In Iceland, there’s an old saying for when times get rough – “Petta Reddast”. It means, “everything will work out”. The Icelanders, along with being superstitious, are optimistic and carefree. They don’t plan or expect. They just allow things to unfold as they should.
I’ve found many similarities between myself and the people of Iceland. The porcelain skin. Fair complexion. The preference for blander foods such as soups, rye bread, and tea (here, it’s called te). The appreciation for fermented shark.
Up until a few months ago, the belief in not worrying, to leaving things up to fate, was difficult for me. However, in the past year, it’s been a comfort, the one truth I’ve held on to in an ever-changing world. I don’t have to worry. Whatever is meant to happen, will.
After a few hours of sightseeing across the peninsula, I found myself on a black sand beach with my tour, besides awe-inspiring, majestic towers of rock. The waves crashed into the slick, black boulders that lined the coast. There I was, thousands of miles from home, a lifetime away from who I was only a mere three or four years ago.
In that moment, I allowed myself to think about that girl, those struggles. In spite of my best efforts, my experiences had followed me across the Atlantic Ocean. On a beautiful, visually arresting beach in Northern Iceland, I was a bit distant, detached. I felt the people, the memories of a tremulous period in my life beside me, right there on that beach.
On the shoreline of Djúpalónssandur Beach, there are remains of an old shipwreck from the 1940s. The rusted, jagged pieces of iron lay, as if just casually discarded, up and down the beach. I thought about the time that had past between then and now, how for the sailors aboard and their families, this had been a tragedy. A disaster. Now, it was a distant memory, decorative, the equivalent of driftwood, that tourists like myself snapped pictures of.
When I was thinking about that, I thought about my own emotional driftwood, the jagged pieces of my hypothetical shipwrecks, that were occasionally swept further up the shores of my consciousness. I invested so much of myself, my time, my energy, to those things.
It made me feel very aware of a fear I still have, one I try to keep close to my chest. The fear is that someday, despite my best intentions and efforts, I will once again find myself on a sinking ship, personally or professionally, and have to once again, sort through emotional driftwood.
As I let that very real fear wash over me, something that my friend Elizabeth told me came to mind. She explained how someone she knew prays and asks God to “break them” when they reached a point of uncertainty or extreme doubt. The clean break, the pain, and the realizations that came from that pain, allowed that individual to begin again, new, clean.
I don’t discuss religion much on my blog, but I will admit my faith and believe in prayer. After thinking about what I was truly asking for, I found a private moment and asked God for the same – to break me from anything untrue, anything that made me less, anything that continued to lead me away from becoming my best self.
It’s a complicated thing, a trust in the Universe, God, the unknown – a higher power. It’s difficult to willingly allow yourself to fracture. But even to the most unbelieving of people, I can assure you – just allowing yourself the opportunity to find strength in your weakest moments is liberating. Powerful. It brings you beyond pain and towards truth. It renews your spirit.
After spending the day in the some of the most captivating parts of Iceland – this magical, mysterious place, I’ve so longed for, I felt that renewal. On top of a volcano crater, across from Snæfellsjökull glacier, I felt the fire and passion I had for this new life erupt within me. Perhaps the superstitions of the locals is rubbing off on me, but Snæfellsjökull is believed to be one of earth’s seven energy spots.
I felt invigorated, energized, ready for this new version of myself – regardless of how many times I’ll have to break to get there.