Winter walk and searching for peace

                                                               Lovely winter walk

I am sitting inside watching sleet fall, dreaming of warmer days and time outdoors. Last weekend I hiked in a new place near Chattanooga TN, and I remembered how much I enjoy walking in the winter. The trail I walked on was deep in a Wildlife Management Area on the top of a tall ridge. I drove up curving switchbacks, climbing up and up, then turned down roads, each smaller than the next, until I turned down a dirt road. I followed the dirt road for some time, and finally found a parking area with a few cars and picnic tables; this was the trail head. I bundled up in my winter coat, with a heavy sweater underneath, slipped on my daypack and looked for a map. Finally I walked out into the woods, my spirits soaring. Almost all of my walks lately have been around neighborhoods or city parks. It felt good to walk on a dirt path, watching for tree roots and exposed rocks. The trail was steep and curvy, and sheltered in woods. The trees had no leaves, so I could see out, blue sky and a distant river. I came to a large rock with a crack down the middle, the trail slipped between the rock sides. I walked down with both hands out holding onto the rock.  The trail meandered to the side of the mountain ridge, and in front of me, between the trees, I could see a wide curve of the Tennessee river, with a few houses and buildings on the shore. It was cold, but in a nice fresh way, and walking warmed me up. The hike was a short but wonderful stop on the way to another location, and walking made me feel better for the rest of the drive. I never thought about putting a hike in the middle of a drive before. It did slow the trip down. What normally takes 4 hours took all day, but part of that all day was walking in woods so I call that a win. 

The monks are still walking for peace, and our country finds that peace still eludes us. Violence against protesters, violence against immigrants, and the monks walk on. Everywhere the monks walk people line the streets, follow along, hand out flowers and gifts, and simply wave with hope. We as a people want peace, we want love and unity. Why as a country can we not achieve this goal. Maybe too many people are dreaming of power, dreaming of control. Peace doesn’t come from power or control. Peace comes from within. It comes from a choice, and search and a journey within our soul. I wish I knew more, understood more, and could find and share that peace with others. If my life can reflect a bit of peace, and reflect it off me, like the monks but in my very small way, and if each one of us can do the same, then I think peace will show itself. Walking is a one step at a time journey, and finding and sharing peace is the same. It isn’t easy. While I am inside watching the sleet and rain, the monks are walking, continuing the journey. As my daughter tells her little boy, sometimes things are hard, and that is ok. It can be good to do hard things.  Keep walking, keep searching for peace.

I have walked 18.58 miles these weeks, and now am on mile 522 of the AT.  This puts me at  Troutdale, Virginia. I searched online and found a hikers hostel and pictures of rolling hills and trees.  I think this section of the AT is not as steep and difficult as the NC and the TN sections. 

Braiding Sweetgrass, walking and nature

 

Skywoman and Eve, who do we believe, who shapes our view and manner of interacting with the world?  I didn’t grow up learning about either woman, except as distant folktales, stories on the periphery of my life. For a time I chose Eve, and now I am reverting to Skywoman. I have my reasons. Love of this planet, my home, love of nature and wilderness, and my fellow travelers on this earth, this love has reframed how I live and believe.  Once on a walk I asked myself, “What do I believe in?” I was going through a crises of faith, a time of doubt. Years before, as a young adult, I had chosen Eve, and all the baggage that comes with her. I didn’t understand the baggage, didn’t want it, but all the same it is attached and it becomes a part of her followers. I had read a book entitled “What do I believe?” and in this book many people, famous and not, had written essays answering this question. I walked and thought, on a sunny warm day, and said to myself, “Well, I believe in the sun. I believe in the shade, and the trees that make the shade.” A part of me felt I was choosing the easy path, after all I could feel the sun and the shade as I walked. Another part said, “No, you are focusing on what you know. You believe in that which you see and enjoy. Start at the basics, then work your way up.” 

I walked on, saw some trash and picked it up. “I believe it is my duty to care for this land. I love these trees, these plants, this pathway, so I should help to care for it.” Now I had two things. This was the start.

I am rereading Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer. She is the writer that introduced me to Skywoman. I’ve always enjoyed Native American writers but I never paid attention to their creation myths. I had enough trouble with the one in the faith I chose, so why should I look at others. But, she describes the creation of Turtle Island so beautifully, and she describes the outcome flowing from our basic beliefs or our basic stories. She paints the followers of Eve as wanting to have dominion over the earth, as they were instructed to do. She paints the followers of Skywoman as working with the earth, sharing and honoring the resources, as they were instructed to do. Eve began her walk on this earth being punished for having curiosity, for wanting to learn, and Skywoman began her journey by sacrifice and love, sharing her bounty with the inhabitants of the world. In the Native American story, sky woman falls to the earth and is rescued by some geese who hold her in their wings. The earth is only covered in water, and if she sank she would die. Various animals try to bring some earth or mud up from the water to save her, and the one that is able, dies in the attempt. The mud he brought up is placed on the back of a turtle, and grows into all the land on earth from that spot, which is why the name Turtle Island is used for the land. Skywoman carried plants and seeds, and she shares these with the animals, covering the new land with greenery. She created the ecosystem that we live in, and need to live. 

