Flying north from Vancouver all I can see out the window is mountains. Endless row upon row, chain upon chain, covered in white. Not a person in sight. Not a tree, not a house, not even a Seven-Eleven.
For almost two hours I flew, and there was so little of human footprint on the earth, it almost could have been another earth.
When I arrived at the little northern town which was my destination, the tiny sprawl of lights and electrical poles linking our fragile little human forms, seemed to pop out of nowhere.
I stayed on a primitive farm, and hauled water, hand over hand, out of a shallow dug well. I soaked oats and fed them to the cows. I pulled huge bones out of a wax box to feed to the sled dogs. I threshed the chickens out of the bushes with a switch of tree branch, and hunted under the shrubs for hidden stashes of eggs. A real Easter egg hunt.
I slept on a pallet in a two story cabin and stuffed small bits of wood into a tin stove. I baked sour dough bread in small cast iron pans directly in the hot coals. I turned the fresh warm milk into soft sweet cheese.
Every night I rolled into bed tired, happy. Satisfied.
I don’t work any more, I realized, massaging my arms, sore from hauling water. I mean really work. I just turn the handle, flip a switch, and everything I want happens instantly. But I felt weakened by this ease. Not only in my body, but in my mind. I watched my mind complain about the hard work, unused as it was to anything but ease. But as the days went by, I became stronger. I felt purposeful and glad by the work of my own hands.
The settlers who founded our country, their spines were made of metal. Even my own ancestors who came from old Russia, landed in America and worked. Baked bread, sewed clothes, built industries. And now we, me, two generations later, struggle with depression, dissatisfaction, lack of purpose.
I know we cannot go back. But cannot we at least go forward with something closer to a perfect truth? We used to be an example to the world, America. We worked hard, we created things, we had an independent spirit. Now the world looks at us and sees what? Strip malls and over consumption, anti-depressants and obesity. Racism and hatred. Greed and lack of respect.
But still deep, within our DNA, I know there still exists, this spirit of humanity. Of goodness and hard work. Still, flying north from Vancouver, there is nothing but mountains. Nothing but sky. Nothing but the beauty of the earth. Still visible, to the human eye.
