Dark in Lapland

I had always wondered in what kind of places you could come in touch with gods. People form habits with churches and alliances with priests but few seek god beneath branches or from the faint light of the starman's flight along the evergreen route of aurora borealis.

There is a howling - not of a wolf but of the wind. It can barely sway the heavy trees but it moves the powder snow around the winter wonderland with its all might. Even though I am frozen still - as are my numb fingertips - an occasional step of mine makes the snow beneath my feet crunch like if I had stuffed my mouth with spoonfuls of powdered sugar and bitten down.

In solitude I am bathing in the moonlight. I am surrounded by navy blue darkness which holds no evil nor causes fright. I am a traveler in this liminal space without time. I've never been met with such friendly long shadows and their silent sounds are like a peaceful whisper.

The high nature gathered piles of snow swallow even the occasional bird sounds. By the time I hear them their magical wings have already fluttered away deeper into the infinite woods. I am trapped in warmth of the distant fire places while I drown into a heavy happiness of freshly fallen snow.

My Christmas-like wonder has turned into a realisation that I have reached a state of being with divine beings. I am in awe of how the Finnish mythology starts to open before me. My ancestors' eyes are now winking at me from the glittery snow.