On top of confusion and the magnificent help it led to, I have begun doing something.
Of course, it’s about writing – and the first article has been put there already, just now!
So, maybe you would like to follow the link, read the article, and look around a bit, sniffing in the smells of saw dust and welding wire? – While I’m still building something that will become useful, I hope.
Longing For Childhood – at All of Life XL.
Please remember to put on a hard hat when entering! Most of the interior is fixed with scotch and could fall down, and it will most likely be changed later, but for now, it helps indicate what will become of it all.
Currently, you’ll find comment fields there, but I’m still not sure if they should be there in the future, so, if you comment (and you are welcome to do that), it may be hidden or removed later – or maybe not, depending on what I decide is best for that place.
I am filling in some older articles, and that’s one of the main elements –I’m following Brian John McCullen Dahl‘s suggestion of making a kind of library, and in such one, it matters that there are things to read – that the shelves are full of things to discover. It takes some time, and it will happen in parallel with all the other things going on, and with new articles being added as well.
My aim is then to try to make it all come alive, by making collections, overviews, summaries, and similar. But the XL site is for that deep dive. It will not be for the busy people. For those, I’ll maintain this site on Substack, renaming it to Moments of Life, so that it is clear that it is no longer an attempt to cover all of life.
The moments will be more emotional (thanks for that suggestions, Davor Katusic!), and shorter – aiming at about half of my typical writing length of around 1200 words, so, 5-600 words as a goal (like this article). The XL articles, on the other hand, can become as long as you can imagine them – but they may not always end up like that: short is also allowed there.
And I will speak more directly into the community fragments that still exist on Substack, even if they, by large, are not for me – but that small bubble with people I have come to know, plus whoever else might enter along the way, will be the people in this, the reception of my “library” – thanks for reminding me that the world actually does exist, Stephanie Clemons :)
And, as a third element, I am looking at what a regular or irregular newsletter could look like – what should be in it for it to be interesting, and how much work and regularity can I commit myself to.
The last bit is about art. I love art, and even though I have been painting and photographing during times, I’m not doing it right now. But I want to pick up at least the camera and go out to make some photos, so that they can become part of my big, virtual painting of life.
So, that’s it for an invitation to take a look at a building lot ;)
This sounds exciting, Jorgen, and thank you for the mention. I really like the direction you’re taking here. As always, I’ll be following with interest.;)
Jørgen, I really appreciate the way you reflect on an important subject as freedom. You’re touching something essential in the human experience, this strange mix of longing, confinement, imagination, and the constant pull between safety and autonomy.
When I read your words, I feel the urge to add a perspective that has become clearer to me in my own development and in my role as a therapist:
Most people are not living, they are merely surviving. They navigate life from fear rather than from freedom. And a human being acting out of fear behaves exactly like the bird you mentioned: Reactive, instinct-driven, constantly alert to threats in the periphery.
Fear is the opposite of freedom.
You’re right: as children we feel free. But that freedom is unconscious, it exists because the child doesn’t yet know the structures, norms, expectations, or invisible boundaries of society. Everything is open because nothing is defined. And typically someone else takes responsibility over you, while you learn - gradually - to acquire this.
But the freedom we can gain as adults is of a different kind: Conscious freedom.
It appears the moment we stop letting systems, norms, authorities, media, or collective expectations dictate how we think and how we interpret our experience. In the latter lies the ultimate freedom, that no one can ever take away (unless you'll let them).
For me, this became visible after a spiritual maturation. My real freedom lies in something very simple:
No one - absolutely no one, can force me to think in a particular way. My attitude toward my own life is mine alone. That inner sovereignty cannot be taken away as long as I remain conscious of it.
At the same time, freedom is inseparable from responsibility.
Can a slave be responsible? Perhaps to a minor extent, but responsibility only exists where there is choice, where there is the possibility to act and to bear the consequences of that action.
In a society where systems increasingly remove both responsibility and choice from individuals, our freedom shrinks accordingly.
And that concerns me, because I believe that human dignity depends on the interplay of both: freedom and responsibility. Never give away your freedom in exchange for safety. If you do, you deserve neither.
You also mention the strange longing that moves us through life, children wanting to be adults, adults yearning for the effortless freedom of childhood. I think you’re describing something true here:
Humans long for that inner place where freedom and responsibility meet. And that place is not found in any external structure but within ourselves. But most of us have never learnt this.
To reach it, we must stop merely surviving and begin living.
That requires awareness (higher consciousness), courage, and the willingness to pull our attention back to ourselves, away from the constant stream of information, away from societal pressures, and back into the inner space where our real choices are made.
That’s where I found the first sign of authentic freedom.
Thank you for bringing this topic up, and for making room to talk about something larger than our usual daily concerns.