According to the book our Western tradition, the thoughts from the Eve story, sees the world as a “recognized hierarchy of beings, with, of course, the human being on top - the pinnacle of evolution, the darling of creation- and plants at the bottom. But in Native ways of knowing, human people are often referred to as “the younger brothers of creation.”  And what a difference that tiny viewpoint makes.  Another thought is whether we belong, and how do we become a belonging part of the world. How do we become indigenous. I was born in the country where I live, so were my parents and my grandparents. Some of my ancestors came from Scotland, others from Germany and some were here before those people arrived. But, we are all immigrants in a way, we all are the “younger brothers” of the land on which we live. How do we become native? Another quote - “For all of us, becoming Indigenous to a place means living as if your children’s future mattered, to take care of the land as if our lives, both material and spiritual, depended on it.”  

On the walk where I thought about what I believed, I started comparing some of the teachings of Jesus to the values I wanted to cherish. Care for my world, he said. He separated his followers by how they treated the least of these, feeding the poor, helping the sick and visiting the imprisoned. Care for my world might also include the land, the plants and animals, the ability to feed ourselves within this land, not just us, but our children, their children and on and on. The poor, the sick, the suffering, they all have to live on this land as well. And, those animals that we live off of, do they not deserve care and protection too? That walk, that first day of rediscovering what I believed, I returned to my original value of love, love of the natural world and all that lives within it. I love trees, I love the sun, I love the shade, I love the squirrels, birds, insects, monkeys, dogs and cats, babies, toddlers, people. I love it all. I want to share that love with everyone in a way I never felt when I had restricted that love to a book of rules and a people of rule following. Now I had room for everyone in the way I naturally felt. I want to share that love with others. I want us to love this planet and the people on it. I want us to protect our turtle Island, our own Eden, our neighbors and fellow travelers. 

I’m still walking, still reading, still growing. 

I have walked a total of 503 miles, putting me in Virginia, barely. I have a map of the AT on my wall, and am pointing to how far I have walked from last year, and how far I have to go. It may take a while. At any rate, I am having fun, getting exercise and having an excuse to write here. 

Walking for Peace - walking for love!

                                          New walking partner!

I have barely walked since the last blog, but I have been busy babysitting. My best walk was on a greenway trail with the baby. I pushed the stroller, and the baby slept, then we came to a bumpy bridge. The jolts of the wheels woke the baby, and he looked up at me surprised. The shaking stroller wiggled the little fat jowls on his face, and the surprised expression made me laugh, laughing so hard I had to top walking for a moment. It was a beautiful day, the sky deep blue and the green of the trees contrasting brilliantly.  I am looking forward to walking on that trail again.  

Now we are in NC, walking around the neighborhood area, finding time between rain and family duties.  We walk on paved roads in a deeply rural area, and unfortunately we pass a lot of litter. Yesterday’s walk included taking three different soft drink bottles out of the dogs mouth. On the news I have been following a group of Buddhist monks walking for peace, walking from Texas to Washington DC. They were in Alabama last week, and they crossed the bridge in Selma where  years ago violence met the desire for equality. The monks walk, praying for peace, hoping to pursue peace and promote peace. I can’t think of a better reason to walk, especially this year. While our president is bombing small boats and killing men that may or may not be drug dealers, and while he is challenging the leader and country of Venezuela, possibly hoping for a war, these men are quietly walking, quietly praying. Is peace possible? These men think so. They have been inviting people along the path to join them as they walk. People have lined the roads cheering them on, handing them snacks and water. I know peace is wanted. Peace is a noble goal. Who is it that doesn’t want peace?  Our leaders, our neighbors who voted for and still cheer for these leaders may say they want peace, but one can’t pursue peace through violence. As we lock people up for being “dangerous illegals” and for “living while being brown” these men are walking. I wonder what would happen if millions and millions of us joined them, and we all walked into Washington DC together, walking for peace?

