Reflections on Returning to Alaska

This morning, at 4:30 AM, I stepped out of an Alaska Airlines plane at Anchorage’s Ted Stephens International Airport, and went outside; my body felt like it was immersed in a bucket filled with iced water. I said to myself: welcome to the subarctic world, my boy.

Returning to Alaska after a stint in the heat of Arizona was like stepping back into a familiar embrace. The contrast between the two environments couldn't be more stark, but there's something about the raw beauty and untamed wilderness of Alaska that calls me back time and time again.

The Call of the Subarctic

Alaska has a way of captivating the soul. The vast expanse of untouched nature, the towering mountains, and the icy waters all combine to create a sense of awe and wonder. It's a place where one can truly feel small in the grand scheme of things, and yet, paradoxically, it's also a place where one can find a deep sense of belonging.

For me, Alaska represents a return to simplicity. It's a place where I can disconnect from the noise and distractions of modern life and reconnect with nature. The stillness and solitude that can be found here are like a balm for the soul, offering a respite from the chaos of the world.

Pondering God in the Cold

One of the reasons I felt compelled to return to Alaska was to continue my exploration of spirituality and the nature of God. There's something about the cold, harsh environment that lends itself to deep introspection and contemplation.

As I stand here, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes, I can't help but feel a sense of reverence. It's as if the very landscape is a testament to the power and majesty of something greater than ourselves. In the silence of the subarctic, I find myself asking questions that I never thought to ask before.

Alaska is a place where I can grapple with the big questions of life. It's a place where I can explore my own beliefs and challenge my own assumptions. The cold becomes a metaphor for the challenges and hardships of life, and yet, in that struggle, there is also a sense of growth and transformation.

The Temptation to Write

As I step foot back in Alaska, my mind is filled with ideas. The raw beauty of the landscape, combined with the solitude and stillness, inspires me to put pen to paper and explore these thoughts in greater depth.

I'm tempted to develop these ideas into full-length essays, to dive deep into the questions and musings that have been swirling around in my mind. I want to capture the essence of Alaska and share it with others, to offer a glimpse into the subarctic world and the profound impact it can have on the human spirit.

But, as with any creative endeavor, there's always a sense of uncertainty. Will my words do justice to the beauty I've witnessed? Will I be able to convey the depth of my experiences in a way that resonates with others?

We shall see. For now, I'll continue to let the ideas percolate, to allow them to marinate in my mind until they're ready to be put onto paper. Alaska has a way of revealing itself slowly, of unfolding its mysteries one layer at a time. And so, I'll wait patiently, knowing that when the time is right, the words will come.