I had little to no idea of what to expect - I didn’t even know if we were going to be way out in the wilderness, or at a camp site with electricity and water (we were) - so I packed only what I felt were necessities, and whatever I’d need to get by. Supplies-wise, I did more than fine (I had leaned towards the idea of being nowhere near bathrooms or running water and so on) but when it came to our fellow campers, I wasn’t sure how to feel.
While Ardie had warned me about her brothers, I had taken most of the descriptions I’d heard as hyperbole. I quickly learned my mistake. I commented at one point, laughing, that I felt like I was in ‘hostile territory.’ When she asked what I meant, I replied, “Well, remember: I’m kind of a witch, so…” She nodded, understanding quickly: the portable sound system which blared near constantly the duration of the trip was at the moment playing a song about wanting a ‘country-music Jesus’ to come and “save us all.”
I was, after all, camping with a large group of service men and their women - men who, at a glance, could pretty quickly be identified with one word: rednecks.
Not just any rednecks: we’re talking god-fearing, gun-shooting, red-white-and-blue-bleeding, dogs and trucks loving guys, the majority of who’s goal was to get as drunk as possible while sitting outside. These were the kind of people I’d grown up with, being around my dad and his friends, but I realized quickly that I really hadn’t ‘done’ redneck in almost a decade. I didn’t know how to act, how to talk, or how to be generally acceptable to them, so I worried about getting along. Not only that but I was, in a vague, unsure way, worried about my safety. Seeing how the women - when they weren’t sitting by their men or off doing their own thing - clumped silently in a group, I listened to some of the guys joke about how there was a Taser waiting in one of the trailers if there was ‘another domestic incident’ this year. It was a strange feeling.
I understood after a short time that the real reason I had come was to give Ardelis a way to be separate from the group without feeling completely alone. Witnessing how her brothers treated her (amazingly inconsiderately), and understanding completely how grating country-music can get when it’s not your thing, I was more than fine with this - we spent a lot of time bonding by talking, walking down the nearby trail, and canoeing a bit ahead or behind of the main group when we were in the water. Despite my initial nervousness, I enjoyed myself a lot. At least, as much as one can when surrounded by strangers who’s points of view are completely different from their own.
It was, overall, an eye opening experience. I watched these people ‘camp’ with all the comforts of home around them, throw their garbage on the ground or into the fire, dump about $30 worth of recyclables in the trash, yell drunken curses at their girlfriends, and spend as much time as they could drinking as they did ‘relaxing.’ While Ardelis and I sat in our tent discussing art history and philosophy, one brother yelled from the nearby cook-fire “Hey! You’re not supposed to talk about smart stuff while camping!” He came up to the window on the tent at another point to reply “Yes you can!” When I commented that you really couldn’t - and shouldn’t - take the stories in the bible literally. For the first several hours, it was strange and somewhat difficult for me to be near the people around us: not just because I found a good deal of their behavior abhorrent, but because I knew I had once been very much like them. If not for my choice to actively seek out different beliefs and try to get a better grasp on reality, I could have been any one of the women in that camp. Even so, I’ve come to realize that the choices you make are the result of a combination of your chemical makeup at any given time, what signals are being sent through your brain, and the influences of experiences you’ve had in the past - so, though the words don’t quite fit me, the sentiment rings true:
“There but for the grace of God go I.”
With that feeling in mind, I had less trouble accepting the actions and words of the people around me. Without the right outer influences to mold them into something else, how could I expect any of these people to act or behave differently? Each was the result of a lifetime’s worth of experiences and memories I could never understand or grasp. I looked into the circle of camp-chairs filled with people drinking while a song about having sex in a barn screamed at us from the speakers, and saw myself in another life. I almost wanted to burst out laughing - it was like stepping into a puddle and sinking in over my head.
This unexpected reminder to appreciate my life didn’t change the facts about who I was with, however. I expected confrontation the entire time I was there. Knowing now that most of what I’d heard about Ardelis’s brothers, who loved to start fights, was true, I was surprised by the relative lack of commentary on whatever I said. In fact, I noted with some curiosity, that neither brother really ever made eye contact with me at any point - even when exchanging a few words regarding food or supplies. While the one who had objected to our conversations in the tent squirted me with a water gun while canoeing, when I didn’t react, he didn’t shoot at me again. I guess I just wasn’t any fun as a target: he was just plain unable to get a rise out of me.
Honestly, though in the past I probably would have been really annoyed just being near them, I found myself laughing a lot. I felt bubbly, relaxed, and generally at ease. What could they do to upset me? Whenever I saw one of them getting irritable and blowing up, my first amused thought was “Well, it‘s certainly not mine.” I was thinking of this Koan:
There once lived a great warrior. Though quite old, he still was able to defeat any challenger. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him.
One day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. He was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move. Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior's challenge.
As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. He threw dirt and spit in his face. For hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. Finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. Knowing he was defeated, he left in shame.
Somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. "How could you endure such an indignity? How did you drive him away?"
"If someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it," the master replied, "to whom does the gift belong?"
I acted in accordance with my beliefs - I was grateful for anything I was given, and I appreciated the experience I had no matter what it was. Though they both had a tendency to be snippy or difficult whenever I sought conversation, one brother especially started to avoid any length of talk after I would only respond with sincere cheerfulness. What was there for them to face me with, if all they sought was a fight?
Ardelis had a much rougher time of it - I saw again and again how her brothers sought to strike her emotionally and psychologically. They yelled at her over nothing, they ordered her around, and when we were in the canoe, they made it a point to ram into us or otherwise make the trip difficult. More than once, I saw that something I had done without any commentary on their part would earn Ardelis a shouted reprimand if she did the same. I couldn’t understand their motivation - the malice they expressed towards her over the smallest thing seemed to be much more than anything that can be explained by them being older siblings, and I did my best to be a friend and talk it out with her when she needed to get her feelings out. When we left for home, she told me that she probably wouldn’t be doing the trip next year. Feeling that she was completely within her rights to feel so, I suggested that we plan a trip with our own friends instead - her enthusiastic response has me figuring out who to invite and when we want to set it up.
All in all, did I enjoy myself? Yes. Did I learn anything? I’d like to think so - reading during a bit of quiet time (or as quiet as it could be, with “Drink in my hand” turned all the way up to 11) I found a passage that said, more or less, that it’s impossible to become a Buddha. After all, you can’t become something you already are. It struck home with me. I was reminded that our camp sat on a giant ball of rock hurtling through space, in a galaxy scientists only just recently isn’t even the Milky way, in an infinite universe. My own body, made up of cells, made up of molecules, made of atoms, made up of even smaller and smaller particles, could contain universes of their own: while our own may very well be only one infinitesimal speck in the atoms of another world. How small would my mental and spiritual world have to be, in the face of such a vast reality, for me to allow myself to be annoyed for any extended amount of time by the rudeness of one or two blue collar boys getting their drink on? Their noise and general rowdiness may have prevented me from immersing myself in the quiet of nature while camping, but nothing could prevent me from immersing myself in reality, or the grand expanse of the universe and what lays beyond.
Granted, now that I’ve managed to leave the viewpoint behind, I don’t think I’m ever going to stop being amused by obdurate believers in ‘God’ - after all, if not for luck and random chance, I’d be one of them.
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