The Space to See Clearly
The New Year often arrives loudly. Resolutions stack up, goals appear overnight, and there’s a quiet pressure to move faster and carry momentum forward without pause. It’s easy to feel like January demands motion before reflection has had a chance to catch up.
But I stepped into this year carrying something very different. Something shaped by time spent in Antarctica.
Antarctica doesn’t rush you. It doesn’t care about your plans or timelines. It slows you down in a way that feels almost unfamiliar at first. Surrounded by icebergs that dwarf anything recognizable, you feel small, but not insignificant. It’s a grounding kind of smallness, one that gently puts things back into perspective.
Out there, ego doesn’t last long. Worries that once felt heavy begin to loosen their grip. The scale of the landscape stretches your sense of time, reminding you how vast this world really is and how brief most moments of stress actually are. Antarctica simply exists, ancient, patient, and indifferent to urgency, and in doing so, it invites you to breathe and pay attention.
So much of life is lived zoomed in. We move from task to task, deadline to deadline, rarely stepping back to see the wider terrain we’re moving through. Antarctica forces a zoom-out. Standing at the edge of the map, surrounded by silence and space, it becomes easier to see what truly matters and what doesn’t need to be carried forward.
As this new year begins, I’m not rushing to label it with bold declarations or rigid resolutions. Instead, I’m holding onto a quieter intention shaped by ice, wind, and stillness. To move with intention rather than urgency. To stay curious instead of reactive. To remember that depth matters more than speed.
Antarctica reminded me that growth doesn’t always look like motion. Sometimes it looks like standing still long enough to truly see where you are, and where you want to go. The world is vast, our place within it is small but meaningful, and every so often we need experiences that remind us of both.
As I step into this new year, I’m grateful for that reminder, and for the lessons that only wild, humbling places can teach. Here’s to a year guided by perspective, curiosity, and the courage to slow down when the moment calls for it.
What has helped you slow down and see more clearly as you step into this new year?
“Sometimes the trail doesn’t ask us to move forward—it asks us to pause long enough to understand where we are.”
— Mentorship in the Wild
In complete awe of this world
