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