In in in inbetween


First I am going to say something about me. Then I am going to say something about the climate crisis and how I think we might survive/adres/live through it.

I´m going to say something about me- first- because I think one of the major problems of our time is that we lost the embodied story, we lost the stories that are real, rooted and personal. We mostly have abstract stories now; numbers and nonsense political variations over the theme of, or the story of, “powerlessness”. Blah blah blah.

I think we need stories more than ever, stories about real people, real struggles, real journeys because they can inspire us and make us think outside of the so called box that we currently inhabit. I think we need storytellers more than ever and I think we need elders more than ever but I also think like this; we, you and I,  will soon enough become somebodys ancestor, either in bloodline or in spirit. We will be carriers of story whether we like it or not and I want-  the deepest longing of my soul is-  that these stories will not only be stories of destruction and greed, unbelievable stupidity, ecocide, facism and war- but also a stories of sensitive beings who tried, who did their best… to understand the times they lived through.
Stories about how we protected and guarded the golden inheritance. Passed it on.
Some of our alternative stories, different from the dominant ones, need to survive the coming armageddon, the Ragnarok of our evil empire and so we need to speak.
Here, here, now hear me whisper;

In the old days the storyteller would be an actual person, with a body, and the story would be told in a definite setting, a place. And also; in a definitive time.
I think stories need this. They need; body, place and time.
Small creatures they are, stories, they feed off of body, place, time.
They´re very hungry. Almost starving.

In our world that is not always possible to tell a story from the position of a definitive body, in a definite place and at a defintive time – but we have the internet and so I´m sitting here, with this body, in this place, at this time writing this blogpost, fingers tapping as the storm is violently shaking the trees outside, the sea is roaring, Sigurd is still sleeping, this coffee is getting cold.
I think that´s why bloggers and influencers speak so much about themselves, they are trying to do this; they are trying to situate their story because this is what all good storytellers must do and this is what all good storytellers have always done. 
Don´t call it narcisism. Don´t call it ego. Find another word for it.

I think I have insisted on telling the personal story, the real story. I think I have thrown myself, my body, my place and my time into the collective consiousness as much as I possibly could- because I wanted to be a good storyteller, I wanted to be a better ancestor, I wanted to change the stories of powerlessness.
But it almost broke me, I wont lie. It´s taken me some time to heal. I´m weak as fuck and sensitive too, I´m a quivering jellyfish and I´ve been thinking that I shouldn´t do this; speak. 
I told myself that I was not made for speaking (up). I´ve told myself that there was something wrong with me because the criticism and the counterattacks hit me spot on and I felt shame. Every time. So much shame.
I´ve told myself that only the strong should speak up. That if one is to speak up one needs to grow a unpenetrable amor.

This time we live in requires that the sensitive also speak up. The weird, the different and the strange ones, the ones standing on the perimeters of accepted society because accepted society must change, the paradigme must change, the dominant stories must change.

“I will not be made into a “success story” with the sole purpose of validating my right to speak!” … I said to myself and then I went quiet in a sort of protest.
That was the time of the lone wolf.
That was the time of wandering about alone, very alone.
That time is coming to an end now. It´s been coming to end for quite some time.

This is was the introduction.



I live here now, by this tree. The tree has the shape of the fehu rune.

We have moved back to the homeland, Denmark, we live on a small island now named “Fejø”

I live in a tiny house, 12 squaremeters, Jeppe currently lives in a camper van, he wants to build his own tiny house in the spring, we want to live in tiny houses next door to each other.
We have moved because of landownership, because of money, we have moved because again and again we were confronted with the fact that we did not own the land we lived, built and worked on.
We own this land.
We only own it because people have read and bought my book.
We only own it because of you.
We own it because we dared to do what a lot of people were interested in and needed more information about. 
This is my deepest pride and this is my deepest gratitude.
This is a heartfelt thank you.

Its a small plot of land but it fits our needs since we have come to experience that we dont need a lot. The dominant story tells people that they need a lot, well, they dont, you don´t, you dont need a whole lot to get by.

The land is very fertile. Old appletrees and lots of grapes. Beach property.





My tiny house has the color of foxglove and I am surrounded now by ancient burial mounds and swans, symbol of the valkyries.

