I have a bunch of videos from Norway I need to splice together and show, as well as a few interesting facts about Tromsø.
The book’s dynamic has changed dramatically since I’ve been out there. My writing’s turned more towards landscape, winter, the exotic nature of the cold.
Update soon.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2012/02/update/
Today I travelled by sunrise. And through two hours we climbed and steadied over cloud-mountains and unearthly landscapes. I’ve seen clouds before, of course, but never at sunrise as they throw shadows on top of one another. In Oslo, for my connecting flight, I was greeted by lakes as flat as tarmac and just as dark-but iced over from the cold. Snow trucks sucked up the snow and spat it out again from long spouts onto snowdunes. Then, later, we travelled further north to the Arctic Circle where, just as we began our descent, the horizon flatlined in purple, like fires burning beyond a mountain range. I’m now in Tromsø, thousands of miles from home and it’s very dark and cold. Here they have vast tunnel networks cut out from the island as a form of transport. There’s minimal daylight during the day-hours. I’ve just found out my plug adapter might not work here and Tromsø don’t import the right ones … this might be suddenly all the more solitary.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2012/01/today-travelled-sunrise/
On Wednesday morning I catch a flight to cold, dark, Norway to research the Polar Night and what it feels like to live in solitude somewhere so alien. On Thursday I’ll be going on a tour that may enter Finland and Sweden to hunt down the Northern Lights. On Friday I’ll be going to the museum and the botanical gardens and sometime before Tuesday, when I leave for London, I’ll be interviewed by KUIPER – the university’s literary magazine. I’m hoping to meet up with writers that may be in town at the time and possibly get to a lit live event but that depends on weather and who’s about. Excited and a little bit scared.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2012/01/norway/
Per Gynt tells the story of Peter Gynt a hunter from Kvam, and his various exploits. Gynt rescues three dairy-maids from trolls and shoots the Bøyg, a gigantic, worm-shaped troll-being. The fairy tale is most famously recorded in Norwegian Folktales, by Asbjørnsen and Moe. Ibsen believed that the legend of Per Gynt was rooted in fact …
Per Gynt
IN the olden days there lived in Kvam a hunter, whose name was Per Gynt, and who was always roaming about in the mountains after bears and elks, for in those days there were more forests on the mountains than there are now, and consequently plenty of wild beasts. One evening late in the autumn, long after the cattle had left the mountains, Per set out on one of his usual expeditions. All the dairy-maids had also gone away, except the three girls at the Vala dairy. When Per came up towards Hovring, where he intended to stay for the night in a deserted dairy, it was so dark that he could scarcely see an arm’s length before him. The dogs began barking violently, and it was altogether very dismal and unpleasant. All of a sudden he ran against something, and when he put his hand out, he felt it was cold and slippery and very big. As he didn’t think he had gone off the road, he had no idea of what this something could be, but unpleasant it was at any rate.
“Who is it?” asked Per, for he could now feel it was moving.
“Oh, it’s Humpy,” was the answer.
Per was no wiser for this, but walked on one side for some distance, thinking that so he would be able to pass the mysterious presence. But he ran against something again, and when he put his hand out he felt it was very big, cold, and slippery.
“Who is it?” asked Per Gynt.
“Oh, it’s Humpy,” was the answer again.
“Well, you’ll have to let me pass, whether you are Humpy or not,” said Per, for he guessed now that he was walking round in a ring, and that the monster had circled itself round the dairy. Just then the monster shifted itself a little, and Per got past and soon found the house. When he came inside he found it was no lighter in there than outside. He was feeling his way about along the wall to put his gun away and hang his bag up, but while he was groping about in this way, he felt again something cold, big, and slippery.
“Who is it?” shouted Per.
“Oh, it’s the big Humpy,” was the answer. Wherever he put his hands out or tried to get past he ran against the monster.
“It’s not very pleasant to be here, I am sure,” thought Per, “since this Humpy is both outside and inside, but I’ll try if I can’t shunt this intruder out of my way.”
So he took his gun and went outside, feeling his way carefully, till he found what he thought was the head of the monster, which he felt sure was a monster troll.
“What are you, and who are you?” asked Per.
“Oh, I am the big Humpy from Etnedale,” said the troll. Per did not lose a moment, but fired three shots right into the troll’s head.
“Fire another,” said the troll. But Per knew better; if he had fired another shot, the bullet would have rebounded against himself.
Both Per and the dogs then started to drag the troll out of the house so that they might come inside and make themselves comfortable. While he was so employed he heard jeers and laughter in the hills round about.
“Per dragged a bit, but the doggies dragged more,” said a voice.
Next morning he went out stalking. When he came in between the hills, he saw a lassie who was calling some sheep up a hill-side. But when he came up to the place, she was gone and the sheep too, and he saw nothing but a pack of bears.
