Something in the Water
Campbell Jenkins & Abhainn Bajus
October 13, 2023
Some of us haven’t been swimming since we’ve returned to Arcadia after mid-semester break. There’s something lurking in the water. Perhaps it’s the winter chill, maybe it’s the legendary Mama Massawepie, or it could be something we brought back from break waiting just under the surface.
Since we’ve returned, we’ve noticed more changes than just the nip in the air. Our paths are strewn with leaves, the sky is clouded by an impenetrable grey, and the water has risen, encroaching on our lakeside paths. We have also switched partners for chores and cook groups and some folks have even switched up sleeping arrangements, migrating to warmer community spaces like the kitchen loft, curt (our community yurt), and lurt (our learning yurt)—essentially, we sleep anywhere there is a woodstove. These changes, though exciting, can be disorienting, especially after a mind-boggling experience like an extended weekend immersed in the outside world.
For some, break meant spending time on campus and catching up with friends. For one, this break was a chance for a belated 21st birthday celebration in the metropolis that is Lake Placid. Still others spent this time relaxing with family and visiting friends across New England. For all, this was the first time we had uninhibited access to our phones.
In Arcadia we make an effort to live intentionally. This intentionality presents itself in many ways in our day-to-day life. We restrict technology use to a bare minimum and are conscious about how much electricity we use, only turning on lights when it is absolutely necessary and vacuuming only on sunny days. Additionally, we are mindful about the food we eat. We prioritize food that will go bad and never take more than we need. Intentionality is part of the reason many of us chose to participate in the Adirondack Semester, because we felt a need to step away from a society that struggles to live in the present.
After living in such an intentional environment for two months, we all felt a sense of culture shock upon reintegrating into society. Life in Arcadia is so vastly different from the normal pace of life that Arcadia can seem like a time machine transporting us to simplicity.
While we had access to our phones, several Arcadians chose to limit their usage by leaving them behind or letting them die. Amelia explained that she “refused to go on social media but [found herself] subconsciously opening Instagram.” She expressed awe at the strength of her neural network and how she still had the habit of opening her social media folder after using her phone to text someone. Other Arcadians also expressed frustration at how easy it was to get sucked into the dopamine trap of technology even when they desperately wanted to avoid it. Upon returning to the yurt village, Berit was excited to tell her fellow Arcadians about how she “was ab absolute punk” and used her friend’s technological resources to contact whomever she needed to. Technological overwhelm and avoidance were not the only challenges we faced over mid-semester break.
“I was socially awkward,” lamented Ruby. They were not alone in this plight. Many Arcadians expressed feeling socially inept or awkward while interacting with people outside of the Arcadian community. Campbell noticed how generally disconnected people are from the world around them. While eating brunch with her mom, she observed a person who could not be present or comfortable with themselves when not actively engaged in conversation. “It was uncomfortable and disappointing,” remarked Campbell. “It takes a lot of effort to get together with people and it makes me sad to see that they couldn’t spend quality time without each other without checking their phones.” Arcadia is truly a wonderland where time slows down to an enjoyable crawl and people finally have the space to embrace themselves and each other by participating in a community that is present. One can’t help but wish to seamlessly bridge the gap between Arcadia and the rest of the world.
After fall dinner, as we drove away from Arcadia and crossed the threshold between our lovely yurt village and the outside world, we were overcome with the din of society and all things it encompasses. The stark quiet of Arcadia became juxtaposed against the world’s endless stream of noise. Humanity never takes a breath from the chatter it absorbs itself with: cars honk, people talk, and music blares. Nothing stops for even a second. For Abhainn this was one of the most challenging parts about break. “I was overcome with the din of humanity,” she later reflected. “Everything was so loud and it never relented.” Societal noise is not just auditory. Arcadians found themselves bombarded with a constant flow of information. News of the outside world is not shared with students on the Adirondack Semester because “It’s not necessary and takes away from the experience,” says Nate, our assistant director. He also emphasizes “Be here now,” a quotation that Jake, the director of the program, told us our first day of the semester.
When we inevitably encountered our first bites of news in nearly two months, we were overwhelmed by it. The 24-hour news cycle of everyday life is a lot for anyone to handle and is especially so for those who have disengaged for a time. The shock of being thrust into it once more seemed so unbearable that some chose not to engage at all.
These experiences with technology use, human interaction, and simply existing in a great big global community were shared in bits and pieces as we reconvened at Gannett Lodge on a cloudy Tuesday morning. “We look rough,” Ben remarked as we circled up. We were preparing for Land Use Change in the Adirondacks, our first class in a week and a half., and though it was 10:00 a.m., we were swaying on our feet. Something felt off; the jive wasn’t jiving and it was hard to tell if it was because we were all exhausted or if it was because of something else. Some Arcadians were in a funk for a few days, walking the paths in silence, not cracking jokes, living on the verge of tears and not knowing why. Others seemed to readjust more comfortably, but even as they slipped back into their routines, they looked on with worry. What was this gloom?
It was the small things that brought us back. We resorted to reading dystopian novels and listening to Mt. Joy, napping excessively, and playing cribbage on a board handmade by Arianna. There is a familiarity in the should-sleep-gear-be-put-away-in-yurts-every-morning debate and a classic excitement found in New Clothing Drops! Amelia already created a new bit: “if you’re being gaslit, just mansplain.” And there is a collective anticipation every night as we gather around the table for a meal cooked by an untried cooking duo. We are starting to ease out of the societal funk and settle back into the gentle, rolling rhythm of Arcadia.
Today Sam lit the sauna, and we sweated out the overwhelm and solidified the sweetness of break. When the heat became unbearable, we jumped into the arms of Mama Massawepie and shrieked at and reveled in the wintery chill. There’s nothing lurking in our cove, save for the barge and the sunbeams that slipped in off the pines. Time is slowing down again and it’s finally time to cozy in for the winter.
“Welcome back,” whispers Arcadia. “Welcome home.”