A Visit to the Katla Ice Caves: A Journey Within
In February, I was fortunate to visit the Katla Ice Caves in the Mýrdalskjökull Glacier above the Katla Volcano. I went there after a surprise heat wave, in which temperatures soared into the upper 40s. Many of the other ice caves in Iceland were closed because of too much water and melting ice, but the caves above Katla were paradoxically protected by all the volcanic eruptions that have occurred here. The silt and lava that have been deposited from numerous eruptions created a layer on top of the glacier that shielded the caves from the sun and prevented them from melting at as fast a rate as the caves in other areas. It was so interesting that Iceland’s fiery geology protects the ice in some places as the climate is getting warmer. One day this may change though, as Katla is Iceland’s most dangerous volcano, with major eruptions ever 50 to 100 years. The last one was in 1918, so it is due to have another any day.
At this time of social distancing that is so necessary to save lives during the pandemic, viewing these photos and remembering the feelings I had when visiting the ice caves speak to me on an even deeper level. Water has always been profoundly symbolic to me in all its states, and many, from Eric Fromm to Bob Dylan, have referenced wellsprings of individuality and creativity. Though I have visited numerous caverns, this was the first time I ever set foot in an ice cave. What I found so compelling was that though things were clearly still frozen, indeed waiting to thaw, the patterns simultaneously suggested movement. There was also a small stream with flowing water through this cave that created a small waterfall outside the entrance (photo at the end).
I was mesmerized by this frozen waterfall in the first cave I visited. Every droplet of what was once flowing, albeit slowly, had been caught in flight and preserved for eternity–an illusion of course because everything within that cave was subject to melting and ultimately impermanent. Flashes of inspiration and understanding often come to me when I meditate or walk in nature and often they seem to be discrete epiphanies, but really they are part of a continuum of understanding that includes my experiences of the past, present, and future. Sometimes these insights fade as quickly as they come, either from allowing outside influences to sway my confidence in my own perception or because I doubt their reality since they are beyond what I can see with my eyes. But when I focus my attention within and listen to my intuition, these visions become clearer and allow me to gain valuable insights into where I am on my path and where I want to end up. The importance of going within to discover how to live ethically does not just apply to individuals; our society is being called to engage in honest reflection to determine what our values should be going forward in order to live in harmony with the planet and with each other.
Around the corner, the ice had frozen into a shape resembling an arm with icicles for fingers. It seemed to be reaching into the cave ominously, or perhaps it was a hand offering a path to enlightenment instead. Every challenge we face can break us or show us some new way of being, and often we can only do that by descending into the unknown and listening, especially when fear concocted by the ego threatens to take over our responses. Fear can lead to apathy, denial, or a sense of powerlessness. With the accelerating issues confronting our world, we cannot responsibly afford to do anything but acknowledge what is happening and find our best path forward. And we must once again value truth, while realizing we are not omniscient. As humans we have dark areas in our consciousness. These blind spots are frequently evident in the automatic ways we respond to situations without tapping into our intuition and critical thinking skills, and we need both. Whenever we are about to become critical of others, we should also recognize that projection is likely involved and examine our own thought processes. As individuals and as a society, it would behoove us to explore our blind spots, which always come into play when we deny aspects of reality, so we don’t destroy ourselves or the planet by remaining frozen in untenable situations and failing to explore new ways of living.
Water and Earth, The Elements Combine
The Katla Volcano has had sixteen eruptions since 930. The last one was in October 1918 and went on for 24 days. These eruptions blanketed the area with ash and silt that have been pressed into the ice over time creating colorful layers and patterns that are still continually shifting. There are fractures and intrusions, as well as ripples. Some are opaque and some transparent, some are pure and ethereal and others are filled with grit, some let the light shine through and even reflect light from sources beyond the cave while others don’t. All serve to create a diverse tableau, one that is beautiful precisely because of the scars that show the impact of time and evolution.
Though our guide artificially lit the caves with flashlights so we could observe the details on the cave walls, you can see the rim of light from the suns rays coming through the entrance. Likewise, my attention was drawn to all the textures before my eyes in this mysterious place and also to the light coming from the outside world, as if it offered some kind of promise for the future. Perhaps we are conditioned to be drawn to the light. There are explorers who are attracted to caves and those who prefer wide open expanses or mountains. Myself, I have had a lifelong desire to explore all terrains, although lately with climate change and the impact of travel I have increasingly felt the need to dial down my explorations to my immediate vicinity, even to a microscopic level. So perhaps it is fitting that what might turn out to be my last grand adventure was to visit these ice caves, which made me feel I was exploring my own unconscious.
This image above shows the entrances to the cave and the small waterfall that spilled out into the stream below. To enter, we had to wear serious crampons and hook onto the chain, so we wouldn’t fall. Studying the textures and forms and colors from the outside was fascinating, but I knew if I did not have the courage to go in I would be missing most of the mystery and the greatest rewards. I used to have an extreme fear of heights, and I would not have been able to do this if there hadn’t been that ice wall bearing the chain even though I never had to rely on it not to fall. Sometimes crutches are useful, if we don’t rely on them too heavily. Claustrophobia also used to be a problem for me, but I suspect that had something to do with not wanting to be alone with myself. Fortunately, I have gotten over that and can fill my days easily and welcome the opportunity to sit with the feelings and emotions that arise. This photo was taken after I made it out of the cave. Before I went in, all my attention and focus was on maintaining my courage.
