Reflection: Hiking in the Flat Irons

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn~John Muir.

While it has been a few months since this hike took place, I came along the above John Muir quote recently, and it made me think about all of the times I have spent hiking in the wilderness, and most recently our foray into the Flat Irons.

Jamie and I ventured out on a sunny Saturday morning with our good friend Derek Roberts after a week long conference where we were able to share Nuru in Colorado. Another friend of ours, Kris Woyna, had been encouraging us to check out the Flat Irons for a few years, and so we finally took an opportunity to do so. Jamie wasn’t feeling up for any summits above 10,000 feet this year, and so the Flat Irons seemed like a great place to explore.

The trails were absolutely beautiful. Like John Muir says, “Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.” As we made our way through a few different trails along a four mile hike, our spirits felt more and more alive, and our hearts more peaceful.

Anywhere we travel, Jamie and I like to carve out time to be outside. Even when we are at home, we strive to get at least thirty minutes outside daily. Sometimes we are hiking trails, but many times we are hiking through our neighborhood. Our preference is always the forest though.

There’s something about wilderness that restores and refreshes us. Our conversation moves quickly into laughter and joy as we soak up new views and new experiences together. While we were in Acadia National Park earlier this year, we learned about a phenomenon called “Forest Bathing.” Apparently, there are extensive studies around the idea that being in the woods has lots of health benefits that can’t be reaped in city life. The article we read about it said that forest bathing will be the next ‘big thing’ like yoga has become. Who knew that all of us hikers, hunters, and outdoor enthusiasts were so far ahead of the trend.

If you ever make it to Boulder, be sure to hike the Flat Irons, but if not, get out in the woods and enjoy the gift as ‘the winds blow their own freshness into you.’ May we each take time daily to soak in the gifts of God’s creation and respond in gratitude to their benevolent Giver.

Hiking In Acadia Part Three: Sun, Surf, and Soaking It In

After a heavy day of hiking, walking, and running through the wilderness paths of Acadia, Jamie and I decided to change our pace a bit for the next day. We had discovered an absolutely beautiful stretch of rocky coastline (there are several, but this one was ours) in Acadia where we could take time to read, to write, to reflect, and to soak in the surf. And so, our pilgrimage was a bit shorter and more intentionally focused. Rather than scrambling from trail to trail and taking in new experiences at each stop, we decided to make our way to one place and plant ourselves for a spell. Partially this was a decision based on a bit of a twinge in my Achilles from a speedy 9.3 mile run the previous day, but mainly it was a decision based on finding our Acadia surfside sanctuary.

We made our way quietly along this path in the early morning and dipped down onto the rocky shore of Mount Desert Island’s southeastern shore. The sun appeared in fullness and for a significant period for the first time since our arrival. The waves crashed violently on the rocks, and the whole of our being sat mesmerized by the sights and sounds surrounding us. After reading and writing for a bit in a journal, I just sat back and watched the sporadic clouds above me change shapes as they drifted along the coastal sky. The rhythmic crash and retreat of the waves provided an exquisite soundtrack for this quiet Maine morning.

As if the sight and sounds weren’t already filling my heart and mind with rest and refreshment, I picked up a recently acquired book and started through a few pages. The book was a World War II story about the battle for Crete and how these island people formed an incredible resistance that gave Hitler fits. The book was about this moment in history, but in these opening chapters, it appeared to be as much about people who were living in good relationship with their surroundings—an aspiration for both myself and Jamie.

Sitting and reading, reflecting, and writing, Jamie and I both felt like this was a very different Acadia experience. It was as though we were adjusting to the rhythm around us and we were starting to experience true rest and refreshment. We were not concerned about the future, projects to be accomplished, or even thinking about what we were going to do when we got back home. We were content and our hearts were full with the gifts of the day.

And now, back in West Virginia, we have carried a piece of that Acadia morning in our hearts and into our daily routines. There is plenty of time for planning and working through logistics and conducting mental models for possible futures, but what we desire more of, and dare we say what all of us need more of is a sense of rest and relationship with the present moment and environment, wherever that might be. May we all aspire to find ourselves soaking in the sights, sounds, textures, and flavors of the present moment if not daily, then maybe weekly. And, if the time and space (and weather) permit, may we look heavenward as we lie upon the earth and watch the dance of clouds in the skies.

