Another wilderness post

For the last couple months I have been enthralled in Wilderness and the American Mind by Professor Roderick Nash. The book explores how attitudes toward wilderness have changed throughout the years, starting when Europeans first set foot on American soil and working its way to modern times (3rd edition was completed in 1982). With less than 50 pages to go, Nash has helped me understand more about my own perceptions and what I should be doing about it. The opening chapters were especially enlightening and I'll briefly summarize the pieces that stood out.

As with most issues during colonial times, wilderness was viewed from a religious perspective. Wild country was an intimidating and sinister entity neccessary of being conquered. The validation for this claim was taken straight from scripture and pioneers forged the frontier with one thing in mind: domination. While the west was being settled, something else was happening across the Atlantic. As Europe moved into the Age of Enlightenment, the hostile view of a cursed and ungodly wilderness began to soften. Romantics suggested a sublime association with God and wild nature and turned to the uncultivated, uncivilized forests for inspiration. With the help of great minds such as Henry David Thoreau, the philosophy of transcendentalism was introduced and a genuine appreciation of nature began to arise. Americans began to feel that they had something special that Europeans did not: wild country...and lots of it. They also noticed the unending destruction of America's forests and a call for preservation was imminent. Between the late 1800's and mid 1900's significant legislation passed that fortified the preservation of America's wilderness.

There still exists an uneasiness felt in regards to the wild. One of Thoureau's conclusion about wilderness is that there must be a balance between civilization and our primitive instincts. Although the deeply respected John Muir had different feelings, I cannot agree with it more. Too much of city life has obvious drains on the human spirit. But too much wilderness will limit human progress , both culturally and mentally. Complete isolation from society will do nothing for compassion and empathy.

While I have yet to finish reading this book I know that it will leave some important issues out. The third edition was completed in 1982, giving two and a half decades of wilderness development left undiscussed. I know that the battle for wilderness preservation is in no way over. This is readily apparent from Californias recent legislative proposal to close over 100 state parks. Luckily this daunting threat was not the end result of the California budget problem, but it came dangerously close. My fascination with this text has encouraged me to get involved with the process. I firmly believe that the preservation of wilderness is essential to the progress of mankind and we can not let this generation take that away from those who follow.

kick out the jams

"Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect some day to suffer vertigo. What is vergigo? Fear of falling? Then why do we feel it even when the observation tower comes equipped with a sturdy handrail? No, vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves."

Milan Kundera

Adventures of Archie...continued

Looking over the prep table, Archie throws four patties on the burner. They instantly explode in a storm of grease and shrivel down to half their size. He grabs the buns and reaches for the mayonaise spatula. Then he remembers, "no mayonaise. STAT!" Next to the mayo tub is the mustard dispenser. He grabs the bottom half of a bun, places it under the spigot and pushes down on the pump. His hand slips off due to the grease explosion that somehow made it all the way to the mustard bin. In the messy process he knocks a cutting knife off the counter which slices his shin open before hitting the ground. "How convenient," he thought. He grabs the other half of the bun and rubs it across his shin. He holds it there for a few seconds in order to stop the bleeding and then moves on to the ketchup dispenser. By now the meat has concluded its 25 second cooking process and the hamburgers are ready to be wrapped. "Two cheeseburgers, no mayonaise. STAT!" He remembers the cheese at the last minute and throws one slice on each patty before wrapping up the burgers and placing them in the bag.

He walks up to the serving counter and spots the business man sitting on the bench in front of the microphone. A look of intensity imprinted on the mans face as he focuses on his blackberry. "Order number 42," Archie groans into the microphone. No reaction. "Order number 42, two double cheeseburgers," he says a little louder this time. Without looking up the man replies, "Yea I heard you, hold on a second!" Archie waits patiently for the man to finish tapping away on the mini-me sized keypad of his personal digital assistant. As he gets up and walks over to the counter, Archie puts on as real of a smile as he can manage. Before the man reaches the counter, Archie looks at him and says, "Hey man, here's your burgers. I hope you have a really good day. Really." It was obvious the man was still pondering his latest text message or email and had no intention of any sort of communication with a fast food attendant. So the comment from Archie caught him by surprise. He stumbles out, "Uuhh, thanks. " He looks at the bag and then back at Archie. Eye contact.

"Hey sorry for the attitude, its just been a rough day at the office you know?"

"Oh, I know how it goes," replies Archie. "Dont worry about it."

"Cool, thanks man. And you have a good day too."

