I have now been living in Iceland for three years. Next week is my “official” move anniversary. Before that, I was a miserable PhD student in Utah wondering what I was doing with my life. It’s quite surreal to think about. It was not three years ago; it was a different lifetime… so it feels. Even within those three years, so much has happened. As I write this, I’m in Selfoss, staying with wonderful people teaching me music, video, and audio production as well as Icelandic. Another turn of events I never saw coming. But there are countless things I never saw coming, and I suppose that’s the whole point of life.
A few weeks ago, for example, I was engaged and planning my future with someone I considered my best friend for more than two years. Therefore, the theme of my recent philosophizing has been the idea of moving on and letting go. Not just of the person, but also the feelings like anger, hatred, and betrayal over what happened — things I’ve never really felt before. Of course, it was quite difficult to process anything at all, but life slowly becomes what it always is. It moves on. Time moves on. We must go with it.
I remember when I moved to Hveragerði and felt like I was in a situation that literally could not possibly change or improve. Truly, I did not see any path to do or change anything at all. However, I pushed through the days. I did so by writing a lot of poetry and starting to write short stories which later became my first book. Days passed. I moved around. And lo and behold, things did change. Quite well, in fact.
Things happen. Good and bad. The key is to focus on the positives while paying honor and respect to the negatives. I often write poems specifically to honor some significant event or time period. To me, it’s like “vomiting” it all out. It’s not fun to vomit, but then it’s over. To me, that is what art is. I have something to say, but I won’t say it with my words. I want it lived or experienced. When the negative emotions are gone, it becomes almost unbelievable to look back and see where you were.
Did I know that my situation in Hveragerði would lead to me giving a speech to the Russian government in Istanbul? Did I know that losing my job and my beloved friends there would make me a recognized artist, businessman, and community organizer? Did I know that losing my relationship would push me to make entirely new forms of art altogether, even giving me this opportunity to study and practice in Selfoss (a story for another day)? The point is to keep moving forward. If you stop, you’re good as dead. And I mean that. If you stop, you will be working a 9-5 job you hate, grow sick and bitter, and life will drift past you in one big, painful blur. I saw this with my own eyes — both with myself and people closest to me.
The question is, then, how do we move forward in spite of whatever may happen to us? Well, it truly requires only two things: self-reflection and people. Think of yourself and the reason why you ended up wherever you did. Then, do something about it. Don’t suffer and complain, just do something. And if you don’t have the power within you to do something, then talk to someone else about your situation. Be open and honest — be human — we need more of that. And if you don’t have the people around you to have those kinds of conversations, then it’s time to go out into the world and build meaningful connections. Be the one who invites people over or to events. Find a niche, find a hobby, find a group — anything as a starting point. For me, it was the library’s weekly Icelandic lessons here that kick-started my life. It also took all the willpower I had to go to that first lesson.
Now, I’m sitting in the most beautiful house I have ever seen in my life, next to the most beautiful river with the most beautiful walking paths. I spend my days here reading, writing, creating, and learning. With good, kind people. Though I do miss the city. I’ll return in a few days. And all my thoughts and feelings will change within those days as well as the days that follow. That’s just part of life, too. If nothing else, you can be assured that how you feel will be very different in the morning. Usually for the better, if my experience is anything to go off of.
However, it’s so much easier to say all these things than to actually do them. Figuring things out is a skill that requires a lot of practice. Practice and energy. A good rule of thumb though is to simply check in with yourself and see how you feel. For example: “I don’t have the energy to call the painter.” Why not? The answer is that I’m overwhelmed with seemingly impossible tasks related to my apartment: I want to study music and make art, not deal with the painter. The next question is: what can be done about this? I can pick a day and time, put it in my calendar, then just call the painter.
In truth, situations like me and this painter are the result of stress and pressure. Pressure, unfortunately, builds. It builds until it explodes, and the only way to deal with it is to release it slowly — task by task. It is very important to note also that you can always ask for help. It begins, as I wrote, by talking to someone: “I’m having a hard time getting myself to call the painter.” And see what happens.
Though who am I, and what do I know? I’m just some random person living on a cold rock in the middle of the ocean. As my friends in Hellissandur taught me, it really doesn’t matter. As long as you are prompted to think and reflect, I have done my job. And by writing all this down, I have done something — as opposed to not writing anything and not having an online presence and not trying to make the world just a slightly better place. After all, that’s all I want and all anyone can ever hope to do. By working on yourself as a person and your life, you are making the world a tiny bit better. By healing, you are removing the tiniest bit of hurt from a broken world. Piece by piece, we can surely make some tangible changes.
I’ll end with a poem, “I Know This One.” It’s about something new — a beginning. Perhaps a fresh start. Inspired by something recent that maybe I’ll write about next. There are fun and exciting times ahead, so time for some more upbeat poetry:
I think I know this one. I’ve seen it long before. The patterns and shapes. They speak to me familiar.
The outline of the sun. I know those golden hues.
Green and blue reflections. These, I’ve seen before.
Short and neat, then long and wild. Messages I’ve deciphered.
I know this one. Before it knows itself. Before the sun rises to shine its light upon me. I’ve watched it sing and dance in the wind. I’ve watched it grow from the mud.
I know this one better. Perhaps better than itself.
Does this one know me? The way it looked into my eyes. The way it looked away. The way the sunshine faded and the seas turned gray. Darkness clouded and veiled the fields. Until I spoke my words.
And daylight came to shine again. But I was caught in rain. I wanted to run but duties called. And the sunlight slipped away.
So I’ll wait until tomorrow. And watch for the morning sun. I hope that this one knows me. Because I think I know this one.