A Journey to the Wilderness in Search of Self
There are many paths to enlightenment in Southern California. One of them leads to a 10-foot circle deep in the woods of the southern Sierra Nevada.
At sunrise one morning early this week, outdoor skills teacher Jim Lowery and a dozen students will walk into the forest. Then, far apart, each will sit down in a circle and stay there for four days and nights.
They will not eat. Nor will they have cell phones, journals, radios, books or any other kind of worldly distraction. They will bring only the clothes on their backs, sleeping bags and water. They will be on a summer vacation devoted entirely to the notion that a little self-denial is good for the soul.
The purpose of this quest isn’t to make it from point A to point B armed with nothing more than a compass and pocketknife. The idea, rather, is to be alone with one’s thoughts in a place far from the hustle and bustle of the city.
“There’s a thing that questers always say, and that’s ‘Be prepared to meet your greatest enemy, which is yourself,’ ” Lowery said. “You tend to spend a lot of time stripping away layers of beliefs and baggage that you’ve carried with you for years.”
And that, Lowery explained, is precisely the point. His students will get the time and solitude they need to figure out whatever it is in their lives that needs, well, figuring out. The list includes careers, relationships, parents, money, fear, loss and--possibly the most elusive prize of all--self-knowledge.
Variations on Lowery’s quest have been around for thousands of years as part of Native American cultures and, in fact, of many cultures across the globe. Fasting in particular remains a vital part of most major religions.
Lowery is an ex-journalist who also led a consumer research advocacy group for 10 years. In 1987, he left his old job and began an outdoors school--called Earth Skills--which he now runs out of his Frazier Park home. Lowery, a skilled animal tracker, and his wife, Mary Brooks, became increasingly curious about quests and finally tried one of their own in the early 1990s.
After four days fasting in the mountains, they walked out to find that a marauding bear had eaten their food. It was all part of an experience, said Brooks, that made them feel like “specks” in the grand scheme of the universe, but specks with new, refreshed attitudes.
If a quest sounds like New Age fluff, Lowery said it’s wrong to equate his version of a spiritual quest with worshipping crystals, sitting in power vortexes or chanting while burning incense.
What makes the experience different, he said, is that the quest is hard. Really hard.
You want to change your life?
Great, said Lowery. But first you must suffer.
“It’s your giveaway, your sacrifice,” he said. “If you want answers about life, and you’re sitting in front of the TV with a soda and pretzels, the universe may not respond as dynamically.”
The students come from all walks of life. There have been lawyers, therapists, teachers, engineers and trade workers, to name a few. Most are 40 or older. Some are experienced in the outdoors. One ex-New Yorker did it despite an intense fear of the dark.
Their motivations vary. Some are there to question religion, or find it. Others seek a stronger connection to nature. Most want some quiet time to sit and think.
“I had lost a best friend and business partner to cancer,” said Don Fairley, 58, of Long Beach. “I felt like I needed something extreme to get the clarity I needed.”
The quests take place each year on private property in the southern Sierra. The nearest town is 40 miles away. A few people haven’t made it through the four days--Lowery and Brooks check on each from a distance--but no one has ever tried to bolt.
Some people pass the time screaming, shouting, dancing or singing. Just about everyone does a lot of looking around. Others throw rocks that lie within their circle. Obsessive behavior is discouraged. People are advised to cut the tags from their clothes lest they get caught up in trying to see how many words the letters spell.
Wildlife sightings are common. The same birds and bees tend to show up at the same time every day. One night, two deer bedded down a few feet from one man’s circle. A ringtail--which looks like a cross between a raccoon and a lemur--once hopped across a quester’s circle.
Some have experienced earthquakes. Lowery said that nearly everyone comments on having watched the sun, moon and planets make their slow journey across the sky.
Hunger has some interesting ways of asserting itself. Clouds can take the shape of cheeseburgers. Lori Lawrenz, on her third quest this week, said she once spotted the twinkling light of a cabin miles away--and then spent a good chunk of her quest preparing menus for its imaginary inhabitants.
A friend of Lowery for 30 years, Ron Greenspun of Long Beach was an experienced backpacker, but never had spent time in the outdoors doing nothing. He finally decided to quest last summer to “get off the people mover and just get away from everything.”
By the end he was hungry, tired and filthy. His insights weren’t profound, he said, but they were important to him. Sitting alone and exposed to the elements, he asked himself, “How long had it been since I accepted a challenge and pushed myself and took some risk?
And that, say questers, is the goal. With all the noise in today’s culture, it helps to find a quiet spot for a few days to sort out what really matters.
The quest, they say, may not mend a broken heart or ease the pain that living can bring. But sit long enough in a quiet place and you may hear a few things. The birds, the bees, the wind and a long forgotten voice of authority: your own.