The man turns and walks away. Just before he reaches the door, Archie yells out, "HEY! I'M SORRY TOO!"

The man stares blankly for a minute. Then he laughs and shakes his head before proceeding out the door. Archie continues to watch the man walk back toward his car. He stops at the trash can in front of the store and tosses the bag into the waste basket. He's still laughing as he gets in his car and drives away.

Adventures of Archie

"Archie! I need two double cheeseburgers, no mayonaise. STAT!" Archie looked up to see his pudgey faced boss staring at him with a look of discontent. "Like this is a f***ing hospital? If that man across the counter doesnt get his cheeseburgers he's gonna die from pulmonary non-aspiration," Archie thought to himself. "And thats a good thing." The customer of the day was a tall slender man. Well dressed. Fancy shoes. Gel in his hair. Archie guessed that he worked at the business complex around the corner. He saw hundreds of these guys every day. He did his best to give them the benefit of the doubt. Not to group them into the pompous businessman stereotype. But too often he would take their order as a cashier. Waiting for them to make eye contact. Maybe an innocent passing smile. Some sort of gesture that suggested they had a humble soul. Nothing. Well usually nothing. Every once in a while he would come across someone that was kind enough to offer a signal of modest appreciation for his fast food service. And what service it was.

Today he wasnt feeling so good about this particular customer. Archie's boss spun around again, "Archie! I dont want to have to tell you again! Pick it up!"

"Sure thing boss," he replied.

He cruised back to his prep station in a nonchalant kind of manner. He was the only other crew member working today. His manager decided to cut the normal crew down from four to just two because of the "tough times." This meant that the same number of customers per day had to wait about twice as long to get their food.

Archie was under doctor's order not to exert himself too much. His last echocardiagram revealed some irregular heart patterns and he was prescribed meds to counteract the effect. It was all experimental. Archie has had heart problems ever since he can remember. He spent his first four months of life in a neonatal intensive care unit. Since then he has had regular checkups, seen a couple dozen different doctors, and been popping pills on a regular basis.

TO BE CONTINUED....

What it takes to feel

Reality: re-al-i-ty, noun:

1. the state or quality of being real

2. resemblance of what is real

The wikipedia entry for reality says this, "Reality, in everyday usage, means the state of things as they really exist. In a sense, it is what is real."

If asked to define reality, I think most people might have a tough time. And the answers you might recieve would be wide and varied. For me the words that come to mind are individualism, struggle, subjectivism, people, emotion, perception. And when I try to define my own reality I'm not really sure where to start.

I am amazed at what it takes for people, including myself, to recognize and appreciate the foundations that make up our lives. The most important things to us are usually the same things that we take for granted. They go unnoticed until something drastic happens, leaving us wide eyed in disbelief. There are examples all around us, of people making mistakes and trying to warn others not to do the same. A smoker that lost their esophagus. A gangbanger that spent 20 years in prison. An alcoholic that lost their family. They try to warn us, but it never really sinks in. Usually the thoughts are, "that'll never happen to me" or "that doesnt really apply to my life." We cannot learn from mistakes unless we create them ourselves. It would be much easier to look at the people that surround us, listen to what they say and heed the warnings that we hear or dont hear. I'm not sure if its a matter of arrogance or ignorance, but that doesn't work for me. I cannot really understand a situation until I experience the events first hand. And only when I have been caught, trapped or hit bottom of one of life's many pitfalls, do I really get it. We must be broken before we can be mended.

Who are the people you love? Try and imagine of those people were no longer there. Now take that feeling and multiply it by 100. Because that might give you a glimpse of what it will feel like when they really are gone. Dont take your life for granted. Because the reality is, these things WILL happen to you.

react.

realize.

reform.

rinse.

repeat.

Why we walk

People often ask me why I enjoy being outside. Why I would choose to give up the comfort of a home to spend multiple days in the dirt. No shower, dried food, heat and cold, aches and pains. I typically avoid a heart felt reply and give them something short and sweet. It's just something I enjoy. Need to "get away from it all". Its good exercise. While this all may be true, I think it only scratches the surface and the root of my passion is a bit more complex, which is in itself partly why I never tire of it.

Hiking is meditation. The quiet of the trail welcomes the mind to explore itself. The turmoils of everyday life no longer matter. As the dust settles behind me I wonder what I will find around the next switchback.

