However, when I told a friend that I was working on this blog and that I talk about escaping into the wilderness, she challenged the idea that going into the wilderness is escape. Perhaps, she suggested, it is going home. That struck a chord - a resonant chord that rang so true that it totally reshaped my way of thinking. The physical oneness of quantum physics along with the spiritual oneness of Buddhism and the pantheistic reverence for all nature and life makes returning to the wildness a returning to our most basic nature wherein we find renewed life and can commune with all life to find our way back to where we should be.
Trapped inside the limits of sprawling humanity people try desperately to understand the meaning of life. Confined to buildings where the air and the light are artificial and the closest thing they have to any other form of life is a plant struggling to survive while they flounder for answers to questions they don't really know. In hallowed halls of academia and religion, pious, well-meaning albeit ignorant men and women attempt to justify who they think we are when they truthfully haven't a clue. A scientist does a physics experiment to observe and demonstrate universal oneness totally oblivious to the answers outside. Men and women of great power sit in glass and steel cages hundreds of feet above the earth and plot ways of turning what they do not understand, what they do not realize is the source of their life, into profits and thoughtlessly sign our doom. While in the wilderness we can stand in awe, our spirits souring, melding into the oneness - a union - that needs no justification or proof. The answer to all question lie here.
"Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher."
- William Wordsworth
Nature is the consummate teacher. From it we learn that everything has a purpose whether or not we like the thing or like the purpose. Knowing this we become more open and accepting, more compassionate and kind. Knowing this we look for our purpose in the scheme of nature because we too are a part of nature. We learn that. We discover and acknowledge that we are not above nature or in charge of nature or in control. We realize that there are times that we are not at the top of the food chain. Nature teaches us about time and its relationship to the cycle of life of all things. And of course you can't learn about the cycle of life without learning survival, resilience and natural consequences. Our society get so full of itself and its "rights" that it forgets that there are natural consequences to every action. Nature teaches us perspective. We get out in the wilderness or similar places and we begin to realize that we're not quite as big and important as we think. That teaches us humility. Then we learn gratitude - gratitude for the gift of life and the amazing world we have around us.
Avalanche Creek |
When I stand high upon a mountain and look out over the grandeur of nature I don't feel small or insignificant. Of course, nature teaches us perspective and I'm very small by comparison, but I learn our oneness - both spiritual and as demonstrated by quantum physics. The mountains make me feel strong and capable. They teach me to survive. They teach me to really live. The mountains shelter me. They do not shun me for my size or insignificance but give me strong foundation and room to grow and blossom. The wilderness does not coddle me, nor does it reject me.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
Yes, that's it. The wilderness makes me know that I am alive. So many times Pamela, suffering with severe arthritis in her knees, wanted to hike in the high mountains. She would say "let's just go a few miles" and struggle to overcome the pain. Once there she would not turn back, but, reveling in the beauty and life around her would press onward until we would often find ourselves eight, ten or more miles into the wilderness.
In our three months in the wilderness we hike and bike many hundreds of miles. We hiked the historic trail that the Ute people used to cross the Rocky Mountains and went wadding in a lake that has icebergs in it year around. We kayaked 15 miles into a lake so remote and so rugged that it took us an hour to go the last six miles in a powerful 4x4 truck. We had to share a trail no more than two feet wide with a Mountain Goat hundreds of feet up the side of an ice field, and a narrow road with a Black Bear. In doing all these things, nature taught us self-reliance, respect for all life, survival, persistence, and decision-making. But what was far greater, we knew that we were alive. We knew that we were a part of this marvelous nature.
It is not easy to put into words or explain peace, wholeness and spirituality, and I am sure you can sense my struggle. It is more so to explain the healing of the wilderness. There is a physical healing about being out in the wilderness. Despite the necessity of being constantly vigilant and aware of what is going on around you - the weather, the terrain, animals, plants - there is a healing peace and tranquility. Perhaps it is because such vigilance and awareness is really so natural.
“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
There are many scientist who theorize that the homo sapien has lost many natural skills because we stopped using them - everything from sense of direction to sense of weather. I strongly subscribe to this theory. Often when you are in the wilderness your senses literally tingle.
No where was I more aware of that tingle than when, in July 2013, I ran across the Badlands National Park. It was one of the most exciting, exhilarating, frightening things I've ever done and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I made the run in July, despite the heat, because I needed as much daylight as possible for the 40+ mile run. I figured that it would take me 10-12 hours. You don't want to be caught in the badlands after dark if you can help it. As usual I carried my survival pack - a 25 pound backpack with survival gear and lots of water. When I left the trail-head I was suddenly confronted with the realization that there wasn't a "trail" in the common sense of the word. Wind and sand would quickly cover any footprints. I had to rely on my compass and topographic map and the occasional red pole driven into the sand. I was constantly checking my bearing, watching the weather and looking out for animals. One would think I would have been a nervous wreck when I finished, but it was quite to the contrary. I could see the parking lot at the trail-head from almost a quarter mile away. My pace quickened and I almost danced the last hundred yards or so. It wasn't because I was finished. Actually I felt a bit sad that it was over. But my joy was how alive and whole I felt. I was healed physically because my body was stronger than it ever had been, and I could feel it. I was healed psychologically because I had faced fear and danger and prevailed. I was healed spiritually because I had allowed myself to become a part of the nature around me and I found my place and knew my oneness.
Yes, the wilderness, and for us especially our beloved Glacier, is a place of peace, vitality, spirituality, and healing. Sadly many people see anything outside of the city or their building as just something with the potential to make money. Humans have no idea what they're missing by avoiding the wilderness, parks and other places where nature is allowed to be nature. They have no idea what they're doing to themselves and their progeny by thoughtless abuse. Wendell Berry, the Henry David Thoreau of our time, said it best. “The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.” I will not belabor my fears and concern. This blog is not the place to again make the case for the care and conservation of our world. But I must admit to sharing the attitude of E.B. White; novelist, contributor to the New Yorker and author of Charlotte's Web; who said "I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority."
"Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy."
- Hamlin Garland
- Hamlin Garland
“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”
There are many scientist who theorize that the homo sapien has lost many natural skills because we stopped using them - everything from sense of direction to sense of weather. I strongly subscribe to this theory. Often when you are in the wilderness your senses literally tingle.
Badlands National Park, South Dakota |
Yes, the wilderness, and for us especially our beloved Glacier, is a place of peace, vitality, spirituality, and healing. Sadly many people see anything outside of the city or their building as just something with the potential to make money. Humans have no idea what they're missing by avoiding the wilderness, parks and other places where nature is allowed to be nature. They have no idea what they're doing to themselves and their progeny by thoughtless abuse. Wendell Berry, the Henry David Thoreau of our time, said it best. “The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.” I will not belabor my fears and concern. This blog is not the place to again make the case for the care and conservation of our world. But I must admit to sharing the attitude of E.B. White; novelist, contributor to the New Yorker and author of Charlotte's Web; who said "I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority."
But don't take my word for it. Don't live your lives vicariously through people like me. We are so blessed with our National Park system. Our National Parks all have ways that even the worst handicapped person can see and experience and enjoy the outdoors and wilderness. In research the most important thing is not the outcome of the experiment but whether it can be replicated. I have put before you the outcome of my experience. Now go and replicate it in your own life!
We're going home. See you in August. I will leave you with the blessing credited to Edward Abbey,
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
We're going home. See you in August. I will leave you with the blessing credited to Edward Abbey,
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
View of Stanton Mountain from our campsite at Sprague Creek, Glacier National Park, Montana. |