camp: Fish Lake National Forest, Utah
And
today, we’re at a month. I’ve been sleeping in a sleeping bag since August 11.
I haven’t taken a “real” shower since we left Johnston Wilderness Campus. I
have five t-shirts and twenty-three people, and they don’t change. And I’m so
incredibly happy. The most stressed I’ve been out here barely registers on an
at-school scale—it’s never even come close to a typical Sunday night. I love
food again—no feeling stuffed and guilty, then starving and broke in
alternating cycles all day long. I don’t mind the dust so much, unless it gets
in my eyes. And it’s not like some trips, where they’re fun in part because you
know you have civilization waiting for you when you come home at the end of the
weekend. Weekend trips, you can wear yourself out, trash your gear and eat
whatever unhealthy crap you want. Here, you’re living. You have to take care of
yourself. Right now, I feel so balanced. I’m full, I’m warm, I’m outside
breathing clean, clear air. I’m in no rush to return home, however I define it.
This could even qualify as home for all I care. Clive would be a nice addition,
but I’m fine without him. I miss Seattle and edible sushi, but I miss that in
Walla Walla anyway. I’ve barely ever felt this good and happy—for a bit in
Costa Rica, backpacking around Glacier Peak—and when I do, it’s always when I
remove myself from Western Civilization. What does that say about Western
Civilization? Maybe it says more about me, that I can’t let go and let myself
relax unless I have an excuse to only communicate with the outside world on my
own terms. Maybe that’s something I should work on. When I get back, I want to
go through my closet and be merciless. I want to try to stay in mental
detox—less TV and YouTube, more time at Discovery Park, even if it is winter.
More time with my cousins. More time getting up early and writing. Probably
less time washing my hair.
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