Thriving in the Wilderness

I have always been fascinated by the art of survival without electricity, shops, buildings, or any of our modern-day comforts.  I'm not sure why.  Perhaps this harks back to happy childhood memories of being in the New Zealand mountains for weeks or months at a time with no power or plumbing or nearby supply centre, and regularly tramping in the bush for days on end in all weathers and terrains while my father did his fieldwork, cooking on open fires with a billy, sleeping under the stars.  My brother became a passionate speliologist (caver) and would disappear underground for days or weeks underground, exploring new cavern systems.  My mother would join my father on his field trips even when we were babies, washing nappies in the creek and then hanging them out to dry on a rope attached to the tent, and dangle my brother by a backpack over a high waterfall to keep him occupied for hours when he was about one year old. Meanwhile, I have become an indoor writer with an indoor job in a country that is so overpopulated it is almost impossible to be alone, anywhere.

When Life Takes Over

 I was struck by something recently, when talking to a colleague at work.  She was discouraged and demoralised by her job, and due to management decisions far beyond her control had ended up in a position where she could not leave her job despite it becoming untenable in almost every way.  Extremely demanding but not highly paid work, it did at least cover the mortgage, but was now creating far more stress than being able to pay the mortgage was relieving.

She was not the only one put in this position, with no end in sight and seemingly no way out.  But as I listened to her, a person usually cheerful and reluctant to complain, I couldn't help consider her deteriorating physical and mental state and wonder at what point Life would take over and dictate its own path out of the mess.