(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
A new start. Toril Martinussen, an old friend who has played moral deniers of life in several of my films, was let down in the dark every ten years from when she was twenty. She let go of everyday sense – the control that makes us keep a minimum balance because we know that bills must be paid and obligations are followed up.
Toril's abyss was filled with drinking, partying and marijuana. Love was always met by some unpatented character: one of those big-boy moms, totally devoid of bourgeois ambitions, which drew her all the way to the bottom at the age of twenty, thirty, and forty.
Because she wanted it herself, or rather, needed it. It boiled down to Toril's soul after ten years of reason and balanced way of life. Now the lava had to come out, cost whatever it cost!
Most spectacular that was when the fortieth crisis came. Toril quit his prestigious radio broadcasting job and began working as a receptionist at a brothel. There she accepted, as receptionists should do properly, horny customers, said good-bye to them and washed the room after the excesses. I have never met a man with so few social prejudices.
Toril brought with him the turmoil of childhood. She had her given role in the classic family drama she shares with many of us who grew up in the post-war decades: An alcoholic father and a stay-at-home mother who more or less vainly tried to keep the sinking ship afloat.
In Toril's case, all the old had to be burned in order for bird phoenix to rise from the ashes. What is she doing today? Toril is an upstanding lady with a good life because she has always, consistently and fundamentally, let all the truths prevail. She has completely "been in her feelings" and even allowed herself to be cruelly overpowered by them. Truth, as previously written, always pays off, and even though it is often cruel. If you are to have a minimum of opportunity to occasionally feel happiness, you must recklessly look for the truth about yourself and the world.
No other options are available.
Unfortunately, this is it the decade when the magic disappears. As a XNUMX-year-old, coded and mysterious responses that the horoscopes provide have zero value. They don't even help as comfort. To look for the meaning of the stars, which began to spread two thousand years ago, is to look at a symbol map of your own inner starry sky, your psychological landscape. Therefore, when you are young, there is always something to gain from meeting the firm because it reflects something deep within you. The location of the stars could tell you something about who you "really" are. Or at least make you reflect on it, and provide alternative ways forward.
But now, in their forties, there is nothing you can do with these floating answers. Then it is also striking how formerly mysteriously oriented friends hardly talk about metaphysics in general anymore. When you turn forty, you need more tangible answers.
Bente Daugaard Knudsen, a former neighbor – incidentally one of the most interesting people I have met – told that she and a friend had taken courses in so-called "northern light therapy". Something to watch out for, literally.
This terrible decade is the absolute low point for most people. Before the rise of modern society, people died before they were forty. The offspring was delivered and the job done.
Both of them had hoped the course would make significant and fundamental changes. They hoped that the wounds they went around with from childhood would finally heal. But then hadn't happened. Both of them still struggle, despite years of course nights, with the same basic problems. Neither had they been happy or found the "big answer". They had not even become rich or disease-free. Of course, the event, which was sometimes held under the Northern Lights because Oslo is where it is located, provided increased knowledge and awareness. But the vault had not come any closer. To that end, the inspiration of the Northern Lights was possibly too weak.
Bente had, though, in the end, that, most profoundly, for her as for all people, is about accepting herself and her life. Your life is basically what it is, and the wounds will always be there. Mild, yes, by time itself, but occasionally fluid. An outsider can help you along the way, be a therapist, but you must come up with answers you can live with.
Although this may seem obvious because we have heard it before, it is to arrive at this kind of insight as a long journey through a thorn forest where a painless existence is promised on the other side of the bush – and then discover that the forest never takes end.
At best you can rest "in green meadows", but then you are forced to move on again. I tend to quote an author who was interviewed in Dagbladet several years ago – I don't remember his name:
"I'm not walking around and I'm happy. But once in a while I feel a great joy in living. ”
And this is it the very point is, as I see it, because there are no answers in nature. Or in the culture. Or in the cosmos. The only answer is the minutes and hours and days you feel good about yourself – and with others. There is no other heaven here on Earth. And as I write in the introduction: You are happiest when you are in line with your needs.
Forty years? Yuck!
Some problems cannot be solved no matter how much you want. And that's when you begin to understand the full meaning of this. The pain does not subside, it only changes expression and intensity.
There is something paralyzing about this knowledge, something cruel. And it is an unpleasant side of life that is rarely addressed in life-affirming self-help books, simply because people do not want to relate to the topic: Life is not just generous. Being also has a smallness about it that can be as incomprehensible as it is evil. Maybe you don't get a girlfriend, even if that's what you need most. Not the education or job you've dreamed of. Not even a sex life, because it is impossible to meet anyone who wants to. You can't do enough with your loneliness, illness, your mental health problems. No one wants to help you, and you stay where you are.
It may be that the old strategies are no longer working – but you may also have tried new ways, which have not led you anywhere. I marvel at these periods of life where everything you take in comes to disintegration. The good will crumbles between your fingers. There may be something inside you, or outside, or both. That's when we curse the world and God. Then we ask him to go to hell with his whole dick pack! But this is the time to endure.
Where does the world come from? pettiness from? There are no other clear answers here, except that all people live in habitats where there is competition for the limited resources available. Sometimes you get, other times you don't.
This terrible decade is the absolute low point for most people. Before the rise of modern society, people died before they were forty. The offspring was delivered and the job done. Your biological function was over and you could die as a 39-year-old with the assurance that life was being passed on. Could the cause of the XNUMX-year crisis be that the "biological meaning of life" is gone? I do not know.
The Germanic tribes believed only in what they saw. Here, they share their stand with a demystified forty-year-old who has to settle accounts before he or she can move on. And only questions that can give clear and measurable answers are of interest now.
Are you okay with myself?
Is health good?
Do you have a job you enjoy? Or a meaningful everyday life?
Is the Economy to Live With?
Do you live nice?
Does anyone love you? Are you fond of someone?
Want something to do with your life? Or is it just enough to exist?
«- That's great difference between getting rich and living rich, Rebecca continued. – On the whole, there is a difference between being and being. I think you only get happy when you are just and not always stay. ” – Rebecca Lund to Christian von der Hall in Henrik H. Langeland's Wonderboy.
The future is now. The time of dreams is now.
krutzkoff@hotmail.com
