Our Journey Home

On the journey.   Photo by Beth Ritchason. (1) 

Would you accept the premise that life is a journey?  Philosophers ask all sorts of questions about people and life.  One philosopher, Loyal Rue, confronts his intro to philosophy students with the question "what is a human being for?"  I can really get into that one but, as he admits, it is a bit unfair and "an unphilosophical thing to do".  They also ask is there meaning to life.  This question is fraught with problems, pitfalls and barriers, despite our very simplistic inherentism which, Rue points out, "may be the most commonly held metaphysical attitude in human history."(2) Of course that does not in any way validate inherentism.

But before I get off onto such a philosophical discussion let's get back to my original question - would you accept the premise that life is a journey?  If it is, I've had a hell of a trip and haven't any idea what it means, if it means anything.  I think my trip has been easier than most peoples', harder than that of some, but definitely filled with lots of joy, sorrow, excitement and time to ponder.  I am more willing to accept that it is a journey, which can be altered at any point, than a goal-oriented activity. What would my goal be? To arrive as slowly as possible at the point of death?  As a child I remember people saying "getting there is half the fun."  Now, seven decades later, I would venture to disagree with them.  I think that "getting there", whatever that means, is all the fun.

My concern - switching from philosophy to sociology - is that homo sapiens have gone from being participants in nature to being an invasive species that is destroying the very nature which sustains them. Actually that sounds more like a parasite, doesn't it?  There are two types of parasites: (a) those that feed off their host and ultimately kill the host, and (b) those that try to feed off the host without killing it.  Obviously the latter is the more advance. In the first case the host dies and therefore the parasite dies. In the second case they both still die, but the parasite lives longer. Which are we?

But again, I'm tempted into regression.  Might one say that I am easily distracted?  Not really. These questions and issues are just ones of great interest to me even if they aren't the focus of this particular blog. It is hard not to include a discussion of them as a preamble. It would be appropriate but they are blogs and books unto themselves.

Recently we took a 10 day camping trip which started at Brown County State Park in south-central Indiana, to Raccoon Lake State Recreation Area in central Indiana, and ending at Guntersville Lake, Alabama, a TVA project that damned the Tennessee River to create this magnificent lake. We had a wonderful time with family and friends, rode our bikes and kayaked, and enjoyed life in Willy, our 35 year old 16 foot camper trailer which is our home for much of the year. Despite the mid-western humidity, the weather was outstanding. This trip was Pamela's fall break.  Pamela is a college biology professor.  All such trips are now rehearsal for full-timing which begins when Pamela retires next spring. Right now, however, it is most definitely a part of the journey.

Pamela and my journeys intersected at our love for nature. At our meeting Pamela was a trekker, cyclist and kayaking enthusiast who had a long history as a triathlete. I was a trail and ultra-marathon (>40 miles) runner and scuba diver who thrived on trail adventures in the most remote environments. Pamela sparked my love of trekking, cycling and kayaking. We had both concluded that to apply the term "civilization" to cities and populated areas was incredulous because "civilization" implies a superiority which we firmly believe homo sapiens have not really attained.  Don't misunderstand me. There are many spectacular and amazing things in our cities.  That, however, has two problems: (1) it does not necessarily follow that these spectacular and amazing things are and/or makes us superior to the rest of nature, and (2) they came at an appalling cost to the nature of which we are a part.  To achieve this "high level of culture, science, industry and government"(3) we have squandered countless resources and put ourselves and our short time on this planet ahead of all other life and the long-term welfare of everything that supports our fragile existence.

Our journey together brought us to more carefully explore the world around us.  That, in turn, led us to live and work in the wilderness while playing and exploring in  natural areas wherever we go from Bahama reefs to the most remote of the northern Rocky Mountains. That point of realization, maybe enlightenment, definitely understanding led us to do our best to be good citizens of planet earth  - not the best citizens of a state or an ideology or political unit but of the community of nature to which we owe our existence and our continued survival.

Our journey took us into a world which we both had loved and admired from afar but only realized as our true home in the past 3+ years.  Pamela and I love our house in Evansville, IN.  It is way too big and still needs a lot of work, but we enjoy it. Nevertheless, it is when we are living in Willy (our 35 year old 16 foot camper trailer) in the wilderness or in the woods away from what is called "civilization", that we feel the strongest, most alive and definitely most free.  Right now we spend about 120 days a year in Willy.  Starting May 2016 we anticipate that we will be spending 245 days or more living in Willy while returning to Evansville twice a year as a base-camp for visiting our combined 7 children, their spouses and 8 grandchildren.

