One day, I just happened to arrive about a half an hour early to one of our Qigong sessions in Chiang Mai at a local University (which I was told was entirely funded by the US government). And since the chairs were organized in a proper circle, it reminded me of what a group therapy seating might look like. Maybe even an AA meeting or something. Perhaps something less serious, like musical chairs but on a high, academic level. In any case, I just couldn’t resist the temptation to somehow make use of the room during my wait.

It’s been an incredibly interesting week at the Qigong course where confusion is at times replaced with clarity and understanding, only to be smothered later with yet more confusion.

I don’t mean confusion as in what’s being taught is by any means nonsensical or, that I ‘m not getting it. Not at all. It’s just that there’s so much to learn and that even when I try hard, I still get confused as to what to prioritize and how to store the knowledge I’m exposed to in a sequence that helps me lower the inevitable steep learning curve and perennially improve my training.

Our teacher, Arjan, works through his system in an organic, non-linear way. Which, when coming from Sweden, where everything is organized and structured in absurdum, was initially a little perplexing. But within a day or two, I had let go of that excessively orderly approach and decided to go with the flow. Instead of forcing my projected expectations (based on how things are done elsewhere), I decided to just listen, replicate what I saw and had heard and merely accept that time will eventually come when I’m ready to understand the answers to my many queries. That answering them now in the inception phase would only add to my incertitude and probably make even learning incrementally more difficult.

I am curious by nature and conditioned by the society I live in. This new perspective on implementing something before actually understanding what it is, based at least initially only on faith and trust, certainly makes for an interesting, intellectual challenge. My gut feeling tells me this could be a healthy way for me to learn new things going forward.

At 56, taking on something so wide and deep as learning (even the basics) about Qigong is invigorating. For even if I sometimes feel like my head is going to explode from the constant stream of new things we go through during each session, I am already conscious of the tangible, positive physical effects the training is having on my arthritis.

One may think Qigong would not be anywhere near as exerting as, say, a long run or a spinning class can be. But let me tell you, after a five hour day filled with various full-body stances and movements as well as arm blocks and kicks – all done repetitively in slow, controlled sequences, I’m as exhausted as if I’d run 15k, but without any lasting muscular fatigue that I usually associated with jogging. One of the key upshots I noticed today (when we spent most of the afternoon doing slow motion kicking) was that it took only minutes to recover – and that afterwards, I was super energized, albeit still very, very sweaty.

It’s interesting – and possibly a cultural issue – how much exercise has come to be defined by a level of almost debilitating exertion. The immense popularity of crossfit training being just one of many examples of ways for folks to get a few hours of hard, physical activity integrated into their often stressful, jam-packed lives.

From what I understand so far about Qigong, especially medical Qigong, is that what one can learn will have positive physical, mental and possibly spiritual implications on a timeline that extends far beyond what just goes on whilst practicing. And it is exactly that prospect – the width and breadth of benefits brought forth from Qigong, as a means to both heal and to stay healthy in the long-term, that got me here in the first place.

The umbrellas above are totally unrelated to this post. Well, as they’re probably made in China, the origin country of Qigong, I guess one could argue that there is after all, though far-fetched, a connection.

The fifteenth of August, 1998. Twenty one years ago today. That’s when Charlotte and I exchanged rings just before we were pronounced man and wife by the family priest, Ola Stålnacke in Brunnby Church, near Mölle-by-the-Sea in Skåne. It rained most of that day, and boy, was I nervous before and during most of the wedding ceremony. But afterwards, as we climbed onto the horse driven carriage, or, perhaps it wasn’t until the Rolls picked us up a little further down the country road, that I started to relax. We had an amazing wedding party during the evening with a whole bunch of great friends and plenty of family.

Our marriage has been consistently smooth, with only minor bumps and hicups along the way. I know of only a few other couples that have been married as long as we have and that still enjoy each others company as much as Charlotte and I do.

It’s certainly a little sad being so far apart on our anniversary. But thanks to FaceTime, we’ll chat later this afternoon about our wedding 21 years ago today.

Charlotte, happy anniversary, my love!

Walked passed this wonderful bookstore a couple of days ago in the old town of Chiang Mai. A younger version of me used to read a lot of books, fiction and non-ficktion. For at least a decade I was a huge Stephen King fan and read everything he produced. But it’s probably been a dozen or more years since I last read a book. I do read a lot, but it’s all online. I’ve actually been thinking of buying an e-reader, a Kindle maybe, but haven’t gotten around to it.

“We are buried beneath the weight of information, which is being confused with knowledge; quantity is being confused with abundance and wealth with happiness.”

I read that quote by Tom Waits somewhere and it seemed so apt in this day and age.

It’s been about a week since I arrived and my focus is now entirely on the course I’m taking in Medical Qigong. While learning the theory of each series of motions isn’t difficult per ce, coordinating the body within each movement definitely is.

