I was inspired to work on my condition during the holiday, so I had packed my jogging shoes. There I was, following a small road into a Swedish forest, the gravel making a familiar and wonderful sound under my feet, and the air sweet and fresh.
For me, a small gravel road in summer in a Swedish forest is pretty close to heaven.
Uphill, a slight curve, and there: an open space where trees had been cut. Birch! Birch has a spell on me, for the black and white, and for the light green foliage. And there it was, lots of birch bark scattered on the ground.
My feet stopped and my heart beat faster, I stared at the ground. One of my hands reached out to pick up one piece, then another.
I found myself jogging back with a pile of birch bark in my hand. I had no idea if, when or how I would use it, but that was not important. Birch jewellery, birch drawings, birch photography…? Birch whatever!
That’s when I figured that my jogging shoes had nothing to do with inspiration, they were just a rational intention. The real inspiration was in the birch bark and in the irrational moment of just doing: Pick up and carry home, now!