a week later, I am back where I started.
I got home for enough time to empty my bag, make a quick fettucine nduja and pack the same bag with my skiing gear. With my skis and poles in a blue ski-bag, I walked to the Senate square in time to join the demonstration to demand protecting 30% of Finnish nature as well as all the remaining forests that are still in natural state (there are not many).
Two hours later I was on the bus towards Pyhäjärvi Holy Lake, where tomorrow there will be a skiing competition. As I had forgotten to sign up, I was on the phone with the organisers to see if they could squeeze me in somehow.
They said that I could join the timeless start.
I told them that that sounded perfect for me. I thanked them, and they reminded me to pick up a vest in the morning in any case, so that I'd still get the juice and bananas provided at stalls on the way.
I'm looking forward to making a timeless run.
I notice that I've had a quite a lot on recently, so things a bit further down the line of priorities I easily seem to forget them.
The Finnish word for adult is 'aikuinen' which contains the word for time 'aika'.
In essence, an adult in Finnish is a timeling.
I chatted about this with a composer colleague and friend of mine, and they mentioned that that sounded like a thought they would have on long train journeys too.
When you literally feel like you are made of time.
Alluding to something a firesoul clarinettist said to me a few years ago, a timeling is someone who exists in smaller and smaller units of time, as they learn to be more and more focused and present in a piece of music they are bringing out to the world.
a timeling becomes smaller and smaller, as their temporal units can be divided with more and more numbers.
and gracefully, a timeling ends up scattering into infinidecimally small powdery units, that fertilise the memories of other timelings still waiting for their nth division into smaller temporal units.
only very small, is the timeling of now