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The second installment of the 5-part series is Lagom. A Swedish word, Lagom, is the practice of balance. In this series, it is the natural and reasonable next step after change (Metamorphosis, the first part of our series).
It speaks to an equilibrium that we often straddle as we journey through life holding multiple balls–work, family, self-care, extracurricular activities, and rest.
On a deeper level, it underscores that finding balance is never absolute, but rather, a constant journey of tinkering, rethinking, and readjustment as we pave our way through life’s vacillations.
For NW Folklife, that journey is complex. In our 55 year history, we’ve grown from a small festival that cost a few thousand dollars to produce in 1972, to one of the largest Folk festivals in the country, operating a $2M+ dollar annual budget, with year-round
programs, a youth workforce development program, 11 year-round staff, and a flagship festival that is exponentially bigger than its origin story, hosting hundreds of performances on 20 stages over 4 days, with over 200,000 visitors.
Are we doing too much? Can we do more? Are we doing what we’re supposed to? Can we afford what we’re doing? Balance is always on our mind.
We know that as we’ve metamorphosized over the years, the stakes have changed. The purpose
(Ikigai) has largely remained the same, but the journey has shifted. As we prepare for this year’s festival, one that celebrates and showcases cultures from around the world, we’re also looking at federal policies that target and alienize those
same cultures.
As we covet and consume art, music, and creative output, artists and cultural practitioners are increasingly being priced out, pushed out, and excluded from their rightful capital and compensation as contributors to one of the fastest growing economic industries
in the world.
Does our passion (Meraki) deserve social, political, and financial value? How do we best demonstrate that value beyond quantifiable measurements, and segue them into quantifiable truths?
It’s unfair to introduce these as pure binaries. The context, the history, the mechanisms and systems that got us to this place can be very nuanced and intertwined. It makes the journey of finding balance complicated, confusing, and exhausting. And while
it often feels like that’s the intention, complexity doesn’t have to be exhausting. But that’s the journey. That’s the balance–finding and seeking out the things that bring us joy, and community, and self-care.
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