One of the monks is 71 years old. One has lost a limb. They are walking along busy roads, and walking on hard cement and concrete is difficult on their feet.  In one article the writer spoke with the monks and wrote the following: “Yesterday, the Vulnerable Monk said this is a walk brutal on the body, the mind has to take lead and they must practice mindfulness with each step.”  This is what long distance walking teaches, and maybe this is why we think of the wise people as walkers. The wise walk and think, having time to ruminate on the issues. I hoped that my year long walking would help me to think. I am not sure if I have achieved any goals of wisdom, but I am calmer, and maybe that is something. 

Last night the news was loud, with the commenters praising our president. Footage of the bombing of those possible innocent boats was playing over and over. New warships will be created, named after this man. The news channel fosters anger, fosters a sense of urgency and fear, of us against them. I will not mention the channel, but we all know which one it is. I can sit and stew in anger, I can argue fruitlessly with people I love, or I can chose to mentally walk, with mindfulness in every imagined step. I moved to the back of the house, and searched for some music. I came across a song, A Dios le Pido,  This song is about asking god for peace, for no war against innocent children, at least in this version. Three singers in three languages, Spanish, Hebrew and Arabic, begging god for peace. I listened to it several times, until it washed the anger and fear from my body and mind. Music is also  mindfulness steps, also the way to channel and control the mind and focus on what is important. One line from the song says, about war, “it’s a huge monster and steps heavily on the poor innocence of people.” 

Let’s walk for peace. Let’s protect the poor innocence of people.

I have walked only 9.2 miles since the last blog, making a total of 492 miles total. I still have the majority of the AT ahead of me. I plan to continue until I am done. Then perhaps, maybe, I will be able to fulfill my dream of actually walking the trail, actually climbing those mountains. Maybe that is not my destiny, and instead I will mindfully spend more time outside, closer to home. Either way I am enjoying working on this blog and walking locally.

 A new and wonderful thing has happened! My daughter had a baby boy, and I am now a grandmother times two. My first grandson is 3 and the new baby is almost 3 months old. I am staying with my daughter’s family and caring for the baby while everyone else goes to school. I love every minute of being a grandmother, playing with the 3 year old in the evenings, and caring for the baby during the day. My walking, though, has really slowed down. Now I am lucky to get in a half of a mile each day. This will improve as baby and I find our schedule. For now I push him in a stroller when the weather is good, but he often gets hungry or fussy before a lot of distance is covered. That is OK, we are slowly developing the love of walking and outdoors, one small stroll at a time.  When my first grandchild was born I did the same thing, I had the great honor of staying home with him for his first year. I walked with him often, pushing the stroller up and down the Tennessee hills, and I plan to do the same this year. My parents instilled the love of nature, and the joy of walking in me, and I think my kids got some of that as well. Now the next generation is here, ready to explore the woods, mountains, trees and fields. A new generation to discover the beauty of birds calling as they fly, to discover the feel of chilly wind on their faces as they climb a mountain trail, to love the sound of streams dancing over rocks and falling down as waterfalls. A new generation to care for the wilderness, to try to protect it and to share that love with their friends and neighbors. Perhaps someday these two boys will also take tiny hands in theirs and walk outside under the blue sky. My grandpa took my dad out walking on the family farm, my parents took me out walking on the wild trails of the Tetons and through Yellowstone, as well as on the family farm. I took my three kids out walking, in the North Georgia mountains, in the Tetons and Yellowstone, along our neighborhoods, and on the family farm.  The love of nature, of all that is wild, is a gift to be passed on one little child at a time.  This blog today will be short because the baby is waking up, the sun is shining and the stroller is waiting. I have walked 25.37 miles since I last wrote, and am now (on the AT) at The Lost Mountain Shelter in Virginia, the next state along the trail. I plan to keep recording the miles and writing these blogs until I have finished the AT, but I have a long way to go. The only way to get there is to start, and to keep sauntering on. See you on the trails!!

Dreams, books, birds: All bring joy!

 

I’m reading a book about birding, the over the top birders that try to see the most birds possible, perhaps someday even all the birds.  A large number of birders, mostly men, engage in a competition at least with themselves, over how many birds they can identify and list. Some go for the life list, and others go for a big year, how many birds can one see and identify in one year. I love reading these kinds of books, but I have no desire to accumulate and tally lists. I love to watch birds, and I enjoy identifying a few of the interesting ones, but mostly I like being outside with nature, birds, and insects and other wildlife. I have no desire to count the number of states I have visited, (44), or the number of countries,( 8), or National Parks, (no idea). I remember hiking with my mom in the Tetons, and saying it would be a fun way to frame travel, to see how many parks or states I could hike in, or bike in. I felt like it would give me a framework for the adventure. She thought about it a moment, then said, “I would be afraid the joy of travel and experience would be lost in the counting.”  She is right, at least for me. Even so, I love these types of bird counting books, and have read many, (8).

