PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE

A Lucky Man — An Autobiography: A Party or a Dance on Roses? (1)

Under the working title “A Lucky Man — An autobiography: A party or a dance on roses?” I will publish new chapters about once a week

Here you get the start of a story about my life until today.

I am now a little over 73 years old, and this will not be a lament, but it will also not be a story about life in dance on roses.

I want to say that this has been a good life — a life with many experiences, with great changes and events, that in part have been dramatic, stressful, and demanding. It’s still a life I think I have come out of well — so far.

Growing up

What has it meant to me to be born two years after the end of World War II, in 1947 in a small industrial town at the end of a long fjord in Western Norway?

What has it meant to me to grow up in a small, cramped industrial town where everyone saw everyone, without us for that matter experiencing that we were seen and appreciated by others in the town?

It could rather be experienced as if we were “monitored”, observed by the others. We were held in place and defined by “the others”. I remember this term — “the other” / “the others” from the time after I had left Odda. I studied French and read Sartre and his philosophical thoughts about man’s identity and man’s ego in relation to other human beings. His thoughts on “the other” made an impression on me. The other — there is another person who sees you, who judges you and holds you in place — holds you so that you can feel a little unfree in the small society.

Writing my autobiography: It’s about writing

I’m going to try to do something I have not done before. I will write about myself and what I have experienced in my life. But maybe this — writing about myself — is exactly what I’ve been doing all this time, ever since I started writing many years ago?

I wrote my debut novel in 1978. It was about a young man who was terminally ill and who knew he was going to die.

Writing non-fiction, poems, and fiction — for example, novels, short stories — is a way of using language to create contact and communication between me and the reader.

Is it perhaps the case that writing directly about myself and saying clearly that it is myself I write about can have a positive effect on the reading experience? Maybe the reader — he or she — gets closer to the person whose texts he/she reads from time to time?

Perhaps it is the case that the person who writes autobiographically, and who is clear that I am writing about myself — “this is me” — then the communication becomes more real, more direct, and more relevant to the reader?

However, the latter does not always have to be the case, because there are many ways to write that can be obscure. The writer can hide behind the words in the language. He/she may also provide inaccurate information, distortion of facts, and other things that are not completely correct. This can mean that the communication does not become real, but artificial and perhaps also untrue.

Having said that, I will go a little further and write about the beginning.

What means something in life

What is it that means something in life? For the one who grows up — is it the place where you were born, or the place where you grew up? Or is it the family you were born into, the mother you were born of, or the father you had?

Or is it what you do later in life, at school, if you are good, responsive at school, or rather a little extravagant and wild? Is it important to have one or several good friends growing up, is it important whether you choose to take an education or if you start work right away? How important is it if I am social and have lots of friends, or if I am a slightly isolated person who likes me best in my own company?

What is it that has influenced me and made me the person I am today?

To start with the latter and take it as a starting point, I will give a small portrait of myself:

As mentioned, I have become what we are used to calling an old man, a pensioner, a man who grew up in Norway in the 1960s and 70s. At the university, I have studied Latin, French, German, Nordic languages ​​and literature, as well as organizational studies and psychology.

For 40 years I have worked as a teacher and leader for an adult education centre in upper secondary school. I have been married twice; I was strongly in love both times, both as a 21-year-old and as a 38-year-old. I was unlucky with the first relationship, which still lasted for sixteen years, and I think I have been lucky with the second relationship and the marriage that has now lasted for 35 years.

In my life, there are many different forces that have affected me, and these forces can be roughly divided into positive and negative forces, or yes-forces and no-forces

My mother has been and is still a typical yes-force for me. She has always said, “You can this. You’re good. You get this.”

No-forces have been voices inside me and outside me that have tried to teach me that I must hold back, I must not believe that I am anything, I must not believe that I can do anything. “There are many others who are as good as you and who are better than you and who can do more.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked, you may read more here:

A Lucky Man — A Human Being in Life, In the World. An Autobiography (2)

Øivind H. Solheim is a novel author and a nature photographer from Norway who loves writing fiction, poetry, essays, and articles helping others understand life, other humans, and themselves. He has published six novels, two non-fiction books, and a poetry book.

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