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Thunder of power in Iceland

I am not sure why I am about to share this story, but it’s been on my mind for about ten days now.

Would it be because Mars is back on track? Is it because it's winter, a new year, a new page, or a new path? Or maybe simply it’s just a distant, loving memory that has decided to visit me lately.

I was deep into my Saturn return when my feet first touched the Icelandic ground. The shit was hitting the fan both professionally and in my head, and at that time,

my previous coping mechanism when things were about to blow was to escape.

So I escaped to Iceland.

There is a force that emanates from the land of Iceland. A strong and deep roar from the Earth’s entrails. A silent movement that shakes you deep down to the bones and moves that frail mind.

Fragility.

That’s where I was standing at that time in my life.


My heart was ready to sink into an ocean of questions at any minute. A melancholic song on the radio would transport me to overthinking a text message and wondering what the hell I was I doing with my life.

The fragility of falling into questions led by my ego rather than listening to the gentle pings of my heart.

I escaped to Iceland. And my life took a different turn.

I wish I could tell you that I have met fairies and gnomes in the lost Icelandic glaciers, but I haven’t.

I would love to tell you that this was the moment I came back to my spirit connection and started talking again with guides, but it wasn’t that trip.

The truth was much simpler.

Yet, stronger.

Iceland is a land of ice and fire.

An island that has three tectonic plates that never cease to move and transform the land around it. These plates, constantly shaking and moving, are the bridges between continents. They are bridges between safety and fragility. They shape the lives and rhythms of people living around them because of their earthquakes and eruptions. And they need to create such explosions in order for them to stretch, grow, and release pressure.


They move. They cry. They rumble. They explode. They fight. They come back together. They create.

They are the most beautiful metaphor for what happens in our hearts. A constant and cyclical dance of emotions hitting and healing each other.

What astonished me the most during this journey wasn’t just the extraordinary landscape, the magnetism of some downloading points, or the breathtaking moments that nature creates so easily there. No. What blew my mind more than the beauty of the island was how nature and humans did not mind adapting their lifestyles to the eruptions.

In a natural flow, nature and humans surrender to the ballet of changes without worrying. They just trust their land. They trust nature, trust the power of it, and trust themselves. Trust their adaptability to survive, no matter what the island will throw at them. They surrender to the unexpected. They surrender to nature’s changes of mood because they know that is exactly what she needs to express at the moment.

At that time in my life, I wasn’t much into spirits, energies, and entities. I wasn’t much into anything, if I can be honest. I was just very into trying to survive and trying to find my way. I spent most of my life fighting against windmills, and I was honestly exhausted from always being on guard against potential deceptions.


When I look back at my Icelandic escape, I realize now that the moment that I set foot on the island, I felt an instant rush of electricity passing through my body. It felt odd, different, and unknown. It felt… reviving.

I quickly surrendered this rush of power traversing my bloodstream, and the more I went deep into the outskirts of the land, the more the wild chants would take over my entire soul.

I left footprints in places I never knew existed. I left bits of a wounded me between geysers and glaciers. I walked behind waterfalls, letting the spirit of the water cleanse everything that did not belong to me. The more I traveled deep into the country, the more I felt the drums of Iceland thunder through my being.

My brain paused for a moment. My body detonated with power.

I remembered how tiny and powerful we can be. How insignificant our problems can be. How much of our power we lose in drifting through the frivolity of life.

I remembered my primal power.

The one who lets me scream, shout, and cry as loudly and for as long as I want.

The power that allows me to let my emotions explode like a volcano for weeks if necessary because that is what nature needs and so do I.

I remembered who the fuck I was.

And I powerful I can be when I come back to my true self.


all pictures by me | 2018



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