Tuesday, December 31, 2013

The Boy Of Locked Gardens And The Woman Spread Thin (A Children's Story)

The Boy of Locked Gardens and The Woman Spread Thin
There once was a boy who had many beautiful gardens. He would spend hours and hours in his gardens, joyfully frollicking amonst the flowers and leaves, saturating himself with the scents of earth and blossoms. There was a problem with his gardens, however. He was the only one that could see them. He tried many times to show his friends and family the gardens he had grown, eagerly gesturing past the main gate to the treasures within. And many times they left shaking their heads in confusion or anger, shaming him for what they thought he had imagined. The boy became discouraged and lessened his visits to the gardens. He soon stopped visiting at all. The gardens grew unkempt and soon impassable. The boy found one day, when he tried to return, that he had even lost the key to enter the main gate. He had been careless in his pain, unable to share his pleasures with others.
Then one day, while the boy walked along the crumbling outer walls of his gardens, longing for the halcion days he once spent inside their confines, he noticed something new. He felt something or someone nearby, but could see nothing. "It's like trying to find a candle in the dark" he thought, "except you don't know if the candle is really there." Little by little, a form materialized in front of him. It was a woman! She stretched out over the whole valley, over the horizon even and the boy could not see the end of her, though she was spread so thin that there was hardly any of her left to see. "How come I can barely see you?" he asked. "I have had my pieces spread out far and wide, stretched many miles until I am nearly a ghost, invisible to most people who look upon me," she replied. "But how'd you get that way?" the boy persisted. "A great many of my pieces were taken from me, those who did not have enough body of their own would steal some of mine and run far away with it. Sometimes I would give my pieces away to those that needed it more than I. Thus my body would become stretched thin and taut," she answered. "Like not enough butter over too much bread?" asked the boy. "Precisely," she agreed. As the boy and the woman became friendly and learned of each other, the boy came to understand that the woman had given quite a bit of herself up to others, in fact, it seemed as though every moment she became more tangible with the gaining back of some piece of her body, some other part of her would slip away just as fast. He found it much like watching fog blow into a room through a door and then out again through a window.
She in fact gave some of herself to his gardens, as he always found his flowers more upright and less wrinkled, brighter and less dull after her every visit. Soon he found he had vibrant gardens once again. They had not yet risen to their former glory but they were too strong now to lapse back into their former state, excepting for seasonal changes of course. With the woman's help, the boy took down the gate to the garden so he could never be locked out again.
This continued for some time, the woman visiting the boy and his gardens growing healthier and healthier, until one day he noticed the woman let out a sigh. It was a painful sigh, one of much tiredness and weariness. He then realized how awfully, dreadfully tiring it must to hold oneself up so long over many miles, especially when ones legs where not underneath. He decided then that he would go on a quest. A quest to help her return the stolen peices to herself, so she could be happy again and not have to strain so hard just to stand up. She had done so much for him and he found that he cared for her so deeply that he was compelled to help. As she was the first in a long time to see his gardens and the beauty possible therein, so too did he see her coporeal and majestic beauty waiting to be returned.
He traveled for many days that became months that became years. Sometimes he stumbled and hurt himself but the woman would appear and lend him a part if he needed it. His gardens stayed beautiful overall, tending themselves with open gates. Some people even began to visit and love it and help with the tending. This brought the boy and the woman much joy for his gardens truly were a wondrous place, though the boy was often too bashful to admit it. He continued on his quest, not noticing that not only did his garden grow and not only did the woman become more solid as she walked alongside him during their visits, but he grew too. One day he found that he had grown into a man. Eager to show his friend, the woman, he waited in a familiar grove for her arrival. Finally she did, and for the first time, he saw all of her present and together. Speechless with awe, he took her into his arms and held her close. She knew then that someone saw all of her, even the pieces that were not yet there.
Together, the man, the woman, and the garden all grew together larger and larger, more beautiful than anything anyone had ever seen before. Many people came to visit. Some were rejuvenated by the wealth they generated, others left some of their own wealth for others. All in all the gardens were a happy place, tended to and grown with love and care for all to share and adore.
THE END


*Content copyright The Samnambulist, 2013*

Iceland Trip, Days 2-5

So, back to Iceland info! Day 2 consisted of getting up extra early, catching a taxi to the local airport (though the hotel was located adjacent to the airfield, the terminal was on the far side), and flying north to Akureyri (~40 km from the arctic circle!). We were greeted at the airport by Disa of the Skjaldarvik Guesthouse, where we stayed for two days. If you take nothing else from these Iceland posts, hear this: STAY AT THIS GUESTHOUSE! Disa and her husband were super-nice, that is superbly-para-humanoid nice. Given, we were almost the only people staying at the guesthouse at that time so we perhaps got special attention, but it was very evident that Disa takes care of her guests.
Details? Well, firstly you should know that it is a converted retirement/long-term managed care center though it has been remodeled beautifully so that the only evidence is in the large industrial bathrooms which still have some grab bars and associated paraphernalia. As a Physical Therapist by trade, I actually quite appreciated this and hope that the bathrooms remain accessible to all. Apparently the history of the guesthouse is well known locally (but then Iceland is so small everyone practically knows everything about everybody it seems). This was made plain by several jokes made by tour guides as they picked us up or dropped us off.
There is also an honor system bar, a lounge with telescope, an above-ground geothermally warmed hot tub, two very friendly dogs, a horse, and many chickens. The fjord on which the guesthouse sits is also very gorgeous, everywhere I looked, it was like living in a National Geographic issue.

Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.

http://www.skjaldarvik.is/en/

That night we attempted to see the Northern Lights, but alas, were mostly thwarted by clouds. We did spy some flashes behind the clouds, it looked to me a bit like concentrated heat lightning. Interestingly, we met a couple from our neck of New York who we kept encountering throughout the rest of our trip, including on the plane home. Small world!

The next morning we were off mega-early for a day of touring the countryside. We saw several remarkable sights, including some boiling mud pits (smelled like rotten eggs because of the sulfur), a dormant volcano with a lake in the basin, a natural springs underground convict hide-away in a hillside, a cow farm where we had geyser bread (bread baked by burying it underground near a geothermal heat source) and milk straight from the source, a hot spring lagoon (they are just as blue as pictured!), the God Falls, and the Dimmu Borgir! Our tour guide was pretty cool and apparently likes Rock Music. He related an awesome story from when he used to be an air traffic controller and actually guided in Bruce Dickinson!

Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
  Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.

We booked our trip through Icelandic Farm Holidays, who basically did all the planning work for us, I recommend them:
http://www.farmholidays.is/

We opted out of a second round of Northern Lights spotting that night, partly due to fatigue after our day of travels but mostly due to the still cloudy sky. The next afternoon we were off to Reykjavik again for our last day in Iceland.
We again visited downtown and had some good, cheap Asian fusion food (though Icelanders can't handle spicy food it seems, their 'spicy' was like a 'mild' to my tongue). We also visited the oldest cemetery in town, which is host to several endangered ferns and mosses!
Photo copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.
Photos copyright Maureen Shockey, 2013.

We enjoyed another night in the domestic airport hotel, then took the shuttle to the international airport and were on our way back to New York. Iceland was truly a moving experience and I highly recommend a trip there to anyone even remotely considering it. The locals tell me it gets quite busy in the summer, so if you handle the cold, go in the off season like we did.

Until next time,
-Sam


*Content copyright The Samnambulist, 2013, unless otherwise noted*