Elves are all over the place in Iceland, like this one in the elf village at Skutustaðir.
Well, elves are human-shaped, really, but they can vanish into stone and reappear from it, and more besides. It’s a long story. Imagine my delight when I found them alive and well in a hunk of exposed seabed at 600 metres elevation in my volcanic valley in the west of what is called Canada.
In Iceland, they take many forms for humans. This is one, on an island in Lake Myvatn, the Lake of Midges.
And here we are again in the Okanagan Valley today. Less Nordic and more like Coyote and his friends from the dreamtime, but, hey, they look like they’re doing well. I’ve passed this hill a couple dozen times, and they haven’t been out. In today’s sun, they sure were.
Is Harold crazy? No, not exactly. I’ve been hanging around elves in Iceland, that’s all. I’ve learned that the moods that animate me, emanate from the rock.
I’m thrilled that it is no different here. Well, a little different. Can you make out the Coyote elf below?
Here, look again, curled up but not asleep.
It’s good to have friends close to home. It’s difficult to always run off to Iceland.
Tomorrow, let me explain what’s going on. It has to do with some pretty powerful correspondences between mind and earth. Until then…