In 2003 I attended an English class of the Ministerial Training School in Strängnäs, Sweden. And this is the poems I wrote during my two months stay. The MTS was one of the predecessor to Jehovah's Witnesses Bible School for Christian Evangelizers. Since it was a very intensive course most of the poems and short stories are written in the weekends.
(At one of our river side barbecues some of us made up this little story while drinking whiskey)
It had been written in the holy instruction papers
that the Great Washing day would come. The day of color wash and of white wash.
The day of drying and the day of ironing. In that day it was foretold that any
shirt missing a button would be provided one and any sweater with heavy stains
would be purified.
But the days went by and the conditions in the dirty
laundry bag just went from bad to worse. Soon the bag was overflowing with
dirty laundry and the smell was very bad. Many pieces of clothing stopped
believing in the Lord of the Laundry and the great Washing day. They said that
the smell had always been that bad and the clothes of the dirty laundry bag
would never get any relief in their unclean situation. The pieces of clothes
that had lost their faith in the Lord of the Laundry soon made all the dirty
clothes convinced that there never would be a washing day.
Only a few courageous gray socks kept proclaiming the
coming of the Great Washing day. Even though they were despised among the socks
they went through the whole dirty laundry bag telling all the dirty clothes
about the coming of the Lord of the Laundry. How the Great Washing day now was
very near. Not many pieces of clothes listened to their words, but that didn’t
stop the gray socks, they just kept spreading the word of the end of the old
dirty laundry bag and the coming of a new laundry bag with only clean
well-ironed clothes.
And it happened just as the courageous gray socks had
preached. After a few days the Lord of the Laundry came and opened the dirty
laundry bag. He separated the white socks from the colored socks, and he
brought the flaws of any shirt out in the light. He put the white laundry at
his right side and the colored at his left side, separating the laundry groups
from each other.
And with him came the Great Washing day where all the
clothes was cleaned. There came to be a drying and ironing to prepare the
clothes to go into the new clean laundry bag. At that day the courageous socks
were set aside in a shining white net and praised by all the clothes because
they have kept there faith in the Lord of the Laundry and his Great Washing
day.
(We had a superb laundry service, we
just had to follow some very simple procedures. But even a simple procedure can
be changed into something totally different in the hands of an MTS-student)
1st
Remember that God, who brought you into this holy
place is a clean God, so you yourself must keep clean and you yourself must
have well-arranged and clean clothes.
2nd
You must observe the times set out for you to change
your bedlinnen, your pillowcases and your towels. You must observe and carry
out these regulations week after week, so it may go well with you in the room
you have been assigned to.
3rd
You must set aside the 3rd morning to keep
it holy. On that morning you must deliver your dirty clothes before you go to
worship. On 6 days you can raise from you bed and worship but on the 3rd
morning you must first deliver your dirty clothes before you can worship.
4th
You must set aside the 6th day to keep it
holy. On that day you must take care of your clothes that have been cleaned and
returned to you. On the other days you are free to study, but on the 6th day
you must take care of your belongings before you return to your studies in the
Holy Book.
5th
Honor the laundry staff in order that your days may
prove long in the room that have been provide for you.
6th
You must not mix the colored sock with the white
socks.
7th
You must not forget to close the laundry nets
8th
You must not forget to fill in your laundry list and
put it in your laundry bag
9th
You must not forget to return the hangers.
10th
You must not desire your fellow student’s shirts. You
must not desire your fellow student’s pants, nor his socks nor his T-shirts nor
his sweaters nor his shorts nor anything that belongs to your fellow student.
(30 brothers and sisters worked very hard in the
kitchen to feed all of us. We knew some better than others, but this is a token to all of them personified by 4 specific
sisters.)
Near a Lake in a fairy-tale land there was a
rosegarden. For as long as anyone could remember it had been a peaceful refuge
for the people of the fairy-tale land. When something bad happened to them they
went to the Rosegarden and sat there until all bad went away.
In the middle of the garden a rose was planted. It was
so white and so old that it was almost transparent. From its place in the
middle of the garden it looked out for everybody. It smiled when young couples in love walk by
and it gave silent comfort when people in grief sat down in the garden.
Everything was in perfect harmony until the day a
group of Scythian invaded the fairy-tale land. They spread horror and disorder
all around the land. And final they came to the Rosegarden. They dug up all the
grass, spilled waste in the whole area. They smelled, they screamed, and were
just generally polluting the garden.
