Two Stories from Iceland

Boswell used to say that Johnson liked to brag that he had memorized a complete chapter of some particularly obscure book on Iceland. And it was true, he had, but the chapter was only one sentence long: "There are no owls to be found throughout the entire island.'

And it's true, there are no owls in Iceland, although that seems kind of sad for the owls. They're missing one of the most beautiful spots on the planet.

Although there aren't any owls, there are an awful lot of what the Icelanders call the Hidden People. Elves, fairies, sprites, that sort of thing. There's a guy at the Ministry of Transportation who's job is to make sure the roads don't piss off the hidden people, and you can feel their magic everywhere.

I was hiking in the backcountry, found a lovely rock, orange, with a ring of obsidian around it like the rings around Saturn. Picked it up, started to put it in my pack.

But the rock didn't want to go. There was just a feeling, a very sure feeling that the rock belonged right where I'd found it.

It's my guess we used to hear this kind of voice, the world speaking to us, a lot more than we used to.

Of course, now we have iPods.

Everything comes and goes.