Latitude of Gratitude

If you're hoping for a serious and provocative piece this month, you'll have to consider it a bit of a treasure hunt. I seem to be too busy laughing at myself, and appreciating my good fortune to deliver anything to the contrary. You may also wonder if I meant "Attitude of Gratitude," as that is the more common saying. No typographical error involved - I genuinely meant to convey the scope of...well, you'll see as you continue, sweet reader.

This past summer, living in Grand Canyon National Park eight days and seven nights, while traveling 225 miles of river, presented plenty of personal challenges. I mentioned several in my last post, so I won't prattle on about those, I'll introduce some new items...or perhaps better stated, I'll elaborate on one: the camping...ugh!

Prior to this excursion into the wilderness, I'd never heard of the term "dry camping." I did know that there would be no plumbing for eight days, and I couldn't imagine how I'd manage that. However, to me, camping inherently meant no plumbing...little did I know that many campers consider plumbing essential. If only this had been an option.

I remember when I learned to swim. At nine, I took the rules very seriously. When they said, "Don't pee in the pool," I didn't. In fact, I trained myself so well that, henceforth, even when visiting a beach, I'd reach a point when I had to go home. Why? Because my body refused to pee in the ocean, and I'd pressed my limits of discomfort to the brink. How about going behind a bush? Yeah, well, prior to this Arizona trip, I'd only ever urinated outside once in my entire life...and that was only four years ago. So, no plumbing, definitely a stretch.

Even as an adult, I heard again and again, from a long-time therapist (who'd been a lifeguard in her youth), "Remember, whatever you put into the pool, we all still have to swim in it." Eeew, right?! So, I've made efforts to live the metaphor cleanly in my life - through thoughts, deeds, and energy. In these less literal ways, I sadly, pee in the pool far more than I wish to. Still, I keep practicing my mental kegels to keep from leaking, and it matters - it makes a difference in my life and the pool I swim in. It's an on-going work. But in the most factual sense, this message just reinforced what I'd learned at nine. The toilet was created for a reason - use that!

No problem, until I learned the motto of the canyon river runners, "The solution to pollution is dilution." Translated, this means: 20,000 people travel down the river every year, and to avoid foul smelling camp grounds, everyone must pee in the water. Uhm...did I mention that the river measured 50 degrees Fahrenheit (in the heat of summer) at the start of this trip? The farther we traveled from the water release at the dam, the warmer it got. In fact, it might have risen to a toasty 62 degrees, at mile 225 - woo hoo!

A news flash, in case you missed it, I possess female equipment. It's not an option for me to stand on a rock at the edge of the river and point my pee stick into the direction of the frigid, flowing water. Anticipating this potential problem, I planned ahead. I purchased a "Go Girl," which is essentially a rubber funnel designed to turn my genitalia into a more outdoor-friendly version. Except, if I wear women' s underpants, there's no handy dandy access flap. Can you see the complications?

Still, the "Go Girl" helped a lot the first couple of days, until I experienced an early morning mishap, after which, I walked back to my tent in urine drenched shorts...yuck! What could I do but laugh? I'd signed myself up for this, and paid big bucks to boot. I shake my head, even as I write this, with both humor and dismay at my predicament.

The solid waste portion of the program seemed easy in comparison. As soon as we off-loaded all the gear each afternoon, the staff installed a "Groover" in a private area of the camp. And by private I mean, other folks in our group couldn't see me sitting on the metal box covered by a toilet seat...only the rafters who didn't know me, passing by on the river, could see me. Well, truthfully, I just didn't care who saw me, a toilet seat seemed like the most normal part of the trip, so I cared little about being on display!

The groover presented one significant challenge, though. The guides clearly stated the device should be used for solid waste only. Pee in the river, and use the groover for number two. Seriously? How, exactly? I'm almost 50 years old, and if there was a time in my life when I knew I would ONLY poo in the toilet - with no pee sneaking out - well, I simply don't remember it.

I can honestly share with you that I did the best I could to maintain a dry system, but sometimes, especially in face of my "don't pee in the pool" challenges, I broke the rules. And my body felt so relieved afterward, guilt only tweaked me a bit.

Bright Angel Shale - my favorite layer of the Grand Canyon

Why oh why, you may wonder am I spending so much time sharing, like the mother of a newborn, the trials and successes of toileting? Because, on the fourth day - my favorite day, I remembered to be grateful. In fact, I spent many moments feeling grateful throughout the trip for: the beauty of the layered rocks - especially my favorite, Bright Angel Shale; the shining sun (after getting blasted with icy water from a rapid); the coolness of a dripping wet hat - dipped in the river and plopped on my head in the heat of the day; the sweet connection I felt to my husband, as we shared this wild adventure...and so much more.

On the fourth day, though, half of our group hiked out of the canyon, and fourteen new participants hiked in to join us. Those of us not hiking in or out walked around a bit, and then made our way to Phantom Ranch. And guess what they had there? You got it, PLUMBING!

I could wash my hands without pressing a foot pump. The water just kept coming! I could legitimately pee in a toilet and, wait for it, flush! I could rinse my face with water that didn't leave a residue of sand behind. And then I could go back and do it all again!

In my life, I have so much. I live in a sweet house in a neighborhood that suits me. I have the cutest car in any parking lot. I'm lucky to have a life partner who is willing to work as hard as I am to help our marriage thrive. I have friends to laugh and cry with, and clients who enrich my life in ways I can't describe. I have resources - financial, spiritual, physical...so many riches...including my increasing willingness to be myself. Accept myself. Love myself. And when I've judged, forgive myself.

And then there's this simple thing, that I've taken for granted every freaking day - plumbing. In the wilderness, it's an extraordinary luxury - at least for me. Others may appreciate the absence of man-made construction. I certainly did when it came to electronics of all kinds, but plumbing...ahhh...did I mention I love plumbing?

To be one of 20,000 people financially and physically able to travel down the Colorado River this past season was an extraordinary gift. For a little perspecitve - at the end of a summer night, when the Red Sox are up by five runs and Fenway Park begins to empty...leaving a little over half the seats full...the people remaining...that's how many traverse the river during an entire year. How lucky am I???

I feel such appreciation for the opportunities I'm gifted. Most of these gifts come with some sort of discomfort, because they are inherently outside of my customary milieu. And in the absence of my "normal," I remember how much I have. Even simple things I used to take for granted, like plumbing. Since my camping stint, there has not been one single shower (even when I broke the bathroom in South Africa...yeah, well, that's another story), when I have not been profoundly grateful for the clean running water sluicing through my hair and landing in the drain...leaving my entire body sand and odor-free.

That adage of not knowing what you've got until it's gone...when it came to plumbing, I found this to be so very true. How lucky I am to know how lucky I am! What are you grateful for? Do you even know? Maybe an experience of not having something is sometimes what it takes for us to remember how much we appreciate what we take for granted every day. Or maybe that's just me. Either way, I love plumbing, and am so very grateful for it in my life. I hope you might have a moment soon that reminds you of your personal Latitude of Gratitude.

With love and joy,
Joanne Lutz