reflection

  • Look deeply

    Antarctica constantly reminds me to look beneath the surface. Watching the icebergs reinforces what I keep in mind when I meet new people around the world: there is so much more than what you see at first glance. It’s true that 90% of the berg is underwater. Look deeply to understand clearly – Thich Nhat…

  • Rest in routine

    Thirty days ago, we embarked on November, which is usually my least favourite time of year. To heck with that, I said, this time it will be different. So . . . was it? It was. I stayed home the entire month, and I set a routine. This was a change for me, but it…

  • ‘Til it’s gone

    Letting winter settle in. Appreciating it not only for its sting but for its quiet. So here’s my feedback for weather men and women (and the rest of us for that matter): Every time you disparage winter weather you train us to prefer warmth over cold. How is that good for the planet? #meetthenorth #arctic…

  • Are you listening?

    Everyone has a voice. I write this because “giving voice” is a phrase I’ve heard in relation to our work, and I want to correct that. Voices are everywhere, it’s listening that’s missing. Listen up and you’ll hear more voices than you ever thought possible, and many have one hell of a story to share….

  • Passion and patriotism

    Post 1 of 2. Immersed in my North American context today and writing from Canada, where decisions south of the border loom as large as ever. I’m thinking about passion and patriotism, which take many forms. Here, Danish guide Kasper Jæger sits outside at his beloved Myggbukta, an old radio station in Northeast Greenland. “For…

  • Post 2 of 2. Danish guide Kasper Jæger reflects on his dream to be part of the patrol that travels East Greenland by dog team: “I’m very proud of my friends who are able to do this as a patrolman. What they are getting up here is an experience for life. My little part of…

  • Feed the flames

    An idea persists that we’re standing at the edge of something, dipping our toes in the water, looking out into the river and wondering how far in we should wade. Look around. This is it: mid-stream, mid-current, mid-flow. This is the river. When we fixate on the future, we escape the now. And when it…

  • A fresh take

    It takes me some time to accept that summer is truly over. I tend to be slow with transitions of all kinds; this is a writer’s curse, because our work takes us, always, into the past. How clearly can I remember the feel of a poppy’s fat petals against my skin? The way they rustled…