Hiking

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I need time to walk—taking steps into some secluded corner of nature. I'm a philosopher at heart. My mind belongs in Ancient Greece, while my body is in 21st century America. Kietzman said it well when he spoke in our last podcast, Average Joes (shameless plug), about the rustling of the wind among leaves as an "ancient sound". Being in nature, alone, is lifegiving. 

Crunch, crunch, hot pavement, back sweat, sore calves. All of this is part of the hiking experience. The hot sun bearing down and offering a reddish hue to my exposed limbs reminds me that I'm alive. Hearing the crickets and cicadas, I feel a rhythm pulsing through the earth beneath my feet—that same earth spinning at a speed I cannot comprehend, yet somehow I am not flung from its surface. The miracle of life becomes apparent the deeper you walk into a forest, swatting spider webs and avoiding thorn bushes. We are here. We exist. We are connected.

I spend most of my days asking myself questions that have no certain answers: what do I want out of life, who am I, how did I get here, how long will I live. The rhythm of walking around takes me away from these questions and into the present. If I'm too busy thinking, I might miss a turn, trip over a tree root, or step into tick-infested tall grass. 

Hiking was not always this peaceful escape. In seminary, hiking was an adrenaline-crazed journey up some mountain in New Hampshire. The bus ride there was either in prayerful silence or a scream-sung Gregorian Chant. Our group would split into smaller groups so we could keep a head count and then it was a fast hike up a mountain. I remember we used to hike in 10-minute-mile intervals—keep in mind we would be burdened with camelbacks and lunch while hiking in khaki pants and a polo (not good!). 

The view at the top of each mountain was an experience I cannot replicate today. I would be filled with gratitude at the wonder of God's creation all around me. There is no feeling quite like the knowledge that everything out there was given to you by a loving creator, and that he's even prepared a place for you in some realm called Heaven. Being present in such an experience as a Secular Buddhist is good, but not as satisfying. The certainty of this loving godhead bestowing gifts is lovely, and I see why people are drawn to believe in a deity. 

By the end of those hikes I would be completely exhausted and then we would head for more prayers, dinner, and evening activities. I miss the comradery of seminary, constantly having companions nearby going through the same struggles. Today I come home from a typical day at work tired and lonely, but I'm learning to accept that quiet, dark space. Hiking now is a somber experience that turns to a pleasant acceptance. Life holds fewer high-energy moments like my teenage years, and that's okay.

“In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows. Nature says, he is my creature, and maugre all his impertinent griefs, he shall be glad with me”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

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