My emphasis right now is on understanding and then recreating the instructor’s movements as best I can. Much of what I am learning and how it effects the body (and mind) is revelatory. As usual, practice makes perfect. So benefits will take time to arrive. But I already feel invigorated.

For a while now, I’ve been promising myself to once again quit, or, at least take another prolonged break from the confines and shackles of social media. Studying Qigong below the hills of Chiang Mai seemed like an optimal opportunity to initiate this decision.

My main argument is and has always been that these channels, apps or whatever the fuck you want to call them, prove time and time again to have a degenerative influence on my creativity and emotional balance.

When I arrived here in Asia a few days ago, I deleted Instagram, the only social media app installed on my phone. It took a few hours getting used to not unlocking the phone’s screen several times a day and flipping through what my online and offline friends and family have been up to. And unsurprisingly, I do not miss the infinite cavalcade of mundane escapades, jam-packed group selfies, life quotes or the “kum ba yah” gospel some try so hard to channel. Not even a little bit.

I’m not totally consitent – once in a while I’ll use my laptop to post a photo or a video on this page. But that habit is also falling on the wayside.

About a year ago, a press photographer and a journalist I’d met tried to convince me of how important social media actually was. How being active had provided them with assignments and valuable connections. They seemed to think I was foolish to not see the glowing benefits and all the low-hanging fruit of opportunities waiting to be picked in the fields in between posts, comments and likes.

I know there are edge cases, circumstances and situations that help argue social medias existence. But like most folks, both of those dudes were way too intoxicated from their addiction to be able to think straight and dispassionately about social medias overshadowing influence on their lives or the amount of wasted awake time they spent on a bloated myth that online interconnectivity really augments the quality of life.

Over the years, I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to figure out how to make use of social media. Either as a source for artistic inspiration or by using it as a means to share my love of photography and art. To inspire others, you know? While I’ve failed miserably at the former, I know from feedback that some of those that follow my work in Västra Hamnen and in Santa Monica are inspired by my creativity. And I am sincerely happy if I have added even just a little shine to their lives.

That said, I have still always felt a deep, disproportionate relationship with social media. It simply takes way more than it adds to my life. It’s a conundrum how so many respectable, well-educated souls seem to genuinely feel their lives have improved significantly ever since we all gained the ability to share it online in realtime. It really boggles the mind.

I don’t know exactly when I’ll wave a final goodbye to all my social media endeavors. But as I’m currently on a galvanizing journey with the ambitious goal of releasing a lot more of my creative energy by using Qigong to re-connect or rewire my body, mind, and soul, this could happen anytime. If my only outlet for sharing thoughts, ideas and creative efforts is here on this site, so be it. I’ve been posting somewhat regularly here for more than 13 years and will gladly continue. In the grand scheme of worldly things, I honestly don’t think “unsocial me” should worry about the fear of missing out.

I met this dude briefly during a walk around the old town yesterday afternoon. He surprised me by saying something in English as I was getting a shot of the old wooden house next to his. Don’t remember what it was he said, but the fact that he had spoken to me (and chuckled afterward) signaled to me that taking a closup portrait of him wouldn’t be completely impossible.

Old Town CM

Turned out I was right and I got a couple of decent shots of the fella – considering the only lens I had with me was a wide 23 mm lens. Of all the walk-around lenses I’ve ever used, the Fujinon XF16mm f1.4 is by far a favorite. It’s light, light-sensitive and produces edge-to-edge sharpness. And if you just get close enough to your subject, it works great for street portraits.

I spent most of my 30 hour stay in Bangkok – before boarding the night train to Chiang Mai – at a basic, yet clean and quiet, hotel/hostel located not more than a 15 minute walk from the capital’s central station, aka Hua Lamphong, in Chinatown.

The room I’d booked was perfect for my needs and even came with a decent top-floor view of the neighborhood – and if I’d only been able to open the damn window (it was sealed), I might have taken a shot of it.

After years of traveling and staying in hundreds of different hotels, guest houses, hostels and dormitories, I finally found a WC where someone had evidently made an extra effort to place the toilet roll holder in the worst possible place. Though not visible in the above shot, they could have mounted it on the opposite wall facing the toilet seat. But no, that would have made toilet life too easy!

For my age – and despite enduring the stiffness from mild arthritis, I am still surprisingly flexible. But I ain’t Houdini, David Blaine or Nadia Comăneci. So the only way to reach for the toilet paper was to sit up, lift off from the seat, twist 180 degrees, grab a suitable amount of paper, sit down again and, well, you know, clean up. And as we all experience from time to time, one may need to grab a second round of paper before the job is done. Fortunately, I’m on a intermittent fasting schedule right now, so I only had to endure one of these contortionist sessions.

As per usual when I encounter wacky impracticalities at places I stay at, which happens frequently – even at fancy places – I vigorously yearn to speak with the individual whom decided where to place the toilet roll holder. Who knows, perhaps I’d even uncover a humanistic perspective to their decision process