The Availability of Joy

There’s a Norwegian man named Aleksander Gamme who’s kind of a professional adventurer. Back in 2012, he decided to ski to the South Pole by himself, and he filmed some of his journey on a GoPro camera. On his way in, he buried a series of caches in the snow, with supplies he could use on his way out. There’s a video online of him digging up his last cache at the end of his journey.

By then, he'd been by himself, skiing virtually nonstop, for 3 months. His food had pretty much run out, and he’d lost 55 pounds. In the video, he’s unbathed, emaciated, exhausted and alone. As he digs up the supplies, he wonders out loud what he buried there, and hopes for the best. Then, suddenly, he lets out a primal scream of ecstasy, and pulls out a double-sized bag of Cheese Doodles. He tosses it in the air, and then he suddenly goes very still, and on his face is a look of transcendent wonder and gratitude.

When I first saw this video, it occurred to me that I was witnessing a moment of pure, unadulterated joy that may have surpassed any I’ve experienced in my life--brought on by a package of stale junk food.

Since then, I sometimes play a little game with myself. When I’m about to experience some small pleasure or creature comfort--a hot shower, a sip of tea, a bite of fresh bread--I stop for a moment and imagine how I’d experience this if I were Aleksander Gamme at the end of his trip to the South Pole. It always makes the moment a little bit sweeter.