Andrew

What is a ritual, practice, or routine in your life that is important for your psychological wellbeing and/or fulfillment? Why?

Kristoffer

Instagram keeps showing me ads for ADHD. It feels like the metadata is telling me something that ought to be heard. Or maybe something I want to hear? As if I’m opening a door to offer an explanation for my own behavior. Why am I mentioning this? Because when it comes to routines and rituals, I’m more like the seasons than the expansion of the universe. I keep falling in love with new practices, only to see them fade as the weather shifts. I would run every day for half a year, then stop for three years until I decided to run a marathon with three weeks of practice. Even when it comes to where I am living, I haven’t managed to live in the same country for three consecutive years since I turned 20, that is 16 years ago.

My longest established practice is my weekly newsletter: for six years I have sent a Sunday email with links to the internet. I was a sheep of the techlash blooming after the 2016 US election when I started writing the newsletter but through the weekly writing, I grew dissatisfied with techlash; it felt too binary and opportunistic. So, I made myself an ultimatum: stop writing about things I dislike. Instead, write about what sparks curiosity, excitement, and imagination. This completely changed how I engaged with the internet. I didn’t find these links on social media platforms, so I would search for new online environments and follow every promising hyperlink hidden in the footnotes. It was really challenging. I was speed blind and didn’t recognize all the poetry growing through the cracks. But eventually, I would learn the grammar and language to spot the internet wildflowers. It was an expansive and transformative experience, a superbloom. I would no longer echo abstract criticism but engage in evolving conversations and exchanges to expand what the internet is and can be with people equally occupied with using the internet as a medium for creative expressions, and, in the process, encounter my idiosyncratic taste and curiosity.

Andrew

What is a human-made creation that brings out the best in you? Why?

Kristoffer

Are.na. I love that website. When I first heard raving reviews of this “online platform that felt like an alternative vision for a social network”, I wasn’t ready yet to use it. I was caught in a pattern where I used and thought of the internet as a tool for growth. Unfortunately, not in the sense of growing care, curiosity, or learning. Rather in growing views, followers, and other vanity metrics. Thus, it took me three years to use Are.na. What makes Are.na a fruitful environment for me? Surely it helps that the emphasis is not on distribution. For example, the follower count is hidden, and I'm not shown any data on how many (or few) people see the things I add to Are.na.

These design choices assist me in tuning in with my intuitive fascinations rather than participating in a dance with algorithms to reach as many people as possible. The business model of Are.na is fundamental in this setup. Everyone who uses the site extensively must pay an annual fee of $70. It is a bothersome amount of money for many, especially compared to most social media sites that are commonly free to use. But because Are.na earns the money it needs from its users and has no investors requesting exponential growth to increase their share prices, I get an ad-free site that is evolving at a slow and human pace. Are.na feels like an “environment in balance,” almost like a forest, a place where I can embrace myself without needing to explain myself. It also doesn’t try to extract any value from me. There are no dark patterns, growth hacking tactics, or the language of urgency and conflict. As a result, I easily relax in this environment, and - when I do meet others on Are.na - I can listen to their curiosities too.

Andrew

When do you cherish the slow or hard way of doing something? Why?

Kristoffer

Slowly didn’t always come easy to me. Especially earlier in my life. I remember once drafting a blog post on how to create a startup in 24 hours. I was lured by the technology hype train that carried the zeitgeist after the global recession in 2008-09. It was the time of the Arab Spring, Social Media Week, Startup Weekend, and when a new Facebook page would gain a few thousand likes overnight. It is a strange time to look back on. What did I possibly expect would come out of these cheap ideas and quick traction? Life-saving solutions? A better climate? Human fulfillment? Or easy copy-paste concepts, generic saturated content, and faceless dropshipping?

One thing that helped me appreciate slowness was learning that I’m not in control of everything. I thought that life was fair: that effort and rewards were linked, that rich people were rich because they were smart, and that I controlled my faith through my own actions. I would also withdraw from problematic situations if I couldn’t immediately think of a solution to resolve it. I remained in the center of my own attention until I had my heart broken and, through the process, learned to understand that life is much bigger and richer than any single individual. This further expanded when I became a dad: on an individual level it is an absurd sacrifice of time, energy, and money to take care of another human, but it is also the most rewarding experience in my life.

Andrew

What is something you appreciate or long for from the past? Why?

Kristoffer

We moved our family from Copenhagen to Athens by the end of 2022. In many ways, this was like traveling into the past. For example, within a few hundred meters, we have traditional labor-intensive services like seamstresses, shoemakers, tailors, dry cleaners… small-scale businesses that struggle to make a living in Copenhagen, but here - at least until now - can make it work. In Athens, we also have the Laiki, the local farmers’ market. Every Friday, farmers come to our neighborhood to sell fresh produce. I didn’t buy anything the first time I walked through the market. I was overwhelmed: many people were selling the same fruits and vegetables with fluctuating prices, and in a language I didn’t speak. I knew the logic of the supermarket, but I was a beginner when it came to the farmers’ market. So before the second visit, I prompted myself: In my hand, I took a €1 coin and promised myself to buy onions. It seems silly in hindsight, but I was so nervous at the moment that I, despite my preparations, had to argue with myself to make the purchase, and afterward, I went straight home to calm down.

Now, the market is where we buy all our food except a few dairy products. Buying local, seasonal fruits and vegetables is probably the biggest gift for my mental and physical health. We eat a high variety of food and avoid the eye-catching junk food of supermarkets. Cooking is also becoming an adventure. In our kitchen, ripe vegetables are abundant and welcoming. Their fragrances claim the entire kitchen in stark contrast to the lifeless, plastic-wrapped food I used to buy. But, what I cherish the most about the market is how social it is. The sellers, who were once all strangers, are now familiar faces. We exchange courtesy greetings, and I meet many of my neighbors. It is such a warm feeling to recognize - and be recognized on the street, almost as if the boundaries of our home expand to the street. There is also a point about the market as a temporary meeting place between the people living in the city and rural areas people and buying things directly from people instead of centralized systems. At the market, you don’t need receipts, security guards, or surveillance cameras because trust is built through social relationships and strengthened over time through gossip, greetings, and commerce.