Epilogue
Whatever evaluation we finally make of a stretch of land, however, no matter how profound or accurate, we will find it inadequate. The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation towards it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard. To try to sense the range and variety of its expression—it’s weather and colors and animals. To intend from the beginning to preserve some of the mystery within it as a kind of wisdom to be experienced, not questioned. And to be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there.
—Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
I’m writing this a little over three months since I left the Arctic.
I only spent a month there and of that month only 18 days at sea.
Seemingly just a blip of time in my life’s journey,
yet it was actually a doorway to a new way of living.
My experience in the Arctic was a journey through grief,
guided by the Land and Sea.
The glaciers, the water, the wildlife, the wind, all of them—
took me on a journey through fragments of brokenness.
They touched pieces of my soul I never knew existed,
and reminded me of that eternal, profound connection
we all share with each other.
I have come to believe that through loss there is wisdom.
At this moment in history,
when degradation, devastation, and loss are all too common,
my hope is that we may learn to listen—
to listen to the glaciers,
to the mountains,
to the sea, to the trees,
to all the elders of the planet.
For I believe They are where our healing resides.
Thank you for joining me on this journey.