I recently wrote about my ongoing existential crisis (see post titled “Quarter Life Crisis”). To summarize in as few words as possible, the post outlines how my existential crisis arose, the associated feelings of meaninglessness, why I think those feelings evolved, and a survey/evaluation of possible solutions.
As mentioned in my post, one possible solution for an existential crisis is to distract oneself from the frequent and intrusive questions regarding the meaning of his/her existence. In fact, I actually believe that distraction is the only possible remedy for an existential crisis (at least for me).
Although the idea of distraction is straightforward, I have found it much easier said than done. More specifically, I have struggled greatly with identifying an activity/mindset/aspiration that enables me to distract myself from the fact that my existence is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.
A few strategies I have tried include advancing my career, weight lifting, working on personal projects, learning new skills, helping colleagues at work, teaching friends/family how to fish, and travelling. However, these strategies, employed together or individually, failed to consistently provide distraction. At my wits’ end, I more or less gave up actively seeking a solution and decided to bob along through life for a while.
My friends and I scheduled a backpacking trip to the White Mountains in New Hampshire (see post titled “Backpacking the White Mountains”). It was a difficult hike, covering 25 miles with a substantial elevation gain. We arrived late the first day and camped near the trailhead after covering a mile or two. The first night was fun, we had plenty of food, a water source relatively close by, and level ground to sleep on.
Day 2 involved hiking 15+ miles. We set out at 8 am and didn’t set camp until 11 pm. The first two thirds of the hike were reasonable, very strenuous but manageable. I thought it was fun but also kind of wanted it to be over because I was getting bored and tired, seeing more or less the same landscape for 8+ hours. It was the last third of the hike where things got interesting.
After bagging a few peaks and 8-10 hours of hiking, my friends and I were exhausted. The sun began to head toward the horizon and we knew we needed to find an area to camp for the night. The issue was that camping above the tree line is both illegal and impossible, and we still had another peak to hit before we could descend into an area flat enough to set up a tent.
We trudged along, barely making it to the last peak before sunset. One of my friends was so exhausted he refused to talk for the two hours it took to reach the last peak from the second-to-last peak. He also ran out of water. We made the peak and took a few pictures. At this point, we had no desire to relish the moment because we were both exhausted and freezing cold from the strong winds lashing the barren landscape.
At this time, I desperately wanted to be done. I wanted to teleport to a hotel to shower, eat, and sleep in a warm, soft bed. I wanted to wipe the last two hours of my life from memory. I was done and over it.
As you may have guessed, teleporting to a hotel wasn’t an option and as previously mentioned, setting camp wasn’t an option either. We had no choice but to descend the mountain to lower ground to set camp.
We began our descent sometime around 8:30 pm as the sun sank behind the mountains. It got dark quite quickly. We found a small brook after about a half hour of hiking and filled our water pouches. By then it was pitch black. We broke out our headlamps and continued onward.
The descent trail followed a brook. In fact, it wasn’t really even a trail, it was more or less a gully of exposed rocks/boulders through which water flowed. The descent was brutal; slippery surfaces, a steep gradient, unstable rocks, and consistent water/wetness under foot made the going incredibly slow, especially given that it was dark and we were relying on headlamps to light the way.
During this stretch of the hike, I didn’t think much of anything at all. My mind was numb, pain shot through my knees with every downward step I took, chills ran up and down my body, my back/shoulders contorted and cramped continuously under the weight of my backpack, my ankles throbbed after being twisted and jerked many times over, and my legs felt like spaghetti.
I wanted to be done. I wanted to be anywhere other than where I currently was, but I knew I had no choice but to continue. We couldn’t set camp, we couldn’t just hitch a ride out of there, and there are no hotels in the mountains. There was no tapping out; I had to put one foot in front of the other and trudge onward.
During this time, my existential crisis ceased to exist. My mind focused on nothing other than the pain I was feeling, the chills that ran up and down my body, and my need for shelter, sleep, and food. I was running on fumes, making the most of the small bursts of adrenaline that arose each time I slipped on a rock and nearly came crashing down the dark trail onto my face.
It was almost a primal feeling knowing there was no way out. For the first time in a very, very long time, I was living in the moment. Yesterday and tomorrow ceased to exist, the farthest into the future I thought was my next step. I had no idea when we would find a suitable place to camp; mile and trail markers were non-existent, and it was pitch black. I literally had no idea when my trip through hell would be over.
The essence of the above can be summarized in one single word: discomfort. It was discomfort that allowed me to live in the moment, to forget that yesterday and tomorrow existed; it was a lack of fulfillment of basic needs that made me feel alive.
I suspected discomfort would be a suitable distraction for an existential crisis, but I guess I had failed to achieve the level necessary.
What I think is needed to achieve true discomfort is lack of an out. When I’m exercising, I have the option to stop at any time; it’s not like someone is holding a gun to my head and threatening to kill me if I don’t hit one more rep or run one more mile. I always have an easy out, just drop the weight or slow to a walk when I get tired.
When I was hiking down from the last peak in New Hampshire, I had no out. I couldn’t just drop my bag or stop walking and camp for the night. I had no choice but to continue. I believe it was the lack of an out that allowed me to achieve the level of discomfort necessary to live in the moment, to focus no farther into the future than my next step.
I also believe the lack of fulfillment of my basic physical needs (shelter and sleep) allowed me to push myself to the level of discomfort I attained. The lack of shelter and sleep and the associated realization that the only way to obtain them was to continue was the metaphorical gun to my head driving me forward.
We hiked 8-10 mostly flat miles out the next day and drove to my friend’s house in Boston to stay the night. Never in my life had I been so grateful for a warm bed (actually a couch), meal, and shower.
To summarize, through my backpacking trip in New Hampshire, I realized that discomfort could provide relief from my existential crisis as it provides adequate distraction. Further, I realized that depriving myself of basic needs is sufficient to achieve an appropriate level of discomfort. I also realized that depriving myself of basic needs allows me to appreciate the warm bed I sleep in every night and the clean running water and food I have easy access to. Last, I realized that the above is best done in the company of friends.
