the land to the north

Every now and then I get inspired to write a post from a comment I've left on someone else's blog. Case in point:

On Hila's blog, le projet d'amour & other tales, she wrote about Glenn Gould and her "fascination with the landscape of the icy north" and that this "interest in the cold, bleak landscape of the north was based on a love of solitude. Ultimately, Gould linked this landscape with the northern part of our being; with a process of getting along with yourself when there's nothing and no-one else to get along with. I love this. For me, writing is precisely about learning to get along with myself: that is, learning to feel comfortable and secure in who I am and what I do. This may explain why my interest in the northern landscape is not simply based on its aesthetic beauty, but also on its philosophical implications."

Her post completely resonated with me as I find that I'm starting to fall for the land of the icy north as well. Which is odd and surprising because I tend to dream of either green, lush, wet places such as Scotland or Ireland, or warm, textured places such as Tuscany or Kenya.

But then I see pictures like the ones above and I can't help but feel that Iceland is pulling me in. And what Hila said about the philosophical implications makes sense: it's the same reason I dream of rainy, green Ireland or the vast landscapes of Africa: my desire to be alone with nature, to walk those green places, to wander those fields, to read, to write, to think.

Source: lynann