As Caryl and I prepare for a trip to our ancestral Norway, I have expected an anticipated nostalgia for the homeland; I didn't expect to be nostalgic for a volcano.
In an e-mail, I nonchalantly reported to my sister that we were headed to Norway "if the volcano allows," and with that casual line something in me stirred. At the risk of overstating, a sense of the wholeness of human history shuddered through me as I realized that a similarly nervous statement could have been made 15,000 years ago at the rise of civilization or (grunted?) millions of years ago at the dawn of humanity: "If the volcano allows."
Tolkien would have loved the
A vision of huge, clear spaces hanging above the Atlantic in the endless twilight of the Northern summer, remoteness, severity... the twilight of the Gods... Joy....