After our first 90 consecutive days in Glacier National Park in the wilds of northwestern Montana we felt like we were being ripped away when we had to return to "civilization".  Some vital part of our being was still there in the wilderness or perhaps some part of our primeval being that remembers 'when' had been awakened so that we were more aware of our true home.  It didn't matter.  Over the next nine months before we would return we were continuously aware of our longing to be back. Short trips in Willy to parks and forests would lift our spirits. Just going out and sitting in Willy seemed to help.  Willy was like a mnemonic. He had become a symbol of the freedom and new life we had discovered.

Laugh if you will, but everyone goes back to nature. Unless you just stepped off the last star-freighter from Mars your roots go back to hunter-gatherers and farmers. It is very sad indeed that so much of our species has been corrupted by what Dr. Yusal Noah Harari calls "fictitious" reality (4) and has forgotten from whence it came. There is even new research that believes it has discovered evidence that we have memory in our DNA. There appears to be some very fundamental reason and, perhaps, even science for the old saying "you may be able to take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy."  Could Pamela and I be evidence?

This year (2015) we made the 2004 mile trip from Evansville, Indiana to Glacier in three days despite not being able to travel faster than 65 miles per hour and having to hole up in western Kansas because the rain was blowing us off the road and there were tornadoes both in front and behind us. We were almost giddy the last hour as familiar landmarks began to appear and mountains could be named. I can still remember coming down the hill toward the turn under the railroad tracks.  The old passage under the railroad is very narrow and opens into the little tourist village of West Glacier - a commercial part of what had been the town of Belmont when the park was founded. Since it was still the first of May, the village was closed. It wouldn't open until Memorial Day. But we knew that when we crossed the bridge over the Middle Fork of the Flathead River we were home. This was "our Glacier". We are shamelessly possessive and protective. It didn't matter if the Ranger at the gate recognized us or just the employee sticker on our window, their broad smile and welcome made it official . . . we were home.  We were anxious to see our new friends, Terry and Beth Ritchason, whom we had recruited to take an assignment at Apgar Campground, so we stopped by to see them before we started the last 11 miles of the Going-to-the-Sun Road and turned into Sprague Creek Campground where we would live and work until we were forced to leave so that Pamela could get back in time for school in August. Everything was ready for us.  We backed Willy into his spot, hooked him up, and hugging each other said "we're home".

Home. Sprague Creek is at the foot of the first mountain on the right.

Why should this feel so much like home?   It is indeed beautiful, but there are many beautiful places in the world, and many people call some of the least pretty places on the globe home.

To address this question I Googled "attributes of a home". I wasn't surprised to find a list of web sites that all contained lists of "attributes". What did surprise me was that all those lists contained things like monthly payment, type of home, number of levels, minimum number of bedrooms, minimum number of bathrooms, whether the payment included property taxes and insurance, and other indoor amenities.  Am I the only one who is still naive enough to define the attributes of a home as a place where there is fellowship, love, compassion, a sense of belonging, a sense of security, etc.?  When did we become so jaded?

Almost at the top of Mt Oberlin (5)

Pamela and my journey had led us away from everything that blinds one to reality.  Because of our love for plants, animals, mountains, rivers, lakes, oceans and all places wild our journey had driven us away from all that contradicts nature. Because of our love for trekking, running, biking, and kayaking our journey had led us far enough away from the toxicity of civilization that we were able to do what so few modern people get the opportunity to do; viz. really know what it is to be alive. We have stood within yards of Grizzly bears and within feet of Black bears (not on purpose). We lay on the ground and took pictures of plants in the alpine tundra struggling for survival at >12,000 feet elevation. Two to three times a week we ride our bikes up the Going-to-the-Sun Road when it was closed to cars which goes from 3,100 ft to 6,800 ft in 12 miles. We go scuba diving in a glacial lake. We kayak a lake that is 7.5 miles long in one of the most remote areas of the park where it takes our 4-wheel drive truck 55 minutes to travel the last 6 miles, and raft through Class IV white water. We have purposely stepped between an annoyed bear and some really dumb visitors. We patrol high back-country trails to keep visitors from getting the animals we love into trouble. We found stromatolites at 7,500 ft., and took pictures of wildlife and lichen high up a mountainside. We climb mountains and stand on top of the world. We know we were alive and want so much for others to share the feeling.

