Mundekulla music festival


We are here in the embrace of Mundekulla, the course centre in the middle of the woods. Every morning kicks-off with a circle-dance on the lawn. What a wonderful way to start the day!

The first morning we sang a new song of Anne Elmberg:

I am beautiful 
just the way I am.
You are beautiful 
just the way you are.
Shining like a star,
we are here to be 
who we truly are.
We are beautiful 
just the way we are.

And we danced and saw our beauty. Just as we are.

It is wonderful for a walker from the long, straight roads to rest in a circle-dance. That is a home-coming of sorts.

The meeting is the reward of the walker, the fellowship his goal and the trust his staff.

The festival ended with us all summing it all up by creating and singing a new song with Sadhu the dancing dervish in the middle. 

The lyrics were born out of the moment: 

(in a not-so-poetic English translation;) ”The time of trust is now. What a wonderful atmosphere! We always want to live like this.”

But depart we had to. Our beautiful pianist Rickard Åström’s taxi arrived while we were singing and Rickard packed up his piano as the song swirled and rose with renewed trust against the Mundekulla sky. Everyone rejoiced and spun like stars in the galaxy.

Don’t ask me how the song went. It was there and then and then gone again. But wonderful it was.

Today is a new day, a day of walk. 

Me and Peter will put on our walking shoes and keep on walking, but with our hearts full of lovely memories and meetings.

Not far to go now. And at the same time we are already home. In the coming together we have arrived. 

I often get the question how far or for how long I have walked. I look more and more like a question-mark.

- I have walked this far [measure with the fingers] and it has taken this long time [snap them].

Kilometers and hours feel very relative, not to say totally uninteresting.

But the presence in the pace on the path means everything. There you meet the reality. That which cannot be encompassed in kilometers and hours. But lasting longer than any road or summer. 

Neither can it be formulated in words. Despite our constant attempts. 

But we can walk it. We can sing it, as we did in the circle in Mundekulla where the words and the dance landed.

The child and the horse

I love this statue. You’ll find it at the Archeological Museum in Athens. I got very moved by it when I saw it there in my youth and decades later I got this text very spontaneously and only now do I connect the two. 

Maybe there is also a connection between the statue and the text and the question I get very often: What is the purpose of the walk? Every time there is a new answer. Maybe this story is one possible answer. 

There are many others.


Greek bronzestatue from 150 B.C. that was salvaged from the sea and is now exhibited at the National Archeological Museum of Athens.  

Grekisk bronssstaty från ca 150 f Kr som bärgades ur havet och nu står på arkeologiska national-muséet i Aten.


A horse comes galloping: goppeti, goppeti, gop!
A small child sits on its back. The wind and the sun plays in the child’s blond locks, goppeti, goppeti, gop!
Such a big horse! And such a small child! 
But the horse is comfortable with the light burden on his back and the child is comfortable with the big, strong legs underneath him. Goppeti, goppeti, gop!
Where are they heading? They are not heading anywhere. They are riding for the sake of the ride, for the joy of feeling the power of the legs against the dust of the road and the play of the wind in the mane and the hair.
The child who plays like this is harnessing a big strength, the child who lives and plays in the wind of the now doubles his legs numbers and multiples their strength. Goppeti, goppeti, gop!
But shouldn’t the child have a goal, a meaning with his course, a home to return to? 
The road is the goal, the ride is the purpose and the mild rays of the sun is the child’s home. Goppeti, goppeti, gop!
Ride like so, you child, through life! Your faithful steed will always show his willingness to take you where you want although you did not know whereto when the ride started. Goppeti, goppeti, gop!
And all of a sudden your stallion unfolds his wings and lifts you high over the dust of the road and the limitations of the road-net.
In the world of the true child you will find the reality, because there you will find no limitations. 
In the world of the true child horses do fly!
Goppeti, goppeti, hop! 




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