[at-l] Light weight. Does it end on the trail?

[delita@mindspring.com (Delita Wright)]

Does lightweight end on the trail?  Not for me.

I have been making a concerted (but not very consistent) effort over quite a few years to streamline my life.

I learned the hard lesson in there somewhere that the more stuff I have, the more stuff *has* me.  I donwanna be had.

I am learning to "count the cost" of "stuff."

I heard a great story about that.  A family I know had a country cabin.  They lived VERY full, busy lives (public people) and really used and needed the backcountry getaway time.  They made it a point to have everything there they could use to relax and play.

One day they noticed every time they seemed to be driving to town to get some part or other to fix some toy or other, their neighbor was sitting on his porch.  One of them said, how come we never get to do that?  Then it hit them.  They had so many toys and *things* to help them enjoy their country place that they were spending all their time maintaining it all.

They got rid of most of their toys.  Now they *count the cost* when somebody comes up with a neat thing they might enjoy, and they sit on the porch a lot.  They even streamline their lives at home.  In fact, they are the ones who gave me that thought:  streamline your lives.

I know our culture has almost completely bought into the *more is better* syndrome.  We even have a backlash movement: *less is more.*

I consider it a major epiphany when anyone reaches the point where they start realizing the less they have the more they will be able to enjoy - do - with their life.

Of course, I don't mean poverty is good.  That's a different subject.  Lack is bad.  Trust me on this one.  The only ones who think it's enoble-ing to be poor are the ones who aren't.  The only ones who say *it's not about money* are the ones who have it.  But - of course - it's not about money.  (It is until you are warm, dry, fed and have a place to go, though).  People who can't afford to put their kids in little league and scouts are NOT having fun.

But I really have a problem with people who make much of having *little* just as much as I have a problem with folks who think it's about having much.  Somebody once said there's a ditch on both sides of the road!  LOL

Then again, having some *stuff* is what it's all about.  We *have* families and friends and all kinds of relationships.  We have wonderful experiences (and some we'd trade if we could).  I feel sorry for those couples who think they are making room in their lives for the *good* stuff by not tying themselves down with kids.  You should be so blessed as to be tied down with some kids in your life!

And I really don't mean it's bad to have *stuff.*  It's only bad (to me) when the stuff *has* me.  I fully intend to have stuff - when I get around to it.  Right now, it suits me to be *streamlining my life.*  I have places to go and things to do and I don't want to get distracted by acquiring and taking care of *stuff.*

So I don't think there is any particular virtue to not getting/having/using stuff.  But I'm starting to get real nervous around folks who need stuff just for the sake of having it.

When I was 22 I bought a house built in 1898.  Victorian Gingerbread.  I was a handy sort and wanted to fix it up.  It needed - everything.  Then I realized, I could put my next 20 years into that house, or I could dump it and go to college, get a life, have a career.  I sold the house.

I find it amusing that as we *go light* on our packweight we often go heavy on the budget.  I mean - all that lack of stuff costs money!  The less stuff we want to carry quite often the more money we sink into it.

 I find it triply fun when I can circumvent that part of it and trade not so much for quite a bit.  Like, my favorite windbreaker came from the thrift store - $5.  And I use disposable water bottles.  But, I wouldn't hesitate to pay full retail for an expensive piece of gear if it is what I want, to do what I want, the way I want to do it.  There is a kind of *reverse snobbery* that stinks just as much as the real thing.

And assuming that I can pay for it without taking on too much more *stuff* in the way of work, etc.  I mean, responsibilites are stuff.  Making myself debt poor so I live *another day older and deeper in debt* is a real sad way to be buried in heavy stuff, I believe.  Making myself work 12 hours a day so I can maintain someone's idea of a standard of living is just as bad.  But I don't feel bad about replacing something with something I want more.

I'm not saying we can't *value* things, and get the use out of them.  The quilt on my bed was made by my grandmother.  The afghan was made when I was growing up by my mother.  Why change?  They're great.  And they give me great pleasure because of the memories and associations.  Yet, if I was hankering after a chenile bedspread, I'd eventually just go get one.

I'm with Hopeful on his grandfather's plane.  I get all googoo-eyed over a really nice new plane straight from the hardware store.  I get weak at the knees over one like he described, without even the family connection (I'm a tool person).  But I don't want to base my life on it.

When my son was two and I was newly separated, working full time and raising him, I realized one day that I couldn't both keep a perfectly straight house and raise a perfectly developed son.  Something had to give.  So I stopped being so compulsive about housework and started sitting outside with him, eating supper and watching the sunset together.  We called it *enjoying the evening.*  Still do.  I've never regretted it, and I'm sure he hasn't.

Now that's the kind of *stuff* I want to trade some of my luggage for.  Fewer queensize beds and more waterfalls!  Fewer *traditions just because* and more *seize the moment* and *dancing with the one you're with.*

When I came back from my 3 days in the woods last week, people at work said: you're glowing, you look so rested.  No wonder I value the *stuff* of living more than the *stuff* of having.  One makes me glow, the other can drain me pretty quick, if I let it.

Sometimes I talk about thru-hiking.  Sometimes people say: Why would you give up a job to go hiking?  I say: why would you give up a hike to keep a job?

Oops, I could probably go on.  Think I'll stop before another application comes to mind.

Great questions!

Delita


> Message: 18
> Date: Mon,  4 Feb 2002 00:05:23 -0500
> From: Daniel Berlinger <daniel@circumtech.com>
> To: at-l@mailman.backcountry.net
> Subject: [at-l] Light weight. Does it end on the trail?
>
> I've had an ongoing discussion with a friend about "weight" in one's life. About how things in your life can either help you on your way, or weigh you down and make it harder to accomplish what you desire.
>
> Hikers (or at least the one's here) seem to understand this notion in a very direct way. Obviously, there is measurable and understandable effect for everything we carry. At least while we're hiking we're aware of our choices. And many of you have talked about how you continue to re-evaluate your decisions all the time.
>
> Do you practice the same philosophy in your life outside of hiking? Is your whole life lightweight? Or just the hiking part? Do you think the "get light" attitude prevents items that have psychic weight from accumulating while hiking? Is this a part of the freedom we all seem to enjoy?
>
> To serve as a favorite simple example, there is a psychic weight to having a full inbox of email. It gets mentioned here all the time in a "I can't believe there are 130 messages..." sense. There is clearly a weight to things as ephemeral as the bits that make up your email.
>
> Have you considered this? And if so, what do you do to lighten up all aspects of your life?
>
> Thanks,
>
> d.