Happily they didn’t stay for long. Soon they went on
their way leaving behind the garden -- in a mess it had never been seen in
before. In the middle of what ones was a beautiful garden was the old white
rose still standing. Its tears dropped silently to the ground - it was all so
terrible. But then she straitened up: “A lady has to carry on”, she proclaimed.
And a Lady she was - the Old White Rose.
She put up her petals in the air and called out to her
children far away. The wind carried away the message; it went over mountains
and hills, lakes and rivers. It went all the way to each one of her children.
As soon as they heard the call they took up their roots and began their journey
back home to the Rosegarden near the lake in the fairy-tale land.
The call went over the highest mountains and down the
deepest valleys. It went through the great dessert; passed long forgotten
oases, with water that is clear as truth, until it came to a single flower
standing in the dessert sand. There stood a brave little rose, she was as dark
as her mother was white. (Now you know - and I know, that there is no such
thing as a black rose. But the little rose didn’t know that, she was just
standing in the sand and smiled to the sun). Perhaps the sun once had kissed
her, perhaps she was just made of the magic from the great dessert. We really
don’t know. When you ask her, she just smile a little shy smile and nod her
head to the right - Perhaps just so much as to be kissed by the sun? With her
all the many weird creatures of the dessert sought help and relief, and even
though not one of them was as fair as her, she helped them -- every single one
-- to overcome the pains of the life in the dessert.
Standing in the sand she heard the cry from the Old
White Rose. So up from the sand she took her roots and went through the great
dessert passing long forgotten oases, she went past the deepest valleys and
over the highest mountains to get to the Rosegarden near the lake in the
fairy-tale land.
The call went over the great ocean and down the
longest river. It went through the Great Jungle passed golden cities, hidden
away from the greed of man, until it came to a little pond. In the pond a Water
lily was swimming. She had the color of its mother - white and fair with only a
touch of the yellow summer. There was a little creek that ran into the pond, it
said cluck cluck cluck. To the lily it was the most wonderful sound, so she
sang and sang to accompany the creek. The song went up through the trees to the
heaven above, it went into the jungle and down to the river. Births came from
the sky, leopards from the wood and fishes from the river - Just to see who
made that heavenly sound. When they all gathered together she kept on, but
wondered why they gathered at the little pond. Her eyes look at them and asked:
“why are you here? Don’t you have to run, fly or swim around in your life” But
the animals where just sitting very quit so she wouldn’t stop singing the song
of the pond.
From her pond she heard the cry from the Old White
Rose. So away from her little pond she went. She went through the Jungle with
golden cities; she swam down the longest river and over the greatest ocean to
get to the Rosegarden near the lake in the fairy-tale land.
The call went over the most polluted cities and the
clearest fields. It went up through the great mountains passing the magic glen,
where the unicorns bear their young, until it came to a circle round valley.
Halfway down the slope had a Lilly its root. She opened up her many heads to
the sun and smiling she made out a tone. Hearing that, the unicorns came from
the glen, and from its high mountain nests the Pegasus’ flew down. When they
came to the circle round valley they smiled frisky at the Lily and start
grassing down the slopes. The Lily tried to look angry and chase them away. But
the unicorns were just whirring their horns and the Pegasus flipping their wings
because very well knew that the enchanting Lily would never really use her
deadly poison against them. They were right, because soon after the Lily had to
smile again, shaking her chaste petals in the sweet breeze that the Pegasus’
brought, taunting the unicorns that hopefully gathered around her in a hope
that she would bring a piece of heaven down to earth.
In the middle of the unicorns she heard the call from
the Old White Rose. So up she took her roots and away from the circle round
valley she flew. She flew down from the great mountains with the magic glen,
over the clearest fields and the most polluted cities to get to the Rosegarden
near the lake in the fairy-tale land
The call went over the numerous lakes and through the
darkest forests. It went over the great plain passing trail of ancient tribes
long wiped out until it came to a hollow deep in the plain. In it a Peony bush
had put down her roots.
