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But after a short while, my husband’s alarm started, long before it normally does. I have learnt that when he wakes up, I must put the screen away because the small conversations we get alone without interruptions are so valuable that they cannot compete with anything else, and trying to start a conversation with someone who is sitting with their head in a screen is one of the worst things I know.

Once he had left for work and I was packing lunch with Demos’ morgenfugl in my ears, I came across an article by Saga Sinisalo who talks about exactly this. It points out that “We speak less with each other than before. and that some of what is disappearing are the small “insignificant” conversations.

It refers to a Finnish book, Taivas (The Sky) by Piia Leino. “The novel is set in Helsinki in 2058. People have stopped meeting one another; it has become anxiety-inducing to speak with other people. All immigrants have been killed or deported. Those who can afford it can escape from the harsh reality into a virtual world called ‘Heaven’. Heaven is a wonderful place with birdsong and gentle waves. They go there to enjoy life and gather the strength to endure the real world. But even in Heaven, everyone keeps to themselves”.

Sinisalo asks if the fact that we today go on ‘silent retreats’ to get in touch with the range of what it is to be human is the modern answer to Heaven? Yesterday at a reading circle in conversation about The Outsider by Albert Camus, we discussed something similar. One of the participants described the state of the book’s protagonist in prison in terms of what Buddhists describe as being in zen. He has let go of everything material, he has no expectations, is indifferent, and fully senses the experience of the here and now from the bed in his prison cell. We therefore ended up in a very interesting conversation about what it is to be human.

Last week, the brand-new poetry collection FLOKKEN landed in my mailbox along with a small hand-painted card that said: “All possible forms of SEA are possible when we meet”- Åsmund Seip. Åsmund is one of many people in my extended flock. People I don’t see every day, not every week, but who are nonetheless important, mean something more, and whom I prioritise seeing. His book was launched over an evening meal with poetry readings and a concert by his youngest son’s band, who has just started the music programme at Bysteineren. I must admit I perhaps loved that part the most, that there was room for his whole flock when the book was to be celebrated.

“There is much happening in the world over which we have no control. And yet we get up. Making coffee. Meeting the gaze of a child, a lover, a neighbour, a stranger who unexpectedly feels like a new friend, because their eyes open up for a tiny meeting, a moment of recognition, of humanity, of the trust that always lies there as a golden opportunity; a sunrise it is easy to miss, because there is so much happening in the world and control, we just have to get a handle on the world and what is happening in it. At the same time the sun rises in the eyes of a stranger, and today is the day we
can choose to see it.”
– Flokken, Åsmund Seip

I was asked how I know Åsmund. The first thing I remember is how he helped me one time when I was due to give a lecture for a symposium in Røros and was piss-scared. I had invited the leaders from all three grocery chains to a workshop, and what I wanted to say was so important to me that I had completely locked up. Åsmund said maybe you should just say it like it is, that this is important to you, that you are nervous, and just be yourself. I took a bath, went through my notes, slept on it, and never have I felt that I reached through to such a great extent from that feeling of it being important inside me and out to those who were there. That summer, Åsmund also invited me to Village; an exploration into being together multigenerationally over a weekend on Håøya. Perhaps it was that experience of a multigenerational community that gave me an experience of what is actually possible, and gave me the desire to explore more?

Many of those gathered on Håøya that weekend are my flock today. Not everyone lives in the same city anymore; many have moved away, to a farm back to the village they came from, out of the city to get a bit more space, or home to their native country. After so many have moved away, feeling like a flock is not as easy. All relationships require nourishment in being together, showing that you care by prioritising and setting aside time. But how do you do that if the flock is suddenly scattered?

I don’t have a clear answer; this is still a big question I explore every day. What I am sure of is that regardless of the type of bond you have, every relationship must be nurtured. You have to prioritise each other, even then, even if you are not in each other’s daily lives. Perhaps it is a phone call, managing to see each other when you happen to be working in the area, or prioritising meeting through milestones like our own wedding festival became, and as several anniversaries and celebrations have gradually become.

Such an opportunity presented itself last weekend, when Mads invited people to a craft festival at Haugneset for his 40th birthday. I have been to many farms over the last 15 years, but few manage to create what they have created in such a short time. The warmth and security they radiate together as hosts mean that all guests, wwoofers and shareholders can both contribute, help out and learn something new, but also enjoy themselves and relax. Because the fact that we as humans can manage to relax together must be the best acid test for whether a relationship is healthy. Creating spaces where people are allowed to be themselves, have a bad day or take up space and be “too much”, they are rare, especially if you also want to be able to arrive without knowing everyone.

If you want to learn more about Haugneset, Romsdal Budstikke wrote a very nice article about them this summer “Many people want a down-to-earth holiday job. Felix (20) and Alexis (21) got a place” + and they were visited by Dagbladet TV this summer.

I have been concerned with creating these spaces for many years and I still don’t have a definitive answer on what makes that happen. I believe that the physical atmosphere, the energy that is put into making you feel welcome, the way you are greeted, and the people who show up, together contribute to creating it.

These days I am working on earning the right to continue creating these spaces as a freelancer. I believe that to achieve a balance in this, there must be quiet days where I can recharge, days where I am simply inspired, and days where I am in production mode from morning until evening. I want to create a workplace for myself that fits my ikigai “where what I am good at, what I like, what I can be paid for, and what society needs from me meet”. I have explored this over many years, and in some projects, I absolutely feel that I am succeeding, but it is also constantly changing. Because life happens, and in order to create a sustainable workplace, it must fit my life situation, my family’s needs, and the turbulent times we live in.

I do things completely differently from what we were taught in business school, I think about value in a different way than my teachers in resource economics at NMBU did, and most people I meet do not understand a fraction of the visions I dream of. But that is not important either. I believe paradigm shifts happen because enough people dare to try, to lead the way, and that creating small, physical utopias is the best way to contribute to the exploration of how the future should and can look.

When I work on creating community arenas, the feedback from most people is that it is something they long for and that it is something they wish they had more of. But in an ordinary everyday life in the city, I feel how much we have moved away from what is the glue of the village mentality; that we care about each other and that there is a low threshold for being in each other’s lives. Here in the city, there is never a lack of opportunities—they are plentiful—but that feeling that here there are people, places, and moments where I can just lean back in the support of a community—that is not there by itself. It must be created, nurtured, prioritised, and protected.

If you would like to join any of our gatherings this autumn, we are hosting our first session of RITES next Thursday 24.09 at 18:00 at Losæter. We invite you to an atmospheric evening filled with stories, a dance performance, food, rituals, and sculptures at Losæter in Bjørvika. Over the past year, a group of artists has explored rites across cultures and religions—from Norse and Sami traditions to Vedic practices and Shintoism. Now, we are collectively hosting a ritual cabaret at sunset. The event is the first in a series where the theme for this evening is water. It is open and free to everyone.

There will also be a final Community Brunch on 26.11 at 12:00 before Christmas at Villbrygg’s new premises in Tøyen. You can secure a spot by signing up here.

You are warmly welcome!

Warm regards

Cecilie Dawes