The Zen of the Wild
Be still and nature will reveal itself
There’s an unfortunate tendency to go at outdoor experience as if it were work - in a group-pressurized, accomplishment-driven, goal-oriented spirit that’s more like the executive suite than vacation. “Been there, done that,” is a laugh line because it’s so sadly apt. Way too much is done because we feel driven to do it - and we want to be sure others know we’ve done it - and all this doing gets in the way of simply being there.
The world has enough pictures of vibrant-colored trigger fish. What it lacks is scuba divers who pass on taking the picture and, instead, hold still for as long as they can, wondering at the balletic bustle of a living reef. What’s true in the ocean is true in jungles, deserts, on mountain tops and the Antarctic ice. Great things happen when adventure travelers sit still, set aside everything that gets between them and their surroundings, and pay attention. First, the life around you reemerges, because it forgets you’re there. But the greater rewards are internal. Stop and focus on the here-and-now long enough, and you forget the day’s itinerary, the people you’re with, what you’re going to tell and show the folks back home, and all the pressures and distractions of today’s adventuring. At the same time, you begin to appreciate, in a deep way, where you are.
Collectors of Experience
Adventure travelers are particularly susceptible to “been there, done that,” because their trips are defined by attainments. Climb this mountain. Run that Class V rapids. Meet that isolated forest tribe… Attainments, kept in perspective, are fine. Yes, set goals, realize long-held dreams, accept challenges, surprise yourself with what you can do. These are adventuring’s glories, which conventional travel can’t begin to provide. But keeping perspective can be difficult, especially in the company of a dozen or so hard-changing fellow adventurers, with guides doing everything possible to fill the days so the group gets its money’s worth. The quickest escape from “been there, done that” is to take a break. Forget the itinerary, get away from the group, then stop and just take it all in. The break needn’t be long to work wonders. A half-day of contemplative solitude can provide a trip’s defining moments, to the greater glory of everything else. “Done that” is much more meaningful when you have, really and truly, “been there.”
The Vacation Path
A half-dozen “don’ts” to make your escape complete:
1. Don’t Talk - If possible, don’t have anybody around to talk to. Make arrangements with the guide for some time on your own, when it won’t be an inconvenience to the group or put anybody in jeopardy, (Lion or grizzly country, for instance, are bad places to be alone.) If you must go with a buddy, make a pact to keep silent for a period of time. Stick to it. Talk, especially when you’re talking with somebody from your part of the world, takes you straight back home. It also announces your presence to wildlife, most of which won’t show itself until you’re stone-still and silent. It can take hours for the most alert creatures to forget you’re there and start moving. The longer you keep quiet, the more you’ll have to talk about later.
2. Don’t Take Pictures - Calm down, photophiles, it’s only for a few hours. Wilderness itself is always better than pictures of wilderness. If you do your hardest looking through a camera’s view finder, you’re looking at pictures instead of the real thing. One of the great joys of adventuring is getting out of our modern image-reality warp, where the point of experience is to appear in images you’ve already seen, in order to show them to others. Focus, for a few hours, on making images in your own eyes, which you can’t show to anyone else.
3. Don’t Read - Wilderness literati like to haul along a nature classic or two and dip into the great words at great moments. This does the writing and the wild world a disservice. Give Thoreau a good read before you go, an you’ll see that he wouldn’t want you reading Thoreau - not out in nature.
4. Don’t Write - Leave the daily journal in your tent, with the camera and books. Write about your silent experience later.
5. Don’t Think - Don’t think, that is, about anything that isn’t where you are. The brain, like the rest of nature, abhors a vacuum. The idea right now is to fill it with nature, lest it drag you back to workaday pressures and frets. Get minutely interested in what you’re seeing. Try and figure out what the beetle in front of you is up to. Listen and match the calls with the birds you see. Wonder how the world looks to one of those monkeys, way, way up in the trees. Take sensory readings from the nose and skin. Your attention can go where it will, but don’t quit paying attention.
6. Don’t Take It All So Seriously - All modes of travel come with theming and background atmospherics. Adventuring tends to be serious, as if we’re really on ecological or anthropological field studies, original explorations, or supreme tests of survival skill and endurance - instead of on vacation. This sense of mission isn’t entirely bogus. Eco-travel may, after all, help save wild places and indigenous peoples. Commercial adventuring can, indeed, be different and dangerous - witness the 1996 deaths of paying clients and their guides on Mount Everest.
But on most trips there’s a healthy measure of pretense. We pretend we’re on serious missions, with heavy agendas, for the same reason vacationers in Las Vegas pretend they’re high-rollers. It buzzes-up the experience. It suits our fantasy lives. It is, in a word, fun. Don’t get all heavy about these silent hours of observation. Smile at the wild world. Don’t be surprised if it smiles back at you.
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Into the Wild