Snow, Stillness, Sauna and Sorrow

On a weekend of ritual and rest

Sunrise over Saltvik

The snow is cold underneath me as I lay back, rejoicing in the glorious sun. Luna, the fluffy Eurasian dog we dog-sit, jumps around me, excitedly throwing herself into the powdery snow. 

I close my eyes, breathing the crisp air and feeling the warmth on my face. Behind me in the copse of birch and pine, a bird whistles its spring song, a reminder that despite the snow, birds will be readying themselves for the building of nests and the business of baby birds. 

Luna leaps near me, hopping high over the snow, landing deeply, her thick fur perfect for the conditions. She shakes, snow crystals glistening in the sun, sniffing at my face as I put my hands up to prevent the big lick I know is coming. 

Luna

Her tongue is blue like a Chow Chow. A Eurasian, a breed of its own, is a mix of Chow, Keeshond and Samoyed - so very fluffy. She’s inquisitive and affectionate. Similar to the little kids I work with at the childcare centre—they’re present and joyful too, just like Luna. 

We can learn from them, children and dogs. They’re so very good at being in the now. Of course, as adults, we carry the burden of work and earning money and providing for ourselves and others—kids and/or pets, so escaping this mouse wheel of thought is extra important for us. We need to land in our bodies and breathe. To play and have fun.

I choose to be present, thoughts floating by like clouds. The sky is almost cloud-free, a rare occasion these past few months. No wind through the trees, just quiet stillness, and the snuffling sound of Luna.

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We’ve come out to my husband’s family’s cottage for some rest and respite. Luna loves running around, never straying too far from the cottage and us. As I lie in the snow contemplating the beautiful blue sky I feel so much gratitude that I can be here, in this lovely place by the water, to experience the changing seasons in a way that’s different to town living.

Sunrise striations over Saltvik

I sit up and look towards the water, watching Luna leap and bound through the snow. Later in the day, we’ll have a sauna. We built it ourselves, by the water—it took 100 hours…but that’s another story. I think about the ritual of having a sauna, or sauna bathing (bada bastu), as it’s called in the Swedish language.

The warming up of the sauna requires you to slow down - whether it’s wood-fired or electric, it takes time to heat it up. Ours is wood-fired, so the ritual entails emptying the ash from the previous sauna, setting up the paper, kindling and wood, lighting it, preparing buckets of water, filling the hot water tank which is emptied during winter when it can freeze, and putting out the mats on the floor.

Our sauna

I tend to do a bit of sweeping up in the little change room, making sure there are no bits of gravel to scar bare feet. When the wood basket is full and the sweeping finished and the handmade mats in place, all I have to do is sit and wait, looking out the window at, what is this time of year, a frozen expanse.

I see an eagle, wings stretched out, finger-like feathers gracefully moving as it navigates the breeze. Luna is hopping and bouncing around outside, finding sticks to chew, burying her face into the snow every now and then. I place another log in the fire, watching it burn intensely as I close the door. I throw water on the walls to provide humidity, all part of the ritual. Waiting. Present.

View from our happy place

My mind turns to Friday just past, as our minds tend to do. It was the funeral of my friend. Eighty-two years young. A woman who was playful, kind, and loving. I needed the funeral to say goodbye and although I’ve found her voice and face a fairly constant companion these past few weeks, I craved quiet space with time dedicated just to her. To let my tears flow freely. To listen to hymns and music she chose herself. And to let her family know how much I will miss her. The ritual of saying goodbye.

Her words to me, so urgently whispered when I last saw her, are words to live by: don’t put anything off. Live life.

It’s a good reminder. Don’t let fear of what might be, decide for you. Do the things that make you feel alive. Cry, laugh, play, just as she did.

So I breathe in, the air, crisp and cold as I sit inside our little sauna building, waiting for it to warm, watching the white landscape in front of me, ready to live life.

Stay well,

Lisa x

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A snowy spring weekend

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I’m Reading

I’ve got a few books on the go:
Anita Heiss’ Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray (River of Dreams)—just beautiful.
Breath: The new science of a lost art by James Nestor—fascinating.

I’m Listening

I’ve been listening to Australian singer, Missy Higgins. She has a wonderful voice and is a great storyteller.