It is strange to go for a walk when the body moves and the legs move, but the mind does not move, for it has already arrived in eternity, where there has never been any distance or need for a temporal passage. It’s wonderful to finally get there, where I left on this journey of my temporal oblivion once, a long time ago. Now that journey has been completed and I have spent all of my time.

Thank you for being scared beacuse of my joy of having solved the mystery of life! Thank you for thinking I was on drugs when my joy was so intense! Thanks for asking if I had drunk or used any medications when you saw me as weird! Thank you for seeing me as being in psychosis when I was no longer what you had imagined me to be!

“In the beginning there was joy, joy that sang and created. The joy that is. Joy has time, joy never begins, joy never ends. Joy is not in a hurry, joy is and allows its play go on. Joy is one, alonethe whole world, the universe itself, joy is Life Itself.”

This is how I wrote sometime in the 1990s at the beginning of a text about the creation of Universe. I also included the whole of that text in my latest book, “Love The One You Are”. It has been my guiding star, my knowledge and understanding ever since. Or somewhere beyond this confusing human mind and world exists an all-encompassing and penetrating joy, the beginning of everything.

Last night I took my 15-year-old daughter Tindra to the town Turku by the coast for a watercolor painting course arranged by a friend of my youth, Hanna Varis. Hanna is an artist who, at the age of Tindra, got her spark as an artist on a course where she got to meet my father Kalevi, who was both a visual artist and a writer. A circle closes.

Next week, Tindra will move back to Åland Islands, where she was born and where she has longed since we moved to these Finnish woods almost four years ago. She has finished her high school here in and is now returning to the landscape of her childhood by the sea. A second circle closes.

As a 3.5 years old little boy I was in a church with my mother, and after looking at the bloody figure of Christ hanging on the cross, I said, “Jesus expects people to come and take the nails away.”

Yesterday, almost 60 years after that statement, I was able to step down from the cross of my own guilt. It was a relief.

I am sitting in my usual chair by the wall of our house, looking contentedly over the garden towards the train track and the lake. There is a smell of smoke in the air, as smoke is still quietly rising from the bonfire I lit yesterday at the back of the yard. Ellan, or our mother cat living next door, came to greet me; it has something on its nose that I clean away. She did not jump into my lap, as her son Adam usually does, but remained next to my chair to be scratched.

A little further afield, Adam lies relaxed in the sun with his paws in the air, but when his mother comes closer, he follows it gently and eventually settles down on a board next to the house to see what Ellan is up to. I sit in this sweet peace, serenity and joyful tenderness between the cats and myself, even though a moment ago I was in the grips of deepest anxiety…