Voyager3
Active member
If I may, I'd now like to talk about the internet, on the internet.
I have an unlimited data plan that works up here. This means that I can post content to a thread on Expedition Portal, and share photos on Instagram, and chat with folks on Facebook. I'm accessible 24/7, in much the same way Robert Louis Stevenson never wanted to be while traveling. If I didn't have to share this trip, I might not. Although, this is also just a great way to journal the important bits, I mean, I want to remember as much as I can and I'm not doing any other writing of my own offline regarding the trip. So is it a good thing, all this connectivity?
I found myself struggling with that idea a lot this day because even though my life is pretty great by pretty much any standard, even I fall into the trap of comparing my life to others to see if I'm doing it right. Instagram is a great way to pass the time questioning everything you're currently doing. Travel, yes, I'm doing that but these people are doing it better. Oh look racecars, I used to be a driver, and look at all these planes. I wish I could be someone who posts amazing aviation content because all I do all day is fly. Having all these choices sounds good. Look at all the people we could be like. It wasn't so long ago that if you were the son of a farmer, you were probably going to be a farmer. But now, not only do we know we have more choices, we're seeing them played out through other people constantly, beautifully, deliberately, and convincingly in pretty much real time. Scrolling, scrolling, liking, commenting, sharing. Pretty soon you're watching dozens of people live very different lives up close and forgetting to live yours. Even out here, I'll realize I stopped to stretch and saw notifications and now I'm stuck on my phone. And the networks are as good as the commercials say, I've pretty much always had service.
But, I had a chance now to pump the brakes a little bit because I found this place, and wouldn't you know it, my phone didn't work here.
And just like that, the phone was just a camera again, I couldn't share things as they happened. I just had to be there. I was back in the moment, playing with Jenson, who only understands living right now. He's the most powerful reminder in my life to be present.
I thought about if I had ever found more spherical natural rocks than this...
I got my sleeves wet getting down to capture tiny beach details, which I know I love. Okay, yes. I placed those pebbles there for this.
I thought about how this stick, one of many brought to me over the evening, reminded me of the item "Wirt's Leg" from the old computer game Diablo 2 that I used to play with a good friend as a kid.
I thought about how I still wished I could describe smells better, because this piece of earth was exquisite. Not just the smell of a particular tree or recent rain on untrodden dirt, but more akin to the way a meal smells of everything in it when the proportions of ingredients are spot on, but instead of getting a whiff and then shifting gears immediately to taste it, you stop and inhale again and again. And now you're not just next to it, you're tiny and in the middle of it. You wish your lungs themselves had olfactory receptors, because having the smell merely pass through into your senses for a moment during each breath isn't enough, and at any rate, all this purposeful smelling is throwing your ventilation out of whack and you really should just breathe normally for a while.
And I thought about all the reading I haven't been doing. I may have overestimated the amount of time I would be reading. I certainly haven't made much of a dent in the Wolfpack full of pre 1935 books in the Jeep. But I've got a chair, and a beach and a little bit of light left, so it's time to get some word input to balance the output.
And as the evening advanced I thought about where I would sleep. I've been making my little nest in the Jeep again, but I already need a break. Another thing I overestimated was how comfortable I would be long term living out of it, but how's this for a rollercoaster. The Jeep was parked back by the road, not too far, but I would have to decide...do I bring my stuff out here to the beach and sleep here, or do I relegate myself back to the longest space available in the box. When I got back to the Jeep, this conundrum became so severe so quickly it confuses me even now. Grabbing my stuff and bringing it to the beach isn't difficult. It's not exactly packed in a bag, but it's not far. In the Jeep, I could just give up and crawl in and be asleep, but I would give up the happiness of the beach. This seems like an obvious choice, but it became what in depressive circles is called an impossible task. My impossible task for the next 10 minutes was to get my camping gear from the Jeep to the beach. A few hundred feet. Just being back in the driver's seat deflated me so much that getting myself and my gear to where I was happy a short time ago was agony.
But I prevailed and because I didn't even roll up my sleeping bag or pad and didn't put any of it on a pack, I was carrying the tent, and chair, and unfurled bag, pad, and this book back to the beach. I couldn't take the time to do it right you see, because I had already wasted so much deciding if I was even going to bother coming back. Weird right?
Well another thing I overestimated was how comfortable I could be on this new pad outside of the Jeep. I already felt like I wasn't sleeping well again being back in it. Maybe the space of the tent would help. Nope, the pad just isn't as comfortable, and I am in pain. I can't sleep on my sides, or back without waking again and again. So I have more time to think.
Time to think about all the billions of years I never lived, and the billions of years I won't live after this. If there ever was any other consciousness that might have been me before, well I didn't remember it, and it really wouldn't have been me, would it? It would have been some other person, or a bird, a fish. Some other consciousness that came and went. It would be nice, I suppose, to be able to successfully imagine an instance where another consciousness emerges after yours shuts off, and it's recognizable again. Somehow the agency behind new eyes can draw a connection to that time it was you. But it wouldn't be. Just as the progression of life didn't include the person you are now until it did, it won't happen again.
Of the 7 billion or so humans alive now, I get to be me. More than that, of the 100+ billion humans that have ever lived, I get to be me. Me, here, now. At this time, to this family, with these options, and on this planet. In the cosmic lottery, how close was I to being a human being who for their entire existence only knew hunger and literally nothing else? Born hungry, never fed, and died of it. How many humans lived exactly like that?
Get sillier and consider the number of possible combinations of humans based on genetic information, DNA bases, and the kinds of things where the multiplication becomes so incredible, the number you're left with is so large it's essentially useless. Being me, being you....the odds are outrageous.
Blinking in and out of existence just long enough to breathe deeply in that patch of forest would have been a good enough reason to have a life. Appreciate it, love it.
