If No Icelanders Admit To Feeling Blue, Are They?

The premiere of TAR showed people tearing past gorgeous Icelandic scenery and pestering gorgeous Icelandic locals for directions to Seljalandfoss (waterfall) and Vatnajokull (glacier). In their interactions with some locals in a town, Don noted that everyone seemed to be “ripped” at 7 o’clock in the morning. An old Internet acquaintance who lived in Iceland had mentioned that there are a lot of problems with alcoholism, so I wasn’t as surprised as Don was. As a Nordic country with long, dark winters, you would think that there would also be a related seasonal depression problem, but this seems not to be the case.
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Personally, I think it’s the hot springs, the clear skies, pure air, and outdoorsy nature worship of the Icelandic culture, making it a place I would love to visit one day.

Studies conducted over the last several years have found that Icelanders suffer less from winter-related depression than people in many southern climates, including those on the East Coast of the United States.

Many Icelanders claim that winter is their favorite season – the nights are clear and full of stars and the Northern Lights, and they cozy up to loved ones by candlelight in front of their geothermic radiators. Then they head out to the nearest geothermic swimming pool or natural hot spring, an important social venue year round, but especially invigorating during the cold dark winter. I can attest to the power of a good hot soak accompanied by starlight or snowfall and a loved one; David and I have been fans of the gigantic hot springs pool in Glenwood Springs since our very first trip as a couple together. I noticed one snowy winter night that almost all of the pool patrons were locals, and in fact there seemed to be an informal meeting of the local Chamber of Commerce going on at our end, because many seemed to be business owners discussing local issues.

There are some who think the Icelanders have some sort of genetic adaptation that makes them actually thrive rather than wilt under the burden of seasonal depression – or more likely, a limited gene pool and a few near-extinctions due to plague or famine culled the weak and left only the strong to survive over the centuries. One company was going to study their code and possibly patent parts of it, but the Icelandic government eventually decided that it was too invasive and discontinued it.

In any case, the Icelanders cope with the long nights in many ways. They are a nation of avid readers and writers, they live much closer to nature than many in Western Europe (and much, much closer than any of us poor American slobs) and one writer insists that the long dark nights of the Icelandic soul can be the wellsprings of creativity.

Sitting at his usual table at the cafe with his usual entourage of five coffee-drinking friends, Gunnar Dal, a renowned novelist and philosopher, described the darkness as “just another shade of light.” When you commune alone with the cold and the dark under the starry Icelandic sky, he said, “you’re nearer to your own soul; you realize that you’re there for a purpose.

“Sometimes people say they get depressive, but for me depression is a very powerful creator,” he continued. “You can be very happy even when you’re depressed. Laughing people aren’t necessarily happy, and a crying man is not necessarily sad.”

At least one psychotherapist disagrees with the cultural urge to put on a happy face: “Don’t you believe it,” she cautions. She warns that admitting you are sad is a sign of weakness. She thought the climate of London was paradise compared to Iceland.

Well, I like London, too, but if she thinks it’s paradise, I’d love to sell her a condo in Maui. Or better yet, book her into the Mothership.