Right now the book I am reading is called To See Every Bird on Earth, by Dan Koeppel. Dan has written a biography of his dad, and his own childhood, and framed it around the birding craze that his dad was part of. In his dad’s story birding was a dream deferred. He started as a young teenager, and counted and listed birds most of his life, but for a time he quit in order to get the medical degree and career his parents wanted him to have. Chasing birds was not a career, and biologist or ornithologist wasn’t a high enough aspiration for them. He gave up for a while his dream, and focused on the things we all have to focus on, work, family and obligations. At one time the author wrote the following quote:

“Sometimes we have to find a way to change our lives, to re-embrace that which seems to be vanishing. Other times, we simply abandon our dreams.”   The book is a testament that one might abandon his dream for a time, but then later one might re-embrace the dream.  I am sure most people have dreams they have given up on, even if they followed other dreams. When we make decisions in our lives, sometimes we have to decide between things, have to abandon one thing to access the other thing. We chose family over graduate school, or the other way around. We chose one career and not the other. But sometimes we can find our dreams, either completely or in a like manner. We are never too old to learn a new thing, never too old to try something new. A couple of weeks ago an 81 year old woman finished the AT. I play tennis with an 82 year old. My last blog was about how we don’t know the end of the story. This is true with dreams as well. Until we have completely reached the “end of the story” we will always have the possibility of achieving some dream, or a part of one at least.

 I have started drawing. All my life I doodled, and scribbled, and enjoyed sketching but I never actually studied how to do this. I just messed around. Now I have a teacher, who happens to be a family member, and I plan to see how much I can learn. My first homework assignment has been to sketch a leaf a day. What a cool assignment. Most days I thought about taking some time to sketch, sometimes I would take a pad of paper and pencil with me on hikes, but often I would either forget or decide not to take the time. Now, I have permission! I draw every day, and it brings me great joy! I love starting the day outside, looking for a leaf to draw, or going on a walk and picking up a leaf. Other times I open my ID book and draw the leaf, bud and flower of a tree, and that helps me to remember the names. 

This month I have walked in Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia. Walking is always a part of my vacation, and a stress reliever when my travel isn’t vacation. I have covered 64.3 miles, not that I am a counter, and my total for the year is 460. This puts me at the Abingdon Gap Shelter in TN, but the very next shelter is in VA, so I am steadily moving north.  I wonder if a sketch pad and pencil would be too heavy to carry on a through hike, along with all the books I want to read, and a notebook for writing. 

The End of the Story

Why I like to read, in one quote. The following quote is (more or less) from The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. 

"We don’t know the end of the story, we don’t even know the end of our own story.  This should give us comfort." When someone we love is making bad decisions, we don’t know the end of the story. When we lose a job or lose a relationship, we don’t know the end of the story. We may feel like there is no hope, but in looking back at history, or even in looking at literature, sometimes the time with little hope is only the dark spot before the end of the story, and things will improve. I got this idea from watching a series of videos by a man reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time. This is my favorite book series in the whole world, having read them I don’t even know how many times. J.R.R.  Tolkien excels at making us feel like all hope is lost, before turning the tide and bringing victory or rescue.  Also I enjoy Star Trek, all of the series and story lines. Many times one character will be lost and in danger, and have to fight to rescue themselves, and they do so with the hope the crew is also working to rescue them. I guess the message is never give up hope, never stop trying. Last night we watched an episode of the newest Star Trek, and in this story one character was lost on an asteroid, stranded in danger with an enemy as the only other survivor. . She kept working to escape, to get a message to her crew, and she kept saying, “They are searching for me, I just have to let them know where I am.”  It was true, and in the end she was rescued, because she figured out how to let the crew know where she was. Why am I writing about this? I believe this is how we get through life. We believe things will get better, we believe that even though we can’t see the end of the story we know it is there. We hope that both ourselves, and others, are fighting to make the world a better place, even if we can’t see it at the moment. Looking at history we can see times when the future looked bleak, but slowly we come out of the bleak times.

