This time last year, I had abandoned hope of finding a hideaway/cabin property. Countless scouting expeditions resulted in many impromptu swims around la belle province, a few poutine stops for sustenance, but not much else.

I have been reflecting recently on our journey to where we sit now. Rumi was certainly not supposed to be part of the plan a year ago, but he has added depth and fun unimagined. Yes, his exuberant Puppiness constantly interferes with our work on the property but his enthusiasm for the cabin is contagious. I think he calls it:

The Magic Land of No-Leash-Poop-Anywhere. Yip Yip Yap!

(About) A Year Ago….

One particular evening, disheartened by too many dead-ends and unreturned realtor calls, I decided voyeurism was the next best thing. Neighbor’s window? Of course not! A late evening, Season 7 episode of:

I love this series. The participants have more survival skills residing in the hangnails on their pinky fingers than I have in my entire bod. The series is self-documented by 10 participants as they survive alone in the wilderness for 100 days with minimal survival equipment. They are completely isolated except for mandatory medical check-ins that arrive via helicopter or boat. They may “tap out” at any time or be forced to leave due to a failed medical.

It is surprising which candidates last the longest. It is not necessarily due to superior survival knowledge as sometimes the most experienced simply have a body that can no longer continue. As they tap out, or are forced out, I commiserate from my cozy, horizontal couch position: I understand your disappointment, smelly mountain man. I too have experienced tap outs due to failing health.

Among other things, I respect how participants must make daily decisions about optimizing the precious energy that comes via hard-earned foraging/hunting. In a recent episode, one man was able to catch a fish. He verbalized his decision process on how to best utilize those calories.

Fish protein 1 bull trout = 3 hours wood collection, 1 hour moss gathering and chinking logs in shelter structure = day well spent.

Their decisions, often made with weakened wits worn down by starvation and stress, can make or break them: waste precious energy on the wrong tasks and face ruination.

As I watch from the safety of my couch, shoveling warm popcorn into the proverbial pie hole, I often shout to Dave:

“You know how long I would last on Alone?”

“How long?”

“Oh, about 100 seconds.”

“It’s good to know your limits, hon.”

I think Dave is relieved that I am not delusional about my survival skills. Some of my ideas over the years have been met with, “You know I will NEVER do that, right?” These include:

• selling everything and moving to Nicaragua
• selling everything and moving to Costa Rica
• selling everything and buying an off-grid, accessible by ATV only property
• selling everything and buying an off-grid, accessible only by boat island property
• selling everything, moving to a beach hut with my Vitamix, and selling smoothies with fresh produce plucked from nearby trees.

Escapism is something I have often grappled with. An early, avid reader, I devoured adventure-filled books from the safety of my yellow beanbag chair in a tiny house that dad built in the backyard. Robinson Crusoe is a worn-out mess but still holds a proud spot on my bookshelf. To confront ourselves in isolation, devoid of distraction, remains an age-old need met often not by choice.

Ahead of his time, our dad. Tiny house construction in the backyard, hydroponics in the basement, homemade tofu that we refused to eat. Never appreciated those skills at the time but wish now I had taken notes.

Through experience, I have learned that escapism is safely found in books, not necessarily by selling everything and taking off for parts unknown – without first taking a good, sober look at the why behind the desire.

It is true – wherever you go, there ye be:

As I watched Season 7 of Alone, the cabin-itch returned, begging to be scratched and satiated. I had tried to ignore the irritating tickle, chalking it up to another escapism attempt.

It was fortuitous that a property did not fall into my lap immediately. I needed the pause that failure brings. I needed to examine the why behind my desire.

That particular episode of Alone, highlighting female participants with incredible mental and emotional stamina, renewed my resolve. I picked up my tablet and did one final kijiji search for “Cabin.”

That is when I found the property. Or it found me.

I’m Glad Alone Inspired Me. Not Naked and Afraid.

A year later and now enjoying Season 8 of Alone, I realize the cabin-itis itch was never going to abate or disappear. This was a true longing, not escapism looking for running shoes and a plane ticket. There were lessons that needed learning and only this particular jaunt off my predictable path could provide them.

As an escapism sufferer, this has become one of my litmus tests in sensing the difference between wanting to escape and needing to grow. Although they can serve a temporary purpose, distractions stall evolution. Leaps of faith, fraught with doubt and tears intermingled with moments of strength and resolve, promote expansion. Honest examination of why am I seeking this? is a key part of the process. I have asked myself that question many times this past year.

As we sat around the fire this weekend with some special people, I blessed the producers of Alone, the brave participants and my risk-taking gene.

“This is a special place,” my friend said. “You are connecting to this land.”

A year older, a thousand doubts later, I can now take a breath and agree.

The Good Karma Cabin Lesson #16: Sometimes TV does not rot your brain. Sometimes it motivates you to get your arse off the couch and pursue a dream. Sensing the difference between escapism and a real desire to grow is important. It saves you from running around in circles back to where you started.