"There is no difference between time and any of the three dimensions of space except that our consciousness moves along it.” The Time Machine, H.G. Wells
And my consciousness is in the toilet much of the day. Freedom to think whatever all the time is not so glamorous at first before it gets comfortable. My thoughts are quite limited:
To shave or not to shave. Maybe I should save that for tomorrow when I am calmer, my hair is longer, I will make a better decision about how to deal with this. It could turn out that I don't shave my legs for the two months I am in Finland. Who would know? Besides, I don't have time to do it right now. There are so many other things I thought I would be working on this morning. How silly of my to sit and debate this.
Actually, I think I should just go ahead and do it. The shower and the whole nine yards. But I AM NOT going to wash my hair. Absolutely not. I have not done anything to cause excess oil or dander that needs to be washed out so soon. I am living and breathing purity, who am I to waste precious water and soap and electricity (I can't NOT dry my hair when it is cold) when I practically AM purity itself. And who knows what my hair will look like if I wash it and dry it in such a dry climate. It could be hideous. And then I would have to wear a hat more often, maybe inside the building, in the studio, in the library, the kitchen... even though I am usually by myself or with Miyuki, looking at my own afro is way more than I can handle. So I will shower. I will shave. I will absolutely not wash my hair.
I am so glad I shaved my legs. And a shower, it is so soothing, so warm, and now I feel as though I officially started the day. It is important to have some sort of signal to self: the day starts... do dee dooh... NOW. It is now clear what has to happen. The day. The formless, flowing, timeless, spaceless, dark day of Haukivuori, Finland.
One thing I get very caught up in in every new place I venture to that has some sort of extreme climate is the effect that the weather has on time and space. I cannot say if time here is longer or shorter, as the days have gone by very quickly with very little sleep. I think the best part of the day is precisely between the hours of 11:30 pm and 2:30 am. It couldn't be any darker or more silent than it is right then.
Back to my spacetime problem- a walk to the gas station/coffee shop/bar (pictured earlier) that takes less than ten minutes to get to is considered a trip. Taking into account the prep time for the walk, I suppose that there is a time commitment that is longer than 10 minutes, but the distance feels physically longer than it would in NY. Because of the bodily discomfort you necessarily experience in travel, you can't help but notice more of your physical experience of walking, and all these details drag time out into noticeable milliseconds; but the noticing takes longer, and soon one milli is three or four. That is one part of the extension. This sort of thorough physical involvement in the experience also effects distance, as every step is a little dance with death. Your right pinky toe is going numb, your sock has a rupture under your heal and a little drip of water got in and is frozen on the bottom of your foot. Where will you step so not to trip on a branch, sink into a secret stream, slip on some ice? And that is assuming you are alone. Mix it up with some slow talking, english as a third language locals where conversation is forced, slow, and broken, and soon your auditory sense is also consumed by the extension of time and space. Further, look up and wonder why you can't see the stars, wonder about the few sounds that survive the silence, notice every detail of the one car you see in your one hour/ten minute walk or that you remember seeing on your other walk--(and why aren't there any cars driving tonight? Is it some sort of holiday?) and then try to understand that this is probably the equivalent of walking two long blocks down Fulton St. in Bed-Stuy. The space time interval between Saksala Artradius and the gas station described on wikipedia timespace article: "Certain types of worldlines are the shortest paths between any two events, with distance being defined in terms of spacetime intervals. The concept... may be thought of as "pure motion" in spacetime, that is, free from any external influences."
so in addition to walking extreme distances, my first few days schedule looks like this:
7:30 am wake up. read articles on computer saved from previous night (no wi-fi in room)
8:00 coffee, continue reading on couch.
9:30 check email in library (down the hall)
10 forest investigation, walking in the vinter vunderlund
11 breakfast with Miyuki (we rotate cooking meals every day)
12 wonder/wander/errands/ try try try or give up and read a story or play with cats, have ideas at the kitchen table, listen to music, fiddle, whittle, mcdiddle.
2pm yoga, meditate
3:30 eat a snack, hang out with Miyuki, read stories
4 nap
7 dinner with Miyuki
9 email, write, look up articles to read in am
11 walk outside, record sounds or take pictures
12 yoga
1am read stories, draw, map ideas
2/2:30 sleep
The idea that I can do anything at anytime is amazing and overwhelming. I crave a structure so that I can take mini vacations. Everything seems really distant, and because it is seemingly impossible to leave my residence, I don't even consider the outside world. So there is my timespace problem for today.
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