The mind takes what space it is given.
Full days of work, errands, and social commitments—of scrolling through Instagram and reading the news—leave no bandwidth for essential underlying processes, for incorporating experiences into the matrix of memories and values which make up a person. Feeling mentally sluggish and uncreative after a long period of busy modern living, I set out for Big Sur on a warm Friday morning with the intention of unplugging, resetting, and testing out my new DIY truck-camper setup for the weekend.
My Verizon bars disappeared one by one as I climbed a dirt 4x4 track up onto a ridgeline overlooking the Pacific and the raw Northern California coastline. I belted along to Quicksilver Messenger Service’s “Shady Grove” through the bared teeth of a shit-eating grin. This was what it was all about. I arrived early enough to snag a choice spot along the old National Forest service road, one of the few places in California where it’s still legal to camp on public land for free. After parking, I grabbed my book and hopped into the back to read, enjoy the view, and decompress.
I was surprised when, a few minutes later, I felt the first stirrings of a panic attack. As I sat in the enveloping silence with only my thoughts and the view, previously muffled incredulity about recent political events welled within me. I reached for my phone, the muscle memory in my thumb already preparing to mindlessly scroll through Instagram or flick through New York Times headlines to quiet my inner voices. It took a second to remember I had no access to these crutches; instead, I reached toward my homemade truck kegerator and poured myself a beer.
Far from drawing me away from my body, the cold sensation of the fresh beer brought me more deeply into myself. I paid attention to the lemongrass quality of the noble hops, and then to the burnished grasses of the adjacent field swaying to the rhythms of the sea breeze. As I sat and sipped, the evening fog rolled in off the ocean, blanketing the sharp lines of the lower ridges and coastal bluffs in a soft embrace. I felt the fog rolling into my body with an ancient reminder of my animal senses. I breathed in the salty air, took another sip of Pilsner. I’m one small person in an unjust world, but at least I haven’t lost my ability to notice and appreciate all of this—and at least I can brew a damn good Pils.
Words + Photoby Spencer Janney