Nothing Comes Close: Reflections From Antarctica and a Year of Ticking Off My Life List
- Aaron Lim
- Dec 30, 2025
- 6 min read
Updated: Jan 6
At the start of the year, I set myself an intention: To live more deliberately.
Not faster. Not louder. Not with more accomplishments - but with more purpose.
For those who remembered, I’ve kept a “300 Things To Do Before I Die” list (read more here: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/300-list-why-i-am-writing-everything-want-do-before-die-aaron-lim-j2gic/?trackingId=tTQfEKmNTCCYXPliBYpMdA%3D%3D). Some people call it a bucket list. For me, it’s more of a compass and a reminder of the experiences that shape who I want to become, not just what I want to achieve.
This year, I was fortunate to check off a few goals on my list. Some were fun, some challenging, and others that really pushed my limits.
But nothing came close to Antarctica.
With its fierce winds, dramatic landscapes, and extraordinary wildlife, could easily have been the standout adventure in any other year.
Even now, weeks later, I’m still trying to find the words. Because Antarctica doesn’t just sit in your memory.
It rearranges your internal furniture; It shifts things. It clears things out. It forces you to see yourself with a level of honesty you can’t negotiate.
And that’s exactly what I want to share - the lessons this frozen continent left me with about courage, presence, ambition, and what it really means to live well with purpose.
1. Antarctica reminds you that not everything in life can be controlled
And that’s okay.
I’ve spent most of my life in roles where planning, forecasting, and strategising are second nature. In HR leadership, uncertainty is something we manage, minimise and/or mitigate.
Antarctica laughs at your plans.
Some days, the weather changed so quickly the schedule for the day flipped in minutes. You learn to dress for four seasons in one hour. You learn that nature (not you) decides what comes next.
At first, this discomforted me. But eventually, it became liberating.
Once you learn to accept uncertainty, the need for perfection fades. You stop clinging to the idea that life must unfold according to your plans, and start flowing with whatever comes.
And often the bravest words we can offer are:
“I may not control the conditions, but I will show up anyway"
That’s when a leadership truth clicked for me: the best leaders don’t fix uncertainty. They help people move through it.
2. Stillness is not the absence of progress, but the birthplace of clarity
Antarctica is loud in its silence. It’s overwhelming without saying a word.
Moments like the one below, where I stood on deck early in the morning, completely still, surrounded by icebergs the size of buildings, watching ancient fragments and wildlife drift silently across the water.
My world felt paused, suspended, widened. No notifications. No noise. No leadership issues. No KPIs. No deadlines.
Just breath. Cold air. And the realisation that I haven’t been this still… in years.
We often mistake stillness for inactivity. But in Antarctica, I realised that stillness is not the opposite of productivity - it’s what reawakens it. This stillness taught me that silence is not empty. It is full of answers we are usually too busy to hear.
Moving forward, I hope to pause intentionally between decisions. Speaking slower.
Listening deeper. Responding with more presence rather than speed.
3. You are small - and that’s the beauty of it
Standing in Antarctica, I felt insignificant. Strangely, wonderfully tiny.
In a world where we’re constantly told to “take up space,” “leave a legacy,” and “stand out from the crowd”, there is something deeply grounding about being reminded of your scale in the universe.
The mountains don’t know your job title. The penguins don’t care about your achievements. The ice doesn’t applaud your resilience.
And yet, rather than making you feel smaller, this humility fills you. You realise that life is far bigger than you - and somehow, it’s even more beautiful because of that.
That perspective shift quietly changed me - it softened my hold on pressures that were never truly mine to keep.
It made the things that matter shine clearer. It made the things that drain me fade out. It reminded me that legacy isn’t built through noise , but built through intention.
Antarctica doesn’t need you to be big. It just needs you to be real.
4. Patagonia taught me movement; Antarctica meaning - and Joy
I spent a few days exploring Patagonia, and it became a lesson of its own. It was fierce, physical, and demanding. The winds can quite literally push you sideways.
The weather changes so quickly that you’re constantly adjusting your expectations - it taught me how to move, adapt, and recalibrate quickly. Each day is a conversation with nature - though nature always has the final word.
But Antarctica? Antarctica teaches me the opposite.
You don’t push Antarctica. You don’t force it. You don’t “win” it.
You witness it.
You respect its pace. You surrender to its rhythms. You accept that you are a just a visiting guest in its world.
Holding Patagonia’s motion in one hand and Antarctica’s stillness in the other gave me a new perspective:
There are times to move, and times to be still. Strength is recognising which one the moment calls for.
Because too much motion becomes anxiety. And too much stillness becomes stagnation. The wisdom is in the transition.
And in the middle of all that reflection - there was pure joy too.
I took a polar plunge into freezing Antarctic waters, the kind of cold that shocks your soul awake and makes you laugh through the adrenaline.
And I kayaked across icy waters, drifting quietly past glaciers and icebergs - surrounded by seabirds, penguins, and silence.
It was the closest I’ve ever felt to another world.
And together, these moments taught me something important:
Life requires both motion and meaning. Both depth and joy. Both courage and surrender.
Most of us default to motion. Too few of us embrace stillness.
This year gave me both - and now I can feel the difference.
5. Adventure expands you, but reflection transforms you
I’ve realised something about life lists: Ticking boxes is exciting, but it’s reflection that deepens the meaning. If I simply came back with stunning photos and said: “Wow, Antarctica was amazing,” I would have gained an experience, not wisdom.
Yes, I ticked off several items from my 300-item list this year. But the value isn’t in the count, it’s in the transformation.
The real transformation happens when you ask:
What did this place teach me about how I want to live?
What habits should I let go of?
What fears became smaller?
What truths became louder?
Who am I becoming because of this?
And when I sat with these questions, a few things became clear:
I want to live slower - not less ambitiously, but more intentionally.
I want to build a career that combines both velocity and meaning.
I want to preserve the sense of awe I felt, not just in remote corners of the world, but even in ordinary days.
I want to choose experiences that expand my humanity, not merely my resume profile.
Some experiences add value. Others shift your axis - Antarctica was the latter.
The friendships that surprised me
Here’s the part I didn’t expect.
Beyond the landscapes and wildlife, what touched me most were the friendships formed along the way. We started as strangers with the same mission - people from different countries, professions, stories - all boarding the same ship with different expectations. But over time, shared experiences connected us in a way that felt natural and unforced.
We stood together on deck watching the horizon quietly change colour. We laughed over meals after long days exploring. We had conversations that only happen when the world feels very far away - the kind where you don’t need to be impressive, just honest.
It reminded me that the places we go matter. But the people we share them with often matter more.
Sometimes the best travel souvenir is not the photo - it’s the human connection.
Closing Reflection
What’s next? Maybe item #187. Or maybe just living differently.
I’ll keep working through my 300-item list - but now, I will do it differently.
Not to collect experiences, but to collect perspective. Not to only chase adrenaline, but also to chase meaning. Not to escape life, but to deepen it.
A life list isn’t about how many things you do. It’s about who you become while doing them.
Antarctica changed me. One moment of awe, one encounter with silence, one reminder of your place in the world - it can rewrite how you live.
Life is long if we live it deeply. Life is short if we live it distracted.
So here’s to depth. To awe. To goals that scare you a little. To places that remind you how vast the world is. And to becoming someone your younger self would be proud of.
This year, I ticked off many things. But Antarctica? That changed everything.
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