The Peony was little but very winsome. She could only
look to the end of the hollow and even though she stretched and stretched she
was not able to see up over the great plain. So when the deer’s walked by her
she always shacked her many small petals anxious to hear new from all corners
of the earth. And most often the deer’s stop their walk for she had a very
special gift. She could smile with every single one of her hundreds of petals,
each one prettier than the other. From time to time the wolves came hunting the
goats of the plain but whenever the wolves passed her hollow she looked at them
with the look of a Martha. “Do you really not have anything else you could do”,
she questioned them and try to look hard. And the wolves looked at each other -
They really didn't know. But even the wolves got a smile after a while. The
Peony was not really made to look harsh and sever.
Standing smiling to the wolves she heard the cry from
the Old White Rose. So up she draw her root and over the great plain along the
ancient trails she went. Through the darkest forests and passing the numerous
lakes she walked to get to the Rosegarden near the lake in the fairy-tale land.
And so they came from all the corners of earth. The
black rose came her way carried by the sunburned sand. The Water Lily swam
gracious up to the lake. The Lily of the Valley flew by welcomed winds toward
the fairy-tale land. The winsome Peony walked her way over the soil of man. And
along with these flowers many other came from far and near - all the children
of the Old White Rose came to her aid in the Rosegarden near the lake in the
fairy-tale land.
All the flowers gathered around the Old White Rose.
She looked at them with tender care: “I am so happy to see all my children here
today. See now what these Scytians have done with our home. They have
vandalized this Rosegarden and even the entire fairy-tale land. But now my
children let us start to work. Let us remove all vast and dirt they
inconsiderate have spread around. Let us plant new grass all the places they
dug it up. Let us cleans the garden from all nasty smells and again fill it
with odor of thousand flowers.” The Old White Rose clapped her hands and off
her children went to every corner of the garden. They cleaned up the mess and
planted fresh provisions to grow were ever a bare spot was found. They worked
for many days and many nights and all the inhabitant of the fairy-tale land
came to see what had happened with the garden. They saw all the fresh grass and
smelled the breeze from thousand flowers and they started to fell happy again.
They went home and started to build up all of the fairy-tale land. Soon the young couples in love again walk in
the garden and again the garden gave silent comfort to those people in grief.
Finally all in the garden near the lake in the
fairy-tale land was made just perfect, as it had been in the past. The Old
White Rose stood happy in the middle of it, so proud of the work of her
children. She patted every single one of them on their head and sends them away
out in the world. Back to whatever place they had use to put down their roots.
The Black Rose rid on the sunbeams all the way over
the highest mountains and down the deepest valleys. She went over the great
dessert, over long forgotten oases, with water that is clear as truth, until
she came to her place in the warm sand were she was welcomed by all the inhabitant
of the great dessert
The Water Lily swam all the way over the great ocean
and down the longest river. She went through the Great Jungle, passing by
golden cities, hidden away from the greed of man, until she came to her little
pond where the animals was waiting for her.
The Lily of the Valley flew over the most polluted
cities and the clearest fields. She went up through the great mountains passing
the magic glen, where the unicorns bear their young, until she came to her
circle round valley where the Unicorns and Pegasus where patiently waiting.
The Peony Bush walked along by the numerous lakes and
through the darkest forests. She went over the great plain following trail of
ancient tribes long wiped out until she came to her hollow deep where the wolves,
the goats and the deer’s sitting in peace awaited her coming.
They all put down their roots, everyone in her own
place, and there I know they still prosper. The hordes of Scythian never came
back to the Rosegarden where the Old White Rose stands steadfast in the middle.
She still looks after the young couples in love that walks through the garden.
……….…..………………………….Because this is a real fairy-tale.
(This is a silly story I wrote in an email to my friends and family in an attempt to explain how a student on MTS is feeling the first weeks of school. Later it starts to get normal, or you just adapted
to the situation)
The little monk
and the 24 hours
Once upon a time in a
Kingdom at the extremities of earth in a small room in the big monastery there
was a little monk. Every night when he went to bed he was so tired and wanted
only to sleep-forever. But when the little monk was sleeping 24 hours came to
him and helped him recover from the deep sleep he was in. Have you ever seen an
“hour”? They are very interesting creatures. Even though they all are “hours”
they can be so different in appearance. Some are very long, some are very
short. Some are not doing much, they just sit there and smile others run around
and cannot be stopped. But if you treat them nicely they will all come again
and again
So 24 of them came to
the little monk every night. And as hours use to be so these are. They where
all so very different from each other.
