Eftirfarandi pistill er á útlensku. Ykkur er velkomið að tauta “sveiattan”.
When I was a child I was taken to the circus by my parents and two older siblings on at least two or three occasions. For a shy child growing up in the vast wilds of Iceland this was a profound experience. One which has remained with me till this day and helped shape an adoration for the power of imagination, inspiration and theatrics.
This romanticism of mine has proven to be a double edged sword, I apply it generously to my being only to be harshly disillusioned later and I then scold myself for being so naive. But, not unlike Sirens luring sailors, my illusions have lured me down a path which I’m not sure I would ever have taken without a sky full of wonders.
In an attempt to realize my dreams, heal wounds and enjoy existence, I’ve surrendered my room, quit my job and joined Giffords Circus to help out with their upcoming show. After the initial disillusionment, I’ve come to embrace chilly nights in my tent with an improvised hot water bottle, dinners in barns, dreamy eyed musicians, Russian knife dancers, trained pigeons and Brian the goose.
Illusions seems to be a theme interwoven in the fabric of my life. The trick is to use it as a telescope to transport your vision further, inspire and drive you towards your passion.The flipside of these illusions is fear. If you ever let fear fabricate those illusions you risk sailing too close to the Sirens, crash on the rocks and make an awfully big mistake.