Summary
As I’ve started conducting research, I’ve become increasingly interested in Icelandic sagas, which are prose narratives based on historical events that took place in Iceland in the ninth, tenth, and early eleventh centuries (i.e., Saga Age). Despite volcanoes being inextricably linked to Iceland today, very little has been explicitly mentioned about them in the sagas. Instead, volcanic phenomena have been sparsely hidden in metaphors and folk tales. Tales of a giant’s footsteps leaving massive craters as they strolled across the terrain are possible symbols of volcanic eruption, while fire-breathing dragons are potential metaphors for gushing lava. Interestingly, these representations of volcanic activity deviated from the usual narrative in which nature ‘convulses under the lash of imperious humans,’ presumably because such massive destruction and force was seen as too sublime and otherworldly to be attributed to mankind’s doings. This division between humans and forces of nature made me think of how amid climate concerns in recent decades, significant numbers of people rejected the idea of anthropogenic climate change. On the other hand, there were plenty of people who understood the interconnectedness of earth systems and human activity. These contrasting views on climate change made me wonder how so many people sharing the same planet – even the same backyard – can have such antithetical views of the relationship between nature and humans to one another.
Something I’ve noticed in my own life is that I started being conscious of my impact on the environment once I began approaching it from a spiritual perspective, treating it as a facilitator of reflection, meditation, and mindfulness. To see if these realizations had any merit (and whether they could serve as a channel for helping others understand the link between humans and the natural environment), I delved into a study titled “The Natural Environment as a Spiritual Resource: A Theory of Regional Variation in Religious Adherence.” In it, I stumbled across the term “natural amenities,” which refers to things like good weather and beautiful landscapes. This term reminded me of what I’d learned in my Environment & Society course: time-space compression has made “wilderness,” be it untouched mountains or sprawling flower fields, increasingly accessible and, therefore, exploitable. Why are people so quick to turn everything into a lucrative business? Can anything be sacred anymore? How do we balance profit, people, and the planet? How can we reframe tourism so that it economically benefits a country but isn’t so desirable that it becomes the force behind ecological destruction?
Besides academic research, I’ve been conducting research about traveling within Iceland — where to eat, what kind of currency to use, how to navigate public transportation, what type of clothes to pack, etc. Turns out, I’ll be witnessing approximately 20 hours of sunlight per day during my trip (sleep mask recommended) and temperatures in the mid-60’s! I’ve also been in contact with Gisli Paalson, an Icelandic anthropologist born in the Vestmannaeyjar, in regards to meeting for an in-person discussion about volcanoes, Icelandic sagas, and Down to Earth: A Memoir (his memoir).