I don't know precisely when the great fascination with becoming some kind of backwoods hermit passed the interest many kids have in Wild West stories, Swiss Family Robinson and the concept of rough camping, but certainly by fourth and fifth grades, I was beginning to work out just what my future home was going to look like.
The acquisition of the land and the basic log cabin (which was not, of course, completely basic) were always a bit mysterious. Apparently I thought I would come into a great deal of money and be able to buy a ridiculous chunk of land in the Rockies somewhere - not too high an elevation, since I hate snow. There was a nice warm room that went nearly the length of the cabin ... this had a large, large table, suitable for projects and for eating. There was a smaller room at the back which was the kitchen. Oddly enough, I gave that room no thought at all. The main room was probably 40 or 50 feet in length and probably 30 across. There was a loft above the left half of the cabin (you entered from a door in the west and faced the length of the cabin). The loft was probably only about 10 or so feet wide, but the whole length of the cabin. The sleeping space was up there as were some small storage rooms. The way up, of course, was a log ladder ... but also a kind of dumbwaiter device as well. I was big into pulleys back then. It might have made better sense to put storage on the ground floor, but what if bears got in? I would hightail it up the ladder, kick the ladder aside and be safe and snug upstairs until the invading marauders left.
I had grand plans for some kind of trough water delivery system. I would bow and arrow hunt for my food. I would tan the leather.
At one point I had some grand scheme cooked up for electricity and later for electricity enough to power a computer. I'd given up the ghost by the time Los Interwebz (TM) had rolled around, but I'm sure were I re-designing this mecca today, I'd find some ingenious way to include broadband as well.
I was unconcerned about television. Books would be more than enough for me. Particularly my rather large collection of Heinlein paperbacks - many of which would help me figure out how to keep this woodsy wonderland running. I went back and forth on lighting ... electric? Well, how would I get lightbulbs? For that matter, how would I get kerosene? Nasty soap could be made. Food? I honestly was such a carnivorous child I actually never thought much beyond hunting meat. I think I gave a cursory thought to growing carrots.
The goal?
To completely and totally avoid all direct human contact.
By the age of 11, I had completely and totally had it with humanity and was certain that I could, in fact, get by far better on my own.
If I could, you know I would - If I could, I would let it go - This desperation - Separation - condemnation - revelation - In temptation - isolation - desolation - isolation
I had known so much change so quickly that what I learned was not just adaptation to new circumstances, but I had primarily learned not to get close to anyone, not to trust anyone - because you couldn't rely on anyone. It wasn't that other people were bad or mean-spirited ... it was that I learned so early ... there are circumstances beyond the control of others. If I needed something, I was almost guaranteed to need it when no one could help me. Perhaps it was because we had moved away again. Perhaps it was because that person was ill. Their parents said no. They couldn't get a ride. The phone was busy.
The question invariably came: "Can't you do it yourself?" And the answer was, no matter what the circumstances, I could usually find a way to do it myself. I could move the furniture in my room by myself, by sliding a bit of cardboard under one end and then pushing it around. I could build lightweight shelves in my room to stack paperwork by building shelves out of cardboard and string and thumbtacks. I could tell myself stories until I fell asleep.
There were a million reasons for people to NOT be able to help me. And so I learned to do as much as possible for myself ... and if I couldn't rely on others ... why bother them at all? I would be far better off to be completely independent and self-sufficient. To need help was to have "not done it right," whatever "it" was and whatever "right" was. Fall down and skin your knee? You weren't careful, you didn't do your walking correctly or you wouldn't have fallen.
The obvious goal of life was to do everything "right" the first time. And, preferably, without help from anyone. Isn't that what school teaches? To do your worksheets correctly, 100% ... and to do them alone and without help from anyone? "If you want a thing done right, do it yourself."
The absolute pinnacle of doing "life" correctly, then, would be to live as a hermit and do everything right the first time.
And as some of my teachers learned to their dismay, telling me "you can't do X" was a sure-fire way to get me to do it. Even my mother learned early on to stop "challenging" me by telling me "you can't" ... she'd start to get the stock parent phrase out of her mouth, see the look on my face and change it to "you're not allowed to do" ... otherwise I would find a way - even if it involved chopping down all of the trees in the woods behind our house. And if no one would help me, I'd do it all by myself.
I was positive I had discovered the key to my life's eternal happiness - that crazy cabin in the woods. I wouldn't be able to rely on other people, so I would have to do it all myself.
