From Machine to Man

The muscular shirtless man stands perched on the edge of the primitive wooden boat waiting for the whale to pass nearby.  He grips his spear tightly with both hands as his hunting crew sits in quite anticipation behind him.  The powerful whale pulls up near the surface of the water, the man leaps into the air off the bow, and in one powerful motion drops down onto the whale thrusting his spear into the back.  I sit in the comfort of my home watching the documentary in utter wonderment.  I stare at my computer screen and consider the shear risk facing these men as they undergo a risky and creative hunting ritual to provide food for their coastal village.  I put another bite of my processed, store-bought, microwavable dinner into my mouth as I observe this village gratefully make use of every morsel of their catch.  Something familiar stirs within me.  I recognize the feeling from my time living among a village in Chad, Africa and from my treks into the open desert of Utah.  I look down at my dog, my loyal companion and adventure enthusiast, who is looking longingly through the widows.  I join his stare and begin to drift into thought.

What has happened to the modern American man?  Where is the heroism, the adventure, the relationship with nature and his fellows?  What has become of me?  The culture around me seems gripped in the clutches of materialism and the pursuit of money, insurance, likes on social media, and entertaining themselves with technology.  Here I am returning to college in an urban mid-western town in pursuit of my own career offering financial security.  I remind myself that my pursuit of further medical training is an effort to obtain a practical skill that I can use to serve others and provide for a family someday.  Yet somehow, in the midst of studying, testing, papers, and paying rent - I feel separated from my adventurous human spirit.  I think of how I have been sucked into a life of meaningless clutter, relationship drama, and performing for the MAN.... instead of just being... being human... a man.

This is the catalyst I need.  Recently my truck leaf spring broke and this created a chain reaction of enlightening experiences that just climaxed in this moment as I stare with my dog out into the urban remnants of nature.  The break to my 98' Ranger's suspension was serious enough that I knew it needed fixed before I could drive again.  I spent the last week riding me bike everywhere around town.  It fed my soul something it had been missing.  I left me phone in class on Friday and had to spend the weekend without it.  This also fed my soul.  I called a mechanic who quoted me $1,000+ to make the necessary simple repairs.  I laughed and hung up realizing that my truck doesn't even hold the value of the repair.  Immediately I began thinking about the purchase of a new vehicle and how I would afford it.  Instead, I opted for plan B - I crawled under my truck with a hammer and some wire and did an amateur fix.   I drove the truck around town and found that it held.  I will now drive only when it's a necessity, otherwise I'll use my bike.  Major cash saved through a little labor and creativity.  Thanks dad.  Another soul feeding.

These combined experiences have led me to a soul-craving to become human once again.  This means simplifying and abiding in a deep connected relationship with nature, a physical community of people around me (not Facebook), and my Creator.  I commence this pursuit by cutting out all access from my life.  There is a movement emerging of people recognizing the same soul-craving and finding authentic happiness in pursuit of simplifying and returning to basics.  It's called Minimalism.  Like the two creators, I don't think minimalism is a fad or trend, but a way of becoming truly human again in an overstimulated, material, highly mechanized culture.  They put forth a 21-day plan for this process that I am committing to applying over the next few weeks.   I will document my journey here.

The 21 -Day Journey into Minimalism:   http://www.theminimalists.com/21days/