Hiking In Acadia Part Two: The Day We Hiked Our Faces Off

After a rip-roaring start to our first day of hiking in Acadia, we had decided that day two would be an attempt to explore as much of the park as we possibly could. We were due for 7.5 miles running as part of our training for Team Nuru International's Marine Corps Marathon exploits this fall, but we wanted to get some hiking in before our run. So we started on a fairly smooth and textured Ocean Path en route to Thunder Hole, but something about the path was just a little unappealing. It was a gravel path, and at least for the first few hundred feet it ran alongside a very busy stretch of road. We decided to backtrack and took another trail that took us along a small peninsula on the far side of Sandy Beach.

We looped around that trail and found a little rocky hideaway that I quickly became our favorite spot in the park. We enjoyed it so much that it became our place of rest and refreshment all of the remaining days we were in the park, but on this day, it was simply discovered and noted for a later time for further exploration.

After our first major hike of the day, we thought it was an appropriate time to venture toward Jordan Ponds House for some lunch including popovers-an interesting take on a roll that was pretty delicious! As we looked over the lunchtime fare, we decided on a buffalo meatloaf sandwich, and we were not disappointed. But we were pretty full, so we thought this was no time to think about going for a run. Instead we walked off the meal on a three mile hike around Jordan Pond Trail.

From there, we felt like we were ready, so we made a wardrobe change and donned our running threads. We made our way to Eagle Lake. It was a six mile loop, so we started thinking about creative ways to get extra mileage in. Where we landed was two different places on the mileage. Jamie made the statement that she was content with a little over six miles for her run since we had walked so many miles already, and that she wanted to run it easy. I decided the opposite, I wanted to run the distance a little harder, and try to push myself a little farther.

So we started the loop, and every couple of minutes, I would loop back to check on Jamie, and then dart forward again. In my mind, I wanted to push my pace, push my distance, and attempt to increase my steps per minute. The loop around Eagle Lake was a carriage road so it was graveled and even.  After our run we both felt energized and content. We finished together by walking up a connector road to our car and decided that we would call it a day after our run, order take-out, and make our way back to our room for rest and recovery. We logged about 19 miles that day!

Thinking back to it, there was something refreshing and enticing for each of us as we took different paths to push ourselves along trails both walking and running. It was as though the very wilderness was imbuing us with energy as we made our way along loops. I believe that as a result of our time, we are likely to incorporate more outdoor time into our weekly rhythms, and I hope that no matter where you live, your schedule affords you opportunity to do the same!

Hiking In Acadia Part One: Journey to the Summit

Recently, Jamie and I had the privilege of traveling together to our Nation's easternmost national park, Acadia. We thought that one of the best things we could do to celebrate five years of marriage as well as our love for the created world was to spend some time in a national park on the 100th anniversary of National Parks!

We arrived in Acadia in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday shortly after checking in at this exquisite bed and breakfast called Coach Stop Inn (check it out if you are in Maine and please say hello to Jim and Anna for us!). After a quick stop at the visitor center in Acadia, we began driving the park loop and trying to decide where we would hike first. By unanimous vote, we decided to make our way to the summit of Cadillac Mountain. We saw a sign for Gorge Path, and we were off. But, we decided that instead of hiking the Gorge Path straight up, we would go the opposite direction and see where it started. We ended up hiking along a connector trail that took us to the Cadillac North Ridge Trail. We hiked steadily and smoothly all the way to the summit. Training with our good friend Derek Roberts over the last couple of years on 13,000 and 14,000 foot summits probably made this a bit easier than it would have been otherwise, but it was still a strenuous and awe inspiring hike.

When we made it to the summit, we soaked in an enormous view of ocean and and islands in the distance and wilderness all around us. Of course the journey would not have been complete without a star jump from Jamie at the top to mark the accomplishment. :)


From the summit, we decided to loop back around to the Gorge Path and make our way back down to our car. The first quarter mile from the summit had some fairly steep descents and we found ourselves not just hiking but scrambling at points. The lower we descended, the more we were able to hear the steady flow of a stream journeying alongside us in the gorge. The trickle steadily grew in volume (both of water and of decibels) and by the time we had arrived to a flatter part of the trail, we were listening a much louder flow of water providing us pleasant background and acoustic accompaniment.

On both the upward and downward journeys we had to pause every few feet to bask in the beauty that surrounded us. Every time we stopped, the view was not only incredible, but incredibly different. One could probably make the case that every perspective is slightly different, but these views were as though whole new worlds were opening before us. Even though we were traveling at a far lower altitude, the splendor around us was reminiscent of Colorado mountains.


