Geography of Wonder

It is late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. I am going on a backpacking trip with my dad for a couple of days. We decided to go to Red Deer lake, which is seven miles outside of Camp Dick. I am excited to be back out in the woods, to see the sunset from a high peak, and to stumble over a camp stove while trying to make pasta. Life has and will continue to become more and more complex. With every new day comes more and more things that I must consider: should I be training for soccer? Do I want to do an internship during spring semester? I am poor and need some money to live. What am I going to so with my life post-graduation?

Being in the wilderness allows us to breath. It allows us to simply be. Wilderness doesn't have to be the Rocky Mountains or the Southern Alps, it is different for everyone. Some people find the peace that I receive from the mountains, in yoga, others in running, or maybe the local coffee shop. Either way, I am craving it right now. All I have to worry about is surviving. I need to eat, I need to sleep, I need shelter, and sometime I need to sleep. That is all. Somewhere between the trail head and the given destination, life is boiled down to its simplest form. My father would say, some mental real estate temporarily opens up. I can wonder. I can more easily reflect on what my creator has done for me. For some reason, my heart enters a state of worship and awe that isn't attainable in a sanctuary or meeting hall.

I am a little disappointed that we are only going to be able to be out there for a couple of days, but that it the way life is. I am thankful that I have this opportunity to spend time with my dad like this. We haven't been alone on a backpacking trip for a while, so I am anxious to see how it turns out.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
- Henry David Thoreau

Since being back in Colorado I haven't really thought about New Zealand as much as I would have liked. I have spent a significant amount of time sitting and reflecting, but I never seem to think about my coming home from a distant country, that I lived in for five months. Many people have asked me what I learned, how I have changed, or what I will do with my experiences. And, every time I respond with some sort of constructed answer, mainly so that the conversation will continue, hopefully shedding actual light on my experiences. The truth of the matter is that I have no idea what I learned, I am not sure how I have changed, and my future is just as unknown as before I left.

I began to re-read parts of my journal that I kept while in New Zealand, and I stumbled across a section that I wrote just before coming home. Erik and I were great friends prior to going, but spending nearly every minute of five months together proved to be both testing and incredibly rewarding. For all intensive purposes Erik and I were married, aside from the whole romantic, intimate, sex stuff. We shared our money, a car, the apartment, and nearly all decisions...basically everything. With that in mind:

"I am sitting in the Brasilia Coffee shop, for what could be the last time. Everyone flew in yesterday. Today they all went to hike up Avalanche peak and I opted to stay here for a much needed 'chill out day.' I have begun to read Jill Fredston's 'Rowing to Latitude.' It is about a husband and wife's kayak journey through the Arctic circle. She constantly uses rowing metaphors to explain aspects of her life and experiences.

She mentions that whenever she goes on a trip with her husband she has to take on 'expedition behavior.' Jill describes expedition behavior as: 'It involves a conscious commitment to get along despite physical exigencies and personal idiosyncrasies. How much you disagree with a person at times becomes irrelevant. It is your responsibility to be amicable and to work to diminish your own offensive habits, even if you are convinced you don't have any.'

It is interesting to read this and try to think about all that I have learned since arriving here. For the first time in my life I have experienced what it is like to be around somebody the vast majority of the time, and how to behave to preserve both experiences and friendships. Erik and I have spent more time together than ever before, and maybe ever again. This testing and exciting stage in our friendship is coming to a close. Many have thought, including myself at times, that there would be arguments, resentments, and turmoil. But, there hasn't. I appreciate Erik for asking me straight out if I am being bothered by him, and I appreciate his willingness to diminish his own offensive habits for the sake of our expedition. There have been times when an argument was likely, but it never happened.

Right now I am sitting in Christchurch while Erik is taking his family and friends out on an incredible adventure. This time to reflect on his and my friendship was unanticipated, but like any other this "chill out session," as it has become known, has proved very rewarding. It has been incredible to have such a great friend and brother to go on this journey with. The lessons that we have both learned these past five months are sure to be priceless. We have both matured in ways that are to complex to understand right now, but are sure to be valuable well into the future. Thanks for blessing us with the grace to forgive, and the drive to understand one another. "

Thank you Erik for overlooking my inadequacies. Thanks for saying what was on your mind when I wasn't willing to share what was on mine. Thanks for making it a point to excuse my idiosyncrasies and selfishness. Thank you Erik for what was and will continue to be a great expedition.