These are the wetlands, this is the homeland, the homeland, the sun, the light, the elderberrytrees… all that I know, knew and grew up with. 
Sometimes it makes me feel a thousand years old but in the good way…



… but I can´t say that I´m not conflicted about it for I am.
This is a giant leap of faith from my part. I am terrified and I don´t know if I can live without the deep woods, I don´t know if I can live this close to people and I don´t know if I´m ok again with the homeland, oh, this sorrow.

I have finished the raw writing of my next book. 
I am desoriented and in a state of in-between. In between stories. In between certainties. I know for sure though-  and this is the only thing I know- that everything changes and that one should never become the posterboy of a lifestyle because becoming stuck in a story in the worst thing that can ever happen to a storyteller.

I know that I must always be the one living in between. I have come to think it´s my destiny and I´m trying to make peace with it. I´m sitting here, this is my second cup of coffee and Sigurd is awake now, the storm is still roaring outside, and I´m trying to deal with it.
I think I was raised to always seek out certainty, predictability, but the forest changed me, deeply, and I realize that this state of in-between is probably… permanent. 
Until it´s not. 
Then I will be certain for a while and then that certainty will fade and die just as the leaves on the trees in autumn. It will probably be spectacular.

I remember when the forest whispered to me; “everything changes and so must you” and there was this cycle of life and death, slime and blood, rot and rosebuds.
I think that certainty is pointless. 
We exist in a state of flux and must align ourselves to our surroundings.

This is what I had to say about the climate crisis and how we might survive/adress/live through it.





It’s the mushrooms days. I think its my favorite time of the year; walking in the dense, deep, damp of autumn, scouting, head bend to towards the ground, the animal senses. Then home to slice the mushrooms and place them on the drying rack over the stove.
Stews and sauces. Soups and chili con carne.

Maybe its raining just a little bit outside. The occasional ray of sun. Hazelnuts falling from the trees like small bombs, the very visible debris of a squirrel having cracked open a pine nut, I think I can hear raven. The wild boars are oddly absent these days but I follow their narrow tracks through the under forest. Some bones here. Some bones there. And then of course the endless amount of rocks and boulders whom are, in case you didn´t know, alive, a different sort of animal, it´s just that time is different for the rocks and the boulders… but I see the shape of their faces and their strange looks too. A sea of soft moss.

A lot of things are happening in my life and I don´t understand, not at all. I feel disoriented but not as I used to be, this is different, I feel like I have just been born. With my eyes I look around and I try to make sense of things but I don’t know who I am or where I am or what I am supposed to be doing or where I should go now.
As the older kids have moved away from home I sort of wake up only to realize that I am not at all the same person I was before I had them. I don’t even remember that person.
I´ve spendt the last 23 years metaphorically around the fire but I´m not the caretaker of the fire anymore, I think, I think I am the hunter and the gather, I walk and I wander – but I don´t know to whom I should bring the kill.

Then I realized, this morning, gathering mushrooms; maybe i´m not supposed to feed the flock anymore?
And I became terrified.
Went home. Lit the fire in the giant, giant, giant baking oven made from rocks and boulders. Sliced the mushrooms, placed them on the rack, drank a cup of coffee, stong, black and bitter, opened my computer to found a political party (I´m the thinking “the writers climate party”), write a book, invite women for a women circle, a basisgroup, a ritual, write a column for the newspaper, finish an essay for an anthology of women occultists, do some marketing for my völva work, write some friends, update my homepage, send some invoices, research how to do an audiobook (of the forest book), read the newspapers, check instagram, also I´m considering founding a mentor network and/or apply for a real job and then checking where the next activists events will take place, this restless energy, I want to do MORE, why I am not doing MORE, where can I do MORE.
Or just anything, really, I can´t sit still.

I´ve tried to initiate many events during the last year. Workshops and seminars, initiatives and collaborations. None of it toke off, things got in the way, listen, listen to the universe; “Where is the energy, where is the luck, where is the lack of resistance?”

What I am trying to say right now is that the mushrooms are all connected underneath the soil, connecting by mycelium to each other and to the trees, under the soil there is communication and it’s a murmur. If you listen very carefully, if you lay down and place your ear to the ground you can hear it, I´ve heard it, i just forget all the time or maybe I don’t want to hear it.
“Where is the energy, where is the luck, where is the lack of resistance?”

