The ebb and flow of life is as inevitable as the tide itself. Nothing is forever. Such is what makes life exactly that: the opposite of death. My friends have all gone their ways once again. One by one, in a rather short span of time, they have moved on to the new and the different. They aren’t necessarily gone by any means, but distance grows. Though some are, indeed, on their way to “gone.” Similarly, I watch the demise of many other important parts of my life, from my workplace to my writing group. Life happens, and that is that…

There is a group that holds monthly poetry readings. Readers are allowed to particpate every other month, and I’ve been reading there thus every two months since last November. My artist project hosts similar open mic events biweekly at a bookstore. We announced our next event today at this other event which is always enjoyable to attend. And I’ll be going to yet another open mic to read yet again on Friday. After my writing group at which I will read… yet again. There is an unmatched joy to the shared participation in the world of creating; the world of art…

I’ve been on an adventure. This year has already been something extraordinary. It began with my “second” ever romantic situation (with the same person, going exactly the same way) along with the fulfillment of my big art-community project. I bought an apartment. I made new friends, got involved with more groups. And I have simply seen so much so fast, again. But that is not what’s profound. What’s profound is my perspective and experience of everything…

There is much more to my life than what I’m capable of expressing in a blog post. Obviously, there are many little things that comprise my days. And similarly, people, too. I usually only write about people when our interactions are either positive, or I don’t expect to interact with them (meaningfully) ever again. Sometimes, that expectation doesn’t go as planned. I’ve written about someone only to reconnect and learn they actually read what I wrote about them. I never name names or give identifying information, but were you to read an “anonymous” description of something you did (with me, on my own blog), it’s quite straightforward…

I had a rough week. A rough two weeks. I called in sick to work today. I’m going to call in sick tomorrow, too. A few hours ago, I began writing a very different blog post to that effect — about how I was feeling and my thoughts on such things. However, I met with someone from the group that holds the monthly poetry readings I like to attend and read at. Arranging the meeting was very fun: it’s not something I would ever feel the will or comfort to do ordinarily. But I was there last week with my business partner, and I said, “We should ask to meet with him.” So I went up and asked him to meet. And he agreed. To perhaps nobody’s surprise, he was exceptionally nice and open about it. However, my partner, last-minute, couldn’t make it to the meeting we scheduled for today…

The only certainty in life is the actions we will take. We can say nothing of their outcome. But we can take action. We have control over that. For example, my major goal for this new year is to become fluent in Icelandic. That is a goal, and it will not happen unless I do something about it. So, I’ve been reading my old books. I’ve spent about five hours reading the first one page. I have five pages of notes. And I did learn quite a lot. My action was reading intentionally, taking notes, and committing to making this a habit…

Home can mean anything. To me, it’s the place I go back to. Not the building. Not the room. The place. In this case, not Iceland, but Reykjavík. Downtown Reykjavík. This is my home. This is where I do poetry readings. This is where I go to concerts. This is where I run my writing group and reading group. This is where I work. Where I meet people. Where I feel comfortable walking around, knowing every street. This is where the libraries are what give me space. This is where the language thrives that I long to speak. This is where I appreciate life as it is lived here. This is my home…

In spite of everything that happens, life goes on. I’ve seen so much so fast, yet here I am, still here, still going. Ups and downs — far too many downs, unfortunately. The feeling of leaving my entire life behind to come to Iceland was one of numbness: I had nothing to lose. Then, when I failed to establish anything here and had to return to the US, the feeling was of pure defeat. I spent many sad months in silent contemplation. But life continues. I came back to Iceland last November. That was a feeling of dread. I had no home, no job, no friends. No knowledge. No experience...

I have a friend who discusses philosophy with me often, trying to poke holes in arguments and make counter-points for the sake of it. He doesn’t do it out of serious disagreement, rather for the fun of philosophical debate. However, a recent discussion motivated me to finally try and express my own personal philosophies in a more succinct manner. So here is my attempt...

Who is right? Who is wrong? Who to blame? Who to trust? Who to let in? Who to keep out? I’ve been fortunate to become privy to the private lives of quite a few people since coming to Iceland. Someone asked me an interesting question last week: “What would you least want people to know about you?” It took me a while to think of an answer because I don’t really have any secrets. After all, I write about my life, my thoughts, and my feelings right here. The whole point is to be open about everything. So I replied by telling him that I don’t want people to know about my ideas of Finland because I don’t want people to think I’m actively making plans to leave Iceland. And with my knowledge of others’ lives, I realize that many people keep secrets. And they rarely make sense...