Hello again. I have returned to the land of modems and internet.
Man can live about forty days without food,
about three days without water,
about eight minutes without air,
but only for one second without hope.
Having spent a week in the middle of a forest, surrounded by towering redwood trees, I have a new found respect for packing enough books. I read four books, one of them twice. Most people say its hard to completely withdraw from the world, with all of its convenient technology. But I find it hard to partially withdraw. Over this last week I've had no Internet, no cable, no air conditioning. But I have had cell phone reception. So while most of the world's technology was still unavailable to me, I still had a taste, a taste that made me painfully aware of what I was missing out on back home. It seemed, for the first few days at least, that I couldn't quite escape my life. I'd turn on my phone to call my mom, and find four or five text messages waiting for me. Events missed. As with all things, it took me a while to find a good balance. I spent most of my day playing with my little cousins, reading, hiking (Always look at trail signs, otherwise one ends up hiking 8 miles instead of the planned 4.), swimming in the river, climbing inside trees, reading some more. Then in the evenings, sitting round the campfire after dinner, the phone would come out and I would check to see what I had missed in the past day. Then my brother and I would call my mom and regale her with tales of our day. This last week has helped me see many things, among them the need for balance and quiet.
I can live about eight days without Internet,
about three days without texting,
about four hours without bug spray,
but only for one second without books.