Camping

I remember making the decision to go to Catoctin Quaker Camp, fearful, up in a tree, hiding from the new idea of going away at nine, out into the wilderness, among strangers. But My mother, who had been a camper and counselor there, luckily convinced me, and after spending eight summers out in the Blue Ridge, away, thank goodness...I can clearly see that Camping has taught me more than school and socialization, hands down.

The teachings of a tree were recognized by Einstein as surpassing those of a book. And the breathtakingness of a buena vista, the primal feeling of awe; The feeling of silence on a mountaintop rock. These were my teachers. My soul came back to me every summer, and I let myself drain out into the dysmal middle and high schools in the winter, because I knew I would be replenished by the nostalgic and ritual return to nature every summer.

Reading parts of Meyer's How To Shit In the Woods brought back specific memories for me. Friends shitting during a canoe trip getting stinging nettle all over their butts; waking in the middle of the ninght to the "high beams" of an inconsiderate camper going for a poop; She reminds me of the truth of people's separation from nature; the fear of pooping outside, the utter ineptitude of most humans to be in the woods for even a day or two. I had this taught to me at such a young age that I take it for granted. I am always ready to trounce through leaves and crunch sticks in the elements. I remember hiking late at night, in the rain, half miserable, half enlightened. It's at the edges of our comfort zone that we feel really alive. My Yoga instructor quoted her own teacher as saying, "when shaking is happening, learning is happening". We must be uncomfortable, at least a little bit, before we realize that we can be comfortable. We find it along the way in a song, in a conversation, in a leaf, or a smell. The only thing to worry about out there is worry. (and hypothermia) But mostly worry.

I think the focus on hypothermia in this class is very telling. It connects to the body-as-subject of Marleau Ponty. The body is keeping you alive, not the other way around. But that still sounds like a split. The body is keeping itself (you) alive. But we can make choices that kill us. Generally we (me, my friends, many college students) don't drink enough or eat well, which are the main forces keeping us alive (duh) and out in the woods, we don't stand a chance without proper fuel and protection. Learning to protect myself from cold is really enjoyable for me, because personally, nothing feels more satisfying than being way out in the middle of nowhere, and yet being totally warm and comfy. Humans don't require that much to be happy. Just the basics: water, shelter, food, warmth.

Being on hiking trips alters consciousness because it alters time and space. The effect of moving across large spans of physical space seems to protract time. Every second is another view, every word of a conversation is linked to a memory of a place on the path; a view, a rock, a butterfly. Thus a week in this manner contains what a month normally would in terms of raw experience. It also alters companionship. Campers are in it together. If somebody needs help, we have to help. There is no ignoring each other when you are hunkered around a fire or under a tarp in the rain. People are forced to acknowledge one another.

In this way, I made the best friendships, listened to the best silences, and felt the most myself, that I ever have in my life, being surrounded by nature, and fellow campers. It makes us drunk on divinity.