I have an unlimited data plan that works up here. This means that I can post content to a thread on Expedition Portal, and share photos on Instagram, and chat with folks on Facebook. I'm accessible 24/7, in much the same way Robert Louis Stevenson never wanted to be while traveling. If I didn't have to share this trip, I might not. Although, this is also just a great way to journal the important bits, I mean, I want to remember as much as I can and I'm not doing any other writing of my own offline regarding the trip. So is it a good thing, all this connectivity?
I found myself struggling with that idea a lot this day because even though my life is pretty great by pretty much any standard, even I fall into the trap of comparing my life to others to see if I'm doing it right. Instagram is a great way to pass the time questioning everything you're currently doing. Travel, yes, I'm doing that but these people are doing it better. Oh look racecars, I used to be a driver, and look at all these planes. I wish I could be someone who posts amazing aviation content because all I do all day is fly. Having all these choices sounds good. Look at all the people we could be like. It wasn't so long ago that if you were the son of a farmer, you were probably going to be a farmer. But now, not only do we know we have more choices, we're seeing them played out through other people constantly, beautifully, deliberately, and convincingly in pretty much real time. Scrolling, scrolling, liking, commenting, sharing. Pretty soon you're watching dozens of people live very different lives up close and forgetting to live yours. Even out here, I'll realize I stopped to stretch and saw notifications and now I'm stuck on my phone. And the networks are as good as the commercials say, I've pretty much always had service.
But, I had a chance now to pump the brakes a little bit because I found this place, and wouldn't you know it, my phone didn't work here.
And just like that, the phone was just a camera again, I couldn't share things as they happened. I just had to be there. I was back in the moment, playing with Jenson, who only understands living right now. He's the most powerful reminder in my life to be present.
I thought about if I had ever found more spherical natural rocks than this...
I got my sleeves wet getting down to capture tiny beach details, which I know I love. Okay, yes. I placed those pebbles there for this.
I thought about how this stick, one of many brought to me over the evening, reminded me of the item "Wirt's Leg" from the old computer game Diablo 2 that I used to play with a good friend as a kid.
I thought about how I still wished I could describe smells better, because this piece of earth was exquisite. Not just the smell of a particular tree or recent rain on untrodden dirt, but more akin to the way a meal smells of everything in it when the proportions of ingredients are spot on, but instead of getting a whiff and then shifting gears immediately to taste it, you stop and inhale again and again. And now you're not just next to it, you're tiny and in the middle of it. You wish your lungs themselves had olfactory receptors, because having the smell merely pass through into your senses for a moment during each breath isn't enough, and at any rate, all this purposeful smelling is throwing your ventilation out of whack and you really should just breathe normally for a while.
And I thought about all the reading I haven't been doing. I may have overestimated the amount of time I would be reading. I certainly haven't made much of a dent in the Wolfpack full of pre 1935 books in the Jeep. But I've got a chair, and a beach and a little bit of light left, so it's time to get some word input to balance the output.
And as the evening advanced I thought about where I would sleep. I've been making my little nest in the Jeep again, but I already need a break. Another thing I overestimated was how comfortable I would be long term living out of it, but how's this for a rollercoaster. The Jeep was parked back by the road, not too far, but I would have to decide...do I bring my stuff out here to the beach and sleep here, or do I relegate myself back to the longest space available in the box. When I got back to the Jeep, this conundrum became so severe so quickly it confuses me even now. Grabbing my stuff and bringing it to the beach isn't difficult. It's not exactly packed in a bag, but it's not far. In the Jeep, I could just give up and crawl in and be asleep, but I would give up the happiness of the beach. This seems like an obvious choice, but it became what in depressive circles is called an impossible task. My impossible task for the next 10 minutes was to get my camping gear from the Jeep to the beach. A few hundred feet. Just being back in the driver's seat deflated me so much that getting myself and my gear to where I was happy a short time ago was agony.
But I prevailed and because I didn't even roll up my sleeping bag or pad and didn't put any of it on a pack, I was carrying the tent, and chair, and unfurled bag, pad, and this book back to the beach. I couldn't take the time to do it right you see, because I had already wasted so much deciding if I was even going to bother coming back. Weird right?
Well another thing I overestimated was how comfortable I could be on this new pad outside of the Jeep. I already felt like I wasn't sleeping well again being back in it. Maybe the space of the tent would help. Nope, the pad just isn't as comfortable, and I am in pain. I can't sleep on my sides, or back without waking again and again. So I have more time to think.
Time to think about all the billions of years I never lived, and the billions of years I won't live after this. If there ever was any other consciousness that might have been me before, well I didn't remember it, and it really wouldn't have been me, would it? It would have been some other person, or a bird, a fish. Some other consciousness that came and went. It would be nice, I suppose, to be able to successfully imagine an instance where another consciousness emerges after yours shuts off, and it's recognizable again. Somehow the agency behind new eyes can draw a connection to that time it was you. But it wouldn't be. Just as the progression of life didn't include the person you are now until it did, it won't happen again.
Of the 7 billion or so humans alive now, I get to be me. More than that, of the 100+ billion humans that have ever lived, I get to be me. Me, here, now. At this time, to this family, with these options, and on this planet. In the cosmic lottery, how close was I to being a human being who for their entire existence only knew hunger and literally nothing else? Born hungry, never fed, and died of it. How many humans lived exactly like that?
Get sillier and consider the number of possible combinations of humans based on genetic information, DNA bases, and the kinds of things where the multiplication becomes so incredible, the number you're left with is so large it's essentially useless. Being me, being you....the odds are outrageous.
Blinking in and out of existence just long enough to breathe deeply in that patch of forest would have been a good enough reason to have a life. Appreciate it, love it.
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