To all the immigrants in Sweden – Respect!

There is nothing more mentally exhausting than being in a room full of people speaking a language one doesn’t quite understand. 

Listening, mentally registering words in your mind. Smiling, because there is just no other polite face to make in this situation. Relaxing in your chair, because being on the edge is no point, you still won’t laugh when everybody else laughs. Trying hard to stay awake, even though the constant flow of voices and unfamiliar words slowly rocks you into a numb slumber..

Gatherings of these sorts are the most extremely tiring thing that makes you want to sleep all day long.
I promised myself when I started travelling, discovering this that I, myself, would do everything in my power not to put people in this situation. To always stand by and help translating to make sure nobody is left out.

I know that I failed sometimes, but it was ALWAYS with the very best intentions to include everyone as much as possible. 

I guard these lessons close to my heart, to live by!

So, my message to all of you immigrants out there in my country today, is that 

I feel you!

More often than not, I put myself in these kind of challenging language situations. It is just who I am. My curiosity drives me and never ceases. So I have been in your shoes. However there is one crucial difference between us that separate us.

I do it voluntarily! For many of you it wasn’t a choice!

So, to all of you out there who came to Sweden involuntarily, through war or crisis, with a will to survive and start over. To all of you who truly is struggling with this complicated language of mine, doing everything in your power to adopt out customs and ways of expression.

Respect! 

You are incredibly brave and I honor you who give everything while taking these steps into my culture.

My experience has always been  a choice, yours is not. I know this. I respect you deeply and promise you that from my  part I will do everything I can to make it easier for you!

Respect! 

You are always with me!

You are with me! You are always with me!

Every time i pass by a Play ground for children.
When I go to the local lake to take a swim.
When I witness a kid in the store whining about not getting the new toy car.
When I take a walk in my safe town, where kids can visit each other freely without risk.

Here, where life is easy, luxurious and safe.
Where there is no risk of a bomb destroying your play.
Where there is no need for a single thought about arms and legs being torn apart by a grenade. 
Where there is no general fear of loosing yet another parent, or brother, sister or uncle. 

I have never been there. In the midst of war. I have not yet stood in the eye of destruction and despair, where nothing is certain. I do imagine that it is possible to find joy even there.  But God knows, you are with me here. 

All you beautiful, innocent children left in cities of ruins, bits and pieces of what used to be your safe home. 

You are with me. In my heart. In my prayers.
Playing, laughing, jumping around, hugging, teasing.. Without any care in the world!

I carry you with me! 

Always!

They came across the sea..

This week I have been blessed with some wonderful moments of sharing with some of the youth I met at my daily work. What we have we share, love and life stories.

Stories of how these particular youngsters ended up in Sweden. Their way. Their sacrifice. Their loss. Their sorrows. Their gratefulness and their fears.

What I see..is their strength.

Young boys (the majority are boys) who already lived a life time of a hundred years, experienced more pain, separation and heartbreak than most of us ever will.

Boys who have seen their cities, houses, childhood memories being torn apart, shattered, destroyed in front of their eyes.

Incredible, wonderful boys who have already felt too much hurt in separation and partings from family, friends and loved ones.

Young boys who are no longer boys, but have become men, with a lost childhood.

  
These boys came with the boats. The same kind of boat that goes down in the mediterranian sea. Thousands of people lost on the waves. These boats contains boys that could have been at my work today. At school. In my life.

Lost boys who disappeared.

Lost boys looking for life.

I am so blessed!

Because I am safe. Because i am born in the “right” country. Because I haven’t yet lived through these kinds of situations as these boys.

But mostly I am blessed because I every day get the chance to meet these young men. These young, beautiful, strong, sensitive men, who did not deserve this.

Our meetings are filled with sharing of life stories, affection, guidance on their journey into this new, different society and humbleness towards life.

I am learning so much. Loving so much.

I am blessed because I get the opportunity to love them.

These boys came across the sea.

They took the road of death, to find freedom, opportunity, a future. They lived.

The ones who died are now in my prayers. Lord have mercy on their souls.

  

These boys came across the sea…

..and today, they are all part of me!

To all the immigrants in Sweden…

I love you!

I absolutely love that you have ended up in my imperfect, privileged country!

