Building Resilience in 2022
Photo by Allison Sayer
By Chantelle Pence
“Your cheeks are turning white!” I told my husband. He shrugged it off and continued digging under a car that was hung up on a snow drift on the Tok Cutoff highway, during the wind storms of early January. We had received a call from a friend who works for the Department of Transportation, and dug our way out of our own driveway to see if we could help. My partner looked like he was enjoying himself. So was I. There’s something about facing the extreme elements of nature that wakes the senses and brings you fully to the present moment. If you’re well prepared you can conquer. But you could just as easily be maimed or killed.
There’s a sweet spot between preparation and faith, and that’s where we’ve built our place. Over two decades ago, when we were at the beginning stages of raising our family, we leaned heavily on faith. On future dreams. But even then, we knew the value of a home that could withstand the collapse of external systems. It took a long time, slow and steady work, and many moments of wondering if we were doing the right thing. Was our investment worth it? Rural Alaska is a difficult place to put down roots. But when it’s thirty below and the wind is howling, I stoke the wood stove and count my blessings. When the power goes out and we have flashlights, candles, and kerosene. I believe we did the right thing.
The word “prepper” is one of those labels that evokes images of a crazy eyed backwoods guy. It’s a word to be laughed at. But blind faith in the systems that sustain modern life might be just as foolish. After the storm I took inventory of our own preparedness. There are four elements: Physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional. I assessed each area and found places of weakness to shore up. No one else will do it for us.
It can be shocking to think of how much faith we place in external systems. A car is a fine shield to the elements, as long as the heater is working. But if it breaks down on a lonely stretch of highway… lives have ended that way. Though I always travel with my winter gear, I recently put together a comprehensive emergency kit to make it easy to grab and go for my winter road trips. Our home preparedness plan is in constant revision, but addresses the basic needs of heat, light, food, and water. I have faith in our local power company. But we are prepared if they go down and cannot provide electricity.
The past couple of years have revealed just how fragile our systems are, and how dependent we have become on them. There is systemic breakdown all around. I’ve noticed it in the little things, like unkempt hotels when I travel, and mediocre service at some businesses. Recently, grocery store shelves have been lacking. Job security has been shaken. There have been many gaps and interruptions to life as we knew it, which is frustrating and inconvenient. But it is also an opportunity for people to take stock of where they stand between faith and preparation.
Just a few generations ago people were incredibly self-reliant. I was visiting with our local store owner and she was telling a story of how her Grandfather used to mush his dogs down to the river to get water. I watched a documentary about another Elder in our community, and she told the story of killing a black bear and throwing it over her shoulders. It was food for her family. Can you imagine the resilience the old timers had? To complain would be a waste of time. And there were no quick fixes. People took stock of a situation, and moved forward with incredible strength and savvy.
Do I want to go back to “primitive” living? Heck no. Innovation is a wonderful thing. But I can see areas where I’ve become lazy and too dependent on outer systems. In 2022 I resolve to become stronger, better prepared for the storms of life, and to utilize my full capabilities. Human beings are amazing, industrious, creative, and capable of building wonderful lives and communities. It’s hard to do it alone though, and the way of the future is to start working together again. As family. As neighbors. As a team. Everyone has something to bring.
Independence is an urban myth. Interdependence is nature’s law. If you have one person to build a life with, you are lucky. If you have a network of skilled, honest, upstanding individuals to exchange resources with, you have struck gold. The price of being part of such a network is to have something worth contributing. First, we do the work of developing ourselves as individuals. Then we become an asset to the team. It’s a dynamic, living system.
The longer I’m on earth, the more I value tradition and systems that have withstood the test of time. I’m thankful to have a partner to build a life with. Together we’ve created a foundation where our children (and someday their children) can seek shelter from the storm, if needed. They are young adults, in the process of self-development. Our youngest is in Anchorage and has embraced adulthood in a way that amazes me. His brother lives in Japan, on an Air Force base. Another is in heaven, perhaps doing work that we can’t see. Maybe they will never come home again. But we are here if they need us. The family system, whether by birth or by creation, is the basis of security on earth. And one that I have faith in.
With all of the systems that are fractured or failing, it’s a good time to take stock of what you can depend on. Land. A home with a wood stove. The means to harvest. The means to defend. People to work with and to love. Faith in the Source of it all.
The richness of life can be found in the basics. Everything else is just a vacation. I love to take trips, and when the world settles down again I plan on flying south for the winters. Because January is rough! But in the meantime, I’m thankful to be in Copper River country. I’m warm. Safe. Healthy. Counting my blessings. “My roots grow deep.”
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