Contemplative Hiking

I wondered what the take-away message was from this hike and I decided there wasn’t really a message. I had stepped into the living (and dining) room of Burning Bear Creek, intruded on a lunch buffet, eavesdropped on afternoon gossip, and tromped through what may have been a period of bereavement or rest for a tribe of cows. It was regular life and death drama, going on as it does every day, every month, every year, whether humans see it (and hear it) or not.

Almost every person I met who has attended a hike said that they loved the required silence. Some have said that it’s like hiking alone, but they feel safer with a group. Some said they don’t like the chatter of other groups, because it detracts from their appreciation and awareness of the surroundings. Some have said the group is perfect for introverts who don’t want to talk too much or feel strange about being quiet. We spend so much of our day in chatter: e-mail, Facebook, text messages, television, radio, headlines and advertising. It’s rare to experience relative silence, just the sounds of birds and animals and weather, especially with other people. That silence radiates out like a balm, soothing our minds and opening up our inner and outer awareness.

Our discussion of predatory animals persisted at least 20 minutes into our hike, which indicated to me that we were still a bit on edge and nervous about hiking around in the dark, despite being rather loud and in a group. There’s just something about how the trees and boulders became these black, one-dimensional shapes heightens my level of awareness and anxiety.

One of the “rules” that I have for contemplative hiking is that it should be done in silence. You don’t have to hike alone, although sometimes it’s good to get outside in nature with yourself, by yourself, and really unwind from the expectations of friends or loved ones. You can relax, go for a long [...]

If stars evolved into humans in order to be self-aware, what is our purpose as human beings in the Universe?

It was the culmination of months of anticipation for both of them. Forks, Washington! The setting for “Twilight”. My daughter proudly posed as my sister snapped a photo. Then they switched. Just then, a pickup truck drove by and a couple of teenaged girls stuck their head out the window and screamed, “Twilight whores!”

The beauty of this place is in its unbroken, green landscape and sense of expansiveness. The sky here is as wide as the ground, and invites you to imagine a time when there were no houses, no power lines, no cows and no cars—only grass, bison and small clusters of tee-pees where Plains Indians went about their lives.

By slowing down even more, you can heighten your experience in ways that will stick in your memory for a long time. When you’re seeing something passively, you’re missing out on a lot.

During their time in the wilderness, there was symbolic meaning from things they observed from the weather, animals and the landscape that they interpreted in relationship to their own life. The “messages” they received told them of their purpose in life, revealed their special gifts and talents, and instructed them how to use those gifts to benefit their tribe when they returned.

The problem is not that there are too many people using the trails. The industrial growth paradigm that creates this need in people is the problem. It stems from how we treat or value natural areas that already exist near the city.