I was not made for this. Currently, as I type this, I am sitting at my desk at work, staring at a computer screen, listening to people bitch about jobs that they hate in order, to quote Tyler Durden, “to buy shit we don’t need.” I’m two days removed from being nomadic, being diurnal and being completely content with everything in my life. I was with my fiancée, I ate, I walked, I shat and I moved on. Literally, I was a bow and some quivers from saying, “Fuck it, I’m staying out here.” Now, I wish that I had.
Our ancestors didn’t evolve for millions of years to stare into computer screens, wake up before dawn and be generally miserable. I am the top of the food chain. I am strong, smart, aware and agile. My body was built to do work and I have built it to do more. I should be out there, stalking deer, eating berries and grabbing fish. I should be running for my life from some mountain cat and making sure that I fatten up for the cold hard winter ahead of me.
Maybe this is just the linger from my camping trip. It could be that our cerebral evolution is so far ahead of our physical evolution that if only my physiological side could catch up to my psychological side everything would mesh perfectly and my life as it currently exists makes sense. But I don’t want it to. I want to be out there doing, not wishing that I was. Going back into those woods for the first time since I was 18 years old felt amazing. It wasn’t like pancakes where I was excited in the beginning but sick of it at the end. The outdoors is where I, we, belong. I moved, I focused, I was aware of the task at hand. I want to go back; hopefully you’ll come with me, if only to understand what I’m talking about.
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