Relieved to awake in one piece, I also revel in a sense of personal accomplishment. I meditate, then begin my homework. We were asked to write a letter to the group, and in mine I thank my teammates for their unfettered friendship and support. At noon we return to the house, and I'm almost disappointed my solo is over.
Day eight
Now in the tropical region, we set out for the trip's longest day of hiking. We conquer the final peak—called, appropriately, "Cardiac Hill"—beneath a glaring sun. Sweatsoaked and exhausted, we're coaxed onward by a glimpse of our destination: the Pacific Ocean. Night falls as we reach a rustic beach house; home for the next two nights.
Restlessly sleeping among swarming sand fleas, I'm awakened by "Gabilan" (hawk), who points to a sky filled with thousands of stars and dozens of streaks of light. We sneak out and lie on the beach, awestruck by what we learn months later was the Perseid meteor shower.
Day nine
Today we try our hand at surfing. Some of us are pretty good by the day's end—present company excluded. At sunset we build a bonfire, then rehash our adventure. "This was truly the culmination of nine days of bonding," "Viento" (wind) wrote of the evening. "It was abundantly clear that lasting friendships were made and a formidable amount of respect existed among all members of the team."
Day ten
The morning is spent rafting down what should have been class IV rapids, but the water is disappointingly low and slow from lack of rain. We make the long drive back to the San Jose hostel to shower—cold, but very necessary—and meet for one last, celebratory dinner.
Tomorrow we'll all jet off to various parts of the U.S., and I am both sad to leave and anxious to see my friends at home. But right now I feel better than I have in months—perhaps even years. The OB brochure didn't lie; my spirits are renewed. My stress has dissipated; I haven't once thought about impending deadlines or bills, and I have a stronger sense of confidence and trust in myself.
Still, isn't that the purpose of any vacation—to feel better mentally by physically removing ourselves from the stress-inducing stimuli of our daily lives? Admittedly, I worry that once I'm back in New York City, the concrete jungle I call home, my newly revived spirits will wither. I suppose that's why ecopsychology experts suggest that reconnecting with nature requires a transformation of consciousness. "Because," as Sarah Conn says, "the Earth is going to survive. Whether the species we're a part of does is up for grabs. So the health of humans in the Earth, as a living system, has to be a major focus." Looks like I'll be frequenting Central Park more often.
Read More About It:
Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind by Theodore Roszak, et al. (Sierra Club Books, 1995)
Nature and Madness by Paul Shepard (University of Georgia Press, 1998)
Tags:
alienation,
american jungle,
bug bites,
california state university,
california state university at hayward,
disconnection,
ecopsychology,
edward o wilson,
emotional health,
harvard university professor,
history professor,
innate need,
michigan researchers,
modern technology,
professor edward,
restlessness,
simon schuster,
stephen kaplan,
theodore roszak,
voice of the earth