After the first cave, I trekked over to a second not far away. As I walked, I was able to observe the patterns the ash made in the ice. Though they came from explosions and obscured the blue ice below, they were so much more interesting than a blanket of white snow would have been. Life is messy, there is no question about it, but the messiness can be beautiful or ugly depending on our perspective and whether we have raised our consciousness and also based on whether we feel we have control or not. When we are buried below the eruptions and too much is happening to us, everything seems frightening. When we can work on our own responses and we are supported by those around us and our governments, then we can meet challenges better prepared and the outcomes will be more positive.
The image above shows just how much lava has been deposited in this phantasmagorical landscape. It truly felt like being on another planet and I quickly understood why so many science fiction movies have been filmed here. Now when I look at this photograph, I am reminded that this pandemic requires all hands on deck and sacrifices from us all. So many especially those in the hot spots, are feeling anxiety and terror. When lava was spewing from Katla in 1918, it was terrifying to the farmers who had to abandon their sheep and livestock and run for their lives. Incredibly, there were no human casualties, which is not the case now when many are needlessly being scarified for economic gain. As I write this, the sun is shining and birds are chirping. It is somewhat reassuring but also incongruous, as suffering around the planet is extreme right now. The eruptions of this pandemic will eventually cease, but more will come, just as the Katla has exploded with a vengeance more than once. Icelanders created the legend of Katla, a bad-tempered witch, to explain what happened because the eruptions came from deep within the earth and they knew there was nothing they could do to stop them, although they did avoid farming and living nearby. In the case of pandemics, there are things we can do to make future outcome less severe, but we have to acknowledge there will be a next time, especially if we keep destroying ecosystems, and we have to be ready instead of firing pandemic teams and failing to listen to scientists.
The second cave was much more open than the first and reminded me of a Romanesque Cathedral. Our guide, Hakur, is standing in the distance with his arms upraised to give a sense of scale. Yes, each individual is small in relation to the population of the planet and the forces that govern the earth. But that does not mean we should give in. Just raising our arms and trying to make a difference, standing up for what cannot speak, and extending a hand to help others makes us feel better and gives us a better chance at surviving, even when all that supports us could collapse at any moment.
There were multiple openings in the second cave too, allowing light to stream through and reveal every facet of the ice without any artificial light at all. The light was at times blinding, which was such an interesting contrast to the first cave, and how I wanted to remember the experience, not through tricks and mirrors of HDR or stacking exposures which I sometimes use so everything can be seen more equally. Often we can see more stops than the camera can record, but sometimes the light streams in so fiercely that it indeed renders what is beyond the darkness we find ourselves in almost invisible and then we just have to trust that our eyes and consciousness will adjust and we will be able to see more.
Looking up through this one opening in the cave, I felt that I was gazing into some kind of escape hatch. Given the state of the earth, I understand people wanting to find ways to live on other planets. But sadly, I think we would just take our problems with us unless we figure out how to live differently and how not to be afraid to see what is occurring and not just take comfort in false rhetoric. We have to make sacrifices and think of other people and lifeforms so that the earth or wherever we colonize next, if we can even mobilize to do that anymore, is not destroyed. Space programs take resources, but all we have and more is being taken up by applying bandaid after bandaid to the crisis of the day.
There is dust on our hearts. Yogis speak of malas, which obscure facets of our consciousness. We don’t necessarily want to sweep it off, as the dust is what makes us who we are and perhaps even connects us with something greater than ourselves since physicists say we are all born of stardust. However, we cannot let the dust become so thick that we cannot connect with the light within or empathize with those around us.
In “Anthem” Leonard Cohen sings, “Forget your perfect offering, There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a creack in everything) Thats how the light gets in.” I pray that we pay attention to these cracks, and that they allow us to see whether we are speaking truth and are acting in the highest and best interest of all.
This world is so extraordinarily beautiful in all its diversity. I value each vista and each person I meet. If more people awoke to the wonder of it all, they would be less wiling to inflict harm, which only happens from too much dust accreting on their souls. I embrace all who have the courage to acknowledge the limitations of their understanding and who strive to achieve clearer visions, which always results in greater empathy as we are all one. So many times, I have had to acknowledge my own short comings and start anew, but each time I start from a more aware place. We are humans. It’s the best we can do. None of us are perfect, but we damn well better start raising our awareness before it’s too late.
There will always be more mountains for our consciousness to climb and more allegorical ice caves to discover.
And if we are courageous enough to make these explorations and allow them to change us, the fractures in our consciousness that let the light in will create more gems and riches than ever imaginable. For the sake of Mother Earth and all our siblings, who we are inseparably connected with, please help make this planet a healthier place.