Thoreau Was Right

This past weekend, some friends and I took a trip to Snowshoe Country Lodges up near Isabella, MN, not far from The Boundary Waters. On what was supposed to be THE coldest day of the winter so far, we had chosen to pay our hard-earned money to stay in a cabin heated only with a wood stove, with no running water or toilets, out in the middle of wolf country. We had basically agreed to exchange our creature comforts for easy access to all the breath-taking beauty of the Northwoods in the dead of winter. This was a totally new experience for me.

This picture was taken by Ron, the proprietor, after a recent snowstorm up in Snowshoe Country

"Most of the luxuries and many of the so-called comforts of life are not only not indispensable, but are positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind." - Henry David Thoreau

These are the words that kept running through my head as I took my turn pumping water for the wood-fired sauna, watching the rusty water fill the old pail in spurts. I wasn't the least bit cold, even though someone had mentioned that the high for the day was a meager 3 degrees above zero, and as I watched my breath stream from my nose and mouth I took a moment to fully appreciate my body's ability to warm itself, provided one dressed in the proper layers. As I struggled to carry the splashing bucket to the sauna, everything around me seemed crystal-clear, and I noticed that the sound of my internal monologue, that silent voice that runs my life, was oddly silent. For that moment I could truly understand what it meant to be fully present. Even though the task wasn't exactly fun - carrying a heavy bucket of well-water up a slippery slope - my mind was experiencing the peace of being fully occupied.

It's strange that, in a weekend so full of fun with friends and new experiences, one of my favorite memories involved carrying a bucket of water.

It is strange to me how much effort we make to limit our exposure to nature in its truest forms. We crank up the heat so we can lounge around the house in our summer clothes while it blizzards outside. We take for granted that hot water will come out of our taps, and that drains and pipes will carry away our dirty water to some unknown place. We rush from our door to our car in high-heels and curse the winter when we step in a puddle of slush.

Every year I hear the exact same complaint from virtually everyone: "I hate winter! Why can't it be over?" I think we need to change our approach. It's not the winter that needs to change, it's how we adapt to it -- or don't. According to Chinese medicine, disease is our failure to be able to adapt or cope with the rigors of our environment. Trying to live the same way we do during the summer is ultimately what causes winter to seem so horrible. After this weekend, I have witnessed how beautiful winter can be when one takes the time to dress appropriately and accept that yes, there will be snow and yes, it will be cold. Living in cooperation with the environment brings so much more peace and joy than struggling against it.

Part of me loves indoor plumbing all the more now because I have gone a weekend without it. But a larger part of me grieves for all that we have sacrificed for our "creature comforts." To sit on a frozen lake and watch the sun set in a still, clear sky is infinitely more profound and nourishing to the soul than to sit on a couch in a warm room and watch reruns of Family Guy.

In the coming year, I want to do all I can to keep the spirit of our winter weekend alive. I want to identify the "luxuries and so-called comforts of life" that hinder my path to peace.

With the news that Comcast and NBC have gone through with their merger, television seems like a good place to start...