Keep Not Settling: Part II (The Place)

This is the second part in a three-part series on my camping retreat last weekend. You can read the first part here focused on 'The People' I met who inspired me and affirmed my current career path. This second installment focuses on the place: Lowden State Park in Oregon, IL.

Every year from when I was 5-9 years old, my father would take me on a camping trip to Wisconsin. A weekend of foil pack dinners, swimming and long hikes. I loved every moment of it. I specifically remember waking-up in the (very early) morning with the sun shining through the tent, shadows of branches stretching across the white fabric, listening to the chirping of insects and birds just above my head and holding on to the last few minutes snuggled in the cocoon-warmth of my sleeping bag. Those few minutes absent of any human noise aside from my own breathing-no cars, no voices, just the brisk morning air creeping in the nylon walls and the waking-up of the world around me were idyllic.

I searched for that same solitude and connection last weekend. Something I value very deeply, and yet continue to distance myself from, is the idea of “presence.” What does it mean to be truly present in today’s society? How do smartphones play into that equation? Or our constant ability to be “on-call” for people in our lives? Or simply always having our earphones in? I am a guilty party of all of the above. Constantly instagramming a perfect moment, tweeting a striking article or sharing an important part of my day, answering texts while ignoring those around me.

Now, people in my life can tell you my biggest peeve: people on their phones when I’m trying to have a conversation with them. I draw the line. Yes, I may be on my phone during my bus commute or at my desk, but not when I am engaging with someone in a one-on-one conversation. What is the point of even being with that person if you are both in communication with other people or more concerned with instagramming your margarita than talking to the person you invited to drinks?  (Rant over.)

And so this weekend gave me that space, or rather, forced me to have that space. No technology, no Internet, no computer, no iTunes. Just me and the early morning chirps. One of my favorite moments was walking along the Rock River Saturday evening at sunset. 

Earlier in the day I had made the connection that our camping ground shared land with the retreat center I had come to with my high school choir. Talk about weird coincidences! Consequently, this alone time allowed me not only to reflect on my current questions and goals, but also to remember who I was in high school: who my friends were, what kinds of relationships I sustained in my life, what I thought about the future.

Taking this time to reflect on the amazing people who have come into my life, how my goals continue to develop, and also how I have remained true to certain principles and guiding forces, was enriching. And I enjoyed this quiet solitude, this “living in the present” escape with no technology or distractions.

A humble reminder that taking time for yourself is not only sustaining, but also extremely necessary in the connected and fast-paced society we live in. It isn’t healthy to be “on” all the time: expected to answer texts or update our Twitter feeds or post every special moment to Instagram. Sometimes those moments taken just for yourself, when no one is around or connected to you, are the most important.

The Blackhawk statue overlooking the Rock River where I watched the sun set.