Clock

I woke up at two, three o’clock and wrote down a couple of thoughts. Eventually I realised that all I had was a bunch of old ideas. Old ideas about the world, old ideas about myself, about the past, present, and the future. I am not the result of what I’ve been through. What I’ve been through is the result of who I am now. Who can I be now? Limitless. There might be the idea that the world is getting older, but every time we blink, every time we open our eyes, we see the world for the first time. And first time after first time means that the world in fact is becoming newer, and in that newness is where the future lies. And what is it that we look to, and is looking itself enough? I remember that sometimes we not only have to look for the good in a situation, but also fight for that good. What we most want to be, we are.

Ink Brush

Right from the very beginning, amidst the often-brutal battle for survival, humankind have drawn and carved their stories into stone. Creativity is integral to us as a species; it is our connection to each other and to the world. We have language and all the power and beauty that is in words; but what of the worlds beyond that, what of the words we have never spoken, and all the things we’ve not yet seen. For centuries we have encountered the same problems, time and time again. You can look back to the words of ancient philosophers and wonder if we have learnt a single thing. Perhaps language for all its wealth is limited in some fatal way; how can we possibly think up a new vision, without the words to frame those dreams. But there is art, and there is music, to show us the future and to speak those wordless things.

Tree

If you were to ask anyone who has ever spent any length of time in Antarctica what are the things they miss most when they are there. Almost without fail the first answer they give is usually, trees. Friends and family are just assumed, I think. Some take down plastic plants, others put up photos of flowers and woodlands on the walls. Some even say that you can smell the vegetation as you’re flying back into Chile over the Straight of Magellan. These are the things we miss, the things we look forward to. So maybe our vision of the future is made up of the things we miss; the things which are collectively most important to us.

Stone Wall

When I’m not living and working in Antarctica, the Eskdale valley in the south west Lake District is the place I call home. The miles and miles of dry-stone walls are as much a feature of the landscape as the rivers and hills. There is an ancientness to them, and the deep contentment of familiarity.

Somewhere to be, somewhere to belong. Above anything else maybe, this is what we’re striving for. Any idea of the future has this idea of home imbedded in it. This is what we are trying to preserve, trying to protect. And this shouldn’t just be for ourselves; not an individualistic quest. We can’t be serious about our own sense of belonging, or our own existence, without caring about the same for everyone else. We are woven too closely together – interdependence on a global scale.

Microscope

While I am not a scientist myself, my work in Antarctica supports the British Antarctic Survey’s polar science program. Antarctica is a continent under the microscope; what happens there impacts the entire world. We need to discover what is happening now, and what has gone on historically, before we can even begin to predict what the future might hold. For the future is not some concept or wild idea which exists disconnected, in stunning isolation. It is imbedded into every waking second of our lives. And while this science examines the geographical landscape of our world, perhaps our examinations should also extend to ourselves. What is our current contribution, and what do we want our contribution to be? Do we live an examined and intentional lives?

Central Territory: Snow