Tag: Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Loss & Beauty

Loss & Beauty

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There have been so many images and reports of horrendous destruction. Absolute unbelievable loss of property and life…and more lives will be reported lost as recovery efforts continue. Helene showed us how dangerous hurricanes can be, hundreds of miles from landfall.

It’s been challenging to wrap my brain around this happening within miles from my home. Power never went out for me, I just lost cell phone service for several days. Places near me had flooding: Bryson City, Dillsboro, and Cherokee, but none of it was serious…not compared to Waynesville, just a bit further east. Or Asheville. Spruce Pine. Crusco. Canton. Marshall. Black Mountain. Swannanoa. And so many more places. Being in the eye of the storm had definite advantages this time and the east side…the ‘bad’ side…was certainly the wrong side of the storm to be on.

I used to live in one of the hardest hit areas. Many of my friends still live there. They are suffering. Friends in Asheville…suffering. Business owners, people with missing or dead members of their family/friend group…suffering. It’s challenging to know how to deal with something of this magnitude affecting so many. 

So, I’ve done the only thing I know to do to find balance: I’ve gone deeper into Nature. Last weekend, it was a hike up Kuwohi. And Thursday night, it was a drive up Kuwohi to see the aurora. 

I stood outside, under a canopy of stars, and tried to stay warm in the near-freezing temperatures. The hazy red glow of the aurora and the occasional white streaks of light, kept me transfixed, completely focused on the sky. 

I spent about an hour at the large parking lot and then moved my car down the mountain, little-by-little, where I would stop for half an hour or more. I’d open the moon roof and my window and prop my phone on the mirror, the side of the car, or on top of the roof and take 10 second exposures. My entire focus was on being still and receiving beauty.

One parking place had a small trickle of water dripping down the side of the mountain. I sat inside my car and felt the mountain’s presence with me. It was as if an elder was sitting with me observing the beauty, helping me stay present.

I didn’t want to drive home, but after four hours of cold, I needed to get warm. And it was midnight. But one last treat awaited me on the way home.

Bull elk had blocked the road with their sparring. They were bugling and claiming their cows as the aurora lit up the sky. Seemed sort of a perfect way to end the evening.

Beauty has helped bring me into balance. Hiking last weekend, up the By-Pass Trail to the summit, was powerful. The summit was totally covered by the clouds, but the clouds were exactly what I needed: to feel contained.

Thursday night, the sky was crystal clear so the aurora and stars…the Milky Way…helped me expand again and begin to open to beauty…to life.

Sometimes it’s difficult to embrace beauty. When we’ve seen the ugly side of life, beauty can feel overwhelming. But at some point, we need the healing effects of beauty. Because that, too, is a part of life.

Suffering. Beauty. Loss. Beauty. Destruction. Beauty. 
Feeling It

Feeling It

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I’m sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. Clouds hug the mountains. The air is still. Sweet bird song, along with the occasional caw caw caw from the crow friend, is the soundtrack to the early Smoky Mountain morning. (The photo is from yesterday’s Smoky Mountain adventure).

When I awoke, I looked at the time…I’d been on the trail 45 minutes yesterday the same time. Heading up to Mt LeConte in the muggy warmth, already having walked through the pre-dawn shadows of the night before and welcoming the light. 

Reflecting on the experience, rocking amid clouds, appreciating the extra sleep, I consider this well-loved trail. It’s a demanding trail due to elevation gain and technical challenges, but it’s a most beautiful trail with a clear mountain creek escorting hikers for the first mile or so before it enters a rock arch. It then begins to climb toward the beauty of Alum Cave, the destination of most hikers. After the ‘cave,’ the elevation gain begins to get serious, and it only stops just before arriving at LeConte Lodge…but begins again as the summit and Cliff Tops is visited. It’s a 12+ mile hike up and down Alum Cave trail if you visit the summit and Cliff Tops. And it is hard. 

So, I sit rocking, appreciating the singing birds and the clouds drifting through the trees. Reflecting. Remembering. Feeling it. Not in the physical body so much. Sure my feet are a little tired but they are after any longer hike. Not that kind of feeling it. But…feeling it.

I took my GoPro camera and videoed parts of the hike with the intention of putting a little video together for those curious about the trail or those who will never be able to hike it but want a glimpse of it. As I processed the video, I smiled as I heard myself, in the video, comment about the views or laugh at a steep drop-off beside the trail. I realized how open my heart was with the mountains, clouds, trees…the pack llamas, the deer mouse. My true self shines as I open to the beauty. Not just with this trail, but with Nature all the time. I just inadvertently documented it yesterday with the videos. 

