Postcards from Alaska

“In the bosom of the visible lies’ burrows of unexplored richness.”

During my time in Anchorage, Alaska, my good friend John and I lived in a duplex that we managed for an airline pilot who worked for Alaska Airlines.  We lived in the end unit. 

This duplex was at the end of the road. And I mean the end of the road, literally there was nothing beyond us but the human-less, friggin, frigid tundra that is Alaska. (Want one of those touristy postcards from Alaska? Yep it’ll just be a solid white piece of paper…saves on film!) There are only a handful of reasons why someone would venture out into this wilderness.  My purpose was simple; I was going stir-crazy, otherwise known as “cabin fever” in the great white north. 

You see, when the sun barely peeks above the horizon around 10 am, and it’s is long gone by 3 pm, you don’t have a lot of opportunities to get outside.  Many folks find positive dalliances to occupy their minds during the long dark winters.  First, they take up arts like scrimshaw, painting, or rustic crafts.  After a while, the boredom returns, and they strip off all their clothes and run off naked into the arctic night. 

Going crazy in Alaska is an annual event, kidda like the return of the swallows at San Juan Capistrano, except there are no souvenirs to buy.    

I’d take off and walk into that wilderness on any day that I believe that the weather wasn’t gonna kill me. Lose a finger or two to frostbite might be acceptable, but I drew the line at making my friends keep my frozen carcass leaning against the tool shed until the spring thaw.   

As I carefully opened the front door, I’d sipped the air through my nose to judge just how cold it was, like sniffing a fine red wine.  If the cold air only slightly burnt the hairs in my nostrils, then I was good to go.

The timberline in Alaska is very low, and it wasn’t long before I looked around to see myself surrounded by a monochromatic madness that was occasionally interrupted with some barren birch or evergreen spruce trees. The higher I hiked, the fewer the trees until I stood in the last stand of trees looking out into the rolling sameness of untrodden snow.  Upon this borderline stood a circle of five trees.  Like mourners at a gravesite, these five trees stood looking down at the branches and trunk of a fallen friend. 

The remains of their fallen friend were completely indiscernible except as contours under the sheets of snow.  As I walked towards the crest of the hill, I looked back and discovered the remnants of a snow entombed burrow that had been kicked outward to allow the occupant escape. Bits of black loam mixed with deep green lichen and sprigs of red threads scattered over the white winter canvas like some minimalistic painting.  A painting signed by the artist’s tracks that faded off into the distance; A momentary masterpiece that would eventually melt into the landscape.

My eyes explored the cozy darkness of the vacated burrow. A hobbit-home splotched with deep greens and wooden browns that faded into intriguing obscurity. 

As I stood up and looked out over the snowbound vista, a feeling of isolation overcame me. Then a tiny sprout of realization took root in my mind.

“In the bosom of the visible lies’ burrows of unexplored richness.”

Whether you are trudging through the snows in the Alaskan wilderness or walking the crowded streets of New York, that feeling of isolation can wash over you in an instant.   When this occurs, look to the world that exists beneath your gaze.  There is an entire world waiting to hatch

On Black Friday steps from the double doors of Sam’s Club, a signature gatherer approached me.  She rattled on about the ballot initiative that she was collecting signatures.  As I added my name, I asked her about her Thanksgiving.  She started slowly talking about her day with family.  The more I shared about my day with my family, the more she began to share about hers.  She shared about the food, the guest, and with a halting voice talked about her son, who did not attend. I could feel her pain, but also our connection. Underneath the Black Friday rush of humanity, we had discovered something new.  Like my discovery of that warm burrow beneath the cold blanket of snow in Alaska. 

What lies beneath? 

Take a moment to share yourself, and you’ll discover a rich world buried within the visible.