November something, 2011

I feel obligated to write something about the Project Helping Hands medical-mission trip. Our teams, made up of medical professionals from the States and Bolivian translators, hiked into remote mountain villages in the Amazon basin to conduct mini medical clinics. In many ways it was a typical Bolivian medical-mission trip, i.e. there was a high level of risk, spontaneity, and un-American situations involved. But allowing expectations to roam free with the wind works wonders for the mind, body and soul. Seizing every moment, running into the unknown full speed, allowing every new raw and rugged view to take one's breath away--this is where Life feels real. I loved every moment of the trip. In many of the villages there were only a handful of people who spoke Spanish; the rest spoke Quechuan, and we were dependent on the Quechuan translators to run our mini-clinics. The thought occurred to me that on this trip I could claim to be the most remote I have ever been in the world, second only to where I was raised in North Dakota, of course. But it's a crazy feeling to be surrounded by nothing except continuous mountain vegetation for as far as the eye can see. There's always the feeling of wishing more could be done in the remoteness. How useful is it to give them a month's supply of medication as temporary pain relief when they need so much more? But these people were thankful that we had recognized them, and I would like to believe that that somehow holds value as well. It's a hope.

On the trip I went on last year in Santa Cruz I was focused on learning about the Bolivian mindset--how the system works, how communities live, how life flows. On this trip, however, I couldn't help but take a psychological approach to figure out the American mindset. My initial thoughts are that the concept of Comfort is deeply engrained in the American's mind, maybe even DNA. It is the overarching end goal of hopes, dreams, aspirations for the future. It is the cultural subconsciousness, and to voice this constant labor for Comfort chips away at any nobility left in the American Dream. It sounds lame to sacrifice everything for Comfort. It sounds more noble to call it Security or Opportunity or Success. But whatever it is, it seems obvious that being happy outside the confines of Comfort takes a new perspective, one that isn't taught in the education system in America nor by the media nor even by many parents. Did Adaptability get left behind in the fine-tuning of a system that radiates Opportunity and Wealth and Efficiency to so many needy areas of the world? And at this point it feels like holding a certain ideality above another would simply depend on one's underlying philosophical beliefs. Is it bad to strive for Comfort? Is it better to strive for Adaptability? Depends on what Life is for.

I rest my Hope in the idea that Life gains its value not from what any eye can see, but from the hidden Beauty, the compassion in one's heart, the sacrifice in one's deeds, every moment of friendship, the smiles in a game of futbol, the individuality of each person walking the high Amazon trails every day, the satisfaction in seeing a new waterfall or mountain peak. It's a Hope.