“Well, I never saw bears in a pack before,” said Per to himself. When he went nearer, they had all disappeared, except one.
“Look after your pig,
For Per Gynt is out
With his gun so big,”
shouted a voice over in the hill.
“Ah, he can’t hurt my pig; he hasn’t washed himself today,” said another voice in the hill. Per washed his hands with some water he had with him. He fired, and shot the bear. Then he heard more jeers and laughter in the hill.
”You should have looked after your pig!” cried a voice.
“I forgot he carried water with him,” answered another.
Per skinned the bear and buried the carcass. On his way home he met a fox.
“Look at my lamb! How fat it is,” said a voice in a hill.
“Look at Per, he is lifting that gun of his,” said another voice, just as Per put his gun up and shot the fox. He skinned the fox also, and took the skin with him. When he came to the dairy, he put both the head of the fox and the bear on the wall outside the house, with their jaws wide open. So he lighted a fire and put a pot on to boil some soup, but the chimney smoked so terribly that he could scarcely keep his eyes open, and had therefore to open a small window. Some time after a troll came and poked his nose in; the nose was so long that it reached across the room to the fireplace.
“Here is a proper nose, if you like,” said the troll.
“And here is proper soup! You never tasted the like;” and with that he poured the boiling soup over the troll’s nose. The troll ran away wailing and crying, but in all the hills around they were jeering and laughing, and the voices shouted:
“Nosey stew! Nosey stew!”
It was now quiet for some time. Shortly Per heard a great noise and bustle outside the house. He looked out, and saw a big carriage drawn by bears. They were carting away the big monster into the mountain. Suddenly a bucket of water was thrown down the chimney; the fire was put out, and Per sat all in the dark. Then a laughing and chuckling began in all corners of the room, and a voice said:
“Now Per is no better off than the girls at Vala.”
So Per made the fire again, shut up the dairy, and set off for the Vala dairy, taking the dogs with him. When he had gone some distance he saw such a glare of light in the direction of the dairy that it seemed to him the house must be on fire. Just then he came across some wolves. Some of these he shot, and some his dogs killed.
But when he came to the dairy it was all dark there. There was no sign of any fire. There were three strangers in the room amusing themselves with the dairy-maids, and one outside the door. They were four hill-trolls, and their names were Gust, Tron, Tjostol, and Rolf. Gust was standing outside keeping watch, while the others were inside courting the girls. Per fired at Gust, but missed him. But the troll ran away frightened, and when Per came inside he found the trolls flirting with the girls more desperately than ever. Two of them were terribly frightened and were saying their prayers, but the third, who was called Crazy Kari, wasn’t a bit afraid. They might come there for all she cared; she would like to see what sort of fellows they were. But when the trolls found that Per was in the room they began whining, and told Rolf to get a light. And then the dogs rushed at Tjostol and knocked him over on his back into the burning embers of the fire, so the sparks flew about him.
“Did you see any of my snakes about, Per?” asked Tron. That was what he called the wolves.
“I’ll send you the same way as the snakes,” said Per, and fired a shot at him, and then he killed Tjostol with the butt-end of his rifle. Rolf had fled through the chimney.
So when he had cleared all the trolls out, the girls packed up their things, and Per accompanied them home. They dared not stay any longer up on the hills.
Shortly before Christmas, Per set out again on another expedition. He had heard of a farm on Dovrefell which was invaded by such a number of trolls every Christmas-eve that the people on the farm had to move out, and get shelter at some of their neighbours. He was anxious to go there, for he had a great fancy to come across the trolls again. He dressed himself in some old ragged clothes, and took a tame white bear, which he had, with him, as well as an awl, some pitch, and twine. When he came to the farm he went in and asked for lodgings.
“God help us!” said the farmer; “we can’t give you any lodgings. We have to clear out of the house ourselves soon and look for lodgings, for every Christmas-eve we have the trolls here.”
But Per thought he should be able to clear the trolls out, he had done such a thing before, and then he got leave to stay, and a pig’s skin into the bargain. The bear lay down behind the fireplace, and Per took out his awl, and pitch, and twine, and began making a big, big shoe, which it took the whole pig’s skin to make. He put a strong rope in for laces, that he might pull the shoe tightly together, and, finally, he armed himself with a couple of handspikes.
Shortly he heard the trolls coming. They had a fiddler with them, and some began dancing, while others fell to eating the Christmas fare on the table. Some ate fried bacon, and some fried frogs and toads, and other nasty things which they had brought with them. During this some of the trolls found the shoe Per had made. They thought it must belong to a very big foot. They all wanted to try it on at once, so they put a foot each into it; but Per made haste and tightened the rope, took one of the handspikes and fastened the rope round it, and got them at last securely tied up in the shoe.