Eventually, we made our way back to our car, and traveled down the road to Bar Harbor for a delicious local meal that we thoroughly enjoyed. And looking back on that day, we were gifted with a good reminder to pause from time to time and enjoy the changes in perspective provided by the present moment.

Reflection: Swans Island Adventure

This morning Jamie and I awoke to a light New England rain and gentle coastal winds on a small island off the coast of Maine. We are staying in a cozy space in the middle of a few thousand acres on Swan’s Island Maine. It is a bit ironic that here in the middle of the ocean and off the coast of the mainland, we still have internet access. I guess the folks who provided our lodging space felt like it may be a bit too spartan to not have access to the internet out here, but we were prepared for no access.

The drizzle of rain and cool wind provides us with a natural incentive to stay inside, to write, to reflect, to enjoy the company of one another, and to celebrate. And there is so much to celebrate! Today marks our fifth wedding anniversary, and our hearts are warm and full from the joy that God has given us over these five years together. Every single day is a gift, and thankfully we have been able to spend the majority of the last 1,827 of them together with Christ as our center and exploring this majestic and magical world He created.

In our world today, we hurry about from event to event, and do not take time to savor the present moment, to remember the journey to this point, and to cast our vision forward to the enchanted future filled with opportunities and new worlds to discover. Jamie and I strive to make this a part of our daily rhythm, and during this time away, we have made it a central part of our daily adventures. Sitting on rocks by the ocean, we invite the crashing waves to awaken our spirits to the deep memories and then take time to savor even greater moments of gratitude for this life, the incredible friends we have, the unbelievable adventures we have experienced, and the awe we have for being privileged to enjoy this journey together.

 

Swan’s Island is a beautiful place, and the pace of life here is such that it affords a space for slowing down. There are about 350 inhabitants on this 80 square mile island and lots of wilderness to explore. Many of the locals make their living from the seasonal provisions of lobstering. In many ways, this island community is very similar to communities back home in West Virginia. People are hard working, friendly, and willing to help out someone in need. Everybody waves as they drive by us on the island.

There is so much in this world to savor and appreciate. For us, slowing down the pace of our routines is just disruptive enough to deepen our sense of gratitude for little gifts all around us. We have found ourselves curiously exploring wooded trails and rocky beaches and filled with wonder at the slow movements of sea crabs, snails, and barnacles along the coast as well as the darting of rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks, and the soaring of eagles and gulls among the treetops.

The really amazing part of this adventure is that there are similar treasures awaiting discovery all around us every day.  Having a moment to pause, Jamie and I have found ourselves sharing stories of childhood adventures from fishing trips at Mountwood Park (and elsewhere) on an almost daily basis each spring with my dad, my uncle Russell, and cousin Jo Ann, to journeys over the hill and into the woods behind her house for Jamie and her dad as she started her “Save The World Club” by collecting acorns for the squirrels around Lake Floyd. So many of our memories are connected to the wilderness, and every opportunity we get, we make moves toward the trees, the water, and the forests.

May we each take time to savor and create memories, and may we step out into creation as curious explorers of this world. God has provided us so much for which to be thankful, and even if we spent our whole lives trying to soak it all in, we would only be scratching the surface. May we scratch and play and uncover fresh treasures and make memories to savor, enjoy, and press us further into this grand narrative that the Creator of the universe writes through and with us.

Reflection: Visiting Fort Frederick's 22nd Annual Market Fair

Last weekend, Jamie and I had the privilege of traveling from Morgantown to Fort Frederick (near Big Pool, MD) with our friends Dan and Lori. The entire day was filled with memories to savor, and new ones to be made. There's something heart-warming about taking a road trip with friends in the first place, but this was the first extended period of time we had together for a long time. Dan and I grew up together, and so the drive was a mix of laughter over old memories and adventures, and in depth discussions about what is happening in our lives right now. An automobile, with no screens and no music is a great place for these types of discussions, but walking together in a park is even better, and that is EXACTLY what we did upon arrival at Fort Frederick.

Fort Frederick State Park has hosted Market Fair for 22 years, and I have probably attended about half of those years. My old chief used to love going to the event because the focus of the weekend was the French and Indian War (Seven Years War) era frontier. The event is a large rendez-vous and historic reenactment weekend with individuals donning the attire of British troops, militia, settlers, and some First Nations peoples wearing traditional regalia. Back in the 90s, going with my chief was like going with a celebrity. Everybody seemed to know him, and enjoyed having him stop by their weekend lodging. Hundreds of canvas tents scattered around the stone fort and these become the homes of participants for four or five days during the event.

