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But there was more to it than run-of-the-mill midlife angst. I felt that my busy life had nearly swallowed this transplanted Iowa boy whole. It was as if, in the words of the old Tennessee Ernie Ford ballad, I owed my soul "to the company store." Like so many of the people I knew, I'd slipped into some sort of Faustian bargain, in which the seductions and satisfactions of my regular routine had removed me from feeling I had any connection to the natural order of things. Sure, my life was full, but maybe too full -- like a warehouse continually being restocked until it was bursting at the seams.
What Happened When I Decided to Live Out My Ultimate Escape Fantasy
Seeded on Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:27 AM EDT
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At the same time, having come to within hailing distance of the age that my father, the longest-lived of the Anderson men, had died, I felt ever more keenly the temptation to keep any awareness of my own mortality at arm's length by stuffing my life with ever more activity. But I'd begun to suspect that, at least in my case, life could be too full, and perhaps it was time to clean out the clutter and create some personal space.
There was also that little voice inside that had never gone away. It was the voice of the 10-year-old son of my fundamentalist minister dad, who'd fantasized over and over about that biblical passage telling the story of Jesus' going into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights. How cool would that be?! All by yourself in the wilderness. Just you and your thoughts -- and, of course, the lions and bears and wolves.
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