Grey Canopy
November 2015
November 25th: "Sää on pilvinen ja tihuuttaa." Cloudy, drizzle.
I write this and watch the morning dissolve into nothing. Finnish November has arrived with its signature move - that low, grey ceiling that makes everything feel muffled and distant. Not dramatic weather, just persistent dampness that seeps into your thoughts.
"Pystyn näköjään edelleen tuottamaan tekstiä." Apparently I can still produce text.
This surprises me. I've been out of Nokia for years now, floating between identities and possibilities. The corporate strategist is long dead, but what's replacing him remains unclear. Still, words keep coming, even in this grey space of not-knowing.
"Ideat kypsyy pikkuhiljaa, kun ne eivät ole valmiita niin ne ei vaan ole valmiita. Got the point?" Ideas ripen slowly, when they're not ready they just aren't ready.
I'm learning patience with my own creative process. No project timelines, no deliverables, no stakeholder meetings. Ideas emerge when they're ready, not when some artificial deadline demands it. This is terrifying and liberating in equal measure.
A small breakthrough: "Remarkable: mä olin hetken onnellinen kun mä tein ja postasin ton mikrorunon." I was happy for a moment when I made and posted that micro-poem.
Happiness from creating - what a concept. Not creating to solve business problems or optimize user experiences, but creating for the pure joy of making something and sharing it. The micro-poem probably reached five people. It didn't matter.
Someone asks where I'm going with all this. "Paras vastaus kysymykseen mihin olen menossa oli: en tiedä." The best answer to where I'm going was: I don't know.
And surprisingly, this feels liberating. Not knowing means I'm not locked into anyone else's expectations of what my path should look like. Not the corporate world's metrics, not society's definition of success, not even my own previous plans.
Then something shifts. "Pallasvuon essee puhutteli jotain syvää minussa juhannuksena. Innostuin niin etten saanut unta." Pallasvuo's essay spoke to something deep in me at midsummer. I got so excited I couldn't sleep.
This is what real inspiration feels like - not the manufactured enthusiasm of product launches or strategy presentations, but something that actually moves you. After that rush of recognition, I keep cycling through possibilities: "Ja sen jälkeen skeptisismi on johtanut aina 'järkeviin' vaihtoehtoihin joista olen sitten aina liirannut takaisin johonkin taideoptioon: strategy artist, musiikintutkija ja muusikko, kirjailija, taiteilija." Skepticism leads me to "sensible" alternatives, but I always drift back to some art option: strategy artist, music researcher and musician, writer, artist.
The pattern is clear. No matter how much corporate logic I've internalized, no matter how much practical thinking I apply, I keep returning to creative work. Like water finding its level, I flow back toward making things.
November 2015 was the beginning of understanding that this drift toward art isn't a character flaw to be corrected. Under that grey canopy, while everything felt stalled and uncertain, something essential was crystallizing: the knowledge that I would keep creating regardless of whether it made financial sense.
The weather was shit, my future was unclear, but I was still writing. That was enough.
