I knew the seam of the tarp was leaky (it's sealant had crumbled off weeks ago), so the night before I put my last strip of duct tape on (unfortunately, only about two feet long, when I needed 8 feet!), applying the tape on what I thought was the leakiest part. Then I put the tarp on as normal.
While I slept and about four hours after the rain started - light and then getting heavier - the first drops filtered and streamed their way onto my face. Shit! Hell of a way to wake up.
I'd been collecting plastic grocery and convenient store bags, so I split a few, put my shoes back on and went outside in the deluge, unclipped the footholds of the tarp pulled it halfway off, trying (rather clumsily) to lay these bags across the top of the tent, right under the tarp where the offending seam was--with my $2 rain poncho covering the head end of the tent. It worked to some degree.
But the tent poles channel water to their bases, where it soaks through the nylon of the tent itself and runs in through the corners. I spent all night going around to each corner (there are six corners) and wiping up puddles with my little motel towel, before they turned into big puddles.
I even did an estimate about how quickly they would form (since I'm a plodding fool, and had not much else to think about at the time--ha!)...
About four drops would fill a cubic centimeter. The drops fell into each corner of the tent at about one every five seconds. So, every twenty seconds a cubic centimeter of water puddled up in each corner; that's three cubic centimeters per minute, or about one hundred and eighty in an hour. An hour would produce a puddle eight inches wide and one eighth inch deep. Therefore, the mopping up had to be continuous in order to not get those eight inch puddles.
Around 2:00 am the rain lightened, and downpours would occur about every ten minutes, lasting about ten minutes each. So I set my alarm to wake up every two hours to mop. It sucked, and I never really needed to be woken up since I couldn't fall asleep anyway. Drips still came through the top screen, even with the bags there.
I tend to fall back into "lowest common denominator mode" at times like these. The laptop and backpack were most important to keep dry, then the sleeping bag, then myself. I slept on the sleeping bag, so that drips falling through the screen would hit me and dry, rather than the sleeping bag and soak in.
[By the way, that highlights a little secret about wearing wet clothes: The temperature at the surface of our skin averages about 80° degrees. That is enough - in any ambient air temperature that is lower than 80° - to rapidly evaporate water in or on clothing that is in contact with the skin. Want to dry your hiking pants? WEAR them. In fact when I've needed to dry a shirt over night, I don't hang it up, I stuff it into the sleeping bag with me, and because the heat is about 80° in there, and the material of the bag allows moisture to escape, the shirt will be dry by morning. Yes, heat energy is removed from the body in the process of wearing wet clothes (which can be risky for hypothermia, if one is completely soaked, has no insulating layers, and in an air temperature that is below about 45° degrees), but as long as there is dry insulation around and the air temp is above 45°, clothes WILL dry.]
I managed to fall asleep at about 4:30 am and forgot to set the watch alarm, sleeping through to 6:30. Thankfully only a small puddle was in each corner.
When I awoke that final time I had to make a decision. It was due to rain all day--and stop by about 5:00 pm, but was pouring in the morning. IF I'd done the normal pack up, I would get out, pack up the wet tarp in a plastic bag, then do the same for the damp tent, waiting until the rain stopped to dry them.
But, in this case, the tent (except for the floor) was just as wet as the tarp. Packing up the tent would have also then soaked the floor. So, I made a tactical decision. I decided to take everything with me in the backpack except the tent, which I left set up at the spot--tarp and all. I put some napkins in each of the corners and left the towel in the place that would be most likely to pool up. Keeping the floor dry was the idea, and getting a headstart on drying the tent after the rain ended, and before I got back to it.
Naturally, I was nervous about leaving my precious tent, but was gambling that no one will decide to take a wet nature walk in the rain through that area today. I would find out on this night when I return.
On the way out I noticed that large puddles were forming all through the woods, and even running into little streams (and big ones too). So, I hoped, the sleep spot was at a high enough elevation that I wouldn't come back to find it sitting in the middle of a three inch deep pool of water.
Those who read the blog know what a nemesis rain has been to me for all of these last two journeys. I have vowed though, that before beginning the next and final one, I will come up with some kind of way to deal with the rain on a multiple day basis. In fact, it is supposed to rain Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of next week. That will be the ultimate chance to really conquer the rain. Honestly, I know I'm not likely to actually do that (conquer the rain). But, I have to try. Trying is part of what ALL of this has been about!
I wasn't too wet by the time I arrived at Starbucks to work. The pack was a bit damp after sitting by one of the corners in the tent, but opening up its pockets in the dry indoor air effectively removed all the moisture.
In between mopping and mathematical musing, during my infrequent moments of reflection the previous night, I thought a bit about the past--before leaving Maine. I meditated on why my mind was so much more at peace than it had been. Yes, of course the strengthening connection to the Spark had a lot to do with it. But, at some fundamental level I had also learned to get rid of guilt about my own behavior or bad decisions I used to make.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to think very deeply, occasionally over-thinking. I've mentioned before that I used to and still (though much less frequently) have sleepless nights where I involuntarily loop my bad memories over and over again. This has made for long periods of guilt-ridden self-torment. I guess I've tried to punish myself in this way, futilely thinking that might make up for things that I've done; things I know were wrong. It never works though. It only makes those memories chafe more intensely.
There are certain time and specific memories that have not followed this pattern. For example, after the breakup of romantic relationships, I have found that focusing on the worst aspects of why these happened can actually numb the memories of them. I have survived some pretty badly fractured friendships by doing this.
But real guilt memories are an altogether different story.
