Progress

Today, in celebration of spring break, I did my favorite three gulch hike in the Rattlesnake. It was your typical inland northwest spring walk. Cloudy, spitting a few raindrops, muddy in some places, snowy in others. The wind whispering through the pines and the ground just thawed enough to smell like dirt and leaves. Cold enough to make your cheeks rosy, just warm enough to stick your shirt to your back on the uphills.

I went alone, because sometimes there is something special about being in the woods without friends. You walk whatever pace you want. You don't worry about making conversation. You make decisions depending on exactly what you want to do, not what your partner decides. You give yourself room to think. And think again. And think some more.

At the start of the hike, my thoughts were pointless bullshit, for lack of a better phrase. As I wound up the switchbacks of Sawmill gulch I let the chatter pass through my brain, in one ear and out the other. It sounded something like this:
"Ohmygod I'm so out of shape, this hurts. But really, think of what it felt like last August when you tried to hike. You are in great shape right now! Jesus, Emerald, you can't let yourself drink that much beer again this summer. But maybe I needed to drink beer so I would have enough mass to push the oars. That is bullshit Emerald. I know, I'll go to the seven devils more. Ooh, the seven devils, I miss the seven devils. Ha! Remember camping with Ian and Tango and she drank wine out of the tin can? Ridiculous. I should call her. SHIT I need to call Mom. I wonder how she is? I wonder how Dad is? He is probably doing the same thing as me right now. I need to go buy carharrts this afternoon. Wait, does that make me a poser? No! I just need some sturdy work pants! Whatever, you just want to be the cute girl that wears carharrts. Mmm, man butts in carharrts..."
 And blah, blah, blah. Around Curry gulch my mind had started to exhaust itself. I started noticing trees and the way their gray trunks rubbed against each other, squeaking in the wind. I noticed the color of the mud, the texture of the trail underneath my feet. I felt my legs pushing into the soil, and the soil pushing back.

By the beginning of Spring gulch a slow, clear, voice began to emerge. It was asking me (as usual) "What are you doing with your life? What is the purpose? Why bother?"

We are taught from an early age that we must progress. Learn your arithmetic so you can progress to calculus. Get good grades in high school so you can progress to college. Develop new technologies and ideas to progress civilization. Devote your life to your career so you can progress to a higher paycheck. However, with all this progression, I still can't find the end point. What am I progressing towards? The Bible would tell you God or the garden of Eden. A scientist might tell you ultimate empirical truth and understanding. I'm not sure if I want any of these.

I wonder, what if we throw out the idea of progress all together? What if we take that giant red arrow pointed towards the sky and curve it back towards itself? What if I try to make my life a quiet, tree-studded, backcountry loop instead of a four lane interstate highway? Ideally, I want to live my life in a way that is sustainable with the planet, kind to my neighbors (humans and otherwise) and fulfilling to my soul (or whatever you want to call it).

This doesn't mean I am going to disappear into the woods or surrender myself to apathetic pessimism. There is no way (with the possible exception of disappearing into the woods) that will allow me to live my life in a circle instead of an arrow. But maybe there is a way to find a life value in working to restore myself and the people around me to a way of life that can continue on forever, that doesn't shoot off into the lala land of so called progress.

Yet, in the words of Ed Abbey, "I could be wrong about this."