‘Heart’ she screams ‘art’ they respond
‘HearT ’ - arT
‘heARt’ - ARt
HhhheArTtttt - ahrTtttt
We feel like superstars. ‘Repeat after me!!!’
‘aaaaaOOOO!’ - ‘OOOO!’
I say ‘hey’ - ‘ey’
You say ‘yo’ - ‘o’
I say - ‘hey’ - ‘ey’
I say - ‘ay’
Not quite like Freddy…
The snow is very slowly melting here in Kilpisjärvi and the mountains Malla and Saana are showing their dark skin to us, every never ending day, just a bit more. Day by day the melting ice along the roadside makes the wind become visible. Water falling down the slopes of the hills makeup for a jazzy ensemble playing a little creeks tune, letting the landscape become more and more audible. The birds start chanting their songs also, songs we yet can’t sing along. Just a few days ago we were muffled into fluffy white that carried us, took our weight. Now our knee-high rubber boots, blessed by the cuddling lemmings, get stuck once in a while. But we are very thankful to every other step these bodies are still holding and whenever they don’t, we heave back up, laughing at ourselves while we make our way to the lake, järvi. I stick my Hydrophone down every little crack in the ice big enough to fit. Most of these holes have a leave or a twig in them, have they been there all these months, holding space? I listen to the stretching and tearing, mostly crackling of the tiny ice crystals while they move about, getting equally ready for spring. These waters have a long way to go.
We sing at the lake. A song about becoming hazy, or maybe just crazy. A song about love or maybe just about longing for the sake of longing. About how much I would like to join the traveling waters on their journey, as they melt into the ground, down through the earth, while they quench the thirst of a little star moss and maybe evaporate up into the air to then travel another lifelong around the skies to then maybe fall back down as a collective of many waters, kissing the oceans face.
In our time here we met a mythical creature. They have been speaking to us about the Sinirinta (Luscinia svecica), they take the chant of the blue bearded bird as the indicator for spring. We have not yet seen one. The same creature has been revealing more secrets to us about this place. They have been sharing with us their knowledge of following the color of the ice in this season, as the layers on the lake are tricksters these time around, they like to have their fun with us. The creature has also revealed that they can fly over water.
We are in awe!
Most impressively they have been whispering to us the unspoken secret that, what some murmur about these mountains are nothing but fairy tales, lies! The kind that one makes up from far away, having never set foot to these lands. Having never listened to the pulsing belly of the mountains. Never having gotten lost inside the tunnels of their caves. The kind one makes up to puff themselves up, to make themselves big! Whereas they should rub their nose into this ground, should bow down to these lands, should go down on their knees, should lay their ears to the ground and listen! Listen to the stories as there is plenty to harvest already and one needn’t make them up. They are already told, every day they are being told. And whether we hear them or not they are being told also without us.
I have to think of Lynn Margulis, filmed during her lectures mentions the following in the documentary ‘Symbiotic earth’: ‘[...] and if you listen very carefully you can hear them singing. They are singing in English to help us out tonight and if they are not, I’ll translate for you. The song is, got along without you before I met ya, gonna get along without you now. Thank you [...]’
Lets listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJRvpXglB30
(Symbiotic Earth: How Lynn Margulis Rocked the Boat and Started a Scientific Revolution by John Feldman)