People Talking Without Speaking, People Hearing Without Listening

The Maymester concept of having class from 8-12 and then coming home to take a nap in the afternoon might just be what I need for school in the future. If I only take Maymesters from here on out until I graduate I will probably be here for a bit longer than my parents would like, but hey, at least it would be fun. That counts for something, right?

Current Listening: "Final Straw" by Snow Patrol.

The class that I am taking during Maymester is called Public Service Seminar, which is a bit misleading. A more accurate name would be "A Study in Leadership." That sounds nebulous and vague as well, but it is much closer to what the course is concerned with in terms of content than public service.

After finishing "We Wish to Inform You..." by Philip Gourevitch (which by the way was phenomenonal), I started "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" by Aron Ralston. Ralston is famous for his amazing story of survival and courage as he escaped from entrapment in a Utah canyon by cutting off the lower portion of his right arm, and then hiking and rappelling down the canyon until he found other hikers.

The main lesson that many learned from Ralston was a negative one. As a solo hiker, who was no stranger to risk taking in very dangerous places, Ralston failed to leave an intinerary with someone would be able to notfiy park authorities if he did not arrive at certain points on his journey in reasonable times. As I took my solo trip to Big Bend over Spring Break this year, the story of Aron Ralston hung heavy in my mother's mind as she made sure to remind me over and over that I needed to provide a detailed trip intinerary to the park staff and to give my parents a number where they could contact the Park Rangers if I did not call home at the designated day of my departure.

As I hiked, I would occasionally entertain thoughts of how I would survive in the backcountry if I broke my ankle or I was attacked by some crazy animal of the desert Southwest. Those thoughts were few and far between. I gained solace and peace of mind from the fact that I did what I could to provide a plan of rescue in the event of a mishap. One of the great crimes of our modern society has been the desire to eliminate all risk. One of the greatest things about going out in the wilderness, especially alone, is the innate knowledge that you are vulnerable and each of your actions matter a great deal. Each sense is heightened and life is infinitely more enjoyable. So many times I find myself sleep walking through days where I feel no risk to myself. Some people would say that this is a good thing, but to me it just feels like a waste of the only life that I have to live.