The firsts were quiet
ones; they just sat there and looked at the monk, stoking his head from time to
time.
But then another came.
He was red and fiery, with horns and a sounding voice. He pricked the monk with
his horns and screamed into his ears. He really was something of a bully. He
tortured the poor monk and treated him so hard. The 7 silent hours could do
nothing; they just sat there with tears in their eyes.
Fortunately the next
hour saved the monk, it took him by the hand and ran out of the small room,
away from the red bully hour. Together they ran to the Morning Prayer. This
hour was a God fearing one. Always he prayed and worshipped his God.
After him 4 other hours
where awaiting the monk in the scriptorium. They didn’t run for him they just
waited along side the scrolls. They knew that the God fearing one would send
the monk their way. The 4 hours had but 2 names, they were called Knowledge and
Order. They were so short that they could sit on their long white beard.
When the 4 wise hours
were asleep there came a couple of hours to talk with the monk. They were such
a nice couple. They smiled to the monk and would please him in the way they
thought was best. The wife gave him a place at the table and urged him to eat,
but her husband did not agree. He felt the monk would need some exercises. So
the couple tried both their ways with the little monk. “Oh please eat some
more, to me you are fading away”, she was worrying on. “Not at all. That little
monk just needs to work out some more”, her husband murmured. So eat, so work.
The little monk was all confused and he hurried and hurried, soon with that and
soon with the other.
At the end he could not
keep up with the couples pace and he fled in to the scriptorium for some peace.
In there 3 other wise hours had taken a seat. They called themselves Teachers,
Historians, Administrators, Congregators and Servants. They nodded their heads
and opened a scroll. They were just glad not to be out with the couple.
But they also fell
asleep, old and wise as they where. So feeling all alone in the scriptorium,
with only 7 small wise hours sleeping so sweet, each one on his beard, he left
to see what would happen next. Just outside the door he was greeted by the most
beautiful hour of the day. Behind the next door the God fearing one was praying
alone. In the hallway the couple was arguing what to do next time. At his small
room the bully was torturing the 7 silent hours. And behind him 7 small hours
were sleeping sweet on their beards. But the monk did not think much on these
his friends; he was just sitting down and enjoying the surrounding. The entire
monastery was talking and eating when he came to the Hall where they were
dining. The most beautiful hour of the day showed him his seat. But as all
beauty, it lasted only for a short while.
4 young noisy hours
dragged him away. They were so happy and loud that they woke up the 7 wise
hours. The 7 looked around in the scriptorium and looked at each other nodding
their heads. Together they went out to find another place to sleep, because now
the scriptorium were taken over by the 4 young hours. They talked and they
laughed. They studied and the cried. But they to went away. That is a thing you
must know about hours, they always go away - sometimes sooner, sometimes later.
So all the hours were
gone and only the little monk was left. He was so tired and could almost not
think. With his last power he dragged himself off to his room. He only wanted
to sleep from now on and forever. But soon after the 24 hours came to him again.
The seven silent ones
The one bullying
everybody
The God fearing one
The seven wise ones
with there long beards
The couple that argued
The most beautiful one
And the four happy loud
ones
But how many was that.
Please count with me. This morning 24 hours met up with the monk, but that many
the tale did not mention. One hour was missing. But if you look very closely
behind the little monk you would find it. It was the merry hour that got away.
It didn’t like to do as the others - No it always went its own way.
……………………….And what it
experienced - That is whole other story.
