Randonauting: Journey and Goal.
When I first came upon Randonauting I was instantly intrigued. It was in connection with my diabetes diagnosis and I felt that it was a great way for me to get outside, to walk and through that get my body and mind in better shape. So I did that and had some absolutely incredible experiences — connections to what some would say is magick and others say is basically hacking the simulation they think we’re living in. For me it didn’t matter what it was, as long as I could go out on an adventure and explore — something I love. During the last trip, before the summer, I encountered something those in the game calls a despair meme, and I totally lost interest in randonauting — just thinking about it made me feel sick and depressed. So I took a long break.
Until now. I’ve been out a couple of times the last weeks and it’s been a revelation, with interesting discoveries and new insights. One of the things I’ve encountered now, at least three times, is new bronze age mounds — a subject that interests me a lot. I thought I knew this area incredibly well, but working with the randonaut concept lead me to places I didn’t even knew existed — including a steep hill I never noticed before (and on top of that, of course, another grave mound!).
But it’s easy to forget that randonauting isn’t just about the goal, what you will find where the attractor point lands. It’s the journey there, which become more rewarding as the world is unveiled to you a tdifferent light. One of the motivations for me doing is that is that I get more aware of my surroundings. I see details easier, I notice things that stand out — anomalies it’s referred to in the Randonaut community — and often these details speak to me even more than what meets me at the end of the rainbow.
A while ago Grzegorz and I wanted to go out and take some photos, and at the same time I wanted to show him the mound I’d found earlier. After the visit we felt for a longer walk and we decided to check out the old water tower nearby, we hadn’t been there for years. So I searched for two attractor points — the first one landed on a house, no 54 (which don’t say me anything), about halfway to the tower and the second one landed maybe 50–60 meters from the tower, on what looked like a playground on the map. That’s cool, I thought, it felt like our intention was leading us to the tower and I decided that to not do a third attractor point. The tower was the third in my mind.
When arriving to the second attractor point I noticed that it was indeed a playground, and not far away stood the beautiful, mushroom shaped water tower — but what really surprised me was the public bath house, a building I honestly thought was knocked down years ago. As we passed it we noticed that there was something going on inside, and looked through the window. Everything was filled with art! A man came out, carrying stuff in and out, looked at us and said “Hey guys” and walked in again. We went to the door and asked if we could look inside and the man, Rodrigo, welcomed us with open arms.
Yes indeed, the whole building was now an art centre, both professional artists and for the public to enjoy creating. Rodrigo told us there was an art collection in the shower and dressing rooms and that there was a small photo exhibit about the water tower further in.
Here’s the thing: I spent a lot of time at here during my childhood — and I hated every second of it. It was a disgusting place, dirty and run down, and for a shy kid like me spending time at a public bath house was horrifying. I felt naked, not just physical, but emotional there. The last time I’d visited the place was 30 years ago, and what happened then made me to never go there again… until now. Me and my friend Lucas was getting dressed after a couple of hours of playing in the water, when suddenly one of the heavy metal lockers came loose and fell over and pinned me to the locker on the other side side. I couldn’t breathe as the edge of the locker had hit me directly on my back, over the lungs. Somehow someone came to my rescue, but I had a big scare on the back and was pretty shook and upset afterwards. We got a free membership for a whole year, but I refused to go there ever again.
Cue 2019 and I’m entering the dressing room and takes a look at the very spot I once suffocated, and sees that art hangs on both those walls. For the first time since then I was filled with joy thinking about this, as it told me something about my own transformation since then — from a shy insecure kid to the man I am today, working with entertainment and art. What a revelation, at least for me.
After drinking a bit of coffee and checking out the rest of the building we went to the water tower, took photos and talked. After a while more groups of people came, and I realized this spot also was a so-called Pokestop, for people playing Pokemon. We obviously weren’t the only ones being drawn to the tower that day, and in some distant way I see that as another sign.
This is, I would say, a good example how the journey sometimes surpasses the goal when going Randonauting. Keep your eyes and ears open, you never know what will come…
Fred Andersson is a Swedish author and television freelancer. His book Homo Satanis: How I Learned to Love Satan and other Insights from my Childhood is available on Amazon. The sequel, Homo Satanis 2: The Devil Made Me Do It! is due during the fall/winter of 2019.