The hardest thing I have ever done is to do nothing. And I don´t believe in it anyways- but maybe things are be to be done to me now? Or maybe I must sharpen my senses, listen more carefully, sniff, feel, hear.
Wait for the prey.

I surrender to the mushroom days.


What I know about the internet




They have stories here, stories rooted in the land itself, in the mountains and in the spring-wells, in the deep, dark, damp forests that not even the roman empire (I spit) could invade.
Unfortunately we later cut down all of the trees and the deep, dark, damp woods of our ancestors, the wild tribes of the north, mostly disappeared but the fairy tales did not. The stories did not. As I said, they are here.
They have been recorded by monks and folklorists, researchers and historians and some are even still being told to this day; see now, give the tooth to the tooth-fairy, little one and she will bless you with luck. Hang your pacifier on this tree, as an offering to the good spirits of the land and they will be your friends. Crawl through this hole in this tree. Drink this water from this well. Fear the wolf. Do not look into the surface water of the lake for too long or the creature of the lake will take you. On christmas night you place a bowl of porridge on the attic to the guardian spirit of your home. If you find a four-leaf clover you keep it for good luck. Never go to the wetlands or the bogs for they are haunted, people died there, there´ll be bottomless pits and ghosts for the wetlands are portals to the underworld, beware!

A lot of the stories doesnt make sense anymore.
A lot of them seem absurd but it´s not because they are irelevant, it´s because we dont understand. I believe it is a problem of translation.
Take the internet for example.
If there ever was a place worthy of the name “the other world”….

Processed with Snapseed.

The stories are very clear about the other world; you can go there and you can find answers, wisdom – but also death and many monsters. Most people die if they go to the internet-  and if they stay there for too long.
It a very dangerous place.

As for the elves and the fairies; so beautiful they are, more beautiful than anything in the whole wide world, their songs, their dances… but they are hollow in the back, you see,  and if you dance with them you will be lost to the real world forever. Be careful of the elves and the fairies for they will lure you in and tell you what you want to hear and they will keep you in their tight grip forever and forever and forever and forever.

As will the mountain king; the troll. He will present himself as rich and very knowledgeable – but he prefers to attack the young women and he will snatch them and trick them and keep them in his cold prison forever.

The first book I wrote was a children’s novel about Ragnarok. I wrote it because of the internet; because somebody had read one of my blogs and thought that I could write well and so asked me to write that novel.

The second book I wrote is called “Andrea Hejlskov” because I though my self to be a construction, an identity negotiated-  it was the first “facebook book” in my country and it consisted of inbox messages and notes I had written, status updates and conversations. The second novel was the book about how and why we ran into the wild.
The third book, the one I am working on now, will be the last book in this trilogy of mine; a triology of freedom, identity, me.

I don’t think I want to write autofiction/nonfiction anymore.

So as I sit here contemplating the nature of my work and where I want to go, I realize how much the internet have been a part of it.
I was there when internet arrived. I remember it clearly. I was sitting in my bed with a friend of mine, we found a forum, created an avatar and within seconds we were speaking to somebody across the globe. We were so exhilarated, we screamed and jumped around in the bed in excitement.
A couple of years later I created my facebook account which I have now deleted. I don´t believe in facebook anymore- but oh god, I did! I used to believe in facebook with the conviction of a born again christian.
I believed in it so much.
I believed in the people, in taking back the power, I believed in solidarity and in the importance of sharing stories. I believed in US. That is also why I blogged a lot, I have blogged for so many years, had so many blogs… even when we ran into the wilderness I would crawl up on the mountain from time to time to upload a blog post.

I believed in transparency.
I believed that if we all stepped forth and showed our selves, had the courage to, the world would become a better place for we would see, all of us, that we are not alone and that we have been constricted in the straitjacket of popular culture for too long, we could break free. Together!

As for my coming book I think the internet plays a role too because to write it I had to unplug. I had to stop the stream of consciousness, my uploading to the communal cloud of the human race. I had to turn not to the sky- but to the land, to the soil, to the ground beneath my feet. Face down.

