Snow-covered houses - MorgueFile Darkness and snow shrouds Sweden’s northernmost city in Lapland. About 23,000 people live in Kiruna, situated 90 miles into the Arctic Circle and a 75-mile drive away from the nearest town, Gällivare. But the residents will be forced to jump onto their snowmobiles by 2040. In their best interests, the town has to move.
You see, Kiruna’s current location hinges on the reason for its existence. Beneath the Earth's surface, locals mine one of the largest iron ore deposits in the world.
The Luossavaara-Kiirunavaara Aktiebolag (LKAB) mining company, established in 1890, built a railway to the area. Founded in 1900, the city of Kiruna grew to keep pace with the mine.
But now buildings are cracking and collapsing due to ground subsidence.
LKAB will purchase all the shops, offices, schools, the city hall and the hospital, knocked them down and relocate them. The process of moving the city will happen in phases during the long process.
Negotiation with the owners of the buildings continues. The company will either pay for the house or replace it with a similar one in the new city.
Although many people would rather keep their old home, the mine from which they earn their living has to keep operating, so the city needs to move. Source: The Guardian.
You see, Kiruna’s current location hinges on the reason for its existence. Beneath the Earth's surface, locals mine one of the largest iron ore deposits in the world.
The Luossavaara-Kiirunavaara Aktiebolag (LKAB) mining company, established in 1890, built a railway to the area. Founded in 1900, the city of Kiruna grew to keep pace with the mine.
But now buildings are cracking and collapsing due to ground subsidence.
LKAB will purchase all the shops, offices, schools, the city hall and the hospital, knocked them down and relocate them. The process of moving the city will happen in phases during the long process.
Negotiation with the owners of the buildings continues. The company will either pay for the house or replace it with a similar one in the new city.
Although many people would rather keep their old home, the mine from which they earn their living has to keep operating, so the city needs to move. Source: The Guardian.
It must be difficult to think of moving away from the town you love, especially for the older residents. People like the familiarity of their own home, and a stark new town wouldn't appeal to me. But I live in England, surrounded by historical buildings, whispering tales of the past.
As you may have picked up from the sidebar blurb, I write novels.
Here's an excerpt of a vision Liliha lives through at the end of the final book in the Moonstone series, Karm Currents, as yet unpublished. All the visions I use are taken from occurrences or facts, and this one just happens to cover a similar occurrence.
* * *
When I emerge from the spinning tunnel, I float, buoyed by ancient forces. My ethereal body is as translucent as a jellyfish in the sea of life.
Below, white snow covers most of the land beside the sea, where patches of blue peek between floaters of ice. A loud crack precedes a thunderous splash.
Alerted, I drift lower. A group of bright painted huts with white shutters huddle together on a rocky outcrop close to the beach. A musher drives a dog team away from the village with a sled containing a lifeless seal and a pile of fish. Several alert people walk the pavements dressed in jeans and colorful nylon jackets.
At a yell, they turn to face a man who shuffles fast along the snow-covered pathway from the direction of the shore. "Danger. A large section of ice has slipped into the sea. Run." More inhabitants emerge from huts onto the snow, calling to each other.
Close to me, a black-haired woman runs outside followed by her daughter and an old woman supported by a stick. I hover while the mother sends the girl inside. When she emerges again, her arms are piled with coats. People are running, calling to each other in high voices, steam emerging in the cold air.
Is this family special? Should I remain with them? The situation is dire. I urge haste.
The young woman slips into a red jacket and then helps the elder Inuit woman, years of hard living creasing her face. The child tugs her mother's coat.
She shouts, "Run. We'll get to higher ground."
The child points at the hill further away and grasps her grandmother's hand.
I do all I can to remove their terror, give their legs speed and ease the pain from the old woman's shuffled steps. She drops her stick and rushes forward unaided, claw-like hands reaching ahead.
A change happens inside me—something unexpected. The shape of my essence takes form against the white snow. It's my body but sheer, rather like the gelatinous fish I had thought of earlier. I'm stunned, but force myself alert. I should search for the bigger picture. This catastrophe can't be about one family, but everyone in the village. My brain expands, encompassing those nearby and grasping their knowledge of local events. My alteration allows me to bond with them all at the same time. Worry, panic and doom penetrate from their collective minds like a buzz of bees in the hive. They know their fete although they can't control their urge to flee. Over one hundred people rush away, some in vehicles, others on foot.
I remain behind to face nature's response to the displaced ice. The mental effort I make will never be good enough, but I must try to help these people. Why else would I have been drawn here?
The towering wave nears the village, holding me spellbound. A tinge of fear combines with my awe.
I send love and peace to the fleeing hearts. Maybe I can give them valuable seconds. I'm with them all, share their fear and send each of them love to calm their panic.
I stand steadfast facing the waterfront, arms raised, palms forward. Power surges inside me to calm the raging sea. I raise my awareness—use all my strength to push against the eminent wave.
Against a background of their screams, I center everyone's mind with powerful thoughts. 'Appreciate the love that surrounds you.'
The wave washes over me, erasing the scene. A powerful force engulfs me and establishes a connection. 'It's not death, but alteration.'
With no need to breathe inside my wet prison, I grasp at understanding.
'Let go of your perceptions. Bend with the wind of change.'
Tears of understanding and acceptance join the water sliding over my essence.
* * *
How would you feel if you had to leave your threatened home?
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