I live on an island outside of Norway called Træna. It is an enchanted fairy tale island. It is situated far, far west in the ocean, right at the arctic circle, and its pointy mountains, sticking straight up as out of nowhere, has a way of luring people to them. There is something magical about it all. People have strange experiences here, people quit their jobs and leave their old lives behind to come, I mean, the only reason I came is because I dreamt one night that I did, and then I just couldn’t let it go.
But people rarely last long.
Cause when the boat leaves, and the only shop that is here closes, there is nowhere to go. When the endless storms and pitch black darkness settles in, there is nowhere to escape. And then you’re left with just yourself. And then the beauty of the place won’t help you anymore. You may see the northern lights on the sky, but you’d only wish they’d carry you away. Cause now it’s you and all your fears, and nothing will remain untouched. You’ll be washed clean. And that is a painful process. I cannot tell you how many times I have dropped down to the ground crying my heart out. It can hurt so much.
The reward is immense. When the storm passes and the quietness settles again, you can hear a silent voice speaking inside of you, and you know it’s all good. What is being torn apart by the wind and the rain, is just everything you don’t need to hold onto, even though it hurts letting go of. And what is to be found underneath, is more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. It is you.