I recently had the opportunity to take a rapid trip to Tromso, Norway, to attempt to check off a lifelong bucket list item—seeing the northern lights. The outlook was poor, no solar storms incoming and thick snow and cloud cover for the entire trip. We had booked a bus tour out to a dark part of the country for the night, and they had promised to chase the clear whether to give us the best chances of seeing the norther lights as possible. There, standing in the dark, for four hours, in the dead of winter in the Arctic Circle, there was no amount of layers or handwarmers that could keep the cold from seeping into my bones. Despite the poor forecasts and unlikely solar events, there, near midnight next to a frozen lake, the skies opened up, and spectacular dancing lights spread across the sky. A bright green curtain of light shifted and shimmered in ways that seemed lifelike, it was like nothing I had ever seen before, and it took my frozen breath away.
This was the trip that I had planned. I had gotten lucky, and I was able to fulfill the purpose of my trip in just the way that I had imagined. I did not, however, plan another one exploits of my trip to Norway. On a whim, I found a place where you could swim in the Tromso harbor and then relax in a sauna on the dock. For reference, the water in the harbor was a nice and cool 5 degrees Celsius. It seemed like a good idea when I was booking it, but standing in only my swimming trunks in the snow in the dark, it was very little comfort to me to know that the water was, technically, warmer than the air. I went on this trip with three other Mitchell scholars, and it would have been easy to, at any point, suggest that maybe jumping into ice cold water in the arctic circle wasn’t a good idea. At the very least, we could have enjoyed a nice, relaxing hour in the sauna without shocking the nerve endings with a frigid swim.
Yet, as I was walking to the ladder on the dock, I made one resolution in my mind—be the first one in the water. I figured that as long as I didn’t have time to think about my decision, I couldn’t chicken out. It didn’t matter how unpleasant it was, how cold I became, or how much I was dreading the experience. If I didn’t give myself the time to think about the decision, I didn’t have any time to doubt it. So, as I marched to the ladder, bare feet in the snow, I started down and didn’t stop until my entire head was submerged in the water. It was shocking. It was the type of cold that just immediately sucks all the heat from your body. My heart immediately began racing and I couldn’t scramble out of the water fast enough. It was an incredible experience.
In a way, I considered my last six months as a whole. From an outside perspective, it is a little shocking to think that I agreed to live in a country that I had never been to and hardly knew anything about—not to mention that was an ocean apart from anyone I had every known. Yet, the last six months have been some of the best of my life. I’ve had the opportunity to do and see things I would have never even considered. I’ve traveled and seen new parts of the world, tried new food, made Irish friends and taken part in traditions and engaged in culture that I would have never otherwise been made privy. My worldview has expanded, and I’ve come to appreciate Ireland and the people here in ways I don’t think I would have ever been able to as a tourist. In fact, I feel like each passing day makes me appreciate Ireland more as a second home.
The couple of months have been particularly turbulent in my life, so, I decided to shake things up. Whether the consequences are better or worse, I knew things needed to change. I figured that if I tried something with a negative effect, I could work on fixing it, and if I tried something with a positive effect, things would be great. Either way, I knew things couldn’t stay the same as they had been.
Over the last six months I’ve made efforts to try new things, to integrate into the Cork community, and to be more engaged in the world around me—whether or not it falls into my plans. As a result, I’ve found myself growing as a person, becoming, bit by bit, better in my own way. I even recently took a solo trip to Edinburgh (I promise I’ve been going to class too). I’ve become comfortable with traveling, but I’ve never done it entirely alone, and frankly, the idea of it scared me. Yet, I booked the tickets before I could talk myself out of it. I walked around, took tours, and went to restaurants by myself. I talked to strangers, and saw some strange sights, including some sculptures of giant horse heads bursting from the ground. I didn’t know how it would go, and I didn’t have a plan before I went, but I ended up having a good time—albeit different than if I would have gone with friends.
I ended up taking a dip in the frigid waters of the harbor several times that evening in Tromso—even doing full cannon-balls by the time I left. The combination of the cold waters making my entire body numb combined with thawing out in the sauna was a unique and wonderful experience. I’ve come to appreciate the fact that we can so often, and easily, talk ourselves out of potentially great experiences. I’m glad that I took the plunge into coming to Ireland, going to Edinburgh, and into the cold waters. If I had considered things more careful, I don’t think I would have taken a chance on any of those things, yet, I’ve had a better life for them. For better or for worse, I think it pays to take a chance.
