Blogger Gone Bad

I haven’t blogged since Tuesday.

HOW COULD I COMMIT SUCH A CRIME?!

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You see on Wednesday we were baking a million and one cookies and coloring oodles of pumpkins and bats for…

A. Valentine’s Day

B. Thanksgiving

C. Halloween

D. Easter

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I mean I thought it was for Halloween myself, but Walmart seems to think they all happen at the same time…so now I’m confused.

And naturally since Halloween is on Monday Solheimar decided to celebrate on Thursday…because that’s logical…

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So then naturally my Thursday was spent dressing up as a spider

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I think I was just summoning my younger self who was once a spider witch

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(This is probably the scariest Halloween costume I have ever worn. BOO!)

Then there was some dancing…

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The polka.

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Yup. You read that right.

I’m not kidding.

I was a spider dancing the polka, because apparently the polka is very popular amongst the residents here.

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Weirdest halloween ever.

But these goofballs made it pretty great 🙂

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And then Friday and Saturday we spent at some old Turf Houses taking over the Hobbit World (but more on that in a later post).

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Which (four thousand excuses later) brings me to today, and I am finally blogging.

 

I think I had a point in here somewhere…

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AHA YES! We’re going to talk about mud.

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I have always been a fan of mud.

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Mostly during track season. We would go on muds on rainy days to see who could get themselves the muddiest.

(I’d say I did a gosh darn good job)

Dad had to spray me down with the hose before I was allowed in the house.

So why am I talking about my mud-filled adolescence? And why should you care?

The short answer is because I can and I’m awesome.

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The long answer…

I feel like Iceland has me in a state of childlike wonder. My jaw eternally dropping as I run from one adventure

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to the next.

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You see, I feel like society has had a tendency of late to tell me to keep clean, put on some shoes, and remember that rain could kill me so please remain indoors. 

The status quo and normality are a bit like prisons. But here, my hands are almost always in the dirt, sliding around on socks is encouraged, and rainy days are the perfect time for puddle-jumping and river-wading. (And tree hugging happens frequently.)

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I know that there is a time and a place for formality, and the business side of me appreciates it (to some extent).

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But there are so many moments in life that should be spent living out your imagination, because it is a powerful tool, and I swear we can use it to change the world. We let our minds be trapped by the walls of society, lock the door, throw away the key.

Thankfully, my parents are amazing in every way shape and form and never expected me to be anyone besides my crazy self. As evidenced by my bedroom wall that my Dad painted for me when I was 6. When Mom and Dad offered to take down the Little Mermaid and make my room more “teenager-y” I told them not in my lifetime. They laughed, and she stayed. (In case you weren’t aware, Mr. Twisty is also quite handy with paint. But not with tools. We call Uncle Ted for that.)

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But even with parents who let me talk to my imaginary friends all day and frolic in the flowers, it can be hard to fight against societies’ one size fits all mentality.

This semester is the perfect reminder that walls should be broken down because open spaces are far more conducive to a life worth living. We belong hiking through the mountains, gazing up at the trees, and trying our best to imitate the ravens (Our professor here can caw just like them. We’re never 100% certain if it’s him or an actual raven…or if HE’S a raven…dun dun DUNNNN).

Sadly, it seems that even children these days are losing their sense of wonder. They don’t need to fight off zombies in the woods, because they have them on the screen. There’s no reason to collect leaves and twigs for arts and crafts when there’s perfect looking plastic ones you can buy at the store. Childhood has traded in adventure for electronics and creativity for conformity.

Or so I thought, until I met the boy on Horse Mountain (Called Hesterfell in Icelandic) who scampered up as if it was only a hill. All the while throwing blauber (blueberries) at me and running away giggling, climbing higher and higher to find the perfect stick to fend off the lions. And never ever ever (ever ever) going near the big rocks, because that’s where the troll monsters live. And I wouldn’t want to anger them. But don’t worry, if the trolls woke up he’d fend them off.

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Apparently there are still children let loose into the woods for adventure, not fearing nature and all its beauty. This boy gave me hope. Hope that someday Nature Deficit Disorder  (a term coined by Richard Louv in his book Last Child in the Woods) will be an idea for the past, when my generation was foolish enough to stay trapped indoors instead of out. Nature still exists, and despite all of the havoc that’s been wreaked on it by humanity, it is still a wonder. So many sites to be seen and journeys to be had, it’s time to send ourselves back outside for playtime. Time to dig our hands through the dirt and remember just how cool worms are.

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(Say hi to the Icelandic Henry!)

Teachers often recommend that children who are easily distracted don’t sit by the doors or windows. Have they forgotten that nature is a classroom too? That kids should be spending time outside to learn about the magic of the world around them? And not just on swing sets and monkey bars, but in the woods and fields, because that’s where the fairies and trolls play.

I want to play! In Iceland, I can. Back home, I will. And someday, my children will too.

A little boy on a mountain reminded me that the best way to take care of the planet, is to remember how much we love it. You don’t hurt what you love, you nurture it.  

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Hugs from the all-natural playground ❤

 

Live, laugh, love, bake,
Marley and Me

P.S. Always give in to your (childlike) wanderlust.

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