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rambling 161215 1704 - "your merest stray phenomenon" [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

rambling 161215 1704 [Dec. 22nd, 2015|09:28 pm]
there is a certain ambivalence within me as i stare at the ice beneath my feet. ambivalence, or withheld surprise & awe: the quiet moment when you know you've taken trips out to embrace the wonders of mother nature and finally, finally, youre here at the land of ice and fire. ive never seen snow before, & touched them with my bare hands the moment i had the chance to. i felt the ice seep into my skin, as i patted them together, a sort of ball coming together. it's numb for awhile, and then the numb starts to hurt. im here, im here, i see snow with my own eyes i touch it with my bare hands. snow capped mountains are so close, icelandic horses tread near volcanoes. there are no trees, vegetation, the white blanket stretches to the horizons, kisses the cloudy skies. the sun is too shy to say hi. i hope the northern lights wouldnt be, but who am i to coerce them to come out to play? im not even the small flicker of light in the aurora borealis, im not even the perfect snowflake that sways to the ground. a different species altogether, myself reduced more so to a mere atom, without a single power to effect the kind of wonder nature has. and im so jealous, so jealous. seeing the white mass of land makes me pensive, sad, sometimes. to be out alone here, i wondered, would nature crush you or embrace you?

i was water, they said, and i looked at the snow — i thought about the way my feet suddenly sank in despite the crampons (it looked so sturdy), i thought about climbing behind selfoss saw the water gush from its peak felt the water droplets splash out from the rocks & prick my skin; freezing. i thought back to black beach and it's savage waves, it could swallow me whole with its thick foamy waters; merciless and unforgiving, it will take what it can get. i thought back to the lake, the seemingly calmer entity of all, but the guide reiterated the unrelenting force of its undercurrents. i thought back to the ice beneath my feet, i slipped and fell and thought i knew what lay beneath (it's not always so clear). am i all of that? will i always be bitter and cold and remember how people get sick of snow after the first day? annoying – soaking boots and melting on dirty tar-filled streets... it's best friends with the wind that scratches at your face like knives and i wish i could be more. when will i see less of myself be ok with being little when will i