What I Learned From Two Weeks Without A Mirror (or a shower)

Thought of the day: who are we without our iPhones, our Instagram, Netflix? Without our reflections? I’d argue that we are more ourselves. We see ourselves and others more clearly, we engage with them more fully.

Looking into a mirror is part of my daily life in the frontcountry. I look at myself in the morning as I wash my face; I look at my face after I take a shower post-workout, debating how much or how little makeup to wear. I do another check before I begin work, making sure I’m acceptable for an office environment, or Zoom call: clean hair (most days), presentable face, professional clothes. My appearance is an important part of frontcountry survival.

And then for two weeks in August of 2018, all of these expectations went out the window. That summer, I left my day job to go on an adventure. More specifically, I embarked on a NOLS expedition into the Land of the Midnight Sun. I’d signed up for gorgeous mountain views, rivers, and the unique Arctic climate that exists in northern Sweden and Norway. I didn’t know I’d also signed up for a lesson on inner beauty.

I didn’t shower for two weeks. I brushed my hair ​just​ enough to make sure it didn’t become one big knot. I washed my hands and face to stay clean and to keep from getting sick.

But what I discovered in those two weeks was how beautiful I felt. There was beauty in not caring. There was beauty in the sky, the ground, the water. Waking up to tundra and fjords in the mist, that was stunning. The first time I cooked a meal and navigated the day’s route? Beautiful. There was beauty in seeing my expedition mate who’d never backpacked before complete her first day on the trail.

Beauty was all around me; I just needed to stop and enjoy it. It wasn’t to be found in a mirror, but in looking outward, in taking in what was around me.

Outside, in the tundra, surrounded by mountains, the importance of my outward appearance slid away. The only faces I saw for miles and miles belonged to Mother Nature and my coursemates. Out on the trails, venturing above the Arctic Circle with few inhabitants but reindeer and lemmings, there was no one to judge me or my messy hair. My fellow expeditioners and instructors only cared that I was healthy and well and brought an expedition mindset to the day’s adventures. My attitude was far more important than my appearance. What mattered was that I could keep up with the expedition, that I could pitch a tent when we got to camp, and keep one foot in front of the other on the trail.

As these became my daily expectations, I began to see myself with less judgment, with more acceptance and love. I could scramble up a mountain pass! I could cross a river safely. I noticed how muscles in my legs got stronger, became more toned, how each part of my body adapted to the long days of hiking with a heavy pack. I could do this!

It was with wonder and awe I watched this transformation. Judgment was pointless—how could I judge the way I looked? How could I look at my body with anything but wonder?

These legs that crossed 100-plus kilometers of land.

This body that carried me down valleys and up mountains and through what must have been endless miles of boulder fields.

These feet that traversed rivers, streams, marshland, glaciers, snow, and still carried me into my cozy sleeping bag at night.

I remember something our trip leader, Oscar, said on the first day of our expedition:

Take what is outside, inside. Learn to find your sense of place.

Looking back, finding my sense of place was in part learning to take the beauty around me and reflecting it back to myself, a gift from the Arctic wilderness and NOLS that I get to take with me into my frontcountry life. I’m making a promise to myself to use it.

The wilderness is waiting: Start your journey on a NOLS expedition.