 

I’m not trying to be naive, it is true that sometimes the end of the story is a bad ending. I have read enough books to know many have sad or tragic endings. But, as long as we are moving forward, we don’t know how our ending will be, and so, when unknown, the ending can be anything, 

So far my walks this time period have been much longer and nicer. Twice we walked at Wheeler Wildlife, and enjoyed seeing birds of all types. Pelicans have arrived, and they fly in large groups before landing in the water to feed. I watched an egret until he flew out farther into the water. Another day I walked on what we call the Truck trail, where I saw lots of butterflies and moths, but not many birds. My favorite walk was at 7 Island Bird Park in TN, a beautiful place that feels rugged and isolated but isn’t far from Knoxville.  The bird feeders at the front of the park were busy, and the walk to the river was straight. I turned off the main trail and once in among the trees I found a deer. She watched me as I watched her. Finally she ran off and I continued. I meandered all over the park, and at the end I followed a trail up to the highest section of the park. I climbed up through the woods, and at the top of the hill turned to a clearing, to find a mother deer and two young ones. The mom kept an eye on me, and flicked her white tail nervously, but one of the youngsters was very curious, and he or she really wanted to know what I was. The mom and other kiddo would move away, but the curious one stayed closer, watching me. Finally mom took off through the brush, and her two youngsters followed her out of sight. I kept walking, enjoying monarchs, and goldenrod, and many other blooming fall flowers. It was a perfect evening and a wonderful hike. If I ever disappear, I am probably living there, deep in the woods with the deer.  I joke about that, but sometimes I hope the end of my story involves wilderness and peace on a mountain. 

Slow walking and beauty in nature

 

                                                   Beauty and Sadness

This month has been a slow walking month.  We have seen the passing of life, and the adding of life. My mother in law passed away, and my newest grandson arrived. In the midst of all this my walking has taken a back seat.  One day while the family was hanging out at the hospital after the birth of the baby, I took my 3 year old grandson exploring. We walked down a hallway of the labor and delivery and found a huge window overlooking a water fountain. His eyes lit up and we stood at the window for a long time watching people wander in and out of the doorway. Finally we couldn’t stand being inside anymore, and we found the elevator and worked our way outside. We walked over to a garden area, and he explored around the bushes, walking on the mulch. He found a few smooth painted rocks. He said he was farming, and began trying to dig, but the ground was too hard. Playing outside after a long day waiting for baby brother to arrive was just the right thing to do. For a couple of days after the birth, my daughter and I would sit outside with the two kids, the newborn and the 3 year old, and just hang out. We sat in the shade, with snacks, water, diapers and wipes, and we played, or nursed and relaxed. A little outside time helped with the newborn jaundice, and gave the older brother a place to run and be loud.

After being away from home, it was nice to explore my own neighborhood and to enjoy my yard again. Fall is the only time Alabama is perfectly comfortable, and so I am trying to sit outside some every day. My dog and I walked our normal pathway, but we did it in reverse. Somehow the views are very different, and feel new. 

 I am struggling to not be overwhelmed with the news. I find our time that we are living in right now very depressing. I know our country has been through hard times before, and I hope our good generous spirit will overcome the angry revengeful leadership we have now. Running some errands today I listened to a podcast, and the hosts talked about a miner strike in Colorado during the depression. The mining company evicted the miners and their families from the company provided homes, so they had to move into tents. The national guard was called, and shots were fired, killing several people including a 12 year old boy. The miners were mostly striking for safer working conditions, and for this the National Guard was brought in. I used to live in West Virginia, and that state has a history of miners striking and government retaliating as well. We have been through the Civil War, Indian removals, wars and massacres, violence due to people fighting for civil rights, violence due to children daring to attend “all white” schools, and violence against those that are gay or trans. Our history is full of times of cruelty against those that are in weaker positions. Although people talk about how all the things we are going through right now aren’t normal, that isn’t entirely true. Maybe what we should say is that the times we are going through should not be normal. In a time when science can know so much, why is it that so many people don’t understand it, and don’t trust the knowledge they gain. Why do we fear vaccines, when these very vaccines save lives every day. Hopefully these problems are still growing pains. I see post after post making me think most people have given up, and making me feel the same. Scrolling online just increases the feeling of doom, of hopelessness. We all want and need to know what is going on, and to know what we can do, but we must avoid drowning in despair. When I am discouraged, or in despair, I go to the woods. Sometimes I just go to the yard, and stand under a tree. I stand under my magnolia tree, watch the birds, and listen to the breeze. Right now I am watching a cardinal that is resting on a hickory tree, waiting for me to stop writing and refill the bird feeder. There is nothing so bad that a few minutes in whatever tiny spec of nature we can find can’t help. My grandson farming in the hospital landscaping, and me writing under a tree, my daughter resting in her yard, it is all the same. We are soaking up some beauty from the sun, from the wind and from the sounds of life around us.  Sometimes life is hard and sometimes it is beautiful, and sometimes those things are both true at the same time. 

I walked a whopping total of 10 miles these two weeks, putting me at 370 miles along the trail.  I am one mile from the Cherry Gap Shelter in TN.  Slowly I keep moving, along the trail and through my days.