My first 15 days in Iceland
The infamous church in Reykjavik is called "Hallgrímskirkja" - which means "pilgrim's church" in Icelandic. That’s absolutely the vibe of my current adventure.
Awestruck. Grateful. Seeking.
It's taken nearly two years of full-time travel for me to feel ready to experience Iceland in the way I truly want to. Which is to say, my pilgrimage is isolated, wild, wintery. And I’m camping, so I’m as intimate with the land as I can possibly get. Camping in the winter a mere 65 miles below the arctic circle has pushed just about every boundary and edge and button and nerve I have. To state the obvious, how could it not? I have moments where I'm glad I'm doing it and others where I just sit in my trusty Subaru and cry.
Everything about this 21-day experiment is still very much in process (I'm about half way) and the magic is still brewing. This is one of those experiences that burrows down into my cells and will resurface in surprising ways when I least expect it. That much I know. I also know I've learned more about myself surviving a single day up here than I have in a lifetime of self help books and gurus and whatever other juju we all know and love. I simultaneously understand why I'm putting myself through this and yet do not have any idea why I'm doing it.
Not all adventures are glamorous. Some just feel necessary. And sometimes we're not even sure why.
And other times we simply follow the magnetism of what feels like magic.
Whatever this magnetism looks like for you, follow it. This is how you stay wild, babe.
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