Reality Check

The genesis for this blog was to answer the recurring questions asked about stepping back from our modern lifestyle and getting lost in the forest. Folks often asked, am I living in a Unabomber shack? (Hardly, I think it to be quite luxurious). Is life difficult and had I become a hermit? (No and no). Do I shit in the woods? (Occasionally, if only to spite the bear that occasionally shits in my yard).

Some of these posts and musings have gone off on tangents, some have retold stories that being immersed in a different world has helped me better understand. Some posts have stayed true to the original mission and detailed a simpler lifestyle.

With no master plan and perhaps because of simple dumb luck, it has been my good fortune that every stage in my life has become its own adventure of a lifetime. So, has getting lost in the forest improved my life? Has dropping off the grid been working out? Is living life without a Plan B a good thing?  

An immediate observation once settled in out in the forest was that we are groomed throughout life to be good worker drones and to live within the rather stifling and judgmental parameters and confines that our society has established. In this model society our workday is structured, our home routines are routine, our packaged entertainment is mind numbing, and the carrot dangled just beyond reach is a vague and ill-defined dream. Our modern world values uniform round pegs and uniform round holes, neutral colors, music for mass audiences, and owing just enough of your soul to The Man that you cannot step out into your own world.

For those living within this model and fortunate enough to have a brief period of the day with no outside demands nor interference, there comes the added societal pressure of suddenly shaking off the cloaking’s of regimentation and plunging into a state of mindful bliss. We are led to believe we can flip a switch deep inside and magically find a moment of Zen; find self-induced quicky Nirvana.

Rather than waste a life away within a structure and model created by others and in search of that elusive and fleeting moment, why not simply create and lead a larger and more meaningful life brimming with Zen?

In this new life, upon exiting the blacktop and venturing home to the forest the worries and absurdities and the stress of time associated with modern society melt away. A sense of calm and sensibility and timelessness permeates my soul. It is obligatory to routinely step back into organized society to participate in the workaday world and do chores and shopping. The breezy joy of simplicity is snuffed and replaced by weighty confines of the modern world with each step away from the cabin and out of the forest. 

As told before, this journey began with the implosion of a marriage and the retreat to a wooded piece of property while fate ran its course.

It is a vigorous but not difficult existence. For example, heat is supplied exclusively by firewood, but the making of firewood is wonderful exercise and if leisurely paced, is relaxing. Firewood is also a perfect example of the self-reliance of living off the grid. The firewood must be cut well enough in advance to be properly seasoned, and in quantities sufficient to carry through the long Northwoods winter. Not enough or it being too green makes for some cold nights when the mercury dips below zero.

It is also very gratifying to rely on solar and wind generation to supply electricity. By reducing unnecessary consumption, a rather diminutive windmill, solar array, and battery bank have proven sufficient. This small system can provide power through 9-10 days with neither sunlight nor wind.

Getting rid of the television and its mind-numbing drivel was one reduction in the electrical load that has dramatically improved the quality of my life. My advice to anyone, anywhere, is to turn off the TV. Pick up a book or newspaper, play with the kids or the dog, maybe fool around with your lover a little more instead. You will feel a lot less anxious and angry and a whole lot better about the world around you. Your lover just might as well.

No mortgage, no regular bills, and being largely self-sufficient also frees the soul from most of the traps set within our modern world. It is nearly impossible to be beholden to The Man if The Man has no hold on you.

In my old life, I thought of myself as adventurous. There was travel to wild places as well as a work life that many folks would have to tune in to the Discovery Channel to experience. But the travel was largely taking two or three weeks out of fifty-two to follow trails blazed by others. And the work life was being employed in adventuresome and far-flung locations off the well-worn path, but as one tiny cog on the massive wheel of a well-oiled machine. 

Ultimately, true adventure is not pre-programed nor planned.  Adventure is the product of not knowing the outcome of striking out on one’s own course, whatever that course might be.

And with adventure comes the potential for misadventure. Fortunately, the misadventures of becoming lost in the forest so far has caused no lasting harm, the gravity of those misadventures fades quickly, and the lessons learned become deeply ingrained. Becoming solely dependent upon one’s own wits leaves no one to blame for dimwittedness than oneself. That could be a whole ‘nuther series of blogs.

This was not simply a withdrawal from society nor is it assuming a hermit’s existence. It is simply a relocation to a more inviting environment. Indeed, I used to live beside a busy highway, but was lonely. Since moving out into the forest there has been an abundance of visitors dropping in as well as random folks who pause to chat when passing by on the nonmotorized trail that runs a stone’s throw from the cabin.

It is so much more rewarding to know the time of day by the loon’s callings or by the position of Ursa Major in the dark sky of a Northwoods night than to stare at a clock. Understanding that the mercury has plunged far below zero by the bat strikes ball report of the stately hard maple trees cracking in the otherwise silent and still chill creates a sense of awe far beyond the hyperbole any television meteorologist could possibly impart. The wonder and majesty of a world far more magnificent than any that could possibly be dreamt of or created by mankind lies just outside of my front door. 

So, at the bottom line, has becoming lost in the forest been worth it?

The most obvious answer is that the best outcome would have been that four years ago the marriage survived and the two of us would have created a best life.

That did not happen.

So, this often-mind-bending series of events has resulted in my becoming lost in the forest. I am exactly where I belong, it is the adventure of a lifetime for this stage of life, and it is a wonderful place to be.

Even when the bear shits in my yard.