The Lost Art of Exploration

One could be forgiven for thinking exploration a thing of the past. Even with deep outer space we talk like we have a pretty good handle on the entire universe going back to the “Big Bang.” If we can make up a story about it, well, that’s as good as knowing. No matter that science is just another one of those stories. This little planet? We have Google Earth for that. Just pinch to zoom.

It seems far more fashionable to seek known or semi-known experiences, to know what you’re after and then go where it is. Seek and ye shall find. Want roos? Australia. Want giant turtles? Galapagos. Want gourmet? Michelin stars. And this seeking fits nicely on a todo or bucket list. Making a little check mark insures the dopamine hit.

Not that there is anything wrong with collecting experiences. Pleasant reminiscing makes for a lovely afternoon.

Exploration, though, is the stuff of legend. I don’t mean Amerigo Vespucci-style exploration. Nothing so grand as that. I mean going forward with open eyes and an open heart and seeing what life has in store. Once upon a time, we all did that. It was called childhood. We were lucky then for not knowing better. Then, as we learned more we explored less. For some reason we began to want to have the experiences others had. Pre-approved experiences. It became more important to validate what we had learned than to have our own unique experiences. Fitting in, more important than feeling alive.

Maybe it’s a trivial difference, looking for a thing versus just looking. Who needs a sense of wonder anyway?