Today

Before going for a walk around ten, I shovelled the fresh snow, sliding the metal shovel back and forth across the sidewalk. I had my hat and gloves on, my down jacket and wool shirt, wool socks, leggings and pants on. I didn't really have a plan for the walk, but found myself once again on the local Rails-to-Trails.
The last time I was on this path, I had Nathan in the chariot-stroller, and it was like walking through a green tunnel, with the sky barely peeking through. Now, the gray sky was visible, the bare brances of oak, maple and elm scratching across my view. The river slid smoothly, silently by, unobscured by sumac, raspberries or other brush. The only other footprints on the trail were of a man and his little dog.
A boy scout had undertaken to label some of the trees, and as I stopped to gaze at the bare slippery elm (which actually looks scratchy and not slippery, and is one of the ingredients in my throat coat Yogi tea), I was struck by an impression that it is known by SomeOne. I really wouldn't have picked that tree out from any other for particular attention. I didn't know anything about its barks, roots, leaves. It was a stranger to me. But there is SomeOne who really cares for that tree. I smiled, thinking that in getting to know another's friends, you get to know that other person, and getting to know this tree might reveal something about One who cherishes it.
As I stood before it, not knowing what elm buds, or leaves look like, and not knowing what kind of fruit or nut or seed thing it might have, I was struck by the glory of seasons. How wonderful that trees change and reveal different aspects of their lives year after year. This year, I will watch the elm, with expectation that it will reveal some of its life to me. I look forward to getting to know my new friend. I wonder what I will learn about the elm and if it will learn anything about me.

Today I met an elm tree in the snow.

"You can learn ecstasy from a tree." ~~Yogi Tea

Geez

Beware of Caution

There are those who want something more than security or pleasure; those who can't help but taunt security and pleasure. For them, "low-risk" is counter-intuitive, and comfort is not enough. Life does not come equipped with standard dual air bags and anti-lock brakes.
These are the rough-edged gurus/disciples/saints of recklessness. The ones who sense the constraints of rationality and know the value of foolishness. They know the best adventures are never easy, so they put physical discipline and bodily deprivation at the service of bare adventure.
There may be some bravado in their posture, but maybe they also know a tender dimension of adventure. Perhaps the restless risk-takers find in the wilderness a home for their brokenness; something of raw beauty to touch that which needs to be touched within.
And so they head out into the wilds casting themselves--body, mind and spirit--upon the ultimate insecurity and wonder of the elements.

~~From Geez, Spring 2006.

Edward Abbey Says

Years ago, my friend had a quote on the bottom of his e-mail that I've been looking for ever since. Edward Abbey (from Home, PA, graduate of IUP) was an environmental activist, and I think that his words speak to all of us who long to change the world, and who struggle against the momentum of corporate culture. To Life!!

One final paragraph of advice: Do not burn yourself out. Be as I am--a reluctant enthusiast. . .a part time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it is still there. So get out there and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, encounter the grizz, climb the mountains. Run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much: I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound people with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards.


P.S. I don't think of people who work office jobs as enemies. I guess I do think of bondage to a desk and the associate income as onerous.

The Badlands

At first, the land seems absolutely empty: stark, wild and stern. The colors are bleached by the sun, and the light sears my eyes so that even if there were colors, I wouldn't be able to see them. The wind whips at my cheeks, drawing tears from my eyes. As I squint, I watch clouds and light dance on the horizon, threatening and caressing the earth. Dry earth waits mutely below for the kiss of rain, cracks gaping like eager mouths.

Over and over Ranier Maria Rilke's words swirl over me and soak into me:
Summer was like your house: you knew
where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind
sucks the world from your senses like withered
leaves.

Through the empty branches the sky remains.
It is what you have.

On the Road Again!

On Tuesday, Mom flew into Seattle, and we began our eastward trip after sharing sushi with my friend, Matt. Our first big stop was Devil's Tower in Wyoming. We had thought to stop at some of the Historic Sites in Montana, but every time we saw a sign we missed the exit, or the site had vanished. Undaunted, we made the turn-off for our country's first national monument. The legend is that people fleeing from a bear, stood on a rock. Because of their prayers, the rock rose over four-hundred feet, lifting them away from the claws of their predator. The bear tried and tried to reach them, but only succeeded in gouging long scars down the rock's face.
Mom and I hiked along a wind-swept ridge line and down into a stand of pine trees. At first, she innocently gathered some for souvenirs, but then, this woman who is supposed to nurture and care for me began pelting me with these prickly missiles! A brief battle ensued, but due to our poor aim and multiple layers of clothing, we both emerged unscathed, if breathless.
We hopped into faithful Outback Jack (with whom I have logged over 12,000 miles since setting out in July) and journeyed on to Mt. Rushmore. The presidents were large, but the park was closed, so we decided to seek lodging, forgoing a trip to the Crazy Horse Memorial and The Needles. It's kind of like a promise to save some things for later.