Stromatolites - formed on the ocean floor - we found at
7,500 feet up a mountain. 

If you haven't already, I know you are going to be asking why I feel I can say that living in civilization is not real or that it is not a true reality compared to living a Thoreau-like existence in nature. That is a valid question and I respect it.  I also think that I can answer it relatively briefly.

Back in September 2015 I posted a note about Dr. Yusal Noah Harari. He had given a TED talk on July 24, 2015.  Dr. Harari is an Israeli historian who concluded that homo sapiens went from an insignificant mammal in east Africa to the dominant mammal on the globe because we were able to achieve cooperation among the masses.  He pointed out that this was accomplished by piggy backing what he calls 'fictitious' reality onto objective reality. He went on to very convincingly demonstrate that everything from religion to law, finance to politics is based upon a 'reality' created by someone or some group to control the masses and gain the cooperation.  Let's use money as an example. I don't know that I can do as well as Dr. Harari, but here goes. People give up much of their lives and many actually give their lives for money. What is it?  A piece of paper.  You don't see many Mountain Lions trading their deer carcass for a piece of paper.  But that paper is backed by real gold! Great. Have you seen the gold that "backs" your paper? Actually, in modern times, have you seen the paper? What makes that gold worth your life?  Someone told you that it is worth it. But if someone were to change the "reality" of gold, it could sit on your table and shine as you die of starvation.  Harari calls this fictitious reality because it is a story that we have told ourselves for so long that we now actually believe it.

Pamela and I had never thought about fictitious reality versus objective reality before.  We had frequently questioned the very things that Dr. Harari point out as being fictitious reality, but that was as far as we had gone. Nevertheless our journey took us to a place where we were free to see. We were unfettered by the proponents of the fictitious reality that shame us, or in some cases threaten us, if we doubt. Nature is not fictional reality.  A bear doesn't make up some abstract or fictitious rules to get you to stay away from his huckleberry patch or to get you to give him your huckleberries. You have a fairly good idea if the pack of wolves that just caught your scent is thinking that you'd make a good addition to their lunch menu. The law of gravity is rather objective and you soon learn what you must do to keep from falling off the mountain. Survival skills are not abstract. No one came up with them to control a group of people or to establish themselves as important or supreme.

Now, as a result of our journey together and the discoveries it has afforded us, Pamela and I have become seekers.  Seekers are those who have discovered life and are on a quest to see what all life has for them.  Seekers don't have agendas or goals. We're not looking for anything specific but everything in general. It is a journey . . . a journey into the unknown . . . a journey into life.

Giving in to the reality that life is a journey and not trying to restrict or direct that journey based upon abstract or fictitious goals has opened up a world for me that is beyond my wildest expectation.  When I think of how to express the marvel of life's journey when you make the journey unencumbered by fictitious reality, I think of any one of a number of treks I have made through the wilderness. You have no idea what is around the corner but that's why you keep following the path around the next corner.  It isn't about where you end up. It's about getting there.

I am convinced that our true nature does not lie within the confines of abstracts and fictitious reality we call "civilization" but that creature of nature that we discover when we free ourselves and return to that relationship with the rest of nature that we enjoyed before we embraced the fiction and made our true nature "other".

I wish you all the greatest of journeys.  May you be seekers of the highest degree.

Still on the journey. Still looking for what's around the corner.
Picture by Beth Ritchason 

FOOTNOTES:

(1) Beth Ritchason is a professional photographer and good friend. She and her husband, Terry, volunteer at Glacier. They are vintage trailer, bicycle, kayak and all-around outdoor enthusiasts.
(2) Rue, Loyal (2011) Nature is enough: religious naturalism and the meaning of life.  Albany, NY., State University of New York Press.    (ISBN  978-1-4384-3799-6)
(3) http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/civilization
(4) Dr. Yusal Noah Harari, professor of history at Hebrew University, Jerusalem. TED Talk 7/24/2015.
(5) This picture of Pamela was taken when she was <200 feet from the summit of Mt Oberlin. She was climbing despite the fact that both of her knees were bone-on-bone and she is awaiting replacement surgery. She is driven by the journey and will tell you it's worth the effort.