The Midnight Sun

The cathedral was gently lit by the glow of the midnight sun. Not quite dawn, not quite dusk.  It is a glow of timelessness and of magic.  I looked out across the courtyard and there he was.  I had not met him before, but my eyes didn’t need to tell me it was him, I just knew.  He moved towards me, like a mythical creature in the night.  His walk was strong and purposeful, his long hair flowing in the gentle breeze.  When we met, I was greeted with a smile and a big hug, a softness I wasn’t expecting.  The warmth of his smile put me at ease, but I could feel the strength of his presence.

We walked down the streets of Reykjavik headed to a bar for a drink.  His English was almost terrible and my French was nonexistent, but we both had Google, so anything was possible.  He was not quite what I was expecting – just as handsome, but kinder and certainly more funny.  When we arrived at the bar, he led me in.  I felt both strong and feminine in his presence, like a beautiful warrior from a place of myth.  We were meant for each other, at least for this night.  We ordered drinks and took a seat at a corner table.  We sat close, not quite touching, looking at each other with curiosity and an air of a mischievous inner knowing.

We spoke, we laughed, we drank, we gave each other confused glances when our spoken languages failed us, and then we laughed some more, sharing the imperfect moments for all their honest perfection.  And as we relaxed into the moment together, a world formed between us; a world where we were the only two in existence.  His hand touched mine and our fingers began to explore the other’s as if they were the entire body.  Fingers interlaced, I could feel the texture and the strength of his hands.  They told a story of a life I did not know but wanted to explore.  Each time his thumb passed over mine, we dove deeper into intimacy.  From the outside it looked like timid strangers testing boundaries, but in the space between us it was sensual and passionate.  We were telling the tales of our souls with gentle touch.  No words were needed as our bodies understood far more than our minds were capable of.  He leaned in and kissed me. Breath and breathlessness collided.

His kiss was passionate and strong, but with a touch of gentleness his hair slipped down onto my face as if to caress it. He raised his hands to my jaw, gently exploring its contours, and as our kiss grew deeper, he slid his hands along my face and into my hair.  With the most subtle tightening he pulled me in and pushed me away all in the same movement, creating a tension that both satisfied me and created insatiable desire.  Breathlessness took over as I was captured by his grasp.  My neck relaxed to one side, surrendering my head into the cradle of his hands.  His lips moved gently from mine, and never quite leaving my skin, they made their way down my elongated neck.  Breath returned as I inhaled deeply with anticipation.  

It was time to leave the bar, because this was a moment for another place, but where?  We had nowhere to go this night.  Hand in hand we walked down the street, the air was cold but there was warmth between us.  Just a few minutes away, we came across a playground.  There’s something about a playground at night that is both eerie and romantic.  It was perfect.  Gleefully, we jumped on the swings, laughing,  swinging and eventually coming back together, embracing both each other and the night. 

He wrapped his arms around me and I looked into his eyes. They looked back at me, dark and deep like staring into the ocean at night.  I knew there was a lot there, but I had no idea what.  Was it good?  Was it bad?  It was a secret I didn’t need to know, not now, not ever.  He leaned in, brushed past my lips and began kissing my neck.  I melted into his arms as he nibbled through my defenses, releasing desire.  His body began to sway, moving mine to the rhythm in his mind.  Arms around bodies, lips against lips, we moved as one.  And there, on that playground, we danced.  We danced under the midnight sun.  Whether for an eternity or just one night, none of it mattered.  We were there together, existing in a beautiful moment.  A moment, but also a lifetime.

Rock Magic

Have you ever been walking along the beach and seen a rock that you just had to pick up? Sometimes you carry it for a few steps and then toss it casually aside. Sometimes you take it home and place it carefully in the garden. Sometimes you see another rock and put the two together, because something about the pairing just looks right. This is rock magic. It looks like nothing, feels like nothing, but in fact, is something. I will explain…

I’m sure you’ve noticed, rocks do not have feet, they do not have wings, they do not have fins and they’re pretty dense, so if they want to go somewhere the wind is certainly not going to help. So what do they do? They use us, that’s what! They find unsuspecting people on the beach, or in the mountains, or even just the sidewalk and compel them take them wherever it is that they want to go. That pebble you just tossed into the lake? It’s been wanting to go for a swim all day.

The most memorable experience I ever had with rock magic began at Reynesfjara, the famous black sand beach in the south of Iceland. I found a rock there that called out to me. We spent an hour on the beach together watching the waves and when it was time to go, the rock went with me. This rock stayed with me the rest of the trip, and when I returned to California, it found a new home in my rock collection next to some other friends from Iceland and some new friends from other travels.

When I was planning my second trip to Iceland, I felt like this rock wanted to go home. I put it in the small zip pouch in my backpack and off to Iceland we went. For almost two weeks, this rock went everywhere with me – up mountains, along rivers, into the snow. It was a beautiful trip together until we reached the Glacier Lagoon and I knew it was time to say goodbye. We sat together for a while, watching the glaciers bob in the gentle waves. And, when I felt satisfied with our moment, I gave it a little kiss, placed it lovingly atop a big rock and walked away. I did look back, but only to smile, happy knowing that it was back home and that we had had a beautiful journey together.

Eight months and 10,000 miles of travel only for this rock to end up 120 miles away from where I found it. I really hope it is happy at the Glacier Lagoon, or that if it wasn’t or changed its mind, it found someone else to take it on another adventure. Who knows, maybe it’s relaxing right now on a beach in Fiji.

My little rock, just before we said goodbye.