I love that when I take a walk through town I don’t just see a bunch of light skin blondies but a colorful serenade of people.

 I love that I can hear a mix of at least 5 languages being spoken when I ride the local bus. 

I love that in my store there isn’t just köttbullar and potatoes to buy but tacos, sushi, arabic bread and international spices. 

I love that when I am at work I get the chance to speak a mix of all the five languages I know. Every single day. 

 I love that my church has welcomed so many internationals that we now have a translation service for everyone to understand. 

I love to exchange cultural information and traditions. Sure it does get awkward, a LOT of times. But the good moments just overcomes all the misunderstandings. The actual moments when we DO understand each other and manage to share life are just so much more beautiful than anything else.

 Of course there are problems!

With so many cultures in one country, there are bound to be problems. We have swedes fighting with swedes for heavens sake, so of course there are misunderstandings and culture clashes that leads to sadness and hatred. There are people who just can’t handle it; swedes and immigrants. People who manage to turn this incredible beauty into ugliness and refuses to open up and change. They exist. On both sides.

Let’s not be naive. We must all be cautious, protective and beware.

But not of each other. Beware of hatred. Of hostility. Of disillusion of reality. Of fear, fear creates hatred. 

Dear immigrants of Sweden. Please don’t listen to hate. 

 I love you.

(Ps. If the reason for you leaving your country is war or exile, it is nothing that I love. Don’t get me wrong. NOBODY should have to live through that! I just feel privileged that our country is where you found a new home.. And I welcome you with all my being!)

My thing!

We all have our thing!

I mean, admit it, there is something out there that makes everybody tick. That makes you tick. Something that, when you’re in the middle of it, sets your heart on fire. When you practise it.. It can not be compared to anything else in the whole world.

Your specialty. Your passion. Your thing.

I, for one, know that I have found my thing.

It is something that is so beautiful and strong, that when I practice it, it makes my heart fly. It makes my body tingle and give my spirit so much joy I could just stay there forever.

Tonight was one of those special nights where I had the chance to experience my thing fully at work. I realize it now and then that I really AM privileged in many ways. Having a job that from time to time sends my heart to the clouds, leaving me with a feeling of love and endless gratefulness when i walk home in the snowfall. Sorry, hover home in the snowfall. Of happiness.

So what happened tonight?

Well, nothing more unusual than the fact that it was a pretty calm eve at my youth center. Calm and pleasant. This gave me the opportunity to take some extra time to dedicate my attention to a small number of immigrant visitors. Three absolutely adorable guys with different nationalities, that have fled to our lovely country, from their homelands. Homelands that have been torn to pieces. Three boys that, in despite of their experiences, are the most humble and grateful creatures. Smiling, polite and lovely. Eager to learn, longing to be a part of the community where they now have settled down. Striving to do anything to feel like home.

Just thinking about them sends a shiver along my spine. Thinking about the unimaginable things they have seen and lived through. Leaving everything, still coming out on the other side with this incredible humbleness for life and other people. Goose bumps all the way.

So, being able to give them my time during a couple of hours. Speaking a mix of the languages we have in common, while striving to understand each other. Honestly. Longingly. Sharingly. Givingly. Such joy! Such a meaningful use of my time.

They teach me about life!

They teach me about me and my perception and view of life. They teach me about humbleness and every single smile from them warms my heart. Makes me want to give back. And I do. With time, smiles, caring and love.

My thing. I realize now that I write this that I do have many things. But I figured that all of them are combined in this kind of situations. Every time it happens, my heart jumps.

I am not quite sure if it’s the languages, the cultures, the openness, the new discoveries on myself, the discoveries on others, the meetings with amazing personalities or the humbleness that makes me tick the most. All of these things go together in a wonderful experience, full of lessons, mysteries and endless joy.

This is my thing!

It doesn’t matter if it is occurring in the place where i was born, in the place where I currently live, on a journey or on a longer staying abroad.

Dedicating myself to people with other cultures, languages, wisdom, beauties, life experiences and perspectives. It is in my blood to give away what I have to the purpose of uniting, meeting, greeting, sharing and most importantly, understanding all that is new, different, exciting and endlessly infatuating.

