2006 was the year when I visited my present home for the first time ever, because I travelled to Ireland, in a village in County Donegal, called Gweedore. You have probably heard it already, because this is where the band Clannad comes from, thus our beloved singer, Enya. My family and I stayed in Gweedore for two weeks and I spent the most wonderful vacations of my life. This journey, though, was much more important than you can imagine for a very simple reason.
One evening we paid a visit to a family, that my family had an acquaintance with, and they were living in Rosses, a nearby village. The first thing I saw, while entering that house, was a woman playing jigs on an Irish bouzouki and a man with an acoustic guitar, both of them sitting at the balcony. Of course, what you do not know -and this is what is awesome in the whole thing- is, that this woman was Vivian, who is my long-term friend and I happened to meet for the first time when I was 10 and she was 35. The next thing you do not know is that this man was Doug, who many years later got married to my best friend, Ivanna, which we talked before about. Funnily enough I actually got to know Ivanna's husband properly 9 years later, after they got married.
I wouldn't like to describe my journey in Ireland, as this is not my aim for the time being and moreover I have travelled to so many places, that three whole tomes would be required, so that I could desctibe everything. But what I need to say is that this specific journey had a huge impact on me. To start with, it made me fall in love with Ireland and promise myself that someday it would become my home. Indeed this was my secret wish, which I managed to speak out 10 years later, in a semi-drunk state, some autumn being with my friends and...everybody knows what I'm talking about. I also kept being in contact with Vivian, who was informing me about anything new happening in Ireland. But the last and most important thing was, that it made me develop my own imagination. When I went home, I started writing my two most popular stories: Bjørnebarnet in Norwegian, which was translated in Finnish as Karhunlapsi and much later in English as The Bearchild and of course the other story was The Tale of the Dead Tiger. The latter is something that all of you know, because it has been a frequent topic in many of our songs and also the story that has made me cry the most, in contrast to other stories, because it has always reminded me of my father.
I would like to cite the tale here, as difficult as it is after all those years. When I was young, my dad had bought to me a tiger plush toy, which I had placed in my bed. I loved this tiger so much, as she were real, that's why every night I would sleep hugging her tight, so that she would protect me. I always wished she were real, so that she could be my own pet, even though I'm talking about a tiger and not just an innocent kitten. Anyway, for me every animal is always innocent, so my affection for tigers is justified. And it's not a secret that I adore tigers, especially because of their fierce looks, and my friends used to mock me for years playing to me Eye of the Tiger. Well, going back from Ireland, I wrote the following tale:
Once upon a time lived a small girl close to the forest. This girl was almost 9 years old and kept in her bed a tiger plush toy, which she extremely loved. Every night, before she fell asleep, she would wish upon the stars that the tiger would become alive and take her to the forest. One night, that seemed like every other night, the little girl heard a noise in her bedroom. She rose from bed, very scared, and went to see what was happening. Suddenly, she saw her tiger walking in the dark room and the small girl, failing to believe that this was true, started to become afraid. 'Don't be scared', said the tiger. 'I'm your old friend. Your wish came true. Let's get out of the window'. The little girl got out of the window riding the tiger's back and they headed towards the forest. 'Look', said the girl. 'Here are also the rest of the plush toys that I have'. 'Yes', replied the tiger. 'It seems like your wish came true upon them too'. The time went by very quickly, and the sky looked like it started to get pink. While the girl was still on the tiger's back, the animal said: 'I have to take you back. It starts to dawn'. The tiger took her to the window. But then, the girl noticed that the tiger was staying behind. 'Wait! Where are you going? Aren't you coming along?' 'I'm sorry', said the tiger 'I cannot once I'm alive. If I go back alive with you, you will have to remain forever a child. What do you want? To remain a child or let me go?' 'Neither of the two!', said the girl in enthusiasm. 'I know what we can do. We will both get in from the window, but I will close your eyes and I will place you in the bed. If you can't see, nothing will happen to you'. The tiger agreed and the girl shut carefuly the animal's eyes and pushed her inside the window. Suddenly, the little girl sprang up. She rose from bed and saw the tiger standing lifeless in her bed. Then she burst into tears for the loss of her beloved friend. 'I shall call you Dead Tiger from now on', she thought. 'This way I will forever keep you in my heart'
Well this was the tale of the Dead Tiger, which in some way is true. It is about some dream of mine during that period and about the fact that, waking up I realised that the tiger was my old plush toy, which became alive in my dream. Of course, this was one of the most beautiful dreams that I ever had. When I wrote that story in the songs and I explained it, I broke many people's hearts (along with my own heart, as I was living it again), because it seemed like I was describing a real tiger's death, not just a toy of my illusion or a dream. It was a child's pure innocence inside a story. And by saying child's pure innocence, I mean that there are many unanswered and paradox points in the story and in general one can see small children's tendency to think that everything they believe themselves, will come true in the end (just like the point where I closed the tiger's eyes). Anyway, the Dead Tiger still exists and I've kept this plush toy for emotional reasons, even though in that age I sleep with men and not plush toys anymore. But every time I see the Dead Tiger, this story comes to my mind.
Furthermore, I started having imaginary friends. My best friends was Tariner (Tarina in Finnish means story or tale), a raven that was living at the bathroom's fan. Our fan at home had an opening, through which you could see the exterior light. So my mind was playing weird games, when I was young, so I could imagine a whole universe inside this fan. And in my case, this was Tariner's house, whom I used to call always when I was upset.
