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Leaving the Arctic is tough, but returning to ‘civilization’ is much harder. The transition from the simplicity and solitude of polar regions to the hustle and bustle of urban life can be jarring and disorienting. This article explores the unique challenges and emotions encountered by those who undertake such transitions.
The Beginning and the Ending of an Expedition
While most people are interested in the beginning of an expedition – the preparation, the packing, whether there’s fear in embarking on such a journey – few ask about the ending. Living for extended periods in the polar regions teaches one that saying goodbye to these places is just the first part of the farewell. The more challenging goodbye comes when you return to civilization.
The Simplicity of Life in the Arctic
Life in the Arctic is marked by a simplicity that is often absent in everyday life. The weather determines your schedule, light is your calendar, and you learn to attune your senses to the environment around you. There is a noticeable sharpness to days, a slower pace, and a reordering of priorities. The return of the sun after months of darkness is a gentle, gradual occurrence, unlike the abruptness of man-made light in urban settings.
The Shock of Civilization
Upon returning to civilization, the first shock often comes in the form of an airport – the unchanging fluorescent light, the incessant loudspeaker announcements, the conveyor belts, and the numerous signs dictating where to go and stand. The world expects you to slide back into your life as if you’ve just come back from a short trip. But inside, something lags behind. The transition can be so disorienting that even a grocery store aisle full of cereal options can feel overwhelming.
The ‘Longest Goodbye’
The ‘longest goodbye’ is not a farewell to a place, but to a version of yourself that exists only in that place. It’s a goodbye to a simpler, more present version of yourself, which is often lost in the noise and rush of modern life. Coming home from such a journey, it can be difficult to articulate the sense of loss and disorientation one feels. The desire to return to the simplicity of life in the Arctic can feel like an ingratitude towards the comforts and conveniences of urban life. But the reality is, re-entry is real, and it affects not only explorers but anyone who has undergone a significant life change.
Resilience and Re-entry
Resilience in the Arctic isn’t about grand, dramatic gestures, but about consistency and steadiness. It’s about creating routines that provide a sense of safety, using humor as a coping mechanism, and understanding the importance of leaning on others. Applying these lessons to the re-entry process can make it less overwhelming. This entails treating re-entry as an expedition in itself, involving intentional rituals like rest, slow responses to messages, and an understanding and acceptance of the process.
Humans are not Machines
The Arctic teaches us that humans are not machines. We are biological beings with nervous systems that require transitions and time to adjust. We are creatures that need a runway, not a cliff. It teaches us how to start again, not by forcing a new beginning, but by returning to the essentials: light, rhythm, community, purpose. If you’ve recently undergone a significant change or loss, remember that it’s okay to still be saying goodbye, to still be arriving. This doesn’t make you lost, it makes you human.
Sunniva Sorby lives on Vancouver Island.
