It’s always a great day to walk out on the shore of the sea, where the seals and eiðars once swam. The sea might change its level, but that’s a bonus for us.
And the eiðars demonstrate just what it was like here long ago.
Easy does it!
Wildflowers taking the place of eiðars.
There are rewards for turning your back on the sun when it goes behind the hill.
Some things are best watched obliquely, eh.
Go slow, don’t muss your hair, don’t touch, dominate by force of will alone (you have at least a thousand years to work it out), and, of course, don’t muss your hair.
Looking good on the Brunahraun.
Héraðsandur. It’s for the birds.
Can you imagine any other country that would set a beach like this aside for the real people, instead of giving it to humans? There are many countries smaller than this beach.
They make beautiful things.
Or beautiful things appear in the mind.
In a remote valley in Iceland, under a volcano, one can spend an afternoon among treasures.
I sure did.
The wealth of the dwarves, my ancestors called this stuff.
The wealth of men, too, I think.
And the wealth of the water..
And mystery enough.
And light within the stone..
This is old wisdom.
Totemic wisdom. Like this sheep amulet below.
This is the deeps of the mind and body, meeting in the light of the air.
This is what you get when you walk straight into the Earth. You’ll know where when you’re there.
At that time of nightfall, when the icebergs look like this as they wash up on the sand …
…the Atlantic looks like this.
Your mind works like this, too.
There is the Blue Lagoon, and the Iceberg Lagoon, but the Bronze Lagoon is best.
(Hint: It’s in between the other two.)_
If you head East from Þingvellir and reach the height of land, and the turn off to Laugarvatn, why not stop and wait for the sun? This is elf country. They just might show. What you are looking for are rainbows almost invisible as the sun disperses the mist like a breath.
And if they don’t show, waiting is also arrival. It all depends upon which country you arrive in. Care to try? You’ve got nothing to lose!
Birch copse, with path.
Shield volcano, with path.
Both are heads. Literally. The word remains in English as a cob, known in cobblestones (each has a round head) or a cape, which is also a headland, and that’s the Icelandic word: hæð, or head, or height. Remember that for the culture that settled this magical place, these really were heads. And so they remain.
Troll, Just Hatched, at Dimmu Borgir
This entry was posted in
Huldúfolk, Land and tagged Beauty, Dimmu Borgir, head, Iceland, nature photography, shield volcano, Skokarkot, troll, winter on . March 26, 2019
At first, dawn is pure light.
Then it reveals another world.
Then it turns blue. The other world is still there, but white now.
Then there are colours, and mountains, as the two worlds join.
When you count the houses built at þingvellir each time Iceland enacts a new constitution, that’s three worlds. Well, four if you count the ice.