Just then the bear put his nose out from behind the fireplace where he was lying, and smelt they were frying something.
“Will you have a sausage, pussy?” said one of the trolls, and threw a hot frog right into the bear’s jaw.
“Scratch them, pussy!” said Per.
The bear got so angry that he rushed at the trolls and scratched them all over, while Per took the other handspike and hammered away at them as if he wanted to beat their brains out. The trolls had to clear out at last, but Per stayed and enjoyed himself with all the Christmas fare the whole week. After that the trolls were not heard of there for many years.
Some years afterwards, about Christmas-time, the farmer was out in the forest cutting wood for the holidays, when a troll came up to him and shouted
“Have you got that big pussy of yours, yet?”
“Oh, yes, she is at home behind the fireplace,” said the farmer; “and she has got seven kittens all bigger and larger than herself.”
“We’ll never come to you any more, then,” said the troll.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2011/12/gynt/
Just some inspiration …
You’ve left the big storms
behind you now.
You didn’t ask then
why you were born,
where you came from, where you were going to,
you were just there in the storm,
in the fire.
But it’s possible to live
in the everyday as well,
in the grey quiet day,
set potatoes, rake leaves,
carry brushwood.
There’s so much to think about here in the world,
one life is not enough for it all.
After work you can fry bacon
and read Chinese poems.
Old Laertes cut briars,
dug round his fig trees,
and let the heroes fight on at Troy.
Olav H. Hauge
http://wedlockwinter.com/2011/12/everyday-drops-east-wind-1966-olav-h-hauge/
Here’s an insight into the (needlessly?) analytical part of research I’m doing into grief. Adrian Wells (University of Manchester) and Susan Nolen-Hoeksema (Yale University) have both helped with my understanding of grief in a more professional and experimental way rather than just personal experience. Here are two series of questions I asked them to help with:
Adrian Wells, Ph.D
Professor of Clinical and Experimental Psychopathology
University of Manchester
Questions on Grief
1. Kubler-Ross produced a model of grief, which has since been disproved with studies. How much do you believe that there are stages of grief?
There are different types of grief such as normal and abnormal grief reactions. Amongst the abnormal there may also be further differentiations such as delayed grief or chronic grief. So I think this type of distinction is probably more useful than the concept of stages of greif. The problem with the stages model is that not all stagres may be present and tranisiton through them is not sequentila. For instance a person my oscillate between anger and denial.
2. Is there a stable level of grief that is normal for all ages or is it (more likely) different for all individuals?
Grief is a normal reaction to loss events, individuals difffer in the intensity and duration of that response. it is not possible to define a normal level as such. However, it would be reasonable to say that it becomes abnormal when it interferes significantly with occupational and social functioning and impairs the quality of life. Grief can be very different across individuals.
3. Is there a variation in ages? For example I’ve heard that a child will exhibit grief more through anger than through denial.
N/A
4. Could or does denial ever show itself in more extreme ways? For example has there been cases whereby people hallucinate or still categorically believe that their loved ones are alive?
People often hallucinate after the death of someone close. For example they may hear them call or see them in the corner of vision. Sleep hypnogogic phenomena are reported in which a person in a state of partial awakening may see the deceased in their room. These symptoms are quite common and normal and are not a sign of or result of denial.
5. What is the immediate impact of a parent’s death on a child – are there orphan syndromes or any thing similar?
Not aware of orphan syndromes. The immediate effect depends on the childs age. If very young the child may not be aware of the loss. There is often anxiety and high levels of worry. Fear of other losses and insecurity. This is more likely in children than adults in my clinical opinion.
6. If you were to advise a patient or a research group on ‘how to grieve’ what would your suggestions be?
Don’t advise someone on how to grieve. Each person will have their own idiosyncratic experience. It is better not to interfere with normal adaptation and emotion processes, but to help later if the process becomes abnormal. By intervenign early the risk of an abnormnal reaction could increase.
Susan Nolen-Hoeksema
Professor and Chair
Department of Psychology
Yale University
1. Kubler-Ross produced a model of grief, which has since been disproved with studies. How much do you believe that there are stages of grief?
I believe Kubler-Ross’s stage model of grief has been pretty thoroughly disproved. People have many of the reactions she described but not in a set order and they go back and forth between these reactions over time.
2. Is there a stable level of grief that is normal for all ages or is it (more likely) different for all individuals?
There are large differences between individuals.
3. Is there a variation in ages? For example I’ve heard that a child will exhibit grief more through anger than through denial.
This I don’t know much about
4. Could or does denial ever show itself in more extreme ways? For example has there been cases whereby people hallucinate or still categorically believe that their loved ones are alive?
