COLUMN: Away from the world

From Seth Lasser's "For Mass Consumption," Fall '96 From Seth Lasser's "For Mass Consumption," Fall '96Backpacking in AppalachiaFrom Seth Lasser's "For Mass Consumption," Fall '96Backpacking in Appalachiaradically changes anFrom Seth Lasser's "For Mass Consumption," Fall '96Backpacking in Appalachiaradically changes anurbanite's perspective. From Seth Lasser's "For Mass Consumption," Fall '96Backpacking in Appalachiaradically changes anurbanite's perspective. Taking breaks from the everyday routine, taking a step away from our normal self-involved state of affairs to examine what in our lives might need alteration, is the way to gain some kind of perspective. Spring break is a well-defined opportunity for many to do this, to travel far away or back home, to do something different and out of step with the routine. The hills and low peaks of Appalachia, on the stretch of land from Georgia through Virginia's Shenandoah Valley to the upper reaches of Maine, comprise the oldest and most weathered mountain range in the United States. This piece of the land left free of society's advances gave us a view into our overly civilized lives, an experience certainly familiar to anyone who has spent a night outside in the mountain air. Each of us walked in a distinct manner. Forward-looking and and determined walked one, a figure shaped for me by the back of the frame pack that he wore. Another bounded through the trees in a pattern imperceptible to all but himself, stomping his way through leaves and twigs that littered the path. I lingered at the back of the line, my speed hindered by too many pauses to gaze at the innumerable details of my surroundings, trying to soak it all in. I would let the others get ahead of me, far enough away so that I could cover them with a raised hand. I was then left standing in my own little world, the silence of the woods making my thoughts all but disappear, swallowed up by nature's omnipotence. In those brief moments, the world that I inhabited could not be dominated by me, by my thoughts or presence or very being. My cosmic insignificance was clearer to me than it could ever be in a city, a place made of and for and by people. The contrast between such realizations and conventional life was stark; I along with everyone else normally inhabits a sphere that centers on me. At night, the four of us had nothing to say, a silence due not exclusively to fatigue but more a result of the wonder and awe that we felt. No matter how hard we might have tried, we could not envision the campsite as the center of anything, sitting as we were under a canopy of trees and stars and clouds in the shadow of the ridge. We sat together and gazed upwards, our tired legs the only reminder of the day's accomplishments. During the days we kept moving, our steady pace not the quickest we could muster but the fastest we chose to move. It was our attempt to try and comprehend the vast emptiness and silence and yet complete fullness that the forest represents. We had everywhere to go and nowhere to be, a feeling of pure and unadulterated freedom. Back at school, in the city of Philadelphia, the contrast is clear and all-encompassing. Only once in my life have I experienced true culture shock, a temporary inability to cope with the drastic change from one place to another. Before college, I spent a month on a beautiful and almost surealistically tranquil island, living and working with people devoid of the sense of urgency that seems to plague our lives. On my way home, rushing down the six-lane road that led to the airport on a more developed island made my body tremble. It was the transformation in speed of my surroundings from an almost lethargic calm to lightning fast that confused my senses; they struggled to catch up with the reality of modernity. I cannot claim the same profound effect for my recent re-entry into civilization. I am left, however, with an almost pathological need to integrate the lessons learned during my brief respite from conventional life. Perhaps as spring blossoms, I should vow to spend more time outside. After all, it was the great outdoors that triggered anew my longing for a more simple life. Yet within the confines of this fair city, the cradle of liberty, there is no spot that possesses absolute ignorance of humanity, no place to which one can truly escape. Searching for such a place would be missing the real point, for it is not only the great outdoors that can demonstrate to us that the world does not revolve around ourselves. Stepping outside of our minds and trying to understand in some way the larger picture is something we can do any place, at any time. The feeling of awe that can accompany a multitude of experiences is all that it takes to understand the narrow and self-centered world view that we possess. There are precious few times when we open ourselves up by choosing to be and not to do. Taking a metaphorical breath and stretching our arms and minds can be an exercise that brings us back toward our true selves.