Take a hike

“Look deep into nature and you will understand everything better.” Albert Einstein

I belong to a family of hikers. Each member of my family would much rather awaken to the sounds of birds outside a tent and wind rustling through the pines, with the glint of a sunrise coming in through the seams much rather than hear the clink of dishes to indicate room service is coming down the hall.

Now, as much as I love nature, I don’t turn down a cup of hot tea, bagel and fresh fruit brought to my bedside, but one thing I enjoy most is hearing my husband describe is the feeling of a crisp walk in the woods. If you listen with your eyes and ears to the sounds of nature, you can hear most anything, Roger tells me.

He enjoys reading trail descriptions, and can almost take a hike in his mind just by reading a detailed description of a trail. When we eventually hike the trail, he visualizes its nuances before our boots touch dirt. I remember a hike this fall in New England where we were climbing a hill, only to have him tell me there would be a sharp bend, then a downhill slope, and we would then be close enough to hear the waterfalls. Knowing you are going to hear a waterfall long before you see it is an exciting notion and can really bring out the quiet in me. Sure enough, just as he described, we walked around a sharp end and down a steep incline and I heard the roar. This waterfall carried a ferocious, angry rumble that could be heard long before seen. We descended to the bottom of the hill and around a bend and there was the waterfall in its entire splendor, crashing on the rocks and squirting spray far beyond the water’s path. We listened for a very long time, even though we knew rain was coming because as the falls spoke to us, we wanted to hear what she had to say.

We sat for a very long time just absorbing the smell of the water, feeling occasional bits of spray brought in by the breeze, and hearing the angry crash.
In our spellbound state, we decided to take a longer route back to the car – with rain in the distance - which turned out to be a lousy decision, but I digress... Our rain-soaked state did actually afford us a delightful and dry respite back at the bed and breakfast (complete with the clink and clank of dishes and hot tea).

Nature has a way of speaking to us if we will listen. I think back to the many hikes I have taken with my family when Roger offered up a shopping excursion if I could manage to make it to trails’ end without whining. But, when I take the time to bring my blisters and sore muscles out of focus and listen to the world around me, I hear beauty speaking.

Recently, we expanded our hiking repertoire to snowshoeing. We donned our new snowshoes and hiked across the deepest snow near the Sleeping Bear Dunes on Lake Michigan. We hiked in freshly-fallen deep snow on a crisp sunny day. At the end of the hike, the sun began its descent, and the snow took on a crystalized hue with colors that seemed to bounce off the newly-blazed trailside snowy peaks.

As I walked silently, I breathed in the aura around me and allowed it to speak. The first thing that came to mind was one of Nick’s favorite poems, and one that I found scribbled in his notes from last semester. This treasure, I found among notes from an education class, is a Navajo walking meditation. He quoted this poem to me once last spring, but finding it written in his own hand was as much of a treasure as nature itself:

“I walk in beauty;
With beauty before me, I walk;
With beauty behind me, I walk;
With beauty above me, I walk;
With beauty about me, I walk;
It ends in beauty.”

As my shoes carried me on top of the great dune in snow like I have never before experienced, those words took over my thoughts and my mind drifted to ponder beauty in our world and where we find it. With the sting of cold air on my face, I felt love; with the sound of snow falling from the trees, I felt security; with the sparkle emanating off the snow, I felt wonder.

Yes, no matter where we go, we walk in beauty; only when we stop to listen do we understand.