I had a whole blog post outlined in my head last week that seemed, at the time, profound and inspirational. Today, I'm not feeling so philosophical. I'm feeling downright giddy (must be the popcorn.) If I wasn't sitting here in Chicago, I might not believe that I'm about to travel to the Arctic and have an incredible experience. Today, I'm just feeling lucky. And grateful. And a bit tired, I have to admit, because the last couple of weeks at school have been crazy-busy, crazy-wonderful, and crazy-white-hair-inducing.
But, mostly I'm grateful. Someone recently told me that I use that word alot. Grateful. (I'm grateful that he knows that I'm grateful.) Gratitude has been a theme, a mantra, throughout my life, and I think it's one of the reasons why I'm sitting here today - a little bleary-eyed, a little smelly (that trek across the airport with a 16 pound backpack and carrying a parka got the blood flowing), very curious, and abundantly grateful.
As a Grosvenor Teacher Fellow, I traveled to Svalbard in May 2018! Thanks to Lindblad Expeditions and National Geographic for supporting teachers and encouraging us to be explorers.
Some of the text shared here was written in my journal or through social media posts while I was on expedition.
But much of the writing shared here was written in the months following my return home.
I had this idea that I would embark on my journey and, in real time, reflect and write and create blog posts and videos and online albums and photo books and postcards. I had fantasies of sitting in the ship's library with my pen and notebook, collecting and composing what I'd seen and experienced and manifesting deep, profound thoughts.
Yeah. That didn't happen.
My experience was so intense, so surreal, that I had difficulty finding adequate words to describe it all. Silly, inconsequential, and unsatisfying words were all I had - great, amazing, unbelievable, incredible. At the end of each day I would try. After dinner, somewhere between 10pm and midnight, I'd make my way up to the library to write. But I would get distracted. The large, glorious, gorgeous windows were too inviting and each moment was unique. The clouds were shifting, the water was moving, the ship was in motion, the ice upon the water was drifting. Each and every moment was unique.
My eyes were up and wide open. I was outside on the deck feeling the cold air and the lightly falling snow on my face. Or I was sitting on the bridge, snuggled in warmth, with a pair of binoculars looking looking looking. Oh, I tried to shift my thinking to writing something more than a bulleted list, but I just couldn't pull it off.
To put it simply, I couldn't focus.
I coined my condition Wonder-Induced ADD.
It is a beautiful affliction to have.
This blog is dedicated to my aunt, Tina Chavez, who is always my biggest fan and supporter. When I told her about my expedition to the Arctic, she asked, "So, when do you go on the Polar Bear Express?"
She also told me to run fast from the polar bears, but naming this blog "Run, Jen, Run!" isn't as charming as calling it "The Polar Bear Express."