Fifth Journey Day 13: The Absence of Urgency

Date: May 21, 2025
Location: Nuuk, Greenland

I arrived in Nuuk under a dark, cloudless sky that pressed low over the fjord. The air felt cold and sharp, and it smelled like the sea and ice. My boots made a crunching sound as I walked over wet gravel and slippery stones. I walked slowly toward the water. The town itself seemed to be held up by a thin thread: brightly colored wooden houses, in yellows and reds, quietly standing up to the huge landscape around them. There was no sound of traffic. You could only hear the occasional distant call of seabirds and the soft, rhythmic lapping of water against stone.

I didn't feel like exploring. Instead, I let myself relax. I found a rock formation that offered some protection from the wind, sat down, and just watched. The flat expanse of the fjord stretched away under a dull, grayish light. Small icebergs drifted without purpose, their edges softened by mist. My breath felt loud, even like it was invading. Time seemed to slow down. I took my time, and I couldn't tell the difference between the textures of water, stone, and sky. They all blended together to create one surface with different shades of cool, grainy colors.

There was no urgency today. The only thing that's there is the presence. I had the strange feeling that I was disappearing into the background, like I was being absorbed by the calm atmosphere of Nuuk. I left my sketchbook unopened. On some days, the practice is observation.

I walked back as evening fell, the pale light staying around longer than I expected. I think tomorrow I will be ready to move again—to express what I learned today in a tangible way. For now, I feel the weight of this place in my chest.