I fear the internet now.
I fear it with conviction. I am uneasy about it and when I go there I go there with caution.

I think I have been consumed by the internet. Eaten. I think I have danced with the fairies, around and around and around it went, I became so dizzy, so confused.

This is what I know about the internet; it is a place to go and for the shaman and the witches of this world it is important to go there – for there is wisdom and answers and knowledge and things that we need there. Cross the border of consciousness, ride the edges of language. But don’t stay there for too long and dont go there too often and when you go; go with caution, be aware.

I take breaks now.
Whenever I feel consumed I unplug for a couple of days. It makes me feel behind, left out, such a looser. Fear of missing out and everything, yes, it gives me the creeps to unplug, I feel uneasy when I do; all the pretty people all the pretty places all the important work. And I’m just here sitting in a house in the middle of the forest; what for?
But then the feeling eases and I begin to notice everything here again. How the trees communicate to me, the boulders and the forest floor, how everything here is ALIVE.
And I remember who I am.
And I don´t care if I´m not the prettiest woman of them all. Mirror, mirror on the wall.

A friend came to visit.
We were talking about the state of the world because these are things that needs to be talked about. I said “you know what? I feel like it’s getting better”.
My friend stared at me and told me that really it is not. It´s not getting better. Not at all. It is continously getting worse. Worse and worse.
She said that it is because I am here, surrounded by oaks and wetlands and bogs “this little paradise of yours” she said and I dont know what she meant because it dosnt feel like a paradise at all. She said it is because this place has given me a false sense of optimism. She said “Its because you´re not online anymore”

I remember how much of a whiny asshole I was and maybe still am. I remember how I used to complain that everybody wanted me to be happy in nature but that I was not.
I had to whine, I don´t regret it, it was necessary for me to become who I am now- and I still think the images produced and offered into popular culture about rewilding and simple living are nothing but commercials but ok; to call me an optimist… I still think its kind of a stretch.

So I laughed at my friend and we went to swim in the black lake.

But here is the thing. I have been thinking about it a lot: I honestly don´t think the trees are afraid.




Winter became spring, spring became summer, summer became heat wave, draught and then became autumn just like that. It all happened so fast. Weeks became months became years. Now, looking back, I think it has all happened so fast. All of it.
My whole life in an instant. This past weeks, months,  in merely a glimpse.
Are these transitions not happening faster than they used to?
Has time it self changed?

Sometimes I wonder.

I have read that the migrating birds… some of them have stopped migrating, due to climate change. They arrive earlier, leave later, sometimes they don´t show up at all. Like: when the leaves were getting brown and falling to towards the ground this summer. Corroding before their time. It was horrifying. I mean; what if I can´t look to the sky and tell if it is autumn or spring by the directions of the birds or the color of the leaves?

So I wonder;  if time itself is changing, if the transitions are happening faster than anticipated (and I think they are) how can we respond, what can we think, what can we do?
I have given this a lot of thought.
What if I am changing? What if I am no longer who I used to be?
How do we live during times of great transitions?

You know I do think I have some experience in this.
I don´t need to know what comes next, I don´t need to construct a plan, plans are no longer useful, adaptability is. This is my experience.
My experience is this; it is not the plan that is important.

I can just write here, I can say; hello.
It dosn´t have to be more than that.
We can say hello.

(I have updated the homepage, I now offer walks, I might begin to blog again, I don´t know, my next book is almost finished, thank you, I hope you are doing well)



I did a gruesome thing



I deleted my blog.
I deleted six years of blogging.
I deleted over 300 entries.
I let go.

It took a lot of time. As I removed the posts, individually,  I drank nettle and fennel thea, and let my eyes rest on the crisp white surface on the world outside these old windows. Chop wood. Fetch water.
Do what needs to be done.
If I learned anything in the forest it is this: do what needs to be done.
Even when you´re scared or have doubts or don´t really know what needs to be done, just push through, work hard with your hands, my hands where dancing over the keyboard, it was nice.
Kind of like chopping the head of a chicken. Definitive. Necessary.

I also deleted my facebook account but I´m still on instagram

It took me a lot of time to finally realize that what had once been liberating and creative had now become a cannonball tied to my wrist. Being stuck in a story. Tied to autofiction/creative fiction, the genre that has no ENDING.

