The River in the Rain

Syringa flowers on the Grand Rhone River

"By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear."    -George Herbert

There is something about spending time in Oregon that calls for deep thought. Maybe it's the layered green branches of cedar, ponderosa and fir against the steely grey sky or the gentle sound of rain hitting a laughing river. Something about it, like the smell of strong coffee in a busy cafe or park benches by a garden kept like a Monet painting seems to breathe poetry.

As I paddled down the river this past week, enjoying the rainy weather, scenery and the tune of a song from the Into The Wild soundtrack playing in my head, I ended up doing a lot of thinking. Mostly about the world, society and ultimately who I am in it. Thinking about how, in a universe so complex and buzzing with the superfluous, we sometimes loose sight of what really matters.

As humans, we have created the concept of ownership, taken that idea and ran with it. We want to be able to call a piece of land our own, to go out in our cars and buy possessions, so many of which we could live without and all of which we don’t, necessarily, have to own. Possessions, it seems to me, are just symbolic of society's obsession for material goods, their materialism.

"We have a greed with which we have agreed/you think you have to want more than you need/until you have it all you won't be free." –Eddie Vedder.

I once saw a quote that read, “Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.” This disturbed me, like it was some race to buy as much of the world that as you could before your time ran out. Like someone with less was not superior. Like having 'stuff' meant something. 

But what are things to human existence, except for extra baggage? They are, because we have bought into this system, everything. Because a person with bigger house, nicer clothes, and a higher balance in their bank account, is better on this materialistic hierarchy. A system where a lying, bigoted, strident man can get on the ballot to the national stage, where the man lucky enough to be born into a family with an extra stack of bills in the bank, gets a better education and a better job. A society where possessions mean money and money means everything.

We are surrounded, sometimes drowning, in our own things. We loose track of what counts, the core of existence. Money is nothing if we refuse to give it meaning, it goes up in flames just like an index card, can be torn in the paper shredder just like a document, it is weak. Possessions can be broken, smashed, and ruined. They are all nothing.

What, then, is important? Throughout the past week I’ve been trying to distill this down to its essence. The meaning of life may not be found on a single paddle down the Grand Rhone River in the company of my family, a small leather bound notebook and a few clothes. But I think it was close. That moment, caught in the rain and feeling the water against my face and cold hands, the burn in my muscles as I avoid a log that had gone unnoticed, the comfort of having my parents a few yards below and my brother above, that moment had meaning. I was living, just living and experiencing, and that had so much more value than than the conventional standards for success and livelihood that we hold in society.

It was full of so many of the things that matter to me in life. So many of the core attributes I define to be living at the center of existence: relationships, drive, raw experience and emotion, nature. That is what matters to me. Relationships: interaction with other people, being with the ones you love, lending a hand to help someone up. Drive: the perseverance to seek deeper meaning, and the motivation to fight for better…pushing yourself to have greater knowledge, unleashed curiosity, better understanding of yourself and breaking and redrawing physical limits. Pushing yourself. Nature: spending time with your feet in the dirt, with your hair wet, seeing other species and walking different trails. Experiencing: just living.

So there you have it, the meaning of life from a very naive fifteen year old girl. I say this rather sarcastically because in no way do I believe I have everything figured out. Most likely, I will look back at this tomorrow and want to make a small adjustment, come back years from now and want to scratch the entire post.

 But for today,

Victoria