Returning home?
Not from a dreadful day at work or a holiday weekend up north, nor after a vacation of leisure & play. I’m talking about coming home after embarking on a journey of desolate wilderness, courageous adventures, profound discoveries and near exhaustion consisting of obstacles & risk, unfamiliar territory, and oddly rewarding encounters - with the exclusion of traffic lights, cellular reception, and basic luxuries such as a bed & running faucet.
Only then, should one truly understand the challenges of returning home.
Provided my experience while away, I had, or rather chose, to activate airplane mode, carry one week’s supply of food, filter water or take my chances, travel 50-some odd miles on foot, sleep on rugged ground, endure relentless swarms of mosquitos, and tolerate the additional inconveniences & discomforts of the Wind River Wilderness. Most folks would have no trouble returning home after such strenuous activity, but not me.
Amid the cold mornings, rigorous days & restless nights, I gradually united with the environment I’d initially become visitor upon entry. As days passed, I no longer felt stranger but rather as though I was home. There exists an everlasting appreciation and deeply gratifying connection between mother nature and I; my heart fell heavily in the vast arms of the mountains, meadows & streams, and amongst the midnight stars as they imparted my infinite dreams. Soon enough, however, I will return to the home from which I departed.
Generally, it’s the never-ending car ride or the delayed flight during which the greatest nostalgia occurs. Though, in this instance, it was not the open wound or uneven farmer’s tan relayed in thought; instead, it was the peaceful escape, unexpected discoveries of myself & nature, the serene yet chilling rivers and lakes, steep ascents over ice and boulder, the fresh caught fish served for breakfast & lunch, the crystal clear sight of the milky way at night, the camaraderie, and challenges overcome that truly create a story to tell.
Like a lost love or a new one, for days if not weeks, she weighs heavily on my mind.
The wheels touch ground and reality hits; alas, I am home bound.
Something feels different.
Upon readjustment, I observe my community- from neighborhoods, grocery stores & gym, to family & friends- then wonder...
Am I still liked & accepted? Have I been forgotten? or is it all in my head?
After careful speculation, I realize it is not they who have changed; instead, it was I who had undergone significant transformation that coincidingly shifted my perspective on the world back home.
THREE SHIFTS IN PERSPECTIVE:
My first, also most obvious, observation was the amount of traffic and unappreciative expression-less faces behind each steering wheel. Those with great privilege to operate a vehicle and travel from point a to b in a matter of minutes have forgotten, and continue to take for granted, the luxuries and conveniences of fast transportation. The distance it took me six days to walk could be accomplished in an hour or less on a quarter tank of fuel.
Secondly, after nearly an entire week of backpacking for eight plus hours each day I was reminded that the majority of working-class citizens are required to sit for a minimum of eight hours per day which brought further attention to america’s obesity epidemic. There is a lack of movement not just physical but also mental & spiritual. We’ve lost touch with basic motor skills, functional patterns, primal instincts, and modes of exploration.
Thirdly, I felt as though my energy and focus were being misused. As the following Monday approached, I rolled out of bed- rushed- and for the sake to serve someone else. In contrast, my morning & evening routine in the wilderness suggested habits supporting my own actions, interests & desires for the coming day. There’s something magical about holding time and space solely for thyself without interruption especially in the morning. It certainly is a gift- luxury at the least- and far too rare in today’s developed world. Note to self: begin each day in silence, and for thy self- even if that means going to bed earlier!
Readjusting to the ‘real’ world feels a lot like it did when adapting to the wilderness. Similarly, it remains a foreign environment until it becomes a place of my own. In the process of becoming, I seek moments of introspection and reconciliation to assist in the challenge of continuing to practice and apply values & lessons from the journey, and to not be relinquished by society.
Can you relate? Please share if so!
-Son of Mark
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