Saturday, March 10, 2012

No man is an island -

... entire in himself. Every man is a part of the continent ..." (John Donne, 1571-1632)

And right was John.
No matter how 'island' you may feel - you are always part of a whole, and even part of a community, though sometimes you might not feel so because of unsurmountable boundaries like language and nationality.

Weekend days are islands that suck.
They are like quicksand - they look like ordinary days, you set trustfully your foot on the sand - and a hidden power drags you down until you can hardly move.





Working in a community of disabled I found my way back to the old nurse's hamster-wheel:
Brightening up people's life, whipping smiles on faces with simple things, caring for comfort. Being 100% sunny during job. Coming home, and no one there to brighten up, to talk, to share things, to recharge emotional batteries, to whatever. As a consequence talking even more to horses ;-) going to bed early, spending saturday evenings with a glass of wine, and loosing yourself in story projects to be written.
Stories can be recharging companions. In fact they have been companions ever since I remember.


However, the earthly Iceland has proven to be quite a battery-recharger - ground, colours, light. Different every single day, calming down, making humble, adorable and frightening at the same time, heart-warming in its simple pure beauty.
All of a sudden the light has found us here, promising something. Days are getting longer, mornings start earlier (around 7), evenings last longer (almost until 8), and despite of crazy snowy intervalls the summer seems to be very near :-)
You can smell it in the earth. Feel it in the branches. I saw the first swans flying northwards.
Look out for tjaldur (Austernfischer), spring's herald - he will come with his wife, busily running around like a little pinguin and make you smile :-)





Icelandic winter darkness never has scared me (though human icelandic darkness did), candles and fairy lights create enough warmth and cosyness, and really - by the end of summer you can't help but look forward to winter darkness to eventually enjoy the light of a candle.

But that's far away.
Come may, come midsummer, come endless light. :-)
Come colour, come sweet smell, come birds, come life to the exhausted land.
Come life into us. Come blood into our hearts, and courage, and strength.

Til then be a new story my companion - and a small personal dream or two.