Lingering along shopping streets some days before christmas is an ambivalent adventure. You may start with a smile on your face, almost loughing at all these stressed out creatures passing by. People jamming chinese pasta while walking and aiming at the next store. Lights guiding you, getting you down on a runway, discharging directly at the abyss of another store. Flight-controllers failing constantly - collision with other planes - I am not Bruce Willis - this is bare life. A pug with hoody passing by - cars honking at bikers - bikers shouting at walkers - me being upset cause my smile vanished into a "get the hell out of here"-expression - wonderful christmas time.
Ignore the moral spin of the story; its just an description of what I´ve seen - christmas aint the feast of love, charity and reflection - at least the days before - it is the feast of pugs with hoodies; of warfare on a sane mind; of mere destruction and evilness. More concise - the days before christmas - are anti-christmas.
In that sense - I wish all of you a joyful (anti-)christmas and some nice days with nice people.
We are far from home, but we're so happy
Far from home, all alone, but we're so happy
After every sunny day
Came a stormy night
That's when Finner would say
Keep your heads held high
We are far from home, but we're so happy
Far from home, all alone, but we're so happy
We came here on his back
And we caught your eye
The salty ocean wind
Made the seagulls cry
Autumn is coming over us. Colorful leaves falling down the marple trees. Kicking fallen chestnuts when passing by. And sometimes I remember back when we were in Iceland. Like the leaves, memories fall down and vanish. Still what is left, is the hope that they will regrow. Patrick filmed because "we forget". And for sure he is right, but I am afraid I will never be able to forget. Because Iceland changed me in a manner I never thought it would. Forgetting pictures, explicit thoughts is one thing, but this year up there in the north, to bring it to a point, made me realize some odd things: That everything is substituteable. What was important to me once, is adicable now. That ‚home’ is a very vague concept when you are basically free to go whereever you want. That having good friends, a family who cares, does not make them to understand everything, even if they try hard.
It is not necessarily just Iceland, probably it is much more, but Iceland induced it in some way: That I can´t even rely on myself to understand everything. I feel extremely free, but vulnerable on the same time. Maybe it is just growing up. Maybe it is more. But this uncertain feeling that everything can change in just a year makes it more and more difficult for me to bind to something, or someone. So in fact, I live the moment, I live it hard and with joy. I see damn lot rainbows down the road. I am attracted by the presence. Because it is something which is for sure. Which is fact. However, it makes me restless: rushing from adventure to adventure; the breaks within becoming shorter and shorter; with every single step I make, asking myself where it will head me to.
I could have saved all the writing. The lyric of the song just say the same in different words: We are far from home, but we're so happy. Far from home, all alone, but we're so happy.
Iceland induced all this brainfuck and paradoxically it was also the last place where I felt home. And as it would not be enough, an Icelandic band can concentrate all this diffuse feelings I have, into two lines of lyric. Sniffing it, just showed me that we are never „all alone“ and Iceland offers some really gifted artists. But. We all knew that, since we lived there.
Wish you all the best and looking forward to see you in some future, which for sure will turn into presence some near time.
I claim our life is like looking out of a window. There is a frame, which defines what we see. It is a snapshot of our present life: The past and the future, hidden outside the frame. And still they are influencing what we see. Because where we have been and where we plan to go is in some way what we actually are.
Exactly one year ago I began my journey to Iceland. I look out of the window of my room, down the street. I still remember the feeling: leaving to the greatest uncertainty, to the adventure, to a future, which now has turned into past. Expecting to look down to everything beneath 66° North. To find everything illuminated. But all I found was a fucking Peace Tower. One single stream of light, of answers, hopelessly failing in providing what I was looking for. But then, by spring, the endless light came. Going to Samkaup five minutes before closing time. 10:25 pm. It is light outside. A T-shirt and a short should fit. Brrrr. Two degrees. Freezing! So what? Who cares? Who cares about the temperature? I can swim in Jökulsárlon. I prove it.
There may not be much sense it what I am writing. Because it is still hard to find words for everything. Maybe I should end it much more simple: The last year was amazing. And I know for sure, that my life changed. There may not have been something you may call a 180° turn. It was much more: It was a perfectly landed 1080°. No one is clapping, no judges are giving me marks, there are no winners, no losers, no prizes, no rankings … it is just life, just spinning around the world, feeling a bit dizzy, full of endorphins, opening and closing windows, cleaning windows, smashing windows. I am looking out of the window of my room: I see a field of corn, houses, blue sky with towering-up, white clouds, a red car driving by. But as I look closely: I see everywhere I have been, and everywhere I will go.
The photograph is showing a window of a public toilet somewhere at Faroe Islands shortly before I arrived in Iceland. I had no idea what is waiting for me. But as usual, just giving a shit about doubts and enjoying the view, turned out to work.
Oh Iceland where are you? Sometimes I just think I can go out an imaginary door, again stand in front of askja-building, lighting a self-rolled cigarette. Icy wind blowing in my face. Around me only darkness and the greenish shimmering light of the ten-eleven store on the other side of the field.
Sometimes I just think about the term “Seltjarnarness” and my endless attempts to pronounce it perfectly. While driving with bike, against the wind, it was ALWAYS against the wind! Saying it loud “SELT-JAR-NAR-NESS” FASTER! “seltjar-narness” BETTER! “seltjarnarness” HARDER! “SELTJARNARNESS” AHHH --- PERFECT!
I think about these “for a minor reflections concerts”, these sounds, which just made me feel to be at the exact right spot at the exact right time with the exact right people. I think about all this shit, about these fucking cheap beers at Kaffi Grand. About leaving in such a hurry, that I just realized what is happening when I saw the people at BSI waving after me. Fuck, I was drunk! And still I remember one tear running down my cheek. At the same time smiling and laughing. It is like this paradox physical condition when a material is solid, liquid and gaseous at the same time.
Iceland made me reach my triple-point. And under all this pressure, everything erupted. Everything was buried underneath a huge layer of tephra. There is just black sand. No paths, no footprints, no plants, no orientation, just nothing I could refer to. I was happy and sad. Free and captured. Everything is familiar and still distant. I am sleeping with open eyes. Was it all just a dream?
Oh mighty nature you have spread your power by wind and birdshit. And I begin to realize that every goddamn lavafield will soon be vegetated again. Oh gentle spring will come, rising toward the sun, and soon there will be fields of moss, to lie on. Watching the sky changing its colours with open eyes. Surtsey has proven it.
Boots made in Germany, bought in Iceland, meet Austrian Alps!
