The newest image from my Icelandic red dress series. The waterfall is the most magnificent Dynjandi, which we (Rob, Whitney and I) spent all night driving on slippery gravel roads up and down mountain cliff-sides as we navigated through the West Fjords to get to, by 3:00am (only 5 hours later than we anticipated). Later that morning, after a much needed sleep, I climbed ahead of the others to get to the very base of the falls and take this photo. The temperature was near freezing, but somehow walking across the patches of snow and through a shallow stream in my dress and bare feet was not as torturous as I had anticipated. Feeling the rush of both adrenaline and the cascading water, and looking down at the beautiful landscape and ocean view below the waterfall, filled me with so much joy. When I take these photos, I try to engage in each moment as fully as possible. I stood here and I breathed in and out. I felt the wind pushing me from behind, stinging my arms with the glacial water mist. I felt the damp ends of my billowing dress as it repeatedly beat against my legs. I breathed in and I breathed out. I felt the icy cold of the stones as it seeped up through the soles of my feet, further numbing my legs. I felt my heart pounding along with the roaring water all around me. I breathed in and I breathed out. Suddenly, right after this photo was taken, the sun came over the edge of the mountain and I felt immediate rays of warmth competing with the icy wind and water on my skin. I soon, and rather gladly, gave in to the sunshine and followed its warmth away from the falls and back to my socks and boots. I layered up and sat in the sun and let the numbness ease away. I breathed in and I breathed out. I thought again, how beautiful it is to exist.
(Source: Flickr / elizabethgadd)