Yes
5. What is the immediate impact of a parent’s death on a child – are there orphan syndromes or any thing similar?
Again, I don’t know
6. If you were to advise a patient or a research group on ‘how to grieve’ what would your suggestions be?
I think the attached article lays out the best theory of how grieving works in people, and what “adaptive” grief looks like.
Dual process model
Extract from here.
A more recent and significant advance in our understanding of grief work is the dual process model developed by Stroebe and Schut (1995). They suggested that avoiding grief may be both helpful and detrimental, depending on the circumstances. While previous models centred on loss, the dual process model recognises that both expressing and controlling feelings are important – and it introduces a new concept, that of oscillation between coping behaviours. Grief is viewed as a dynamic process in which there is an alternation between focusing on the loss of the person who has died (loss orientation) and avoiding that focus (restoration orientation). The loss orientation encompasses grief work, while the restoration orientation involves dealing with secondary losses as a result of the death. For instance, an older widow may have to deal with finances, and house maintenance, which previously her husband dealt with. Both the loss orientation and the restoration orientation are necessary for future adjustment, but the degree and emphasis on each approach will depend on the circumstances of the death, personality, gender and cultural background of each person. The model also posits that by taking time off from the pain of grief, which can be overwhelming, a bereaved person may be more able to cope with their daily life and the secondary changes to it.
The important thing here, I think, is that the grieving oscillate between focusing on the person they’ve lost and at other times wanting to avoid them. There’s an analogue with heartbreak, to some extent. Originally I intended the book to go through the phases of grief detailed by Kübler-Ross – that’s what the Arts Council originally gave me money to do – but that rigidity is no longer appropriate to where the book is going and what it is to *actually* grieve. Instead the book seems to be going in a different direction. I want to avoid the obvious. Lately the poetry of Lavinia Greenlaw (see The Casual Perfect and Minsk), Carol Ann Duffy (especially her poem Water) and Martin Figura are inspiring me.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2011/12/questions-grief/
Long before modern science began to understand the processes that create our weather, people made up their own explanations. Many of these accounts were fantastic in nature, with evil or benevolent gods, monsters, and spirits controlling the elements. In this series, we’ll explore some of these ancient myths and share the science behind them. Weather + mythology = weather-ology!
Winter can be a dreary time of year, not just because of the cold and snow, but also the darkness. Those who live in northern locales in the Northern Hemisphere can see very short days at this time of year, with the sun dropping below the horizon before evening has even arrived. The farther north you travel, the shorter winter days are.
It’s not surprising, then, that the ancient Nordic people who inhabited the Scandinavian Peninsula –the northernmost part of Europe – had a sinister explanation for why a quarter of the year was so dark. In Norse mythology, winter commemorates the death of the god of light, Baldur, at the hand of his blind twin brother, Hodur, god of darkness.
According to legend, Baldur had begun to experience terrible nightmares about his own death. To ease Badur’s mind, his mother, Frigga, made everything in heaven and Earth – plants, animals, weapons, etc. – swear an oath not to harm her son. Because Badur was so universally loved, everything she asked gladly made this promise. In time, Baldur was so famously invincible that the ever-exuberant gods of Asgaard began to make a sport of throwing various objects at the light god, just to watch them clatter harmlessly to the ground.
Unfortunately, Frigga had made a fatal mistake. She neglected to ask mistletoe for a pledge, believing it was too harmless to matter. Seizing on Frigga’s oversight, Loki, the god of mischief and fire, fashioned a spear of mistletoe. He tricked Hodur into throwing it at his brother, under the pretext of joining in the popular game. Instead of bouncing off Baldur, though, the mistletoe pierced his heart, killing him and bringing darkness to the world.
Of course, today we know that the real cause of the dark winter days is the tilt in the Earth’s axis. As the planet revolves around the Sun, its northern and southern hemispheres take turns soaking in the majority of the Sun’s light. During the part of the year when the northern hemisphere is inclined toward the Sun, that part of the Earth enjoys summer weather and the days grow longer. As time goes on, and the Earth continues its journey around the Sun, the southern hemisphere gets its proverbial day in the Sun. The days get longer down there and shorter in the northern hemisphere.
During the dark ages, though, the relationship between the Earth and the Sun was not widely understood. Without knowing about the tilt in the Earth’s axis, or our annual trip around and the Sun, the Norse people used the power of storytelling to explain why the days grew shorter in winter.
From farmersalmanac.com, by Jaime McLeod
http://wedlockwinter.com/2011/12/weather-ology-dying-light/
Snegurochka by Victor Vasnetsov. In Russian folklore she is the daughter of Spring and Frost and wants, only, the companionship of humans. When she falls in love with a human called Lel her heart warms and she melts.
http://wedlockwinter.com/2011/11/snegurochka/