(On the night of the big ice hockey
game betwin Finland and Sweden, the class was divided into two groups. The one
looking at the game and the one singing in the dinner room)
SWEDISH SUMMER
Yellow smile
Happy tones
Strange languages
Little Bee working his way around
White and flower black
Jamming away
Happy Bee with a songbook
Swarming around Flowers
Hellenic Adonis looking around
Seeing the world with an eye of glass
Files made of his life
Or is it the grasping for the Sun
The Rebels trousers make horror around
A Motherly swan takes Adonis away
The Rebel continue consuming
Break up - Flowers on their way
Summer days does come rare
Humor gives only a scare substitution
THE RITUAL
Patriarch linger away
Short is the time
Talmudista turns away
Thinking of eternity
Looking through the Corridors
The Patriarch shows his mercy
High Tower gets distracted
The Flock gathers to the Ritual
Agrippa linger
The Patriarch is happy
Modern times in the Ritual
The Talmudista associates
To modern-day darkness is lowering
The boathouse is deserted for good
The gloom have lingered away
The Beers have left
Flowers spring in the Sanctuary
Talmudistas do not know
…….The Ritual
has begun
(A Saturday night I had a talk with one of the plastic
flowers that stood on the table in the dinner room)
Plastic Flower
A yellow flower stands
on my table
It leans its head
toward the Sun
Dreaming of going
outside
To live in the great
green Lawn
The yellow flower
stands on my table
It dreams of a life in
the green
It longs for a life at
all
You see – It is made of
plastic and color
It doesn’t have any
feelings
They tell it
It doesn’t have any
dreams
They tell it
Really – It has no
spark of life
But no death either
It serves its purpose
on the table
Deep under its petals
it hide its dreams
…...Dreaming of the great green Lawn
(One evening during study hours we saw a rainbow)
The Rainbow
Today we saw a rainbow
It showed itself only
for a moment
Happiness is believed
to be at the end
I wonder – what end it
is
Can a man steal the
rainbow?
Hide it inside his
heart
Now it fades away
Just a sparkle – Soon
only a memory
Green and red fade out
in blue
It only stays clear in
my heart
A memory to be
treasured
Or a gift to be given away
Happiness is at the end
of the rainbow
And the rainbow lives
in my heart
(A Sunday we went to Uppsala for the
service. Some thoughts I had during the barbecue.)
The Scent of Sweden
The Sun are setting in the water
Taking a walk with my brother
Picking flowers from a tree on the way
Having no one to give them – They get stuck in my hand
Smelling their scent and thinking of you
Sunbeams gently reflecting eternity
Taking a look on the calm Mälar Loch
Boats are sailing
Children are playing
Birds are flying
Hearing the wind whisper your name
Seeing your face in the water
Feeling the essence of Sweden
The flowers are stuck in my hand – To whom can I give
them
I throw them into the fire...
The Scent of Smoke
The Scent of the Night
The Scent of You
In the Scent of Sweden
(At Djupvik, a forest area close to the School we went to do gardening work.)
The Cuckoo Bird’s Stone
The work
A summer day in Svealand
I was working near a forest
On a island in the large blue loch
We were cleaning the roads
My brothers and I
Killing the flowers coming our way
Changed their sparkling colors
Made them into mere death dirt
Filled the wagon – Went for the dump
The Bird
On my way I heard its song
Cuckoo Cuckoo Cuckoo
The mysterious bird from the woods
Sitting on the middle of my load
The Cuckoo bird looked at me
I still wonder what mood it was in
Maybe it gave me the stone
Maybe it threw it at me
Maybe it was not really there
The Stone
In my hand lay the stone
When I tried to crush it
Its edge burned through my hand
I had to open my hand and I looked
It was not a jewel
It was so much more
A wonder in silver and red
Embedded in crystal
The sun kissed it and the angels sang
Epitaph
I brought it back to my brothers
They ask me what it was
Is it a diamond?
No it is a stone
Is it magic?
I don’t think so – It is just a stone
But you never really know what is magic
When you are in the forest of Svealand
And the Cuckoo Bird sings
(Leaving the school and ones new friends after two months was really hard)
Farewell
I never do say Farewell
It is so dangerous to do
You die a little every time
The old poets often said
If I did say Farewell
Died a little in the process - every single time
How long would it be - I wonder?
Before to me you have to say farewell
So I will send you on your way
Pray that God will go with you
Follow closely even the smallest of your steps
But you will not hear me ever say farewell
I will seize the very scent of you
A single hair
A spoken thought
Or just the feeling of your presence
I will take this in my hand
A pearl I bring to the other
Carefully I will join the hands together
That white fair pearl will be the thought of you
I shall take that little piece of you
And join it to my treasures
To look on it – To see it shine
Give thanks for what is precious
For all those pearls I have found
I bring with me a little holder
Its contents are so very dear to me
At that focal point life is refreshed forever
In this holder I will put your pearl
To protect and care for what I have dear
In that way I will not even die a little bit
So you see - I don’t have to say farewell
(I am happy to say that it was not a final goodbye. Since then we have had many reunions and have visited each other every few years or so.)
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