There have been a few times when I've felt the power of a landscape—at once ancient and new, eternal and ephemeral. Naujaat is one of those landscapes. Words alone cannot do it justice, but it reframes the mind, the soul (dare I say?). It has the mountains and hills of south Baffin, only the scaling is different—smaller.
There is a familiarness to it like something or someone we've never seen before but know immediately how beautiful they are once we've seen them. It is a spiritual synchronicity—if you'd forgive my literary/intellectual paucity.
The landscape clearly has been occupied by Inuit for thousands of years. It is a gathering place of Inuit. One can tell that it has never been taken for granted—at least up to our times. There is a lot of ancient engineering but it is incorporated into the land and to leave the bio-productivity untouched—unhewn stonework:
And if thou wilt make me an altar of stone, thou shalt not build it of hewn stone: for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast polluted it. (Exodus 20:25)
It is less about uncritical yearning for the past, though in honouring it, it is about the renewal of the eternal promise: the Tao; the Halakha—both in essence refer to the path to follow. That is Naujaat.