My parents have a home in Scotland, and I have grown up wandering the beaches and hills of Sutherland. Not far from our house is a Viking settlement up on a rise looking out to the sea. A river sidles alongside the settlement, with old mooring points for the long ships, now broken down into tumbling lines falling into the ebb and swell of this tidal river. They are markings of the day when the Vikings lived in my own home country. The lines of these stones have become repeating symbols in my work-- and I now know why. I live in Iceland now, the country of Vikings, and I've never felt so at home with a group of people. This is a society so far from the wars and ways of their history-- they are the most peaceful, innocent, intelligent and open hearted culture I have encountered. They have evolved toward heart-centeredness, their passion has steered them from conquering toward art and nature and healing. This is what the trail of stones means to me now, as time and tides brings them slowly into the sea.