Imagine, becoming the volcano. You can, at Skutustaðir. You will have to become a different person, that’s all.
Imagine that a pond in a mud crater on an eye-land in the sea really is an eye in the land, that you look at it with your eye, and the sea is there, looking back. If you can’t, then stop by and talk about nature and beauty.
But if you can stay, then turn around.
Then turn around again.
If you’ve done it right you’ve left your old eyes behind.
You’re walking in the footsteps of the wind.
A Farm in Iceland 
Oh my, no wonder one will leave their eyes behind. To keep looking at the whirlpool! One might even get hooked and not leave!
It happened to me! Sure, I drove away, then flew away, but did my heart and eye leave? No, never. They remain there, staring up at the sky. From time to time I go back. We compare notes. “A horse came by,” they say. “I have a new blue rain jacket,” I say. “The loons are back,” they say. “None of us ever leave,” I say. “There was a raven,” they say. I laugh. There is always a raven. My laughter comes out as a croak. We laugh together like that: Kra! Kra! Kra! The moon blinks.
So your soul has never left!
Still there!