Reboot. Do over.
We all need a fresh start sometimes, but it isn’t easy when we are immersed in our busy lives.
This week I visited a program that takes adolescents far out of their comfort zones so they can reframe their lives. Overnight, they go from non-stop texts and tweets to living in the wilderness of Utah, many miles from electricity and running water. Frozen pizza zapped in the microwave is replaced by beans and rice cooked slowly over an open fire. I spent the night with them, and woke in the darkness to coyotes yipping and a million stars shining through the pines.
These youth did not choose to spend months away from friends and family, yet most of them come to appreciate the experience. Some weep when it is time to leave, and many return in a few years as staff for the program.
In the high desert they gain self-confidence and self-esteem. They learn to “bust” fire, meaning they use a wooden bow and spindle to get a spark. It is hard to do. I couldn’t even get a whiff of smoke when I tried. The frustration they experience teaches perseverance. Eventually they can get a spark in seconds.
Five days a week they hike up to 12 miles, usually without a trail to follow. All teens carry their own gear, four bottles of water and their personal food. Those packs are heavy. They have to help each other, learning to give and take assistance . One teen is in charge of dinner preparation and assigns tasks to the others. Everyone must cooperate.
Mother Nature is the best therapist, the program leaders say. If you don’t bother to put your tarp up correctly, you will get wet. But there is an amazing amount of human therapy in the program as well. I watched “tough” teen boys stating what they were feeling and why. Their peers listened attentively and “reflected back” what they heard with great accuracy. How many teens do that normally? I sat in a group where each teen and staff member described one of their worst fears. Everyone listened with empathy.
The day before I arrived the teens had finished a “solo” where they were alone for two days and a night. During their solos, they were asked to consider what types of character traits were part of their persona. In a group meeting, they described what they had realized about themselves. One said he was part “jokester,” part “artist,” part “adrenalinejunkie” and so on. They talked about which of their character traits they wanted to “starve” and which they wanted to “feed.” They talked about addictive patterns, whether to drugs and alcohol or to being angry and defiant. For some the pattern they wanted to change was being isolated, or playing video games.
I found myself wishing that all our youth, not only those “in trouble,” could learn the tools taught in wilderness programs, like doing things you don’t want to do even when you are cold and tired. Most of us fall into saying, “you made me” angry or sad or whatever. Our interactions would go so much better if we all learned to say what we feel and why without blaming anyone.
We can’t all go into the wilderness, but we could teach the same tools in our schools. To do it we must acknowledge that perseverance, patience, empathy and self-awareness do not “just happen.” If parents and teachers are on the same page teaching these skills, our youth will be happier and better able to contribute to their communities. Let’s figure out how to bring the wilderness home.
— Laura Wishik is a mother, attorney, chair of the school board and head of Shape Up Vashon.
