Comforts

For spring break, which amazingly ended almost a week ago (time flies), we went backpacking in the Smoky Mountains. Except for a short stint back into the real world for medical purposes, we went over a week without running water, electricity, or heating (except campfires), not to mention internet or cell service.

We slept in tents and cabins. We didn't change our clothes. We didn't wear deodorant (because the scent attracts animals). In fact, we lost the ability to smell ourselves. We peed and pooped on trees on mountainsides, and said bodily functions ceased to be taboo subjects. We drank water out of streams (but we usually filtered it). We cooked our food over portable gas stoves. We didn't care what we looked like, even though our greasy hair was matted and filthy. Even if we did, it wouldn't have mattered, because we didn't bring mirrors.

We encouraged each other on long hikes. We had long, deep conversations. We endured crazy hardships together. We huddled together at night for body heat. We helped each other survive. We shared toilet paper. We ate from the same plate and poured drinking water into each other's bottles. We tended each other's injuries. We built bridges for each other.

We also longed to come home. We daydreamed about the luxuries of civilization.

"Mmmmm, pizza sounds so good right now."

"I am going to stand in the shower for three hours."

"One more day and we'll be in our own beds."

And on Friday, we did come home. We ate food together that none of us had to cook. We use public restrooms and actually missed having a view to admire while we did. We rode in a car where we could control the temperature. We got home and showered. We slept in warm beds, but our sleep cycles were so thrown off that we woke up at 6:30 a.m. on our own accord the next morning.

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It did not take long for the comforts and luxuries of the city to feel incredibly wrong.

Two of the people in our group were vegan, and I had spent time talking with both of them individually about this lifestyle. Suddenly I could see animal products everywhere. This society's eating habits are incredibly meat- and dairy-centric. Given the many ethical (and health) reasons supporting veganism, I couldn't help but feel guilty eating bacon the day after we got back. Why does our society have to be this way? Why are we (myself included) so allergic to the things that are good for us?

I took a shower, and it was wonderful. In fact, within 48 hours of getting home, I took three showers. But I had just experienced 8 days without one, and while that might be a bit too long, why do we need them daily? I almost feel like the only reason I even do take them so often is because society expects me to. Same with shaving. And why do we need to waste so much water on every toilet flush? I went a week without using running water to go potty, and I was fine. Are we that phobic of the smell that we have to have all that water masking it? The amount of freshwater on our planet is being sucked away pretty quickly (yet most Americans are pretty dehydrated). It may feel luxurious, but isn't this kind of...evil? Don't other people need that water?

I started noticing all the advertisements. It's actually ridiculous. When we were filling up the gas tank on our way home, the pump actually had a TV on it with ads, one after another, like a never-ending commercial break. When I jokingly asked Steven when he got back in the car what he thought of watching TV while pumping gas, he said something like, "It's f***ing stupid." I laughed, but he continued about how seriously irritated he gets having advertisements shoved in his face all the time. And he's right. I didn't realize it until I came back how nice it had been to have a break from all that. Why do they do this to us? Why can't they give it a rest? Why is literally everything about money??

We also don't need our homes to be 70°F in the dead of winter, but we have to admit that we're uncomfortable if they're not. We have to admit that we're uncomfortable with even the faintest hint of B.O. on another person (or ourselves). We're uncomfortable with poop. We're uncomfortable with vegetables. We're uncomfortable with ugliness. We're uncomfortable with lacking. We're uncomfortable with grittiness. Professionalism is godliness, and wealth shows you've arrived.

It's actually been sort of hard for me. Now that we've been back for almost a week, it's not so bad, but for a few days I had a little bit of reverse culture shock. And guilt.

I can't describe the way I feel more compelled to action because of my trip. I can't explain how a week away from the world helped open my eyes to its needs. But I do, and it did.

Things are not as they should be. Not in our society, not anywhere. All people do is talk about it, but for fear of losing our comforts we avoid action. We are quick to point out the problems but slow to be part of the solution. Frankly, being uncomfortable is really hard. It is. I don't know if I will ever be able to convince myself to go on a week-long backpacking trip again because it really was that hard.

All this is magnified by the pressing question that I get asked at least once a day and think about constantly: What will I do after I graduate in May?

Will I strive for comfort, or will I strive to solve a problem?


God bless.



P.S. This is an article that my dad posted on facebook that is somewhat relevant to this post and that I do not entirely agree with but still think is worth directing you toward if you're interested: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/scott-dannemiller/christians-should-stop-saying_b_4868963.html