See, stories cannot be like that. They need to have a beginning and an ending, you need to finish the chapters and close the book. Not because you´re constantly “reinventing yourself” (read: as if thats a bad thing) but because you CHANGE.
Everything changes all of the time. That´s the second most important think I learned in the forest.

The written word fixates. This is the power of it. But as I have lived like this I have become more and more flexible – at the same time more clear, robust, there, than ever.
How to transcribe that?
How to transmit it?
It´s so contradictory.

I couldn´t.
You know this, you´ve seen how I´ve gradually written less and less in this space- and more and more in my secret, hidden manuscript, well tugged in between my many essays and projects on this computer. I´ve written over 400 pages on nature and spirituality, norse mythology and, well, um, me. I still believe in the power of the written word and in the importance of having a voice, using it, I just also believe that some stories are not linear and cannot be told in such a fashion (even when you try) and some stories are more like a carrier bag of acorns (i.e ursula le guins carrier bag theory on fiction) and my carrier bag has been full, I needed to empty it.

“Tell the same story again and again until you understand it” the ghost said but I think I understand it now.
That´s the why.


A couple of nights ago it was the dark moon, then the thinnest, most fragile new moon.
I was sitting on a big iceage old rock in the darkness, gazing over the moonlit landscape, I was there with a friend, we were just there to observe.
To sit still on a large rock.
To observe.

That´s where I´ll be.

But you know, I know you know, you whom have followed me for all these years and have witnessed – that I love you and that I am very grateful, so grateful!
We have buildt trust and a little bit of community, strangers connecting is really one of the most powerful things on earth. For your reading pleasure I give you this. These are the lines along which I am thinking currently: this is well written and interesting.

I also, as always, recommend that you read some Ben Hewitt. He is very down to earth in his writing style. Down to earth is good.

Also if you read german or know anybody who does I recommend my book about our first year in the forest.
You can also buy it in danish of course.
I recommend it because I´m proud of it. It took me some years to tell the story, then understand the story, then to be proud of it. If anything I have come to realize that stories takes time.

And in order to tell them properly you need to sit quitely on large rocks, sometimes for a little longer than you anticipated and sometimes you have to let go if you want to hold on.



Why are you online (you shouldn´t be)?


First of all:
Since moving into the woods I´ve realized that people seem to have very strong opinions about how it should be/how we should be/how we should act/think/communicate.
I think it´s because moving out is in contrast and therefore “has to be” the opposite of living in society. I think that´s why.
I often meet this  line of non- argument: “Since you live in nature you should be spiritual, grounded, happy and detest technology”.
Well. I´m not and I don´t.
As if technology is impure, dirty, and modern people aren´t spiritual, grounded or happy.
It´s says a lot actually…. if you look to the way we´re “supposed to be” when we live like this.

My point being: I refuse to take the role, live the fantasy, be the opposite- since I believe this very thinking is what fucks it up for all of us.
With us or against us.

We are who we are and we live as we please. We´re not pushing a lifestyle. We´re not selling anything. We´re just trying to negotiate with society, with modernity, with ourselves.
I´m just just a woman trying to make amends. I´m just a woman seeking out an alternative.

This is very important to me and I find myself repeating it again and again.
We are NOT fulfilled, authentic, whole or happy, we havn´t found “the good life”.
I think “the good life” is a lie. I think life is supposed to suck, sometimes, I don´t believe in paradise.

But I DO think this lifestyle is better than the one we had before. Better for us and yes, for the planet. I think the modern lifestyle is unsustainable for both the planet and for most of the humans. There. I said it.

Second of all:
We´ve become pragmatic. More than anything.
It´s kind of clever this internet. It gives you access to information and youtube videos. We were not experts when we got here. We need to learn stuff. Plus I´m a writer. This is wired into my existence. I need to communicate. I do not feel guilty about this however I admit that it is hard to administrate the internet. The first year here we lived without internet in the cabin and I often look back on that year and I miss it.

Third of all: Why are we supposed to be “holier than thou”, consistent and “better”?
I think this narrative is suppressing and I wont comply. There´s so much bullshit in the world already lets not create unrealistic stories.

