But as it is, he sits there looking out into the world, figuring out smartnesses and wisdoms. He thinks about everything. Great spiritual matters and airy-fairies mixes with mundane and concrete ones. He conceives ideas and solutions that – though not always important – makes him happy. He answers questions, happy to help. Ideally, he wants to save the world. But that’s a hard thing to do, I tell you. And when he can’t, it occasionally pisses him off.
Sometimes Troll Mother’s calls out for him. To get a little love, or some moral support. Or just to get some company. Sometimes she thinks that the wise old man stays up in his tree for too long. But when she calls he climbs down. Mostly. If he is not pig-headed, or in the middle of some bright thinking.
Sometimes he climbs down on his own accord. To get some tenderness. Or consolation. Or strength. Sometimes he doesn’t; sometimes he falls down from his tree-top, with sprained wisdom and wrecked self-esteem. Then he likes to lie hunched up in the troll mother’s lap, with closed eyes and a thumb in his mouth, while she strike his head with her healing hands, sharing her own down-to-earth-wisdom.
She likes it to. She would gladly let him stay. But she knows he wont. Soon enough, he will climb back up.
He used to butt into the old, swedish version of this blog. With thoughtfulness, common nonsense and sweet bitterness. He likes to do that. To interfear. And from now on, he’s officially a collaborator.
Well, that’s how it had to be, I guess. We’ll see how it works out. If you ask me, I think he could get a blog of his one.
So. Welcome, Wise man. I guess.