In the 9th century, long, long before Nicola Tesla, the vikings of Iceland changed the course of the Öxá, to create a waterfall in þingvellir. The sagas tell that it was named after a troll that used to chop up early parliamentarians with an axe — surely a witty reference to early spiritual struggles in Iceland, which was grounded simultaneously by at least three spiritual traditions: Norse, Irish and Christian. Wikipedia tells how the waterfall was used to provision campers with water.
I will merely point out a couple things. First, the Icelandic killing fields were in this river, either by the drowning of witches, ie reunion with the troll, or by beheading on a rock in the water, ie the cancellation of Christian belonging, as a form of organic justice. This was hydro power before the industrial age. We now call it “nature” and “beauty.” Those are only industrial terms. Beware.
Category Archives: Nationalism
Getting Off the Ring Road in Iceland
Before the Ring Road, this was the highway to the East.
It is now easy to forget that Iceland is many different countries united by isolation. Sometimes the way forward is the way back.
And this is the high-tech version.

Road crew.
If isolation can be connection, can connection be isolation?
Roadside Inn.
When a country becomes a road…
… what then?
Poetry and Technology in Iceland
The approach of winter on northern earth is described by the angle of the earth to the sun, but look …
… is it not a story of light rather than mechanics? Here in Grundarfjörður, is it not a story of the light …
…separating from the dark earth and so revealing it?
It is not a scientific description, and yet as the light falls the earth becomes more purely light, and more purely cold.
Light is cold, in other words. This is wisdom, too. If we’re going to beat global warming, that light is going to need the respect now given to mechanics and technology. So is the cold, because they are the same. It’s not a linear understanding; it’s a global one. It is earth-thought.
Technology is not the end to science. It’s great stuff, but it’s not the goal, whatever the goal might be, or if it is the goal, then the goal is not of this earth, and that is a judgement humans have no right to make.
These are hard ironies. If technology is the path away from the cold, it is the path away from the sun.
It is the path away from the earth.
The knowledge and traditions of how to live with the earth are not lost. Here are two operating manuals. There are more.
The poets still know something of the earth.
It can be read by the sun. They know how to do this: how to read the sun, the earth and themselves on the body’s face.
They embody the sun. Fences aren’t for the light, and yet they cut it, nonetheless, …
… until the world becomes a series of fences. These are hard ironies, but not causes for despair; they still catch the light.
We can still follow it, but one thing remains primary. We have a right to the sun, to the earth, and to the cold.
The cleverness of ancient methods of mediation between earth and light are a richness of capacity rooted in ancient verse forms.
Make no mistake. This stuff can be read in detailed literary ways, and that’s an important tool for entering this technology. Read more by clicking here. Still, until you can read it in the earth, you have not entered its light.
Discarding this light, simultaneously of sun and earth and cold and warmth and mind, for physical technology is exactly what it sounds like: discarding them, and all their alternative forms of warmth…
… for physical technology, which is important.
But the path remains the old one.
It is to make people out of the earth. It is to bring the wanderers home.
Here’s one manual:
Here’s the obligatory legal warning to users.
Here’s another one of the manuals.
Here’s Gunnar’s quote from the title page, expanded in its original context:
He that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber. 2 But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 To him the porter openeth; and the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. 4 And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice. 5 And a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him: for they know not the voice of strangers. John 10:1-5
Here’s its expansion:
11 I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. 12 But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. 13 The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep. 14
In other words, look after your sheep; look after your land; be a man about this:
Gunnar left his hireling life in Europe
… and went to farm sheep in Iceland, from this house at Skriðuklaustur …
… after writing that. Was it a mistake? Well, he didn’t last long there, but the commitment was real.
And so light comes.
Gunnar meant that poetry and the land and honour were one. It was not literature. It was not a metaphor. This is not a metaphor.
Entering Whirlpool
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.

If you’ve done it right you’ve left your old eyes behind.
Iceland at War and Peace
The Battle of Örlygsstaðir was fought in a sheepfold on August 21, 1238. A terrible business. It was fought here.
It was a rout. It’s hard to defend yourself behind a three-foot-high loose stone wall. Little is left.
There’s a bench, for when the grimness of battle and waste overcomes you.
Battles come and go, but sheep remain.

Forget the cruise missiles. Take the long view. Go with the sheep.
The Icelandic Enlightenment
It is coming. Everything that has been explored in the past is new.
An Icelandic science is possible. Currently, it is called art, or Nature, or some other European concept. It is waiting for its moment.
This isn’t Europe, though. This is the Garden. This is the moment.
Its terms can be redefined from the land up, instead of being classified to fit into a foreign hierarchy. Courage is all.
The world starts here, from here. As the world drifts into madness, sanity becomes more important than ever.
Nothing is known. Nothing has been seen before. Beauty is our guide to the energies of the land, which are the energies of our minds.
This is the primary human experience. Settlement of our bodies begins now.
Let’s dare.
Hofstadakirkja in the Springtime
So, you’re in the North of Iceland and you get that old feeling …
… this is sacred space!
Well, it’s time to go to church. Here.
Here:
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.
Really, they’re the same thing.
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!
Watch your step! Ah, here we go.
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.
Not your typical Lutheran pair? Well, this is Iceland.
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.
Or a bit of glory from the continent.
Art. Painted on a bit of driftwood by the looks of it.
Well, and prayer.
And hope. This is Iceland. Be practical, and have a backup plan.
God is always listening.
And there is always music from Heaven.
Here.
Things have a different perspective from these dizzy heights.
More at home.
I mean
Back you go!
To the world.
Remember to come back next time you’re in the North.
It does.
So remember…
…life isn’t a full stop. And it isn’t the road to Akureyri.
And where you’re going.
The View from Gunnar’s Grave
How Iceland Became a Modern Country
Iceland entered modernity with a group of artists who did nothing more or less than express their pre-modern selves in modern forms.
Sker and Stampur (?), off Dyrhólaey
Ásmundur Sveinsson’s “Music of the Ocean, Magnifier”
Icelanders did it themselves, with nothing but their rock in the ocean, in other words with everything that they had. Inspiring.
We Have Been Preparing the New Year for You for Quite Some Time
Are you ready to feast at last?































































































