Cracks and Crevasses
Today, I’m thinking about the cracks and crevasses of Antarctica, specifically Marble Point.
First, there are the ones in the ice—the kind that stretch for miles blue, twisting and beguiling, pulling you through. They yawn wide and deep and infinitely steep, silent depths make my stomach leap. They are the stuff of wonder and fear. Standing near the edge, the air feels sharp, thin, like it’s daring you, begging you to peer within. The sheer drop calls with a quiet invitation, heart beats racing with elation. "Please, please, come take a look," but these are places you cannot explore. To step too close would mean your fall, swallowed by ice, by silence, by it all.
These cracks are elemental. They are shaped by forces we can barely comprehend—compression, tension, a new dimension. Stepping close with apprehension. Feeling the heartbeat of ascension. Both fast and gentle, a force so monumental. In their silence, we find reflection, a quiet force that beckons for connection. Their edges glint in the sunlight, rumble with movement, stepping back I get the hint. their depths glow with an otherworldly hue, one hundred and one shades of blue. and their presence demands respect, a force that you cannot deflect.
In a whole different world, just miles away, lies a sanctuary, one we created, one meant for us to stay. These are the cracks and crevasses that we make, Where the warmth of life refuses to wait. They are not vast or deathly, but human and small. A quiet defiance amidst it all. They don't threaten or awe. They comfort, a place to find peace, a refuge where worries can cease.
These cracks and crevasses we carve,not vast or deadly, but where we can starve, For the things we need- comfort and sanity and pride. In these spaces, my own vanity can not hide. They don’t awe or threaten, they scream humanity. A home to show, to hold my reality. In a place that seems designed to erase it all, I strap my boots and rise, standing tall. From the outside, it looks like insanity. Yet here I am, embracing duality.
These human crevasses are everywhere, if you look closely. My room, for instance, is an obvious example that I’ll boast about. I’ll give you a taste, a small sample to see, A crack in this frozen world, made to set me free. I turn up the heat until it’s ample, a cozy refuge where the chill can’t scramble. Walls filled with warmth and a light that gleams, A place that feels like home, where I try to chase my dreams.
The heater hums constantly, persistently, reliably. A steady force that fights the cold so defiantly. On the windowsill, bread dough is rising, Its yeast-fed warmth a rebellion, surprisingly. Each bubble forms a victory, quiet and sweet, A small revolution where warmth and comfort meet. The paints in the corner, an extension of me, A form of self-expression, wild and free. With colors and ideas, it’s my impression I’d like to leave. Others will enjoy it, at least I like to believe.
These cozy spaces are our defiance, all here because of science. Reaching for an alliance between the place that we carve out of the void, and the higher ups that choose it is here that I am employed. Breaking the treaty making me paranoid, but thinking about me at seventy, would be so annoyed for not leaping head first into this said “void”
Surrounded by nothingness but a place to feel wholeness, a place to share kindness, in the land of no darkness.These little crevasses, a place that we create, a place so intimate, so warm, it feels like fate. In a world so fast, where isolation’s great, we carve out these sanctuaries,a refuge, a gate.
The contrast between the cracks outside and inside is stark, the icy crevasses stretch with no end, cold and dark. When I run back to my room, I take cover, pretend I’m secure, But these cracks remind me of a truth I can not ignore, something so pure. They belong to a world that doesn’t care for our lot, they’ll remain long after we’ve been forgotten.
The cracks inside, though- they are entirely ours, Small and human, like lanterns in dark towers. Where the outside cracks are cold and still, The inside ones are warm, a place to feel. They are filled with laughter and music and song, Little routines that help us belong, A touch of life in a frozen trance, A reminder of home in this icy expanse.
What’s striking is how much these cracks matter. Without them, the cold would make spirits shatter. It's easy to feel like a speck, so small, Swallowed by Antarctica's icy sprawl. But these crevasses of warmth, of light, of care, Ground us, remind us that we can belong anywhere.
It’s remarkable, really, how much we insist on being human in a place so stark, yet sparkable. In the face of the cold, we remain unstoppable, our spirit warm and undeniably hospitable. We turn up the heat, bake the bread with care, fill these walls that echo the lives that we bare, we do it with flair, and truly, it would not matter where, to live here is to grow a pair and boldly share the life we dare.
And when we step out to the icy expanse, we’re humbled again by nature's stance. The winds have grumbled, the ice has tumbled, our resolve has fumbled, our thoughts all jumbled. Yet amidst it all, we’ve stumbled upon grace, a reminder that we’re small, but together no matter the weather in this fast, cold place.
The cracks and crevasses or Marble Point tell two stories. One is about nature’s power, studied across the world in laboratories, full of glories. The power and indifference, its raw and unyielding, mentally healing, yet quietly revealing, The truths we hide, the fears we’re concealing. The other crack shows humanity's resilience, our ability to adapt, to show indifference to the environment's vengeance, masterminds showing brilliance, warm lights shine with diligence. The other cracks are about humanity's insistence, its relentless pursuit of warmth, no matter the resistance, we all share that in this existence.
It’s this interplay—between the cracks carved out of ice, they exist beyond our comprehension, unmoved by our thoughts, or our intervention. Their beauty is a mask, a deadly facade, a reminder that in nature, nothing is odd. In their beauty lies a truth we must face” we are but temporary guests in this timeless place.
With laughter, light, and warmth we share, a fragile piece of life, tender and rare. Remarkably, we stand, though hearts perplexed, In complex cracks, by this cold world, respectfully vexed.