FAROE FRIDAY: FINGER, WITCH'S

Yes, it has been much too long since we've had a Faroe Friday post here, but I'm determined to do more on that front in the weeks to come.

Time time around, I thought I'd share a short story about one of my favorite places in the Faroes, the Witch's Finger. On my second day in the Faroes, Thomas, Tollak and I went to Tollak's home village to take a few pictures. While there, we went for a walk up a hill and down a narrow road. When we turned the corner, there was a the Witch's Finger. It's a rock formation with a name you don't really need explained to you. You know, it's a long skinny rock... looks like a finger.

It was stunning to see, and it was the perfect day to see it. The sun was out, so everything was in sharp focus. And it was clear, too. From where we stood, you could see no fewer than five islands. It was more beautiful than words can describe. More grand than any photos can convey.

So after taking some pictures and shooting some video, we just sat there on the grassy hillside. We sat and looked out at the water, and the crisp blue sky. We watched the ferry boats make their journeys from island to island. We watched the sheep grazing on perilous-looking cliffs above us. But mostly we just looked at the rocks as the sun slowly moved across the sky. The shades of green and the shadows would change along with the light.

We sat there a long time. More than an hour. It may have been closer to two hours, I'm not really sure. Because in that moment, time seemed to stop. I've done yoga a few times, but I've never been into meditation. I'm told it's really good for you, but I just can't clear out all the thoughts zipping around my head long enough to meditate.

This experience, this place, seemed to calm my mind in a way I've rarely felt. In that moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. All the schedules and snippets of conversation and loops of music that fill my head were gone. In their place was calm, peace, and the sound of waves lapping at the cliffs several hundred feet below.

Now I'm not a hippie or an outdoorsman or anyone who feels any special connection with nature. Quite frankly, I'm happy to stay inside. When I'm outside, my iPod can get wet. But sitting there, as the minutes passed, I felt (and I can't believe I'm even saying this) deeply connected with the landscape around me. It felt like I could just lay back and melt into the rocky hillside.

Who knows, if no one had come to get me, I might still be there today. I'm not, but I hope I will be again someday.