THE EDGE

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I feel as if I am on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed off.
I keep wondering, what is on the other side?

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When I left my family and friends to pursue this life of travel, I knew I wanted to find some part of myself that I felt was waiting for me in the wild. I needed to challenge myself, to really push my outer limits and ideas. 

While traveling in Norway and Finland, I was pushed so far that my old life showed up as a blip in the distance. Living in the cold, dark winter with very little amenities was an act of peeling back all the layers of my life to find the core essence of what it meant to be alive. 

Warmth . Food . Water

We went without running water, or electricity. We built fires every morning and evening to stave off the freezing cold that its blew icy breath through the cracks in the window frames.  We pooped in buckets. We wore our clothes constantly, even to bed. We washed in saunas. We worked outside in the garden. We cooked everything from scratch. 

Slowly I began to see the benefits of this new-old way of living. Tasks seemed to make more sense, and my awareness of the resources around me was at an all time high. And yet I felt I was being dragged by a tugging, pushing, grabbing force as I stumbled ever closer towards an abyss called change. 

Finally I let go, and just jumped. 

A NOTE FROM THE OTHER SIDE:

It is not so scary. 

Letting go of my inhibitions and previously held ideas was probably the hardest part of this journey. Living differently became easy. 

The human being is so adaptable, and yet we find change terrifying. It is this single fear that holds us back from changing our own lifestyles, despite knowing how we affect our environment and others in our society.

I know now that I can be happy whether I live in a tiny car, or in the coldest climes of the world. I can be happy while living in a two hundred year old farm house, with amenities to match, or in an apartment in the city. 

I can live on the very edge.

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“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”

— T. S. ELIOT

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* Shown here are my visions of Preikestolen and the fjord.

APPLES & TOAST

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““The humblest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them.”
”

— LOUISA MAY ALCOTT - LITTLE WOMEN

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To peel an apple with a small knife is to know it intimately. The curve of its shape sitting in the palm of my hand as I turn it. I quickly learned how to peel back only the first layer of skin; not making many hundreds of small slices, but really peeling till all the table is covered in bright curls like ribbons. This knowledge was not told to me, not read in books, but was instead gained through a sensory exploration of my subject, the matter now being stored in some back compartment of my brain so that, when I pick up another apple, the knowledge will flow through my hands just as blood flows through my veins. 

THE RITUAL OF THE APPLES

I sat peeling bucket after bucket, day after day. Three weeks passed. The apples were of two types: one set were rosy cheeked, blushing red on their dappled green faces. Some had freckles. A few had warts, but I loved them just the same. These were crisp, quite petit, and their flesh was stained barely pink. The second group were the color of aspen leaves in early fall: green-almost-yellow. They were sweet smelling, soft fleshed, easily bruised. These were frost-bitten by the snows. We had picked them one dark evening when the snow was barely falling, but they had frozen, stuck fast to the grass they lay in, and now there were bits of grass on the table, in the bucket, and on my hands. 

Sometimes we cursed the apples, wishing there were less than forty crates of them. But really it was a pleasant task. We worked by the fireside, and the smell in the room was sweet. They were peeled, cored, then cut into rounds to be dried. I strung some of them along the ceiling like Christmas garlands. It takes just two days to dry them this way, the heat from the fire rising up to hang among the rafters. As I worked I sang. 

THE TOAST CEREMONY

At lunch we would stop, pushing aside the huge piles of peelings to lay down plates and cups. Then there came the sounds of Oliver making tea, and out comes the soup from the day before, and out comes the bread for toasting. We toasted our bread on the top of the old fireplace, it being as good as, or better than, any appliance for the same purpose. Thick slices of bread, browned and spread with lashings of butter. Afterwards, being that we had no running water, Oliver would fetch water in the washing up buckets, and we would take turns to wash or cook for the day. Then it was back to the apples.

FAIRYTALE FOREST

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The forest was like a fairytale - both charming and a little terrifying.

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Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was "Gruff."

On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll , with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker.

So first of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

"Trip, trap, trip, trap! " went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll .

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, with such a small voice.

"Now, I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am," said the billy goat. "Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Well, be off with you," said the troll.

A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge.

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap, went the bridge.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"Oh, it's the second Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat," said the billy goat, who hadn't such a small voice.

"Now I'm coming to gobble you up," said the troll.

"Oh, no! Don't take me. Wait a little till the big Billy Goat Gruff comes. He's much bigger."

"Very well! Be off with you," said the troll.

But just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff .

Trip, trap, trip, trap, trip, trap! went the bridge, for the billy goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him.

"Who's that tramping over my bridge?" roared the troll.

"It's I! The big Billy Goat Gruff ," said the billy goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own.

"Now I 'm coming to gobble you up," roared the troll.

Well, come along! I've got two spears,
And I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears;
I've got besides two curling-stones,
And I'll crush you to bits, body and bones.

That was what the big billy goat said. And then he flew at the troll, and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the cascade, and after that he went up to the hillside. There the billy goats got so fat they were scarcely able to walk home again. And if the fat hasn't fallen off them, why, they're still fat; and so,

Snip, snap, snout.
This tale's told out.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Norske Folkeeventyr - Norwegian Folk Tales, collected by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. (translated by G. W. Dasent)