Like every summer, the Heinävesi Music Festival brought classical music to this small town in Eastern Finland.
I went to listen to the Vivo Symphony Orchestra concert, a philharmonic orchestra of young players from all over Finland.
The programme included Hugo Alfvén, Edvard Grieg, and Jean Sibelius‘s music.
I went back to the railway station in Heinävesi the other day. I had to take the 16:45 train to Pietsämäki.
We arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare. We decided to have our lunch there and enjoyed a spinach pancake while gazing at the tracks. I couldn’t help but imagine the old trains that had stopped at this station over the years. The station itself was constructed in 1940.
In my mind, I pictured steam engines pulling wooden passenger carriages. There were three classes with varying levels of comfort. The third class was always the most crowded.
After lunch, I took a walk with our dog. Walked over the tracks to look at the logs and gravel that had been brought here, possibly for track renovations.
From the opposite side of the tracks, the station looked like a simple and practical building that has endured countless winters and summers for 83 years, remaining in good condition.
At 16:20, other passengers began to arrive. They were dropped off by their relatives in cars. I stood near the stairs leading to the main entrance when an elderly woman approached me but hesitated. She seemed uncertain whether I could understand or speak Finnish, as I appeared to be a foreigner.
I greeted her with ‘terve,’ and she visibly relaxed, taking a few more steps towards me. She greeted me in return. I invited her to enter and explore the interior by saying, ‘tulee ja katso sisällä.’ Although my sentence wasn’t entirely correct, she understood my meaning. She climbed the three steps and entered what used to be the passengers’ waiting room. Her gaze wandered, I imagined, lost in memories.
She told me that she was recalling her younger days when she used to catch the train from here. She remembered buying her train ticket from the glass counter on the side of the room, gesturing towards it as if she could see herself as a young girl, requesting a return ticket from the station master.
She then turned towards the other side of the room and opened a door, revealing the furniture we had placed there. She turned to me and said, ‘tämä oli ennen postitoimisto’—this used to be the post office.
Suddenly, a whistle blew, signaling the approach of the train to Pietsämäki. It took her memories away and we walked down tot he tracks. The usual two carriages. It was midweek and so it was not very full.
I boarded the train, and the doors closed. As the train pulled away, the station building disappeared from my sight, back to the quiet embrace of the forest surrounding it.
It is summer. I am on holiday and spending time at our cottage in Eastern Finland. I am fixing things. Collecting branches. Pick up logs and doing piles to dry the firewood before the autumn.
I listen to podcasts while working, and yesterday I stumbled upon a very moving interview on BBC’s The Documentary.
It is a conversation between the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, and the Australian songwriter, Nick Cave.
Their conversation spoke to me. It sparked something within me.
It spoke of the losses and grief they both have experienced.
It spoke of the struggles.
It spoke of the long way they needed to find peace of mind.
It spoke of acceptance.
It spoke of suffering.
It spoke of life.
It spoke of writing songs and finding ways to express ourselves.
It spoke of faith.
It spoke of the strength we all have to face our grief and turn it into energy to move forward.
It spoke of the courage to look within and move forward.
It spoke of the words from within.
Low clouds over Pyhäjärvi in Kontiola. A thunderstorm is approaching.
I was really struck by this tiny text box in the Guardian Weekly—a few words describing an event beyond imagination.
It made me think once more, even though there is no need for more validation, that we humans on this tiny, tiny microscopic planet are so lucky to exist and yet are destroying our environment, changing the climate, allowing extreme poverty and inequality, and waging wars.
A few years ago, I read Duncan Green‘s book, How Change Happens. One particular paragraph really resonated with me.
“Once I began thinking about systems, I started to see complexity and unpredictable ‘emergent change’ everywhere—in politics, economics, at work, and even in the lives of those around me.”
Duncan Green, How Change Happens
I often recall that paragraph when strolling through the forest near Tampere or while walking my dog at the Arboretum. Especially during winter when the leaves have fallen from the trees, and snow clings to the branches.
Moi, olen Arnaldo. Tänään aamulla katsoin ja kuunellin EesyFinnish video YouTube-ssa. Opiskelia on Jarno, ja hän sanoin jos haluat opiskella Suomi, et tarvitse opiskella kaski tuntia joka päivä. Se on vaikea. Se on parrempi metodia jos sinä kuntelet, vai luet, vai, puhut, vai kirjoitat 20 minuutille joka päivä
Fell free to correct spelling mistakes or explain grammar errors in the comments section below. Thank you
Voit vapaasti korjata oikeinkirjoitusvirheet tai selittää kielioppivirheet alla olevassa kommenttiosiossa. Kiitos