I have an option. Let my mind be clear, blocking all the thoughts that tie me to a materialistic world. Aware of only my surroundings, I focus on the ground beneath my feet. Each stone has its place and I am a guest in their domain. The trees, birds and wind teach me how to be at ease with myself. I let nature wash over me and the transient messages she tells bubble up like a spring of life water. Take a sip of its meaning before it drifts away out of mind. The other option is to allow myself to think. Hiking is philosophizing. Hours upon hours to collect my thoughts, evaluate my choices, and realize what direction my life is taking. To look at the world I live in and figure out my place in it. To appreciate the people that I am close to. The trail teaches me to be humble. Reminds me that life really can be very simple. Eat, sleep, and walk. And walk. And walk. Reminds me that the people of this earth really are all the same.

The differences we create are artificial. And it reminds me why the human race is special. I dont believe that the dirt and stones I walk on question their existence. The birds and trees dont feel love and passion. They dont cry for their comrades, tears of joy or sadness. Nature is simple and complex at the same time. And while she does provide an example of how we are to live, there are some things she cannot explain. Some things that can only be experienced through the sharing of life with the people around us.

"At that moment, when the world around him melted away, when he stood alone like a star in the heavens, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of icy despair, but he was more firmly himself than ever. That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards."

-- Herman Hesse, Siddartha

Cobble Wobble

Walking barefoot down a cobblestone street. With every step my ankles roll in on themselves. The difficult path demands my full attention, one step at a time. I look up for a brief moment searching for my next destination, stumble onto a rock that has been knocked loose and broken in to small jagged pieces. The bottom of my foot finds a sharp edge that slices through my skin. I freeze for a moment and watch as a pool of blood collects beneath me. I limp over to the curb and sit down. For a brief moment I feel no pain as I watch the people moving around me. Determined expressions of personal agendas. I lean over to take a closer look at my foot. The cut is deep. Dark red with flecks of white...a piece of flesh dangling down from the wound, reminding me of the egg and salsa crepe my stomache was growling for only seconds ago. At that moment a sharp pain shoots up my leg, stirring the butterflies in my stomach, and ending with a dagger-like sensation in my chest. My vision blurs, colors begin to swirl, then everything goes black. Two seconds later I come to, my foot still throbbing. I look up again and realize I have arrived at my first destination. I manage to pull myself up and limp through the open door. I walk straight pass the menu and up to the counter. "Large nonfat latte." The cashier nods without saying a word and I pay in silence as the barista makes my drink and hands it to me. No crepes for me this morning. I turn around and follow my blood trail back out to the door to the open street. Where was I going? The loss of blood is taking its toll, making it hard for me to maintain a train of thought for more than a few seconds. Visions of the crepe-like wound keep flashing before my eyes. I push the image out of my head and continue walking. Why did I choose this path? I pass a tarmac street running perpendicular. Smooth and easy. Why not take that route? I ponder the option for what seems like an eternity then continue my stumbling walk down the cobblestone street. Every step stings like hell, but something is pulling (or pushing?) me down this road. I pick up my pace...fueled by a nervous feeling in the pit of my core, butterflies stirring once again. This time not from pain. Where am I going? I cant remember. As my walk gets faster I stub my toe on an unexpecting large rock. My drink flies out of my hand and above my head. It comes down on top of my foot, lid flies off and the scolding hot nonfat latte burns my open wound. I never even got to take a sip. I stand there in silence starring at my foot, letting the pain wash over me. Tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. Frustrated. Confused. Lost. Why the hell am I on this road?? I contemplate turning around, back to the tarmac road. I stand empty handed in the middle of the cobblestone street. I notice a familiar face walking towards me, hand outreached. Their body language is saying they want to help but I look at their eyes and see a hollow soul. Glazed over nearly to blackness...looking not at me but through me. Their mouth begins to move and I try my hardest to listen. I hear murmurs but cannot make out any words. Egg and salsa crepes. Nonfat latte. Cobblestone, cobblestone, cobblestone. Right, I'm going crazy. I just shake my head...move my mouth trying to apologize, but no words come out. I can only turn and walk away. Moving more slowly now. Trying to save my energy for logical thought...hoping that the purpose of this walk comes back to me. Cant remember my destination, but I know there must be a point. No more pain now. I turn to look back from where I came. No more people now. I see a blood red trail zigzagging through the cobblestone street behind me. Doesnt feel like i've been walking long, but the trail fades off in the distance. I strain my eyes looking for the source, the jagged rocks, the pool of blood, the crepe store, the spilled nonfat latte, the tarmac road, the familiar face. Nothing now but a cobblestone street and a trail of blood. I am alone now. Where am I going? Why did I choose this path? And where are my shoes??