I am not a consistent human being. I do not try to be. As Walt Whitman put it

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well.
Then I contradict myself.

I am large.
I contain multitudes”

That was the long answer.
The short answer is this: It´s how we earn our money. We have decided that we can´t live completely without money (= gasoline, coffee ect) so we need to get some and this is how we get some.

Why do you share your story/why are you in the media?


  1. Because you wouldn´t know that some sort of alternative existed if people like me didn´t tell the story.
  2. Because I´m an attention-whore/because I can´t stop being a storyteller/because I´m haunted by this weird need of selfactualization, recognition, succes.
  3. Because, allthough this began as a definitive selfish move (”get away, get away, before we die, run to the hills!”) we have become rather concerned with the more ideological, ecological and political challenges our world faces. Rising social inequality, injustice, facism and hate… to stay silent is to betray our moral human duty.
    Yes. That IS how I see it.

What does it mean to live off grid?


Living off grid means different things to different people.
In my opinion living off grid means being AWARE of what grids we are connected to and actively choosing between them (the electrical grid, the road networks, the money grid, the communications grid ect).
See, all grids have a price. And all grids have their advantages.
We are off grid (electrically) but online (communicationwise).
No biggie.
The first year in the forest we detached ourselves from as many grids as possible but as we became more and more pragmatic we “opted in” and “opted out” according to our needs, wants and ideologies. As I said: we negotiate.To us the off grid life means doing as much as possible ourselves. Taking down our own trees, making our own fires. It´s a framework for our thoughts. We want to be independent. We want to be free to choose.

How can you take part in a society that you are so critical towards?
Think about it.
The consequence of this question is imperative.
(you can only be a part of society if you accept and reinforce the status qou?)


What role does loneliness play in your current life compared to in your old life?
symetric world
It´s a good question and it´s kind of hard to answer.
I don´t think we´ve ever been more social than we are here in the forest- which came as a big surprise to me.
In the summertime our land is buzzing with guests, woofers, volunteers. We often hang out with our neighbours, help each other, eat dinner together… but it´s never planned, it´s never organized, scheduled and it dosn´t have the element of “forced sociability”.
See, we came to the forest because we´re a little strange. We´re a little off and a little weird.
Out here it´s ok… which makes it a lot easier to hang out with people!
Yes, and sometimes it is lonely and boresome for the kids and sometimes, during winter, we get the cabin fever. Everything has is ups and downs. It´s the intensity of all of these feelings that make us stay here.

What do you miss most about civilization and Denmark?


Well. We´re still a part of civilisation, we´re still a part of modern life, I think we are all born into a cultural and normative context, it´s in our heads, we can´t escape: we are all children of our time.
I miss kebab and french fries and all the cultural events (that we never had the time or the money to attend anyways), live music and such. There is something absolutely stunning about the feeling of being a flock… together with other human beings.

What about the kids?

The kids are doing fine 🙂
The older kids are not living at home anymore- they are out in the world, doing their thing, experimenting as they should.
They are not super keen at having their pictures taken and I respect that.
Our first year in the forest was magical, we sat around the fire each night TALKING to eachother. We needed that. And the children were taught basic humans skills (building a fire, building a house, how to kill a rooster) it gave them selfconfidence and a real sense of teamwork.
The first year was also extremely hard. It was hard. No doubt about it. But it was worth it and I know they are proud of what we have accomplished. Together.
See our story in pictures here.

Regarding the logs for your house… how did you do it? Did you take down the trees and let them dry before you build the house?

everybodys helping

We´ve buildt two houses.
The first year we took down trees and built the house with them directly, but the trees were dead, killed by an evil beetle, and stood like normal trees, only they were bone dry.

Jeppe notes: “However they got wet while we built and the house settled a lot. Too much really.
I would build with green wood if I were to do it again, and simply leave ample room in the notched corners and around windows and doors for the house to settle and shrink. That’s what people used to do, and it works well. Also green wood is so much easier to work with than old dry logs…”
Due to various reason (which you can read about in my book) we decided to leave the original log cabin and build a new one. This is the house we live in now. It´s buildt out of the material of a very old cabin that we took down plus whatever scrap material we could get our hands on.
Jeppe is dreaming about building a third house.
What are your visions for the place you live now? Do you rent the land, are you still Danish citizens, do you want a larger community?


