A Volcanic Memory

I took this picture at the Natural History Museum, because it illustrates this post's topic. It is, of course, lava, as it says on the label. I am a few days late to commemorate the anniversary, but Facebook reminded me that six years ago (on the 15th of April), I was stranded in Montreal because of the volcanic eruption of Eyjafjallajökull. It is an Icelandic volcano, hence the mouthful. This is what I said on Facebook that day: "I am stranded in Montreal because of a volcanic eruption in Iceland, The existentialists were right: life is absurd." Now, looking back, I find the event just as absurd. And what I said then deserves to be a great unknown line.

Eyjafjallajokull, or The Beauty of the Beast

Sorry for this upcoming, unvoluntary and pretty lazy Biblical reference and for stressing my current situation again, but the Eyjafjallajokull is the name of the beast. I am of course talking about the nasty volcano that is keeping us here. A mouthful, which I don't think I could pronounce it actually (copy/paste is useful in many ways). Not so long ago, I was reading (or rereading) Viking mythology, which I blogged about. According to Vikings, the world had been created when fire and ice met. I think I know now where the idea came from, and also how a culture that had a Hell that was artic cold and full of ice had nevertheless fire giants among the enemies of the gods. Surtr and the others must have been born from chance encounters of Vikings with volcanoes. Well, I am not the first one who thought of that. Of course, other civilisations might have come up with their own development into myths of volcanic activities. For the Vikings, such display of fire and ashes in their cold climate must have been even more terrifying.

I have to say, however, that from the pictures and videos I saw of Eyjafjallajokull, it is quite impressive, even beautiful. Volcanoes, like cats, have the grace and nobility of predatorial beasts.