In Iceland, the land squeezes water from lava, sand and turf. It carries gravitational energy towards the centre of the earth, before it is deflected by stone.
Less well known is that its journey really passes through the sun. An amazing trick! And so the old Norse universe lives on. (Berserkjarhraun).
Sheep Trail to Mýdralsjökull, Hofdabrekkaheiði
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.
But, look: sheep!
Battles come and go, but sheep remain.
Forget the cruise missiles. Take the long view. Go with the sheep.
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.
When the Norse and their female Irish slaves arrived in Iceland in 870, there was already a colony of Irish monks on the south coast, living in caves and living in splendid isolation with their God. There are accounts of them living in what became known much later as the monastery site of Kirkjubaerjarklaustur. There is just something about the place. First, a look around in the summer sun. 
Here’s the “Church Floor”, basalt columns eroded by ancient waves.
And the rumoured centre of Irish life.
And now in the summer rain. Note the change of light!
Here’s the “Nun’s Falls”, from a much later catholicism.
And now some late Autumn (2016) pics, with the sun barely making it above the sea.
A splendid place for meditation and prayer!
Unwilling to share the purity of God with heathens, the monks left in their skin boats. Their ghosts remain. I wonder if the women were sad to see them go.
That’s the stuff!
Never underestimate the good humour of a Breiðafjörður sheep!
It’s the original green power.
This elf stone beside the road in Skagafjörður not only becomes a snowless whirlpool in the wind, but it melts whatever snow manages to get in close. Now, that’s great tech!
Power is where you find it.
You don’t have to take it away.
I found this magician and his dog in Skagafjörður. 
Man, it was cold out! You can see how it has frozen them right to the bone.
Skagafjörður
A Farm in Iceland 