The Fast and the Hungry

This morning I took a little trip to my local doctor's office for a physical and some blood work. I know what you're thinking: what is a healthy twenty-two year old beefcake like myself doing getting blood examined? Well, the sad truths of old age and imposing independence are upon me as I will no longer be on my parents' health insurance plan once 2008 rings in because I am no longer a student. Although this could easily turn into some kind of commentary on U.S. Health Insurance and give a Sicko-esque assessment, it won't. The meat and potatoes of this story has to do with the twelve hour fast that I had to endure prior to the physical.

So if it wasn't awkward enough last night attending my girlfriend's company Christmas party and not being able to take part of the fabulous free buffet and beverages at the lovely Cafe La Boheme, the awkwardness definitely hit its peak this morning when I divulged to my doctor that I have experimented with marijuana, LSD, mushrooms, cocaine, various pills, and even one time an innocent bug -- very strange thing to have to do on an empty stomach. Luckily, this is not my first experience with fasting as I have had blood drawn before. However, not every time I have fasted has been mandatory.

In 2004, at least I believe it was 2004, I decided to embark on a spiritual journey and cleanse myself of the drug infested lifestyle that had plagued me prior. Maybe it was November. Either way, it was to be three days and three nights without food or water spent in the woods. I recall that every minute leading up to it was trying. Things were constantly coming up, people were calling me to see what I was up to for the weekend, etc. Nothing could divert me though. I was dead set on being alone in the wilderness with no phone, no computer -- none of that nonsense.

The day leading up to it was a Thursday and I spent it at home. I enjoyed the last of what modern society has to offer and packed my car. All I had was a tent, some firewood, a lantern, a backpack, a few blankets, a pillow, a chair, a pellet gun, a hatchet, some newspaper, a box of matches, a canister of gasoline, a journal, a pen, a cell phone that was to remain off unless an emergency arose, and a Bible. My only clothes were a pair of jeans, one shirt, one pair of socks, one pair of walking shoes, one pair of ugg boots, a sweatshirt, and a wool lined jacket. I may have brought a guitar as well but I'm not entirely sure. It was sometime in the winter months but it wasn't rainy. Like I said, I think it might have been November. That night, I kissed my parents good-bye, turned off my cell phone, and embarked on a journey into the world of solitary.

After checking into a local deserted campground, I shined my car brights on my secluded area and pitched my tent. I made a nice little fire and enjoyed the stars while doing some reading of the Bible. I was excited to see what the next day might bring. Crawling into my tent with a smile, I stopped, said a quick prayer, and drifted to sleep.

The next morning I awoke with typical hunger -- nothing out of the ordinary. I drained the proverbial lizard and read some Bible by the blackened fire pit. Then I decided to take a little walk around and get to know my earth. The rest of the day mostly encompassed more reading, plenty of sleeping, and a little more walking. It's funny because when you're not worried about time and you're in the wilderness, your body clock adapts to that of the sun. So when night falls, you build a fire and enjoy the sky for a bit and then you go to sleep. However, the effects of hunger and dehydration were beginning to take their toll.

According to my journal, that Friday night (a full twenty-four hours in my fast), "I was not even able to read the Word because of my lack of energy. Instead, I went sleep..." And no, that is not a typo, that's what is written. This fast was supposed to be spent reading the Bible and better trying to understand life and myself. The ironic thing is that in a personal journey such as this, your biggest enemy is yourself. That entire night, and the next for that matter, was plagued with dreams of food and drink. Because of the vividness of each REM cycle, I was sure I had broken my fast. That matched with hunger proved to be a powerful obstacle. Even the coldness of the night was less of a distraction.

I made it through though and awoke the next morning to a beautiful crisp sunrise. After a little stretch and a couple breaths of incredibly fresh air, I sat at the table that came with the campsite and read some Good Book. Surprisingly, even when you are fasting, you continually pee. I urinated all the way up until I returned home even though I wasn't ingesting anything. So after a couple chapters and letting some warm liquid evacuate my body, I packed up my backpack.

This day's journey was the greatest. I went far into the woods. Admittedly, I was moving quite slowly because my body was so deprived. But I felt good. I found a nice walking stick and journeyed to a nice spot under a gargantuan bridge. I thought I was hallucinating at first because it looked so big. After a slow admiration, I wrote in my journal and read more. Then it was off even deeper.

I went until I could only see nature in front of me. Behind me was still that massive obstruction, but my eyes were to the west. After sitting down on a perfectly shaped log to read some Bible, I took a good little nap. When there's no nourishment in your system, you sleep often. Upon awaking, completely unaware how long I had been out, I rose and headed back to camp. Under the bridge I heard animals in the distance. I had just read of Samson's strength and although I was weak, I felt prepared to engage in acts of violence if necessary. It must have been survival mode taking over because I pictured ripping a beast's jaw from its head in order to save myself. I would never do that but I was going a little crazy and I wanted to make it back home. Luckily, it was only two pit bulls with no leashes accompanied closely by two owners. They barked, they growled, they circled me (the dogs that is) as I smiled at them and the owning couple. I was ready with my walking stick to engage if necessary but it didn't come to that. Instead, I walked on to camp.

After ditching my walking stick, I doused some wood with gasoline, made a fire, and watched the sunset. I really felt whole. God was definitely my focus and I felt closer to Him and to myself. My body was falling apart but my mind was clear. I had absolutely no concept of time other than that it was night. The hunger was strong and reading by the fire was quickly putting me to sleep. Into the tent I went.

That night was the worst. It was terribly cold, my stomach was eating away at itself, I was having insane dreams, I was anything but comfortable, and I was so thirsty. It felt as if I was waking up every half hour. I don't remember exactly what happened, but early in the morning I woke up to a dew drenched tent and overcast skies. My mood was a mixture of confusion, delirium, frustration, and helplessness. I packed up as quickly as I could, which was quite slow. Nothing seemed to be going right as I was fumbling things and trying to get home as soon as possible. I couldn't do the last day. It was too much. I finally got in my car and carefully drove home. I'm pretty sure I went about fifteen miles an hour the whole way. Utterly drained and experiencing feelings I had never known, I prayed that I make it home in one piece.

I remember the first thing I ate after I unpacked early that Sunday morning -- a big bowl of Coco Puffs and a tall glass of water. I was almost instantaneously full. My father awoke and came downstairs to find me at the table. He was happy I was home safe and sound and happy to see me easing myself back into a life with food. Knowing I was in no position to speak about my journey, he cleaned up after me as I walked upstairs and got into my warm bed. That was some of the best sleep I have ever had -- not only because I was back to comfort but also because my mind had been opened and I felt anew.

That night I went to a steak house with my parents. I ate a huge slab of beef, potatoes, rolls, and a chocolate milk. Of course, it was more than I could fit in my stomach but it made for excellent leftovers. I told my parents of my adventures and new thoughts. They were enthralled. I told them how I had read somewhere between five and eight books of the Old Testament and how I finally felt a deeper connection to God, the earth, and myself. It was as if I was a new person and I was seeing the world differently. It seemed as if the prayer I had made to find some answers, accompanied with the action I took to seek them, was answered and I was experiencing life in a much richer way than I had just a few days earlier.

Today reminded me of that experience and how much we can learn about life and ourselves when we purge the seemingly necessary distractions from our lives. Granted, when I was in the woods, no one was sticking a needle in my arm but just like a little bit of me is now sitting in some vials waiting to be examined, a little piece of me remains out in the woods waiting to be revisited.