Why the key to living well is living slowly and embracing the impermeance of it all.
For the past month I have been residing in Northern Iceland as part of an art program. Iceland, unlike any other place I have ever been, has felt like my one true home. I have often said, it is not what I see in Iceland that tugs me back, but what I feel, and this feeling remains unexplained.
My days are simple with a focus on creativity and no real schedule. However most days involve a morning stretch, followed by a walk to catch the sunrise, a few hours writing, a visit to the local pool ( pools are a huge part of Icelandic culture!), a walk to catch golden hour and sunset and allowing myself to be bored.
As someone who always needed to be doing something, I avoided boredom. The idea of sitting with myself and doing nothing was daunting, but I am learning this is essential to knowing myself, boosting my creativity, and practicing mindfulness.
Some of my favorite memories here have been just staring out the window of my workspace listening to the wind or bird song and watching the sky change. At first I was anxious about spending so much time on a place so isolated from the rest of the world and even from the rest of Iceland!
But as the days pass I am learning I need very little to be happy, that time is best spent slowly, and that being in stillness is not as scary as I had imagined it to be.
An unexplained longing
Hiraeth is the Welsh work for an unexplained longing and melancholy homesickness. Many nights I would take a walk during golden hour. The days were growing longer, and we were gaining light.
The lighting in Iceland is incredible. Blue hour is magic; golden hour begs you to linger. Moments that serve as a reminder of how fragile and beautiful the human experience is. I struggle to grasp the words to describe it, and I am not sure they even exist.
What I feel and see when I watch a sunset or sunrise in Iceland is intangible.
One evening I ventured out to photograph the birdlife in the harbour which I often did most nights.
As I walked, my gaze took me to the sea. The mountain peaks glowed golden hour, the light reflecting off the ocean pink and silver. A pair of geese soared past, honking their memorable tune.
I noticed a tug in my heart, a longing I could not explain. There was grief, and sadness, as well as strong sense of arriving home. The frustration lingered as I struggled to take the perfect photograph of the scene, realizing it was not what I saw that I desired to capture, but what I felt.
This unexplained feeling, tinged with a sadness of the impermeance of it all took over me, yet at the same moment, gratitude was present, in its ever saving grace.
Simple moments
There is one grocery store where I am living and it is very small. It opens twice a day for one hour, and is closed on Sundays. Whatever they have is what I make. We have pizza once a week and there is a restaurant that serves soup on Wednesdays.
Reducing my options has been surprisingly pleasant.
As stimulus such as what should I buy today at the store, refueling my car, and retail shopping are reduced, my appreciation of the simple moments soars.
I notice more; the little birds feeding on the willow seeds, the charming footprints left by the ptarmigan in the snow, the smell of the Moka pot brewing in the morning.
Suddenly everything is magic.
Chance encounters
This same walk yielded many unexpected encounters.
A curious harbour seal popped up off the shore.
A female eider duck appeared so excited to have her photograph taken, she hopped up from the water and eagerly made her way to me. I took a seat and placed the camera down to enjoy her welcomed company.
A snow bunting decided to grace me and the rest of the harbour with his song. His cheerful tune echoed above the lapping tide.
The most unexpected surprise were the Common Snipes. The Common Snipe is one of my favorite birds in Iceland because of the distinct sound their wings make when they dive in the air. I recall hearing it for the first time during my first visit to Iceland in 2021. Every time I hear it now it returns me to that magical moment when I grew smitten for the country.
For a week now I had been trying to photograph them with no luck. They startle easily and their dark feathers are the perfect camoulflage to the grasslands and moors near the shoreline.
On this evening I was walking along the lesser explored part of the harbour when a receipt flew out of my pocket and landed on the rocky slope which led down to the shore.
As I bent to grab it the wind took it away to the shoreline. I scrambled down the rocks, startling a flock of snipes who took off making their signature “squeak squeak” sound.
Disappointed I lost my chance again, I took a seat at the shore and instead decided to enjoy the golden hour light which peaked over the snowy fjord.
Eider ducks lulled me to relaxation with their haunting, yet comforting “coo” sound. After some time, the birds began to return to shore. Eventually the snipes did too, only yards away but still at a distance where they could startle.
Very slowly, I readied my camera and lowered myself on the rock. I was finally able to snap a few photographs of them while they were feeding.
I have the Icelandic wind to thank for this.
The real work
The question remains, how do we take these moments of peace and longing and bring them back with us?
How do we change and evolve as people during these experiences and even more so, intergrate back into a society that is not aligned with us? Or do we at all?
How do we maintain these feelings of appreciating simplicity, beauty, and boredom in a world that does not always value this?
I offer no answers because I do not know. Maybe its the impermeance that makes it all so beautiful. Like life itself, the knowing it won’t last forever is what makes it so special.
May you savor the moments a little bit more.
In 2021, my journey to write my first novel took me to Iceland. I was fascinated with the myths and the sagas. Since then, I have returned to the country ten times, even delivering a talk on Nordic Mythology at Midgard Base Camp. As my travels continue, I realize my personal story is developing. Reminiscent of a novel, Iceland gifted me with a plot twist that has enriched my life beyond words. Like the volcanic landscapes, lively winds, and glaciers that shape the landscapes here, the land of fire and ice has done the same for me.
May your wanderings be lucky enough to take you here.
