Finding purpose in the doldrums, and

Missives from Helsinki and Finnish lessons

The doldrums, the devil’s playground and finding purpose

In one of my favourite childhood books, The Phantom Tollbooth, 10-year-old Milo enters a land known as The Doldrums.

Gluten free cake, tea and books - an afternoon in paradise

The Doldrums are a physical manifestation of melancholy. Milo’s world gently becomes colourless, grey and monotonous. He’s overcome with drowsiness; his car slows and soon stops. The inhabitants of the Doldrums, the Lethargarians, say of their land ‘The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.’

The Lethargarians are a genius literary invention: They are steadfastly committed to their indolence and adhere to a rigid, endless routine of doing absolutely nothing – I feeling I’ve known well.

Moving to Singapore for my husband's job was initially exciting. But soon the thrill of relocating ends, a flat is found, a school is selected, you awake one morning and life is ordinary. When the chaos of unpacking, exploring and furnishing cleared I found myself with long stretches of time; my son went to school each day and my husband to work and in-between, without my usual routine or support system, I started to feel stagnation creeping in. It was during these idle hours that I felt doubt, loneliness and despair.

My response was, like the Lethargarians, committing myself to a schedule that was designed to keep be occupied. I took my son to school, then went to the city, I explored, stopped for tea, and searched for an “authentic” Singapore.

In reality, this schedule ensured I achieved almost nothing. It may have sounded as if I was making the most of my life, visiting kopitiams, exploring colonial architecture and reading local literature but in reality, I stared at walls, watched coffees brew and words blurred to indistinct grey blotches on the pages of books I wasn’t really enjoying.  

Every spouse’s journey is different, but if at some point you find yourself, to put it nicely, between gigs – the doldrums can be insidious. It’s not quite the same as just being bored, you believe that you’re doing something, you believe you are occupied, that you are busy, entertained.

But it may take only a single moment at the slightest provocation for you to realise that you are doing and achieving nothing.

The devil’s playground, or rather his dance floor

An idle mind works to fill itself. We come up with ideas for our next business and choose mountains to climb on our next holiday, we start novels, self-help books or set out to be influencers. But most of these ideas, if you are truly in the doldrums, will remain unfulfilled.

Day trip to Lahti

I’ve referred to the devil’s playground because it’s a place that’s only a few steps away from true unhappiness. When we are unhappy, I find, our relationships become strained, we argue with our spouse, chide our children or else turn into caricatures of emigrant spouses, sipping cocktails at lunch and spending our pocket money on handbags.

Get busy then

As I often say, there is no formula to finding a job, or to turning your fledging business into an overnight success. What I found changed my situation was to find purpose. This purpose has to be tangible, it has to be something you can point to and say look, today I completed this task.

I wrote a novel in the cafes of Singapore. I wouldn’t just contemplate a novel I was going to write at some point in the future, or scribble vague plans on scraps of paper which are to be promptly lost.

No, I’d sit down with a plan to write a certain number of pages or words. I’d start each entry with a date so that I knew exactly where I’d begun. I also had a set number of tasks committed to my consultancy business each week. Once those were done, it was okay to do nothing else with the rest of my time.

Some spouses blog, do voluntary work or take up amateur art or crafts. Even if it’s only for a few hours a week, it’s hours of your week with purpose. I found this reinvigorated me, I was able to fall in love with the adventure I’d set out on with my partner again.

I’m contemplating: Bad art in second hand shops

I walk with my eyes directed forward, trying to appear confident and determined as I pass the shop assistants, hoping they don’t recognise me from my last visit. I glance each side at least twice and then head straight for the pile of paintings and prints located in furthest depths of the recycling shop, trying to disguise the excitement bubbling in my stomach.

A special form of art exhibition happens nearly each day in recycling and charity shops. It’s an eclectic, unpredictable collection of works that some might call terrible art. The paintings, sculptures and trinkets that adorn these shelves challenge every quality standard, and I examine each one and whisper “Why?”

I try not to laugh as I go through the acrylic paintings and pencil drawings that are in broken and peeling frames, sad remnants of their former elegance. With terrible art, aesthetics is subjugated to courage. Each work is proof of the subjectivity of talent.

Unformed figures, bold colour combinations and avant-garde concepts turn into unintentional masterpieces.

These works, abandoned or neglected, find themselves in the spotlight once again, they have the opportunity to attract new owners. These modest creations have been released from the constraints of perfection and taste and invite cheapskate connoisseurs to embrace the special, the unusual and the downright absurd.

Behind every work is a hidden story - an artist's bold attempt at self-expression, an experiment in creativity that may have gone wrong, granny’s go at wine and paint class. I would love to know “Why” but there’s nothing better than finding something beautifully bad for a fiver.

I’m recollecting: eavesdropping on happy people

I like to listen to people speak in public places. As my Finnish still needs work, I find this a great way to practice everyday vocabulary – and to spy on other people.

This happened a while ago, but I remember it well. Two people in a tram were chatting happily. The man was an older Finnish man and the woman perhaps in her forties from another country she may have said Croatia. She spoke with a strong accent and he spoke in native Finnish, but slowly.

During our short ride, they talked about many small things, especially the weather. The man told her that good clothes were the most important thing to have in the winter, and she told him about the summer in her own country – growing lemons and oranges.

It was such a small exchange, so ordinary that I should have forgotten it immediately after. But when we arrived at the woman's stop, she turned to the man and said, ”Thank you for making my day so happy”.

With that she began to hum happily and she stepped out of the tram and walked away with a visible bounce in her step.

Notes on language study

On a practical note, for those in the Helsinki region, many Finnish classes and discussion groups are continuing over summer. Many of the autumn classes are accepting enrolments.

• Have a look at https://finnishcourses.fi

• Find a Finnish Teacher Facebook group, and

Italki

Thank you for reading my newsletter. Please send me a message if you’d like to know more about life as an emigrant professional spouse or things to do with Finland in general.

Until next time.

Mwila