Backpack Your Burdens
On commitment's compatibility with freedom
In this post, I explore the duality of the light and heavy. For a deeper dive into the subject and for my character analyses of Icarus and Oedipus, read my essay: "Harmony Among the Light and Heavy".
Last summer, I spent three months backpacking in Iceland. I'd hiked before. I'd camped before. But I'd never backpacked. I'd never slung my food and shelter over my shoulder and trekked. Last summer, for 84 days and over 300 miles, that's what I did. And my pack taught me something about the relationship between the light and the heavy.
In a practical, physical way, my pack was heavy. With a full food-load, it weighed 35-40 pounds (16-18 kg). My pack made every step more difficult. It stressed my back muscles and my calves, which flexed to keep me from folding forward or falling to one side. But in a figurative, metaphysical way, my pack was light. It was a source of freedom. Within my pack was everything I needed to live. And because I could carry my life on my back, I could go anywhere I wanted and stay as long as I liked.
In all literal senses of the word, my backpack was a burden. Yet, during those three months in Iceland, I felt lighter — more free — than any other time in my life. I felt entirely unburdened. It seems like a paradox, but it's just one of the many manifestations of duality in life: the duality of the light and heavy.
Heaviness may seem negative, but it's not. Heaviness is grounding, purposeful, intentional. Every commitment you make, every relationship you have, every goal you pursue is within the domain of the heavy. And lightness is not all positive. The more free you are from commitment and responsibility, the more aimless you may feel. My backpack was light and heavy — a demanding commitment and a critical responsibility, yet a source of unprecedented freedom.
Maybe your commitments and responsibilities feel burdensome, rather than meaningful or liberating. Our heavy burdens make us forget that we are free, that we are also light. If you feel that way, maybe it's time to say "no" to something. Maybe it's time to exercise your freedom.
Here's something else I learned from backpacking: pack everything you need and pack only what you need.
Be purposeful about what you commit to, just as I was when packing for Iceland. Everything you add to your pack, you'll have to carry — everywhere you go. Remind yourself that you are responsible for everything you commit to and that you are free to choose your commitments.
Backpack your burdens:
Choose each item carefully, based on what you need and what you know you can carry;
Leave the luxury items at home;
If you've carried something for a while and realize you no longer need it, drop it at the next campsite.
Your commitments are only burdens if you feel they've been forced upon you. If you pack your burdens into a backpack and sling that thing on your back, suddenly your commitments become meaningful; they become manifestations of your freedom. Because you have chosen what to carry.
Springboard:
Before you sleep tonight, take stock of your pack. What luxury item(s) can you leave at home tomorrow? What necessary item(s) have you neglected?
Very well written.
Great piece, Garrett! I really enjoyed reading this. I've got some reflecting to do -- and if I may, I'd like to do that in the comment section here.
I just clicked through to your article on "the duality of the light and heavy". There's a lot of great food for thought. Recently, on the theoretical side of things, I've found myself exploring the freedom of being able to explore various ideas related to the logic and philosophy of science afforded to me by my position at UMSL. In exploring this freedom I've felt a deep tension between different parts of my worldview. For instance, I reject central tenets of mainstream computationalist views of mind and matter, but recognize the deep epistemic power of computability theory.
In these domains I feel the Icarus-ian (if I may) draw towards rejecting mainstream views about the relationship between computation, physics, and philosophy of science. Such flights of fancy give me the sense that I'm able to "disobey" the traditional methods and commitments of philosophers of science and lean towards (potentially) revolutionary interpretations of the relationship between computation, physics, and philosophy of science.
Yet, at the same time, there's a certain inevitability that I foresee in my investigations towards the precise relationship between the physical world and computation. The further I get into these investigations, the more I find myself conceding to the mainstream views of things. However, by making such concessions I feel like I'm carving out a new perspective on the relationship between physics, computation, and philosophy of science. Here, I think is where the Oedipus-Type in me is coming out. By making certain (dare I say fated) concessions to the mainstream view, I'm able to find a unique space for my own creativity.
It has truly been a humbling experience to try to find this middle way that you reference. I relate to this sentiment in the following way. In pursuing the path of research, I've found that, at times, I'm too hard-headed about a certain conclusion and seek evidence for the conclusion that I believed to be true, rather than what's more likely to be _actually_ true. In such a pursuit, I find myself frustrated time and time again. I'm not able to find coherent justifications for my beliefs in the form that I think that they can, and will take. It has only been in giving up certain commitments that I'm finding myself a perspective that I think is genuinely novel, meaningful, and insightful.
Apologies for the potentially off-topic rant. I appreciate the space for reflection along these lines. Keep up the great work, Garrett!