Four years ago today, my life radically changed.
The magic of these lands called, called out powerfully and irresistibly to my lost soul.
THIS is where I had to be, it said. THIS is where I had to spend my days, revere its stillness and vastness -- its energies and extremities.
Some moments simply define our lives, and this was mine.
Passing another hill in the breathtaking, golden evening light of Iceland’s marvelous summers, I spotted a large waterfall in the distance. Quickly checking my map, I realize it’s the waterfall we meant to visit the next day, but we somehow stumbled upon tonight already. With the orange-golden shimmering light of these magic summer evenings, I know that I wanna go there right away. Every inch of my body is physically screaming for it. Craving it.
To the west, the silhouette of a large hill, darkened against the setting sun. It’s only 10.30 pm, and the sun won’t touch the horizon for another hour, but the valley before me is rapidly losing light. I know that if I want to see this waterfall in precious sunlight, now is the time.
I get out of the car, bouncing in anticipation. The thunderous roar of the waterfall hundreds of meters away is a subtle reminder of what’s awaiting. I feel the excitement in my bones, and start to run towards the lookout point. Halfway there I notice a strange, tingling sensation across my left side — like I’m shivering, but in an odd, agreeable way.
When I round the last corner of the jagged path, the great Goðafoss comes into full view. The fall is only 12m high, but very wide, rounded and perfect. As I stare in wonder at the fantastic scenery before me, the roaring water splashes moist into the air, drizzling stray drops on my forehead, on my arms and gloves, and on my far-from-waterproof runners. Don’t care. I barely even notice. Nothing else matters but the sight in front of me: the storming waterfall, the magic midnight sun shining its ethereal light over that tumbling Icelandic hillside.
I’m too far into a sense of wonder, so emotionally in trance that it doesn’t even occur to me to snap a photo. I scoff in disbelief at how wonderfully perfect this sight is. Loss for words. Unreal. Insane.
And then it happens. The sun moves across the ridge for that stunning pre-sunset glow and the unfamiliar tingling in my left side expands to most of my body. The light is exploding in the distance, the sparkling colors a perfect complement to an already perfect sight. If nature were a deity, I’d be a converted believer.
At once I know that this is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
https://joakimbook.medium.com/the-precise-moment-i-knew-that-iceland-was-my-home-73b803157168
I might be poorer than I was back then, poorer than I would have/could have/should have had I opted for another path. My mind might be occupied by different (higher? stupider?) things than it was then. My character might be much less optimistic and happy, more resentful and sullen. My social circle definitely less tightly knit. But my body is stronger -- stronger than it ever was -- and my soul is, for the most part, in tune with the life it craves.
Everyone who has felt a call like mine knows that, actually, there was no other path, no other alternate path to walk. Come heaven or hell, disaster or glory, these are the mountains and fjords I had to wander. This is where I belong.
Lex Fridman recently: "You just have to listen to the inner voice, you have to listen to yourself and make the decisions that don't make any sense for the rest of the world but make sense to you."
Yndislega eyja, að eilífu.
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