It shows me the way. It makes me stop, listen to the silence around me, look at the vast valley that lies before my eyes, it makes me revere this land that amazes me every day. Here, at the top of the mountain, many others before me piled stones to form milestones for those who came after them to find their way. The Inuit call them Inukshuk, in Mongolia they are Ovoo, Càrn in Scotland, and so on around the world. Cairns have been part of every culture in the world since the beginning of time. Often as a place of worship, as protection, as markers of the right path, in Iceland they are the heritage of the Vikings who came to the island and needed to find their way around the endless moors, they are points of veneration and offerings...but they are always a "sacred" place in some way. And now here, where my sight is lost in the misty horizon, where the wind plays with my hair, where the silence is so deafening that I want to lose myself in it forever, here where I feel a wild, primal force showing me the way. And I wonder, what if it's not really showing us the physical path?, what if it's inviting us to stop, to look around us and inside ourselves? Perhaps it is Nature's simplest way of making us realise that in the simplest things we will find the answer and our true path. Perhaps the ancient gods shaped these stones, perhaps the old woman Cailleach let them fall from her dress. Perhaps the norns are shouting at us, but our own noise does not let us listen.
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