The name “A Penguin’s Egg” is inspired by one of my favorite travel memoirs, “Worst Journey in the World” by Apsley Cherry-Garrard. Great title, eh?

If reading a day-by-day recap of Robert Falcon Scott’s fated 1912 expedition to the South Pole, including detailed descriptions of frost-bit limbs, doomed sled-dogs (ugh! I hated that part!), and untimely death isn’t your thing, I get it. Perhaps check out some of my other fave books here. [link]

But don’t fret. No need to slog through the book unless it is calling to you. The final paragraph is what touched me because it deeply and elegantly summarizes my purpose and existence in life (ok, a bit of hyperbole here, but isn’t this a great paragraph?):

“And I tell you, if you have the desire for knowledge and the power to give it physical expression, go out and explore. If you are a brave [person], you will do nothing; if you are fearful, you may do much, for none but cowards have need to prove their bravery. Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, ‘What is the use? For we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which does not promise [them] a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers; that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin’s egg.” – Apsley Cherry-Garrard, Worst Journey in the World

Early in my travels I sought things alongside experiences. And I quickly accumulated enough spices from Turkish markets, shell-laden jewelry boxes from Egypt (probably made in China), Ganesh statues from Nepal, Koala martini glasses from Australia, and other global chachkies. You get the idea.  

These knick-knacks held meaning in a moment. A memory of somewhere I’d gone, something I had done. And I held onto them confusing their representation for my actual becoming. But drawers fill up, and I started forgetting exactly where that one-of-a-kind magical rock I found next to that perfect stream, on that perfect hike, came from. I was finally ready to admit that Icelandic sweater was itchy and uncomfortable as hell. But I had to try it on and keep it in a Tupperware in my attic for several years before confirming it just was not me. And, SLOWLY, continually, I’ve developed awareness around the other things I’ve tried on and accumulated that I want to shed. Yes, some are physical (I exclusively wore Umbros until high school) and others are more important: anxieties, limiting beliefs, speaking my truth.

For me, A Penguins’ Egg is a journey towards self-expression. The best way I know to understand myself better is to do the challenging or inspiring thing: to traipse the world, decide to start a family, sign up for that marathon. Our motivations are all different, but it is the process of hatching, again and again, that makes a life.