It’s in my blood. It is my gift. It is my passion, my one and only way of living and the absolute and infinite goal in my life.

It is my thing!

And there.. Thinking of it.. My heart just took another big indescribable, grateful, humbe and exciting jump!

 

 

 

 

 

 

This ongoing terror is hurting me!

Literally!

My name is Matilda and I live in Sweden. Clean, neutral and safe Sweden. Far far far away from the land of never ending battle. Battle for human rights. Battle for human life.

I have never experienced it. The terror, the exposure, the fear of unknowing. The never ending, constantly present fear of every single day.

I live far far away from the indescribable horror that is going on in Iraq, Syria and Nigeria right as we speak.

But I follow it closely in media. I read stories from the people who managed to flee, watch documentaries on jihadists who returned, read editorials from politicians who claim to have solutions. I cry to videos of people being beheaded and slaughtered like the were animals.

It is hurting me. Literally. Physically.

When I watch these cold blooded terror actions my breathing stops, my stomach turns and my eyes hurt. Question after question pops up: “Did I really see that?” “How can they do that?” “Is this really happening right now?” “What is going through the mind of these people?” “Where is their humanity?” And I pray.. God stop this, God save these suffering people, God make the jihadists turn around like you did with Paul. God.

I watch the terror with physical pain. Pain for these people. My people. The human beings in our world. My world. They are friends and families. My friends and family.

I am far far away. Helpless. What can I do?

Far far away. Here, I stand with all these suffering people. I think of you when I go to sleep, I’m sending out love and prayers to you when I got to work. I am hurting with you every single day.

Dear God, please stop this madness!

 

Freak out!

There is no other way to describe it!

The freak out.

I try to prevent it. I try to stay cool.

Most of the times I succeed, but then there are those times when it’s just too damn hard. When I just can not stand against it and the freak out just overwhelms me and takes me over. For a day or two.

Today is one of those days.

I’m guessing it is a reaction to all that I see and hear and live every single day.

I keep myself posted on todays news and happenings, all the misery and suffering mixed with all daily extremely less important news about random technicalities.

I more often than not debate current world and society issues with people around me. I let my mind process everything in a very deep manner and my brain is constantly set on “analyze in a social context-mode”.

I have an extremely social job where my mission is to stay cool, stay positive, stay organized and give the very best of myself. To encourage the kids at work to follow their paths, and of course, be a pleasant colleague.

I am an active person who balances a life with work, studies, engagement in my church, study circles, blogging, political involvement and other free time friends hang and travelling. All at once.

I love my life!

I am a single, committed to living life at it fullest. I want to learn, experience and share. I have experience, drive, passion and spirit.

I love every second of it.

Then there are those days when everybody seems just so much more stupid than usual, organizing is useless and people just seems to push every single button that triggers me over the edge.

Then it comes.. The freak out!

It comes.. stays for a day and two.. Then it leaves!

With it, it brings me a reason to think twice about my life. It makes me stop for a moment. Take a break. It puts me on the couch and helps me breath, relax, focus and re-evaluate my time, plans and dreams.

It normally takes a weekend. Then it’s over.

The freak out. My worst enemy and my best friend!

 

Om att dricka öl själv!

Ikväll sitter jag ensam på Olearys och dricker öl. Eller jag är ju inte precis ensam..det är en massa folk här, ingen som kom hit med mig bara.

Jag funderar lite på det fenomenet ibland. Fenomenet att gå ut och sätta sig själv.

Det finns ett avsnitt av Vänner där Rachel utmanar sig själv med att gå ut och äta ensam. När jag tänker efter så har jag sett samma diskussion i Sex and the city.

Diskussionen det gäller är frågan om en faktiskt kan gå ut och sätta sig själv på en bar och ta en öl.

Vissa anser att det är otroligt sorgligt. Jag gissar att de inte vill att andra ska tro att de är ensamma och inte har några kompisar där de sitter och tar upp ett helt bord.

Jag klurar lite på om detta är kulturellt eller bara personligt.

I andra länder där jag bott (Frankrike, England, Chile, Spanien, USA) tänkte jag inte så mycket på saken. Men då gick jag också alltid ut med mina studentsällskap och behövde aldrig fundera på saken.

