Writing to Rot, Passion to Burn

Perhaps my writing ecosystem is likened to that of fungus: let it all be left untended, lost, forgotten. Let it rot and decay, and my newest creations shall grow from the sludge like a fungus. It may not sound “beautiful,” but that is how it has been. I’ve been without internet for nearly two weeks. I wrote a lot. Quite a few blog posts, some poems, the starts to some stories. I probably won’t publish them. Instead, I’ll write this post — a growth consuming the decay of everything I leave forgotten. Of course, in this time, I’ve also been out and about as usual.

I found a book a little over two weeks ago in an old bookstore downtown. It’s about a farmer, born in a small town in Iceland in the 1800s. He became a professor, moving around and working in Europe. Then, he went back to Iceland and wrote this book. It’s in perfect condition from 1923. There was nothing in Iceland in that timeframe. The book fascinates me — what were the people like? what was life like? what were their thoughts and attitudes? how did he experience the world? how did he perceive Iceland on his return? Finding that book instilled an indescribable passion within me. I must learn Icelandic fluently, to be able to understand the book, then translate it to English. I feel the utter need to do that.

However, I had a surprise job interview immediately after making the commitment to myself to become fluent in Icelandic. It went well. Then a friend wanted to meet with me regarding opening an art gallery. I met with her after I met with another friend who also has many project ideas. In one week, I became overwhelmed with projects and future plans. Yet it was inspiring beyond belief. Now, I have a massive pile of old books collected from around the city (all for free with the exception of that 1923 book). I just invited the first friend I met with to join on a creative project she had thought up previously but never fully pursued. And I also joined with the friend who wanted to start the art gallery — we will start an art gallery; we have quite the plan in place. But… I’m off to Finland. With the prospects of getting another full-time job, potentially.

So, what am I to do? I already work a full-time job, but I have flexibility and take time off. But the other job would pay considerably more, minus flexibility. But I want to sit with my books and learn Icelandic. But I’m studying Finnish and Russian as well. But I run a writing group. And a reading group. And now I’m starting this art gallery project. And I’m hoping to establish this other project with my other friend. I also read and write. What time do I have for anything? Surprisingly, the answer is quite simple: I have a lot of time. Because these are things I am passionate about. I’ll take all the time off work I must. I’ve decided against the other job because I need my flexibility. Even if I’m not making as much money, I would rather spend my time pursuing my burning passions.

These are simply my scattered thoughts as I prepare to leave for Finland. I’m leaving in three hours as of writing this sentence. I’ll be gone for a week. With all that’s going on in my life, not having internet has been quite a pain, but now I feel like Finland is my chance to churn away at all these thoughts and ideas as well as to rest at long last. I feel eager to return. I couldn’t care less about the trip in this moment; I want to return and start all these other projects. All the writing I’ve done during this time will sit and rot for a while. So be it.

I decided not to move to Finland… so I say. I now have such passions to pursue here in Iceland. I’m quite excited for how this will all progress. 2025 will be the year I begin anew. For so long, I’ve been searching and searching. I spent this year working absurdly hard. Now that hard work is paying off. The cost was my well-being, unfortunately. I would not say I have been well these past few months. I’ve been tired, burnt-out, uninterested, distant, melancholy. But it has paid off. In just a few hours, I’ll be in Finland. In a little over a week, I’ll be back in Iceland, ready to take on the world.

I’ll conclude with a poem I wrote one week ago:

My ocean is frozen. It burns with raging, violent fires. Frozen. I walk across the hardened surface. Burning. I follow the dimmest star in the sky into the blinding darkness. I am blinded by the flames. If I could run, I would run. But I crawl. And the ice burns me, the blazes trap me. The darkness holds me. The earth chains me. I am pulled beneath the water.

Fire leaps from the ice, the ocean is alive. I am alive. My star is dead, yet I follow its light. I need not breathe, nature is unkind. It forgives me though I will not be forgiven. My will is not mine. It is the flow of the current. It is the leaping of the flames who would reach to me so deep below.

Depths are boundless, heights are infinite. If only I had the strength to part the ice. If only the heat would melt and not burn. I follow the dimmest light. But a mishap of nature. It pulls me. It mocks me. It tells me that if I need not breathe, then best is it to sink. That if fires burn, then best is it to freeze. But I cannot hear it over the crackling. I sink with purpose and without intention. I am without purpose and with intention.

But my ocean is frozen and violently burning. I listen for the call of the star and hear only mockery. The earth holds me fast. I will to break free. I will not be free. My will is not free.

You stand before me; I am blind. You speak to me; I am deaf. You touch me; I burn. I feel; I am frozen.

It’s about confusion: not knowing what to do, feeling not-in-control. It’s amazing how quickly things can change in one week. Who knows what will actually end up happening, but that’s the least of my concerns.

I want to conclude by expressing that everyone else is equally lost and uncertain. Everyone has their passions and their dreams, but doing things alone is both difficult and often feels, honestly, pointless. I like now to say “let’s make this happen,” to others’ ideas if I’m interested. Because I want things to do. Meaningful things. I’ve learned that most often, people don’t start projects because they don’t know where to begin. But when another person is involved, the minuscule accountability is all it takes to make things happen.

Anyway, I’ll be awake for over 24 hours soon. I’ll be in Finland later today. Also, tomorrow is my birthday. I hope to have a lot to say — expressed more eloquently — when I return. Assuming I have internet by then.