Our vision is to become as self-sufficient as possible. We´ve realized a couple of things though.

1. We can’t be self-sufficient with coffee, chocolate, sugar, salt spices ect and we are not ready to live without these things.
(I do believe however that we must all lower our standards of living as a result as climate changes and social unrest, I think this imperative and I admit that not being willing to live without the above is an expression of double standards)
2. We have slowly moved from a vibe of “cabin in the woods” to a vibe of “small homestead”.
This is not necessarily what we want (to run a small farm) which is also why we have chosen to not have larger animals anymore (instead we buy meat from our homesteading neighbour).

Regarding the community. We´ve learnt a LOT about this and the current situation is this: we do not expect anything from anybody. We adore our neighbours, we like to hang out with them, we help each other but building community is not our number one priority, we like the metaphor (and the pragmatic sensibility) of the neighbours.

We are swedish residents and Danish citizens.
We do not rent the land. We are allowed to live here for free.
How about the Captain, what happened to him?

He inherited his money and drifted away on a sailboat. I often think about him.

How about the future- do you think about it or is it one day at a time?


Yeah, I think about it. I know that we can never go back to a “normal” lifestyle again- but I also know that it hardens the soul and makes you feel unfree if you live through long-term plans.

Do you want to be self-sufficient in the future?

We thoroughly enjoy working in the garden, making our own produce, collecting wild edible plants, canning, drying ect. but there is also a sense of necessity to it and a sense of resilience.
So yes. We want to be self-sufficient but, as mentioned above, we don´t think it is realistic FOR US to ever be completely self-sufficient. We like to trade and barter. We like to have the time and energy to also write and make music.

Why have you chosen not to move to one of the preexisting eco-communities?
I think these places tends to mirror society too much. And more often than not you need a lot of money to buy or build a house and there are all kinds of rules, regulations and pressure to conform and eat together ect.
I respect what the ecovillages are doing but we also needed to take a more fundamental step.

Did you finish your first house and does anybody live there?
Yes, our friend lives there and plans to finish the building this summer (the upper roof needs fixing and doors and windows needs to be attached to the frames that we made)

PS. You should totally buy my book

this is written many years later: we have now moved south to a milder forest where foraging is easy and where we feel more at home (beech, oak, alder, rowan, elderberry and roses).
I have since deleted six years of blogposts on this blog. Like closing a book. 

Our story in pictures

The story is this:
Jeppe and I first time met when we were teenagers. Many years later we reconnected and it didn´t take us long to get married (two months).
I had 3 children from previous marriage  and soon we added a fourth to the bundle. From there on things got crazy.
“Normal life” had us screaming and shouting and crying and trembling- so one day we decided to run.
And ran we did.
Into the wild.


We ran to a little cabin in the woods called “Svensäter”. We had made an arrangement with the owner of the land- to live in that little cabin while we built ourselves a new one. From the ground. Out of natural materials.

Building a shelter seems to be the most basic of all human needs. We wanted to reconnect with the most basic of all human needs.


To do so we needed help. Someone to teach us the stuff you don´t learn in school. His name is Jo but we called him Captain. He lived 10 years in a tipi in these woods, as a wild man.
We reached out online- he grabbed our hands and he helped us. We owe him much.
He became our neighbour. He lived on a small farm nearby. Our vision was to create a community of families living in the forest, helping each other.


It was a time of great optimism and joy.

first freedomWe felt free. And unafraid.


Every evening turned into nights around the fireplace. We were talking. As a family, for the first time, really talking.
We talked a lot about society and the life we had before.
Those were magic nights!


We wanted a garden, we wanted to grow most of our own food. Allthough Svensäter was a beautiful place, located in a river valley, surrounded by mountains from where the wolves did howl (I kid you not) – we soon came to realize that the soil in the Swedish forest is not at all like Denmark.
We learned that you must grow soil just as much as you must grow vegetables. We learned about forest farming, permaculture and hugelkultur raised beds.


These were our first crops. They were very green.


Our relations changed. The kids were not just kids, their efford mattered. We depended on their help.
They grew. They took care of each other.
I will, to this day, claim that children needs to be needed and that what we did changed their life to the better.


