Primal Thing

March 9, 2010

It’s a primal thing. And I think that it happens to the best of us. First, the freak out, when you realize, yea, you are 1,000 miles from home, in a land so strange so foreign, that even breathing is different. Then it gets a little funky, our tribe starts to formulate little niches and cliques, who likes whom, who hates what, hell, let’s all complain a little about everything. And then, let me not forget the moody time, when I awake in my 40-square-foot tent, smothered against the flapping tent wall just to ask myself, who is going to be the bitch today? Then the dinner conversations start to revolve around pooping in the desert, and then wiping your s*** with flat rocks. Like I said it starts to become a primal thing, when people start to consume twice their body weight just to get a little taste of home. It’s beautiful, when we start to connect amongst ourselves, appreciate each other, see each other in a light so bright it shines right through. Maybe it’s fear, fear of this perfect thing we get to do, and all the unknown, unchartered territory we tread in. I know I love it, love just being here, knowing I’ve got my people with me at all times, going though all this scary magnificent stuff with me, feeling it too. Because when it comes down to it, who can whine, who can find fault in this time of transformation, growing, learning, loving, living; no really who can, because I can’t.

By: Annabelle Ziegenhagen

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