Det, skulle ju kunna vara ett tecken på att det är annorlunda. Kanske behövs inte denna diskussion i andra kulturer med ett mer socialt klimat. Om jag tänker på där jag bodde senast i Chile så är ju alla människor sociala freaks.
Det betyder att om någon går ut själv så hitta hen alltid en kompis eftersom de har en passion för att prata. Så då uppstår aldrig ens debatten hur det är att sitta ensam vid ett bord med sin stora starka. Intressant.

Så nu sitter jag här, ensam vid ett sex-personers bord, på soffan under tv’n som visar senaste hockeymatchen, och klurar på detta. Lite längre bort sitter en ensam karl vid en enarmad bandit och försöker finna lyckan och rikedomen. Han är ju ensam, tänker jag. Sen slår det mig att alla som jag haft denna “konstigt att sitta ute själv”-debatten med faktiskt är kvinniskor. Undrar om den ensamma spelarmannen tänkte sig för innan han gick hit och satte sig? Tyckte han nånstans att det kändes lite knepigt att gå ut själv med?!

Jag hade inte tänkt dra in feminismen i det här, men min insikt gör att det blir oundvikligt. Jag funderar på om det är en könsgrej eller bara en personlighetsgrej.

Jag vet att jag tvekade lite. Kanske inte så mycket för att jag är rädd för vad andra ska tänka, utan för att det helt enkelt är trevligare att gå ut med andra.

Jag kan också bli lite obekväm i situationer ute då en inte är lika kaxig i ensamt tillstånd. Inte ens jag, tro det eller ej. Jag måste vara på rätt humör.

Idag gick jag ändå ut och satte mig. Jag gick förbi Oleary’s först och sms’ade färdigt. Sen gick jag in med bestämda steg. Beställde en stor stark och satte mig.

Nu sitter jag och skriver på min telefon (självförsvar?) Och lyssnar på kvackandet runt omkring. Snart ska jag lägga ner mrs IPhone, beställa en till öl och jag sätta mig och titta.

Inte på telefonen. Jag ska titta på människor, på hockey, på puben och njuta av min ensamhet. För om valet är att gå från hemmet till jobbet och hem, eller att ta en liten avstickare på vägen till Oleary’s, bara för att påminna mig om att jag lever. Då bangar jag inte för att sätta mig ensam!

Join the club!

It’s gotta be time soon..

I’m sitting in Norrland.. Visiting my family for christmas!

It’s lovely. I love my family. They’re my own blood and heritage.

But then I start to surf the net, read, scan, watch photos and read stories. I check out the profiles of my Facebook friends whom I know are out there.. cruising.

It’s the end of 2014. A new year is about to begin. A new year.. My thirty second year.

I have been living this secure life for a couple of years. Actually.. I did two years, then I left again, now it’s been 1,5 again. I’m starting to feel like 2 years is a maximum for me. It is some kind of limit, some kind of wave breaking. Every two years I get a wake up call from my inside whispering “it’s time”..

Every time it is for different reasons. About 3,5 years ago it was an escape from a life i despised. A life of loneliness and boredom that I needed to leave.

This time it is something else. I live a good life with friends and experience a meaningfulness in relationships with others that I haven’t felt for a very long time. A safe recognition. I know what I have, who is there and what I can expect from it and them. I love it.

Maybe it is just me growing up, getting to know myself, seeing things just a little more clearly for every single day passing by. Understanding a little bit more what I want and need to live the life I discovered and still discover that I want, more and more for every single day. What makes my heart keep beating.

And that’s it!

That is exactly what has awoken the whispering.

“It’s time”.

Not time for a new escape. No.

It is time.. To take one step closer to what I am really doing here.

It is time for a new adventure. Soon.

And in time, I will tell you where it leads..

 

 

Denna jul är det inte tanken som räknas!

Den här julen är det inte tanken som räknas. Det är julklapparna.
Det pågår fler katastrofer än på mycket, mycket länge och det är barnen som drabbas värst. I gåvoshopen hittar du livräddande produkter som skickas till de barn som behöver det mest. Du får fina gåvobevis att ge bort i julklapp. Köp julklappar som räddar barns liv på unicef.se!

Direktlänk till gåvoshopen är:
http://bit.ly/1yyrESL.