January 21st, 2009
Water Works
To celebrate the new year, my husband and I spent a week at a cabin in the woods without electricity or running water. If I said I was 100% enthusiastic about the experience before going, I’d be lying. I was scared. But on some level I knew that it would teach me lessons I couldn’t learn otherwise. And it did. The stillness gave me the space and heightened perception necessary to hear myself think, and then to quit thinking altogether. Our joys were simple, but profound. Midweek it hit me that the happiness I was feeling out there in the middle of nowhere was the real deal. This alone was a revelation. We did chores conscientiously, lived as aesthetes, were grateful for the food we’d brought, the glow of lamps, and the warmth of fire. Our priorities had to do with survival–not freezing, and not killing each other–rather than entertainment or making “progress.” In seven days I loosened my grip on some of my own useless ideas, and learned valuable lessons–not the least of which (in this economy) was how little we actually need to be insanely happy.
Flesh & Blood trailer Of course, all was not peaceful contemplation and spiritual reverie. We experienced complete isolation, subzero temperatures, and the oppressive feeling of the 4:30pm winter sunset. We also had some tough moments as we each came to terms with matters we’d been avoiding and with fears we didn’t even know existed. For me, these moments were instructive. The factors that gave me anxiety were not those I’d anticipated: before going I’d worried about being cold, bored, or lonely. In fact, I was none of these things (well, a little lonely a couple of times). I was surprised to find that the matter that gave me the most anxiety was water.
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Our water came from a natural well (pictured above) about a quarter of a mile across the property. Every day we pumped the cold, rust-colored, iron and mineral-saturated water into gallon jugs, loaded them onto a sled, and pulled them down the snowy path to the cabin. The day we arrived, the woman who tends the property, Cheryl, showed us how to work the pump and suggested we take four gallon jugs to start. That first night, I horded water and reprimanded Peter every time he poured what I considered an unnecessary drop.
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The next day we tried again to make do with four gallons of water. I washed dishes in dirty water, banned bathing, and minimized its use in cooking (“Do we really need six cups to boil macaroni?”). Midday I realized I was experiencing a general sense of anxiety. It was the water. I was keeping a constant check on how much we’d used and how much we’d need to get through the night. I was deeply afraid of being thirsty.
When I shared this with Peter he pointed out that four gallons had simply been a suggestion. He was right! I charged out of the cabin and gathered another couple of jugs. We continued to limit our water use, but only to a point where I was comfortable. By the end of the week I had worked out the magic number and it was eight. Between the two of us, we were using eight gallons of water a day comfortably. This was double what Cheryl had suggested.
Water, I am embarrassed to say, is not something I’ve spent much time worrying about in the past. Intellectually, I know that water is the next great resource crisis of our time. I’ve read articles about the impending water shortage. I’ve felt guilty at the sound of my running toilet. And I’ve stopped drinking bottled water. But, the action of pumping and carrying my water through the woods gave me new insight into how much we squander and how removed we are from the use of water in our modern lives.
Feeling slightly guilty about using eight versus four gallons of water a day in the woods, I started to wonder how much water I (or anyone like me, for that matter) use on a daily basis at home. Upon my return I found an article about our water footprint in the magazine, Spirituality & Health. According to the article, “The average American uses about 100 gallons of water a day – almost twice as much as the French and Germans – while people in some tribal communities traditionally use fewer than 10 gallons, and people in refugee camps survive on fewer than two.” I was shocked, but not surprised by these numbers. For the first time I understood the reality of 10 gallons and felt ashamed at the idea of 100.
When we returned to Brooklyn on Saturday afternoon I took my first shower in eight days–something we’d been looking forward to. I took the first shower once we’d unpacked. When I walked out of the bathroom he asked with great anticipation, “Well, how was it?” My response: “Not that great.” And I meant it. The lights in the bathroom were too bright and clinical after a week of fire and lamplight. The water smelled of chlorine and whatever else they use to “purify it.” The shower itself felt indulgent and wasteful. In the end, I was happier in the woods where a sponge bath at night and a hair wash in the aluminum tub midweek were sufficient.
As with all experiences, some of what I gained in insight will be integrated into my life. Some of it will fade. I believe my new appreciation for water will stay. I have a greater understanding–admittedly, just a surface-scratch understanding–of what it means to conserve water and how much water is truly necessary for regular daily activities. I think of children in Africa carrying jerry cans three, five, ten miles and more from wells far from their homes. I had it easy in the woods. In Brooklyn… fuggetaboutit.
So, have I stopped taking showers? No. But they have gotten much shorter. And that leaky toilet is next on the to do list. They say small changes make a big difference.
If you have been thinking about water, too, please get serious about conserving it. Here is a link to my friend, Augusta Holland’s movie, Flow: http://www.flowthefilm.com/
Tourist Trap buy Chasing the Green dvd . And a wonderful charity I support for their drive, pragmatism and energy in providing clean drinking water to the developing world: http://www.charitywater.org/.
posted by schuyler brown
Filed Under: Skyelab