Like Bathroom Etiquette...
Credit: Bad Lip Reading, YouTube
Everybody poops. Yes, it is a bold way to start a conversation after so much time away, but why is discussion of our most basic bodily functions so taboo? Though everybody does it, it rarely surfaces in conversation. It fails to breach in the bowl...that's just not good etiquette. Yet, when I woke up the first day of my trip, I couldn't make it through writing an entire journal entry before the call of nature had me scrambling out the back of my Jeep and into the forest. There I was, hand shovel at my side, shallow hole dug out beneath me, toilet paper in hand, and eyes fixed on the trees in front of me as I wondered how this whole scene must look from an outside perspective. This would become my reality for nearly the entire trip (vault toilets were used on a few occasions, but toilets with plumbing were a rarity); my morning ritual transitioned outdoors. Instead of the former comfort of a temperature-controlled setting and a stationary seat, I balanced precariously above disaster as my body acclimated to the heat, the cold, and the winds that threatened to topple me over. Needless to say, it was a welcomed return back home to the luxury of a flush handle, but I have struggled ever since to find the balance and freedom I unearthed in the wild. Why have the words failed to flow in the same way?
A big, steaming pile of...soul expression; whenever I sit down and type about my experience in a way that is accessible and rational, it seems like a bunch of...well...sh*t when I reread it. A lot of fantastical and mystical things happened on my journey that I'm still trying to comprehend, particularly as it pertains to what I learned about my destiny. For example, toward the end of my trip, I discovered 7 steps to flush the inner negative voice that previously held me back; however, when I stepped back into the world of indoor plumbing, the voice began speaking up again. I found it questioning the validity of what I learned, but rather than letting loose like I did in the wild when confronted by this voice, etiquette held me back from oversharing. What if someone doesn't agree? What if someone thinks I'm going crazy? I suppose those opinions existed before I left, but I didn't need to consider them on the road as I excreted the negative energy from my system. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, though (as my morning ritual shifted back to an indoor toilet), I felt like number two. How was I going to help anyone? What should I share and how should I share it?
And so this is why we can't have nice things...like bathroom etiquette (or blogs). To kick off how this journey helped shape me, I offer up these simple lessons learned along the way as it relates to deucing:
Preparation O(utdoors): Since I had never been camping before, the prospect of moving my bowels through the great outdoors was a bit concerning. Where would I go!? I researched what my options were and gathered together the necessary supplies to Leave No Trace. This included lots of biodegradable toilet paper, "Dude" wipes (yeah, bro!), and kitty litter (for packing out). Perhaps I went a bit overboard in my preparation as I grew more worried about how my flushable world would be left behind. I only used 2 cups of kitty litter out of 3 gallons and 4 rolls of paper out of 12, illustrating how my expectations and preconceived notions were out of touch with reality. That being said, by leaping out of the Jeep each morning to answer the call the of nature, I grew more comfortable with my sh*t.
Digging In: A hand shovel is a very convenient tool for gardening as well as for digging an outdoor toilet. I tried not to disrupt too much of nature as I scooped into the earth, but a new challenge was uncovered as I traveled to new heights: unbreakable ground. Whether it was the rocks of Arizona or the cold of Colorado, my hand shovel was not able to crack past the surface. I suspect you can imagine the desperation of trying to dig a hole before the call of nature caught up to me, but I soon found a solution to my last minute rush. Before sunset, I would find the perfect spot to dig a cathole and avoid any frantic scrambling the morning after. Soon, it seemed like no barrier could stop me from dealing with my crap.
Sh*t Chat: What holds me back from expressing my sh*t, then? Is it feelings of shame? Embarrassment? Or is it that I think I am alone in my experience? These questions have plagued me since my return; as a result, I began feeling like I needed to bury my stories. To offset this negative flux, I began opening up to friends and family. The feelings of anxiety and fear washed away and joy and confidence resurfaced. Then, a wonderful thing happened...my friends and family began sharing their sh*t, too. Suddenly, we were having conversations about the crap we hide (and hide from); we realized that we didn't need to feel so isolated or judged about who we were or what we did. Added benefit: opening up about our collective sh*t encouraged more insight, healing, and conversation. Notice the swirl effect?
I am prepared to share my journey with those interested in reading what I encountered. It won't be all sh*ts and giggles. Rather, it will delve beyond the boundaries of etiquette to arrive at the deep-seated issues we all struggle with. That sentence ends with a preposition, but that is reality. I want to elicit a new conversation, hopefully one that encourages honestly, openness, and camaraderie. Will you join me? After all, everybody poops.