Many of these participants are also artisans who specialize in various primitive skills. Every year when I go, I love seeing a variety of incredibly talented gunsmiths, knife smiths, blacksmiths, tailors, tanners, tobacconists, potters, silversmiths, and more. Some of the participants have spent weeks and months making absolutely beautiful quill work designs (they even dye the porcupine quills using traditional dyes). Still others make large belts of wampum, weaving the beads by hand.

In the early years of Market Fair, I remember my chief was brought in as a consultant for a group of Native American re-enactors who were interested in constructing a traditional eastern woodlands village. The photo above was taken at the edge of the woods where this village once stood--I participated in a wedding out on that. A number of native people from the region, including a strong contingent from our Native student group at WVU, would make the annual trek for Market Fair to trade, to find traditional wares, and to connect with other folks from various tribes as well as with other people who simply had a deep appreciation for history and simple living. For many years, this event served as an unofficial and unplanned reunion for many of us. We spent many evenings around the campfire swapping stories and drumming and singing very, very old songs and sometimes writing new ones.

This year was probably the busiest Market Fair I can remember. There were multiple overflow parking areas when we arrived at 1130AM. There's something to be said for perseverance, tradition, and time. This event has grown huge over the years. And, like every other time I have traveled to it, there was an unofficial and unplanned reunion. This year, it was with one of my former roommate's parents, Mark and Debbie Culp. Of course we had to take a group photo and send it off to their son Nic. We were able to enjoy a meal together, and I was able to introduce them to Dan and Lori as well as give them an update on the latest happenings with Nuru. Nic's parents have a love for wilderness, for traditional skills, and for history, but it was their first time visiting Market Fair--they LOVED it!

I highly recommend stopping by Market Fair if you find yourself near western Maryland in late April. The event itself has a longstanding tradition, and you never know who you might run into there. There's something really beautiful about meeting and connecting with individuals who are keeping old ways alive, and who are incredibly dedicated to their craft. There's also refreshment to be found by taking a step away from screens and devices for a few hours to breathe in the fresh air, and to engaging in the quickly fading art of conversation. May you find time and space in this hurried world to slow down and enjoy people and the beauty of the outdoors.

Reflection: Walking Through Muir Woods

Recently my travels took me to the San Francisco Bay Area and Silicon Valley to welcome aboard Nuru International's newest team member, an amazing individual named Danny Perez. I had the distinct privilege of traveling to the West Coast to begin Danny's first week together with him, and start his on boarding and orientation process as he joins us in the fight to end extreme poverty!

