This is mid-March. Bring hot chocolate. You might think twice about sending a letter, too.
… this is sacred space!
Well, it’s time to go to church. Here.
But, wait. It’s not that simple. Look at those drifts! You’ll throw a hoof. And then what? Drifts for you all March long, or forever. Brrr.
Best be careful. Scout things out.
OK, even the fences are drifts. Makes sense, right? They’re driftwood. Those Russians, eh! Well even the road is a drift.
But it looks easier than the ditch!
Take the road.
You have time for the welcoming committee, right?
The pregnant welcoming committee.
You do feel welcome, right?
Good. Don’t forget to say hi to your fellow worshippers. We don’t just worship in space here, but also in time.
You do, um, feel welcome, right?
Ah, the basement and community hall are drifted in. Best go upstairs.
Don’t worry, you can get in through the graveyard. This is Iceland. The dead aren’t dead, and you’ll join them soon enough. Might as well get on a first name basis now.
They have flowers, so that’s nice.
Hey, it was cold, so I wasn’t feeling all that vertical myself! Well, it sure looks nice in there. Let’s go in!
The plastic is to keep off intruders from the dark place. The horses send them as a joke.
Ha ha ha.
Pulpit’s very nice, too.
Also Mary Queen of Heaven and her Son.
The house rules you already know, right?
And the reason the mountains sent you here? Even a bit of foundation shifting to get the nice new basement underneath for the whole community to gather hasn’t shaken him off the wall.
A bit of nationalism to sit on, ha ha ha.
Well, and prayer.
God is always listening.
Things have a different perspective from these dizzy heights.
More at home.
Back you go!
To the world.
…life isn’t a full stop. And it isn’t the road to Akureyri.
And where you’re going.
Sometimes they go where you want, but you can only walk. A path would be better.
Sometimes, no road will get you where you want to go.
Let’s face it, you need a better body. For that, Iceland has a solution.
The grass hump wading horses of Hofstaðir!
They know the way. Look at them avoiding that road! That’s the way.
There are horizontal ones.
In a gale, they can be both at once.
We see these falls as paths because we are pathfinders. See the path to the right in the image below? Can’t resist?
Of course not. That is the human spiritual trace. The sheep is an elaboration, and exquisite for that. These creatures are not paths but warmth, hearth and home. Their other form is this:
That is a sheep and a human family, spiritualized as one, in time. This is the water path that makes it possible:
It is one with them, because of human path-finding. That is the spiritual path at the edge of the known world.
Day in and day out, in darkness and light, with a cormorant on her head, or not, she has been guarding against the formlessness that comes in off the sea. With her troll whale companion. Never heard of a troll whale? Go to Dritvik.
Together, they watch out, for us.
This is vitally important work. I give thanks.