During these Journey projects I have discovered (maybe due to the Spark's influence?) that there is a method I can follow to let go of guilt. I guess it is something like the Kubler-Ross idea of the five stages of grief, but more tangential and specific to guilt itself. I use only four stages for this different problem. Here is what I've come up with for myself...
Intentionally letting these four stages pass by - in order - I have found a way to escape the hell of nagging guilt: Shame, Guilt, Regret, Forget.
This has nothing to do with problems I've caused but can't admit ownership of to myself. This only relates to things I know I've done wrong and have admitted such to myself. I don't know if they would help other people find a way out of the guilt maze, but I offer them as perhaps and potentially interesting glimpse into my harried psyche...
* * * * * * *
Shame
This is when I know that what I've done has hurt someone else, and thus myself by default. I may or may not admit to that person that I am sorry for whatever the offense was, but I AM sorry, within. This usually doesn't last very long. I used to immediately file the particular action, and the shame I felt about it, into the long-term guilt folder below. It was the easiest place to find, since it was already swarming with past issues and always ready to accept more.
Guilt
This had been the final un-resting place for the things I felt shameful about. These things were in good company, since they most often related to my own hubris (selfish pride), were not discussable with anyone else, and were thus released at night to run rampantly like rabid rats; allowed to torture my own mind in an attempt punish myself and balance out what I'd done.
For decades, since I was a kid and learned the temporary usefulness of stowing away guilt, I utilized this method. It allowed me to function as if nothing had really ever happened during the day, resigning to the fact that I would just deal with it at night instead. But the psychic rats were never asleep themselves. They would scratch and gnaw at the sides of their cage. And, as their population grew and their ability to be confined shrank, a few would sometimes escape and ruin my daytime life. It got to the point where (just in the last few years) I found myself unable to contain them at all. What I had covered over with the unconscious, was wriggling, squirming, slapping against that cover and becoming more and more conscious.
As a result, these rotten guilt feelings were becoming only semi-processed and devolving into bits of self-hatred. Eventually, I couldn't sleep very often, and I couldn't work during the day without feeling like everything I was trying to do was useless anyway, nor did I deserve to accomplish or be rewarded for anything in life. It wasn't depression, but I still wanted to die. And - as you more regular readers may recall - I fantasized about how it might happen----frequently.
Around 2011, while on my first Journey (Odyssey--a much lesser and more local version of my cross country travels), I found the first possible way of dealing with guilt. I created a new folder called, Regret, and began to filter some of the guilt that I knew I simply would never be able to either rectify or use as a punishment against myself into that folder. Only in the last two years have I been able to harrow the guilt hell-rats across the bridge and into the deep freezer of regret.
Regret
This folder became a cauldron of psychological liquid nitrogen, once guilt was dropped into it, the active "life" of that guilt would be frozen--not gone, just frozen. This was very helpful. It relieved the pressure of guilt.
Regret is - at least in my definition - a reassignment of guilt into the "nothing I can do about it now" mode of long term memory. It doesn't nag at me--regret. It only serves as a kind of memorial to mistakes that once pricked my conscience, with the chiseled names of each one of them; there to be seen if I ever felt the need. However, last year I made a very great discovery. I discovered that these memorials - like forgotten graves stones in an old overgrown cemetery - weather down. They disintegrate and eventually dissolve into the next stage, Forget.
Forget
This is the merciful non-folder. My mind has developed a way to drop frozen rats into it and they fall away, not ever needing to be seen again. Of course, it is not an inability to remember. It is simply the overriding tendency to not have to remember.
Something had happened inside me. I finally became aware that I'd allowed myself to feel the shame (not deny it), paid the terrible price of self-punishment already for the guilt my shame produced, and memorialized it all in a place where eventually mental "erosion" wears down everything. Finding forgetfulness, I think, was where the Spark really stepped in to help me. It essentially "told" me that IT forgets the things I've done against other people once it knows that I truly am sorry for them. It erases what is not necessary - or is even harmful - to the much more important tasks at hand. And, by doing this, new space is created to emboss beneficial systems of thought into the parchment of a truly helpfully written constitution; signed with the watermarks of the Spark--transparent enough to show me the Light that shines through these watermarks from the other side.
* * * * * * *
Having finally broken through to a better psychological way of dealing with my past transgressions, I am now less likely to rashly act against another person. I'm still a slow learner in this regard. And, I get angry at myself for stewing on the unfair things that people have said or done to me, after not defending myself against them.
But I AM learning.
Having some skill with communicating in the English language has helped tremendously, as I have a cathartic way to express myself. And, that a few people can read what I think, and thereby apply anything they might find useful to their own situations, brings a very gratifying and tangibly positive reinforcement to my work.
But I AM learning.
Having some skill with communicating in the English language has helped tremendously, as I have a cathartic way to express myself. And, that a few people can read what I think, and thereby apply anything they might find useful to their own situations, brings a very gratifying and tangibly positive reinforcement to my work.
I thank you guys for that from the bottom of my heart.
Once I'd returned to the sleep spot and found the tent still there and drying off, I knew I'd made the right decision--to leave it. If I'd brought it with me, it would have remained wet all day, and then I'd have to wait a long time for it to dry. I unzipped the flap and felt the floor. There were a couple of small puddles in the corners but they were easily mopped.
The clouds were breaking with clear spots being driven by the wind across the new moon...
Blurry, but there.
I climbed into the tent, pulled out the now dry sleeping bag and quickly fell asleep. That is one of the benefits of not sleeping well the night before.
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