And what he did changed his life to the better.


Slowly a house began to emerge from the forest floor.


We were heroes.
But also, underneath all of this – a growing crisis. Who are we, what have we done, is this even allowed? We dealt with the past. And the present. And the future. In a way this experience was a full blown family therapy session that lasted for a whole year. It was very intense.


We had to figure out new ways of doing everything. The dustman don´t come to the forest, what to do with the trash? And the laundry? I washed it in the river and it took forever…. and then came autumn.

mor,mindste og mindste

Everything became wet and foggy and cold. We had to hurry. Soon winter would come and 6 people living in Svensäter did seem quite unrealistic.


My sister came and lived with us for a couple of months. Everybody worked on the house. We had to get it done! (this is my sister and my daughter and some girlpower!)


And the people of the forest came to help us too.


Winter came. We lost morale. It was time to face some hard realizations. Friendships were put to a test.


Minus 25 degrees celcius. Six people at Svensäter. People from the forest would come to our place for coffee and cake. Every day.

We felt that we had to choose. Family first.
We decided to move. We left Svensäter and gave the almost finished building to the community.
Svensäter continues to be a place for many people. A portal into the parallel world of the forest.


It was hard to walk away. One of the hardest thing we´ve ever done.

In the midst of the hardest winter, on a dark cold winternight we had a family meeting. We decided to stay in Sweden and continue this lifestyle. But we would find another place that suited our needs better. Somewhere with better soil. Somewhere that was not the center of a community. Somewhere not quite as harsh.

We decided to enroll the kids in school. We decided to get electricity. We decided to get internet. We decided that we needed more space.


Our neighbours (hence forward called “the angels”) let us live in their guesthouse for a little while. We needed to regroup.
As the ice on the lake slowly began to melt (you have to listen to this. It is so beautiful!) we found our friendships again, we found each other again, we found…

they found cabins

an abandoned cabin the woods. And a barn.  Facing south.
We were inspired…

spring and trees

… to begin again.
We would take down the cabin and the barn and use whatever material that wasn´t rotten. We would build ourselves a home.


He cut down trees and worked very hard- but he also remembered what raw experience had taught us. You cannot work too hard. You cannot drive yourself off the cliff.

soweto trailer park

Friends gave us two trailers and we created a trailerpark to live in, while we took down the old houses.

our outdoor kitchen the forest can be a jungle

We had a gypsy home in the middle of the jungle.

to dismantle the old cabin

And the work began.

still taking care of the little one

Same procedure as last year.

we made a sign

A new era began. We were better. We knew more. We had learned from experience.

everybodys helping

Everybody was in it together.
We had established ourselves in the forest and connected with the broader community.The younger kids began in school and part time daycare to learn the language and get some friends (also homeschooling is illegal in Sweden). We worked according to schedule, we knew what to do.

But then two things happened.


These boots were made for walking.
The twins turned 17 and it was time for them to enter High School. It was important for them to meet new friends so we enrolled them in a boarding school system they have here in Sweden. A “Folkhögskola”. They would only be home on the weekends.

mommy sick on the couch

I became very sick and had to undergo major surgery (removal of my uterus among other things). This completely immobilized me and I was tied to the couch. Getting a solar panel allowed me to be online and write some.

i got sick but we were happy

We advertised for help- and we got it. Our first “wilderness au pair” was the fabulous Christina. Then came Ann-Sophie and Mikkel, then Pernille and then Josephine. Thank you SOOOO much for your help!!!
Our neighbourgs also came one day, bringing with them a team of woofers (Willing Woorkers On Organic Farms).


Mother in law also came. Later she kindly donated money for rockwool insulation. We wouldn´t be here without her.

my daddy is building a house

Meanwhile all these changes, people coming and going, sickness and sunshine… little Sigurd grew and a house grew behind him.



We used scrap material and everything we could find. As soon as the roof was on we moved in. That night, the first night….

lighting the fire for the first time

…and the first time we lit the fire…


This house in now our home. This is where we live.
We taught our children to do things themselves, we taught them teamwork, we taught them how to overcome stuff and we taught them to be proud.
I´m proud.

Here´s some pictures from our house.