Me and Mother Nature, published in Sept/Oct 2006 az3sixty magazine

Don’t ask me why I committed to a long weekend of wilderness camping--a momentary lapse of sanity, I suppose. Normally, my idea of “roughing it” is slow room service. How would I cope without my cell phone, voice mail, email, and my daily news fix? What about the routines that define my life? Every day, I exercise, clean, try to eat healthy, run errands, make calls, and check it all off my to-do list. If I stopped to camp, my structured orderly world might fall apart. I secretly hoped to catch a virulent stomach flu that would render me unable to go. Surely that would be better than 4 days without running water and electricity.

But alas, I remained perfectly healthy, so I glumly took my last shower like a condemned prisoner having her last meal, then headed for the hills in a truck full of enough gear to equip several armies. I determined that I would not vary from my routine. I would still work out and do all the parts of my beauty routine that did not require a plug. I would still wear stylish clothes and eat healthy food . Being in the wild would not change me. If I couldn’t be in touch with civilization, I would still be civilized.

So I moved in with Mother Nature. I brought folding furniture, a screened canopy, fake green grass carpet, a battery operated fan, even supersize antibacterial gel. I spent the first hot dusty day trying to make my campsite look like a living room, not a forest. I evicted a few lizards and grasshoppers and wasps, along with some pinecones and rocks to create indoor living outdoors.

Half a day into it, I had to surrender my grooming ideals, like trying to stay shower-fresh all day. With no air conditioning, it was impossible. I did continue to wear make up (although I don’t recommend applying your make up in the harsh light of the great outdoors. I got a little too much information about my fine lines and age spots! ) My poor hair suffered the most without electric styling aids. I had to wear it in unflattering braids and a housewife bandanna. I found myself wearing clothes I wouldn’t be caught dead in at home. Yes, I wore running shoes with a skirt--hey, it was hot. The skirt was cooler than jeans.

Unfortunately, I learned quickly that open toed shoes weren’t the wisest choice--there exists a huge gash in my toe to prove it. So my running shoes weren’t used for exercise, but for committing a style faux pas. I felt terribly self conscious at first, but it’s not like the fashion police were going to show up in a national forest. Comfort and practicality won out over looks --but I was quick to bemoan the dire hygienic circumstances I was in.

But at some point my attitude changed. After a day or two, I asked myself, what about all those concerns at home, in the world, your busy life? And when was the last time you looked at your grimy self in a mirror? Shockingly, I hadn’t even thought about any of it. I had no idea and didn’t care if Brad and Angelina adopted any more children while I was gone. I couldn’t remember if the dishes in the dishwasher were clean or dirty. I didn’t even know if my ponytail holders matched my outfit. I discovered I could deal with the inconveniences of camping because it was so refreshing to have a few days off from my busy life, my other world at home.

Normally, I’m a hamster in her running wheel--going full speed all day without much to show for it. I usually fill regimented hours with worries of picking up the dry cleaning, getting to the gym, and the latest headlines. If I have enough errands and insignificant tasks to accomplish, I don’t have to think about the big issues of life. It sounds cliched, but getting away from it all helped me get back in touch with me, and I found new inner peace.

The wilderness is quiet. Very quiet. No muzak is piped in. No one is yakking into their bluetooth nearby. Cars aren’t zipping past. My 80s music isn’t blasting into my ears from little white headphones. No annoying commercials drown my thoughts. There is a calmness that comes from getting away from everything modern. You can gaze at the stars, admire the beauty of trees, watch storm clouds gather in the afternoon. You think about friends and family, the past, the future--all so much bigger than our own miniscule control freak world.

Mountains, forests, skies… all so gorgeous and peaceful. Yes, they are wild and untamed and natural, but that is where the peace comes from, knowing I am not in charge here. I cannot control mother nature, and I don’t have to. Most of our lives are about things that are small and manageable, that we are responsible for and must worry about, but out there is the big, the unending, the uncontrollable. What a change in perspective!

The tranquility and serenity of the trip were worth the scary hair and dirt under my fingernails. I have to admit it was kind of nice not having to worry about appearance. I enjoyed indulging in s’mores instead of the usual celery sticks and hummus. I liked not having a schedule, letting the days flow. I was surprised how much I enjoyed mother nature. I had thought I’d be eager to rush back and check my email, but I actually sort of dreaded returning to the hamster wheel.

However, by the last day, I really wanted to take a shower, so I did come back and guess what? The world hadn’t stopped because I got off for a few days. It went on without me and I actually didn’t miss that much. All my responsibilities were still waiting for me. It was only a matter of hours before I had double digit items on the to do list again.

That’s life. Those things are necessary but can be mind numbing. Days, then weeks, then months go by and soon we’re commenting how the years seem to just fly. It can’t hurt to slow down time for a few days. It might even be good to press the pause button and take a deep breath and look around us. We can occasionally get our focus off the daily drudgery and on bigger things. I did it by camping in a tent and I actually survived it, and it was worth every pine needle I shook out of my sleeping bag.