The person I drove craziest with this cabin obsession, however, was not a school teacher nor relative. It was a CCD teacher (think Catholic "Sunday school" - but taught Wednesday nights by lay people). We discussed how you absolutely HAD to attend church every Sunday. This certainly threw a huge monkey wrench in my desire to live in utter isolation.
My hand flew into the air. "But you can read the Bible all day Sunday and that would work, right?"
No.
Hand waving in the air. "But you could buy a bunch of study books and read the Bible all day and the study books and that would work, right?"
No. The priest had to do the "magical" Mass and Confession and Communion.
More hand waving. "But those things would be okay if you lived way out in the middle of nowhere and there were no Catholic churches, right?"
No. You chose to live away from the Catholic Church.
I was momentarily stumped, much to the relief of the rest of the class, who just wanted to get the damned workbook pages done and get the hell out of there.
It's only in the last few years that I have begun to realize, first that I was probably diametrically opposed to remaining a good Catholic from birth; but more importantly, that not only is life not about doing everything "exactly correct," but that life is about growth through community.
I got the whole concept of "no one, correct path" pretty early on and I dug that concept, but I still thought I could do everything in my life "correct." The paths I saw were always in isolation ... neat paths clearly marked, a la every poster of "Two Roads Diverged In A Wood."
The problem, of course, is twofold. Paths are not even remotely neat nor clearly marked AND while they might be "less traveled" they are rarely UNtraveled. We travel our paths in community with each other, messily colliding and through those collisions, learning.
It's almost as if we are some kind of cosmic Roombas, sucking up the dirt mechanically until we bump into someone else, bouncing off of walls and furniture and other critters until we are no longer in isolation, but surrounded by a room full of community, if we will only stop reacting to the constant bouncing and stop ... and look.
Often it is not that the community is trying to bounce us around, but that we must internalize some of our individuality and make an effort to connect to that surrounding community - and by those connections, grow in ways we could never have thought of on our own.
We can do a great deal of things in our modern lives for ourselves. But why? Just because the only way to do it "right" is to do it yourself? But if you do everything yourself you may miss alternate ways to accomplish things ... you might miss a certain flair and finesse you wouldn't have accomplished on your own ... you would miss the time to collaborate on something larger than yourself and your partner.
If I could, you know I would / If I could, I would let it go / This desperation / Separation - condemnation - revelation - In temptation - isolation - desolation - isolation
Let it go, uh-huh and so fade away / To let it go, uh-huh and so fade fade, fade away / Not fade away / Not fade away / no, no no no not fade away
wide awake - I'm wide awake - Wide awake - I'm wide awake - wide awake - Oh, I'm not sleeping - oh, no, no - I'm not sleeping
(Image from the short, "Beyond," a part of the Animatrix DVD ... the song clip is from U2's "Bad" from the Wide Awake album.)
Posted by Red Monkey at February 25, 2008 6:03 AM | | 
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I always liked reading things like the Foxfire books, just in case I was ever lost in the woods that surrounded every place I had to go when I was a kid. I think part of me hoped I'd get lost for a good long time.
February 25, 2008 9:45 AMAngela said:
Vivid post!
Thanks for the welcome at cr8Buzz. Being techno-challenged lately, I've been having trouble with leaving comments on some cr8Buzz pages...so here I am instead.
Thanks again!
Angela
crunchy carpets said:
As a child..I wanted to be rich and upper middle class english..because all THOSE kids in the books I read had exciting lives or got to ride horses.
I also admired those who were self reliant.
I was sort of self reliant as it was just my mom and me for a very long time...we had to do stuff with no help.
I am still loathe to ask people for help.
I now still want my cabin in the woods.
Years and years ago a psychic told me that she saw me with some sort of doctor/pilot in the bush up north.
Well I am currently married to a city boy writer ...but I think part of my soul is still called to the BC coast up there...out there.....water and mountains.
aaaaaah
February 26, 2008 12:02 PMLeap Year Photography said:
Sometimes people with the most challenging childhoods end up having the most beautiful futures. Many times these challenges are exactly what makes a great artists or photographers. I know this took place with my wife, now she is a fantastic photographer http://leapyearphoto.com in Ft Myers...
February 28, 2008 8:39 AMCarl said:
I must say, having reached the terribly old age of 36 that I have rapidly gone off people (except via online activities and an intelligent computer would be more entertaining) and the idea of a log cabin far away from everywhere has a lot of appeal. It is in fact my life goal.
Not being very devout, although having once wanted to be a minister in the Church, I can completely understand your avowed intention to do what is right for you rather than what is expected of you. Scripture has it's place, but dogma ruins all the good fuzzy feelings you get from having a closer connection with the universe.
February 29, 2008 7:15 AM
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