quite a long time under the circumstances. There's something about natural freshwater - it feels like a spring of youth once you're done. So clean, so full of minerals.
When you dive into a freshwater lake in the mountains in Norway - you go naked.There is nobody there that can see you, except for the fish and the birds and perhaps a few cows and sheep but frankly they don't really give a damn. Besides - when you're done dipping into the water and shoot back on shore to grab you towel, you really don't want to have an ice cold swimsuit clinging to your body.
I believe my son fell in love with the mountains. He seemed a bit confused and scared the first few days and nights, my little beach boy - but once he got the hang of walking around in the rugged environment on his bare feet and became aware of the freedom to explore new stuff on his own continuously, he was a very happy boy. Not once did he have access to TV, iPad, iPhone or computer. There's no internet or cellphone reception. We spent most of the day outside, and he was surrounded by family continuously; grandparents, aunt, little cousin.
Something happened to my son during this week outside the world - I feel closer to to him, and he seems more aware and more patient. He grew, I suppose. Mentally. Or maybe it was just me being more aware of him. Either way, the days outside the world but so intensely inside life have been vital for our development, and our unity as a family.
I'm slowly returning to the digital online communication efficient life. Enough to blog about the wonderful experience of being away from it. It's like time stops and everything is waiting with you, pausing, so that you can take the time to let impressions sink in and give meaning. Detached from the digital world, you're more online with yourself somehow. One need to check-out to check-in.
I'm trying to remain checked in with myself back in the wi-fi zone. Not sure if I'm succeeding. I hear the TV in the background, I've checked facebook several times today and published pictures from the mountains to brag about this amazing place we can escape to. And I've just replied to an sms, making plans for the coming days.
Clinging to the lingering impression from the mountains I have agreed with myself that at least once a year it is important to check-out for a while. From everything. It is important to adjust the senses and focus on pure existence. Preferably at hideaway, like my mountain, where cellphone reception is too poor to bother using. It forces me to connect with my identity defined by nature. It reminds me to be humble about life. It clears my head so that I can think fast while I move slowly. Because sometimes in the daily life, I think I might be doing the opposite.
(private pictures copyright reserved)
