I came to Iceland in my usual way. Which basically means, what I lacked in planning or forethought I made up for with a kind of meandering willingness to be open to whatever happens and hoping for the best, knowing I’ll figure it out once I get there. When I travel in this way, I might miss some highlights that require weeks or even months of preparation, but the flexibility to change my plans as I go along is worth the opportunity cost.
I had a luxurious four weeks of PTO at my disposal, which I wanted to use as soon as possible. I was feeling burnt out, and I wanted not just the joy of a four week vacation but also a spiritual bypass that would fix my general feelings of misalignment and discontent. I had started to accumulate all the trappings of outward success, but recognized that I had begun the process of passively going through the motions of my life based of what I had been told would make me happy.
I have practiced yoga on and off since my late teens. As with most if not all of my hobbies, I cycle rapidly between practicing daily with a nearly religious fervor and dedication to complete abandonment for months or years resulting in no real progress in the craft. I have tried hot yoga and power yoga for exercise. During the height of the pandemic Yin yoga and my daily walk around the block were basically the only things keeping me going. I’ve recently been dabbling in a style called Hatha, but Vinyasa has really been the one constant that has stuck with me throughout the years during my ebbs and flows.
Although I had never been to one before, I decided that a yoga retreat was what I needed to course correct. I have practiced in studios almost everywhere I have lived, but post-pandemic, I had only used YouTube. I was lacking the experience, connections, community, a specific yoga guru or even brand of gurus, or any sort of guidance at all really on how to make that dream a reality. The best that I could come up with was using Google, which later devolved into a Facebook and Instagram hunt for the perfect retreat. And by some miracle, namely my partner’s much higher aptitude for this sort of thing, I actually managed to find the perfect one for me.
The price was reasonable, the timing worked for my schedule, there was still availability, and it was in Iceland. Iceland! I’d never been before and the flights were cheap, which is all I really need in order to go somewhere if I am being honest. I booked my spot, sent the company my arrival information, and didn’t think of it again. I wasn’t nervous until I actually arrived at the airport of Akureyri, located on the northern side of the island after exploring Reykjavik for a few days.
I stepped off the plane and had a moment of panic. The tour company hadn’t made any attempts to confirm my attendance after I had paid, but then again I hadn’t either. I didn’t see anyone in the airport with a yoga mat. What the hell was I going to do if this turned out to all be an elaborate scam? What was I going to do with myself in this tiny cold town for a week? What if it wasn’t a scam but even worse, I felt very out of place with a group of strangers for a week? What if they were all “really good” at yoga? What if they were all uptight, or infinitely more insufferable and probable, too hippy for my taste? All of these fears quickly began to dissipate as I found my affable tour guide and the other attendees began trickling in.
Inspiration Iceland is run by a Swedish couple that has lived in Iceland for over 10 years. The husband runs the logistics and functioned as our tour guide as we visited different spots near Akureyri. The wife runs the yoga classes and was our spiritual guide. The yoga classes were joyful, and the studio space was beautiful. It was built as an addition to their house along with a relaxation room, sauna, and jacuzzi.
There was more snow than is typical for October, which meant that every hiking excursion ended up taking a few hours longer than what had been planned for. On the first day, what was initially sold as a casual 2-3 hour stroll with “some hills” turned into a snow bound 6 hour trek. After the years I spent in southern California hiking in the desert this meant I had to face one of my all time worst fears: not having enough water for a hike. It had been drilled into me that you need to take 0.5-1 liter of water for every 1 hour of hiking or you will die immediately of dehydration and it will be your own fault.
Thirsty but alive, I managed to make it back. The next day, the itinerary promised us a 45 minute walk to an energetically powerful lake that turned into a snowshoeing excursion for several hours. While I am in good enough shape for hiking, I quickly discovered that snow shoeing is nothing like hiking. I was fighting to survive and keep up with the rest of the group as we all lived through the same fears of falling behind. I kept it together well enough until the very end, when I was tired, hungry, and I couldn’t get my foot out of the damn snow shoe no matter how hard I tried. When my usual brute force approached failed, I panicked, asking for help first to our guide who was busy helping someone else and then to one of my fellow travelers, trying to keep my voice calm while desperate for this experience to be over. I was about two minutes away from gnawing my own foot off in order to get to lunch before I was sprung free. Embarrassed by my momentary lapse in judgement and blissed out zen vibes, I trudged the last several hundred yards to the farmhouse, where we were greeted with some delicious traditional Icelandic food made especially for our group.
We continued in this vein the rest of the week. Yoga class in the morning or the afternoon. A hike that ranged anywhere from challenging to brutal, with a backdrop so beautiful it bordered on magical and which was of course, absolutely wonderful and absolutely worth it. Each day was something new. We visited an island off the coast of the mainland, hot springs, geothermal vents, a local ice cream shop. Each day was quiet and peaceful, but also incredibly full, saturated with dramatic landscapes and new experiences.
While I was there something very unusual started happening to me. I couldn’t stop smiling. While this may seem like a normal response to being on an all inclusive vacation to do some of your favorite activities, anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not a person that walks around with a happy look most of the time. I’m more of a guarded person, especially in new environments. If someone is talking to me, I assume they want something. Not smiling helps me feel protected, even if it is an imaginary protection, in a world that can be very scary, especially when I spend so much of my time traveling alone and in new places.
This trip was very different. I smiled whenever I saw someone. I would catch myself smiling in quiet moments, sitting by myself on the bus. I purposely arrived with no expectations, but the week I spent in northern Iceland surpassed anything I could have tried to conjured up. I would hate to use the word transformative to describe any sort of manufactured experience, and this trip certainly didn’t solve all my internal and external problems. My time here felt more like the beginning of a process. Learning how to settle in gently, and become more comfortable with being in my own skin. I am always trying to be active, to force things to happen. It wasn’t until I allowed myself a little bit of time and space to be still that I realized the power and strength that can come from being kinder and gentler to myself. And I have been smiling a little bit more ever since.
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