Philosophy for Polar Explorers
Erling Kagge
As I mentioned in an earlier post I’ve been reading a small contemplative book titled Philosophy for Polar Explorers by Norwegian adventurist Erling Kagge. In one short chapter is a meditation on happiness—and how it isn’t always relative to circumstances.
How we can be happy with nothing and terribly miserable in the midst of plenty. It’s like reading a fable of the rich and poor. We can be rich and at the same time poor in spirit.
What brings happiness? I’m constantly amazed at the turn my life has taken. While cycling last year from Chicago to the Pacific, eventually to see my daughter in Oregon I had no idea I’d move to Eugene. At one point while camping at Cascade Lock I was joined by 2 PCT thru-hikers. The older gentleman shared that he and his wife looked after their grandson. I told him my daughter was expecting my first grandchild—a boy. He immediately said, So you will be relocating. I responded, No, I have my own life and they have theirs. What ensued was I did indeed move.
Under Covid priorities changed. I needed to be near family.
All the ways I got energy, felt more like myself were challenged under Covid. No longer was I meeting new people, involved in daily conversations. I was mostly alone. People even stopped telephoning me. On top of that I took up a job at the homeless shelter helping with meal prep. My apartment neighbors feared I’d bring the disease home with me on clothes, on my breath, in my pocket. Suddenly I went from lonely to being a leper.
I was so sad, everything felt dark and dreary. I spent my freetime sewing masks. It was about staying alive, yet I didn’t feel I was living.
No wonder I jumped on my bike to ride across the country—and then afterwards, decided I needed a real change. After almost 40 years I left my community and moved to Eugene, OR. I got a job and an apartment. Then my daughter announced they were moving to Michigan.
Once again I had to revisit my questions about happiness. Yes, I felt settled and comfortable, but I knew I’d miss them—and now the baby. That needling sense of well-being told me I too needed to move. So I committed once again to transplant.
Kagge writes about happiness as not being a measure but a state that doesn’t exist in reality, but on an emotional plane. We are happy not because of what we have, the physical but because of perceptions. Call it lack of fear. No matter the upheaval, the unknowing, the discomfort, I will be better off with people I love and who love me. It is sitting in the door of my tent, drinking tea and watching the sun sink behind a hill. For that moment all is fine.
Now I know in no time, I’ll borrow worry and again fall
into despair over the future, I’ll sink into self-loathing, dissatisfaction
over myself and circumstances—I just have to remember that these feelings too
will pass.
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