Concentration

Concentration can mean two things, both related.

Mainly, I think of a place congested with people. Urban Philadelphia was impacting me so negatively, perhaps it always had since the day of my birth.

I once heard that within a certain radius of miles, Philadelphia has the highest concentration of people in the world. At the time of our founding, the city was the nation's most populous. Its subsequent ranking dropped because of suburbs that were encouraged to swell. Then came urban flight as well. Philadelphia's suburbs are HUGE. Now, the city itself is fifth (I think, the others being NYC; Chicago; LA and Houston), but when the surrounding areas are included, it is still first.

This is where I was born, where I lived an overwhelming amount of my life. In my opinion, it had a fiercely negative impact on me in many ways, on many levels.

I sort of believe that some people thrive in densely crowded spaces. I cannot say that I understand though. For me it was hell. For one, I am an extreme introvert defined as someone who is drained of energy by social interaction. It was difficult, nearly impossible, to find the place and time to fully recharge. Hence, most of my life I slept as much as possible. Many were annoyed by this behavior. I guess that was a complement. They wanted me up and productive.

For an endless infinity of lifetimes (poetic), being trapped in some small part of Philadelphia was all I knew. Other than this was the seeming artificial reality of the seashore vacations we took. Then, at seventeen I spent nine months in Happy Valley, better known as Pennsylvania State University's main campus. It was there that I realized that the park half a block from my home in South Philly was not a sandbox the city had brought dirt to. This is funny and sad. At Penn State I rarely left the dorm. Even the cafeteria was connected indoors.

Then, one year when my children were getting close to old enough for summer camp, we went camping as a family. It was a labor day weekend and this particular camp had a family event to entice parents to send their children the next year. Shane did go the following year and Tatiana later as well.

I LOVED the camp; camping; hiking; fresh air; atmosphere; food; morning smells; wildlife (had enough yet? I have more...). The camp had lots of activities going on. There was an orienteering (this is an actual word) hike, like a marathon treasure hunt. After each event, during breaks, I keep suggesting we DO things. My family at first thought I was joking. After the first couple times playing along and seeing that I was NEVER going to run at of energy, they began making me go play by myself. The entire campsite was a bunch of tired children and groaning adults and ONE GOOFY GUY playing basketball or horseshoes or tether ball by himself.

Lately, back here in the twenty first century, I have been wondering what is 'wrong' with me. I do not seem to WANT to sleep late, for example. Suddenly I see (by the way, please find and treat yourself to the original British video of Black Horse/ Cherry Tree by KT Tunstall. She has no accompaniment except her guitar, a tambourine and foot pedals that record and playback loops she plays live, super ubber cooller) (since that was such a long side track I will start that sentence over, oh, and here- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYEU91d8ngc).

Suddenly I see that life here with Kim in West Virginia is the camping phenomenon all over again. Cannot wait to get out of bed and get moving.

You should try it!

Love someone well today,

Bobby