Thoughts on Patience (Aug 6, 2006)

When hiking on rocky terrain, in the rain, with a hood on, I tend to look down. Our backpacking trek on the K'esugi ridge kept us ever before Denali (the largest mountain in North America), but when clouds obscured it from view, the ground is what held my interest most. We were in alpine tundra; the plant life is mostly short, low-growing in order to survive the harsh cold and because of permafrost (beneath the topsoil, the ground is permanently frozen). Here's the wikipedia link for more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tundra

In the tundra, it takes years for things to grow. A plant might germinate one year; the following year it might blossom; and possibly the third year produce a fruit. In the sub-alpine area, skinny tooth-pick spruce are the product of hundreds of years of struggle for survival.

As I trudged, watching my mud-sodden boots pass over the lichen, moss and small plants, I was struck by the different perspective on time that this ecosystem demonstrates. For myself, it was all I could do to wait 7 minutes for water to boil and 9 more minutes for the Mountain House Beef and Mac Chili to rehydrate in the evening. And yet, this beautiful, stark world passes months and years before "producing."

I thought of how I am impatient with myself in my own growth process, how I expect things to change and be mature already. I thought of how the young tundra plants live with mature plants and how there is a beauty in both. In the quiet, misty wonderland, I wondered if I could learn to live the beauty and patience modeled by the persistent growth of the tundra.