As I was growing older, though, stories started to become much more important to me. Soon I started to feel that I couldn't live without creating stories and fabricating worlds. Music and books were also there and were a good help. But this had a drawback too, as I started spending more and more time with myself. When I got at the Fourth Grade, I was constantly staying alone during breaks and the other children would call me to go play with them, but I didn't want to. I wasn't angry or hostile at them, but I only wanted to stay in peace and make my own stories.
I remember being ill for two long weeks and I hadn't been to school. I was lying in bed all day and I was bored to death, as I couldn't even read anything. I attempted reading Lord of the Rings, but my fever was high and I was getting tired quickly. And as there wasn't anything better to do, I caught myself making up little stories in my mind, like a film scenario.
After two weeks, that I was back to school, I was walking away from the rest of my classmates and I was staying alone, in order to build my stories. And one day I took a pencil and a paper and started writing all those stories. Very soon, I started to realise that there was something common in those stories, even though each of them had a different plot: all of them were expressing my own feelings and the way in which I would view life.
This is what I was doing until I was 11. I was wandering around the school yard thinking and just thinking. However, as they say, very often when you are constantly doing something, then this becomes part of yourself, it is a ritual to you. And this is exactly what happened to me. Even though in fact I started creating stories being occupied with that only for a few hours during the day, very soon I realised that I had entered a beautiful crystal sphere. And I could never get out of it. Because, when you are inside a crystal sphere, the others can see you, however you can neither see them, nor hear them, but you just live in your own, isolated and alienated world. You live in your own reality, which nobody can ever drag you out from. And if someone tries to smash your crystal sphere, you might get harshly injured by the glasses. But -indeed- why should you want to let anybody smash your own little crystal sphere? Crystals are beautiful, why let them?
On the other hand, the fact that I was constantly living inside the sphere wouldn't make me feel at all times that I was in ecstasy. Very often, I would wake up from my dream and I would view the real world, the reality. And then, I would feel like an alien, who didn't know where she is. I thought that people were viewing me as something weird and that they'd think on themselves that 'there's something terribly wrong with that girl'. Maybe I had a low self- esteem, even though in my teens I was enjoying my life quite well and I liked what I was and all I was doing back then. But in my pre-teen years I thought that people wanted to walk away from me. Probably that was the reason why I had very few friends. In fact my only friends were Nicholas, Ivanna and Vivian (along with her daughter), who was 25 years older than me.
After my everyday lessons at school, I used to go walking in the fields close to my house. There was a path nearby, which lead to a spinney. That was my all-times shelter. Whenever I was upset or unfairly treated, I was hiding there. Sometimes, I would take the dog there, too, especially whenever I felt extremely upset and I would sit in a stone and talk to her, only because I wanted to burst out. But poor Molly could understand when I was upset, so she was licking me to comfort me. Because even though you think I am an extremely honest person and that I don't have any reason to hide things and I would never pretend that I feel something in fact I do not, it is really difficult for me -still- to talk to someone to their face and tell them how I feel that particular moment. Thats' why, if something would happen at school, later at home I would rather fall into depression crying alone, than discuss it with my family. And of course, my three siblings weren't like that, because mum and dad would work out everything for them.
That's why I was feeling very lonely. Yes, of course, the crystal sphere is a wonderful way -and a perfect defense mechanism- to pretend that you are with others and that you have a companion, but it wasn't real and that was something I could understand. It was obvious that real fellowship could never be replaced with any form of fabrication, even though I would imagine a world, where I was extremely sociable and had millions of friends. Even then, my own self could distinguish the difference between reality and fantasy, so I could understand that it wasn't the same. Unfortunately I was aware of the fact that I couldn't have real friends, because I wasn't able to talk at all. My feelings during the first acquaintance with another were too complicated. Probably this was the reason why I was laughed at, in the beginning, by my classmates. Maybe it was my own fault, as I didn't know how to behave.
However, as I refer only to the creation of worlds and stories, I am sure you have assumed that this is what I mean by talking about a crystal sphere. But I was actually a real escapist in the sense that I was spending hours and hours reading books, watching movies or listening to music and this was covering the most part of my daily "routine"* (*I never followed a routine, and I will never do). But in my case, what I was mostly doing was playing video games for hours and practising the piano quite long. However I didn't actually care, for I adored classical and soundtrack music. I know most young children don't and they are actually forced to listen to this genre, especially when they learn to play the piano (many children are also forced to learn to play even, e.g. aunt Kati's children), but I was enchanted by classical music as well as opera. I was an opera sucker, when I was young and even today I find this combination of theatre and music to be amazing, although I'm not an opera fan anymore.
So I found a very beautiful way to escape from reality, at least beautiful for the others, because this way they had the chance to read a good story or to listen to beautiful songs. And all of you might have great feelings, every time you listen to our songs, without realising the turmoil that the creator was going through when writing those. But this isn't your own fault. I also love to read verses by heart-broken Poets, caring only about the lyricism of what I read and not about the Poet's feelings. But now you can understand under what conditions my songs and my stories have been written and the real person behind them. And I do not expect you to feel compassion against me -I'd hate it if you would-, but what I aim to do is narrate nothing but truth and just truth.
So for two long years I kept on writing stories and sit for endless hours before the piano or playing video games and until I was 11, I had created a whole artificial universe inside my head.
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