But before his on boarding began, I had an opportunity to visit Muir Woods National Monument. These woods are among the last uncut stands of coastal redwoods, and honestly being able to walk in this space was awe-inspiring. These woods were purchased by William and Elizabeth Kent in an effort to preserve them in 1905, and they are donated to the government. President Theodore Roosevelt used the 1906 Antiquities Act to proclaim the area as a national monument. John Muir, when he heard that the couple wanted to name this monument after him said, "This is the best tree-lovers monument that could possibly found in all of the forests of the world." And all of this happened more than 100 years ago.
As I walked through this forest of ancient redwoods, I was overwhelmed by a series of emotions, the foremost being gratitude. Gratitude for these trees being preserved--trees that were older than the United States--trees that had seen empires rise and fall, and that had stood resolute for hundreds of years. There's a lot we can learn from an ancient grove of trees, waving in the wind but rooted deeply in the earth.
My gratitude spilled over into a more broadly experienced gratitude for the opportunity to experience ancient and sacred places like this one. There's something powerful about a walk in the woods. As John Muir once stated, "In every walk with nature, one receives more than he seeks." In my short time on this earth (particularly short when compared with trees that are more than a millenium in age), I have been able to witness some amazingly beautiful spaces. Many of which have been near home in West Virginia, but some in travels across continents. Beauty is all around us, but we rarely take time to soak it in. Dostoyevsky once wrote, "Beauty will save the world." In one sense, it already has in the beautiful life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, but every time we are able to pause and soak in the grandeur of this beautiful world, our souls are the better for it.
Before I arrived in these woods, I was driving through rain and thick fog, and I was wondering if I would be able to see much at all, or if the rain and fog would negate majestic views. When I finally arrived, I realized that the rain and fog had probably discouraged others from traveling to these woods that particular day, and that they had granted me an opportunity to walk in this sacred space in solitude and silence. In fact, the park had set up signs along some of the paths encouraging visitors to walk quietly along and soak in the sounds of the wilderness.
My gratitude overflowed as I listened to the sounds of Redwood Creek churning along as it worked to make its way to the Pacific Ocean. It was actually kind of hard for me to grasp that these giant trees and stream were so close to the ocean. I made my way along these groves of trees thinking about the native coho salmon and steelhead trout swimming in this stream, and the many other wonderful memories I've had walking along similar streams back home in Appalachia.
I experienced gratitude as I walked for the rich tradition my parents and other ancestors had instilled in me and other Shawnee people to spend time walking in the creation and listening. Among the immediate rewards experienced on this particular day was the witnessing of a couple of deer crossing along the valley in which I was walking. In the silence and solitude, we can experience emptiness and boredom, or, more likely we can be filled beyond our imagination and comprehension with goodness, peace, and refreshment.
My walk took me meandering along a path beside these trees who had stood at the edge of this creek for centuries. Eventually, I was afforded an opportunity via footbridge to cross the stream and make my way uphill to another path that gave me a different view for the journey back to my vehicle.
When I made it back to the beginning of the path, I felt like it might be worthwhile to stop in the visitor center and gift shop to have a look around. When I was a kid, I always wanted to have a shirt or a hat or some remembrance to mark the experience that I had "been there," but as I have grown older, I have found that the best remembrances are the memory making moments themselves. But, I must admit I was tempted in the gift shop to spend $10 and buy a giant sequoia seedling. I recalled a poem by Wendell Berry about planting sequoias and investing in the millennium. The poem ends with the statement, "Practice resurrection," a fitting imperative at all times, but particularly in this Easter season. I didn't purchase the sapling, BUT, Jamie and I have been thinking pretty seriously about purchasing and planting one in our yard here in Morgantown, especially in light of Wendell Berry's encouragement. They grow about a foot each year once they have established themselves.
When I finally arrived back at my rental car, I felt energized, alive, and ready for a full week ahead. I was soaked from the misty rain, but even more fully saturated with gratitude. A walk in the woods, whether in a national park, or a local grove of trees or protected lands is good for heart and soul. May we each find frequent time to experience the refreshment that only comes from being outside and in this beautiful and majestic created world that beckons us to soak in its rejuvenating and healing power.

Ash Wednesday 2016 And Lenten Commitments

Each year, on Ash Wednesday millions of Christians around the world begin a pilgrimage of sorts. Ash Wednesday begins a period of intentional reflection and deeper identification with Jesus as individuals add disciplines or fast from certain foods or activities during the weeks leading up to Resurrection Sunday. For me personally, I have found Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season to be an incredible period for assessing where I am in my faith journey and for resetting or recalibrating my focus. It is so easy over the course of a year to become distracted or start a gradual or subtle slide into lethargy, complacency, or worse, and to lose sight of one's purpose or focus because of those urgent but often unimportant activities that can quickly swarm to drown out the voice of Jesus.

Today, I started Ash Wednesday in the way I have for many years, after a tradition instilled in me by my former chief. Although today was somewhat different because I did not actually make it to a gathering to receive ashes, I did carve out time in my early morning this morning, and my late evening last night to consider what I would be doing to grow in my faith and "journey with Jesus in the wilderness" during this season. Would I add to my devotional habits or practice self-denial in order to more fully connect and identify with Jesus during the weeks leading up to Easter?

Here is where I have landed. For the last eight years, I have walked through this book, Developing Intimacy With God by Alex Aronis. This book was suggested to me by a good friend of mine, JR Woodward, during the summer of 2008 as I was considering a potential shift in vocation. The book is an excellent framework for walking through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. After reading Aronis' book for the first time in 2008, I have gone through it at least once a year--usually during Lent. And, I plan on doing the same this year--that's my Lenten commitment.

Why do the same thing? I have found this book to be an incredible gift, far beyond what I would have considered when JR suggested it a few years ago. It has been a gift because it has helped me to cultivate greater simplicity and generosity in my life, and it has helped me to grow in my relationship with God. Each time I come to the book, it encourages me toward an abiding in Christ, and rather than concerning myself with what I can do for Christ, the exercises encourage me to simply spend time with Christ. In a world that is growing increasingly distracted and "busy," taking this time to reset and refocus has been transformative, and in my opinion, could be one of the best things we do for spiritual health.

What about you? Do you have any Lenten traditions you have or commitments you are making this year as you take time to identify with Jesus during his wilderness fast and journey to the cross?

May each of us who participate in this ancient tradition grow in the depth of our love for God and neighbor, and may this growth spill over into action for the good of the world.