For many, many years I’ve been hearing to deepen with Nature, and I’ve done that with diving, off-road cycling, fly fishing, hiking, photographing Nature…many outdoor experiences over several decades. The deepening continues as I recognize the opening of my heart to feel, to connect with a tiny deer mouse in the trail, or a pack llama, or a tree, a passing cloud, or my dogs as they push against me, the hound resting his big head on my keyboard and gazing into my eyes with longing, with love. 

When I spent a year documenting the BP Oil Spill, something closed within me. It was nearly unbearable to witness the carelessness of humans, disguised as crude oil, spread across beaches, floating in water, dispersed to hide it, which made it even more deadly…yes, my heart was challenged to feel much of anything then. Those scars are still there, but immersing myself in beauty creates openings that allow my heart to soar again, to embrace Nature with such deep love. 

I feel the Oneness with Nature. Always have. That’s why witnessing the darkness of human behaviors with the crude oil disaster was overwhelming and I had to shut down a bit to survive mentally, emotionally, spiritually. But now….14 years later…I understand more about what it means to connect deeply with Nature and because we are part of Nature, how we are harmed when Nature is harmed. When Nature flourishes, we flourish.

More crows call now. A hummingbird just flitted by. Clouds still tickle treetops. My thoughts briefly turn to breakfast…blueberries from my garden…as I sit in communion with the forest around me, grateful to be feeling it. 

Here’s the video:
In Clouds

In Clouds

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High elevation hiking to beat the heat gave the perfect Smoky Mountain experience early this morning. Thick clouds blanketed the mountains. White mist blew across the road as I drove to the trailhead. 

It felt strange to start a hike going downhill, but to get to Andrews Bald, that’s how it goes. It stands at 5860 feet and the trail head is at 6350 feet.  The cloud base was far below that elevation. And it was magnificent.

Wet rocks, lush ferns, water hugging my face as the clouds blew across the trail…perfect. Bird song so sweet my smile never faded. The forest feels close, so close, at these higher altitudes. Trails are carved from rocks and meander between fraser fir and red spruce trees. The smell of the firs intoxicates me every time I’m with them. It’s as if that fragrance calms me, steadies me.

When the trail isn’t cluttered with hyper, human energy and chatter, I’m able to connect deeper with my friends–rocks, ferns, trees, birds, flowers–and hear their voice so much clearer. The same can be said when I am able to stop my internal chatter. 

Clouds act as my guide to inner stillness, inner quiet. They open me to experience the forest from their perspective: moist blankets that wrap everything in their beauty.

The flame azaleas were a sharp contrast to the grays and whites of the clouds.

After enjoying the colorful, fiery beauty of the azaleas, I hiked the Bypass Trail up to the top of Clingman’s Dome and enjoyed being above the forest in the clouds.

I feel at peace, joyful, and grateful to connect deeply with the spirits of the forest. Go outside…find your inner quiet and listen to the wonders of Nature.
Up

Up

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Last Saturday I hiked a trail I’ve avoided because it’s always so crowded. I’m rather averse to crowds in Nature. My quest is solitude in Nature.

But starting before sunrise assured a parking space. Which meant getting up at 3.45 am. And leaving my home at 4.45am. I thought I had lost what’s left of my sanity….all to go hike a crowded trail.

It ended up being my favorite trail, favorite hike, favorite views…even with lots of people sharing the trail that day. And the national park has improved it so much by eliminating most all of the haphazard and dangerous illegal parking. That not only creates a safer environment for drivers and hikers along the road, it creates fewer people on the trail.

It was so good….so beautiful…so intense that I’m thinking of doing it again this Saturday. I got my 100 year anniversary shirt so no need to stand in line at the lodge store. Just hike and breathe and celebrate the wonder and beauty of this spectacular trail. And do it again….and again…and again.

Up in elevation 2612 feet. Down 2503. 10.82 miles. 23,652 steps.

I think I’m going up again….really soon.
Taking It In

Taking It In

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The beauty was absolute. I found myself struggling to take it in: gray boulders; clear, cold, rushing water; soft, green moss; trees standing naked in their late-winter/early spring anticipation; intense, crystal-clear, blue sky. 

I breathed and opened my heart. It was it challenging to create a space large enough, within myself, to receive such profound and amazing beauty.

I sat and allowed my mind to still. As I scanned my body, I discovered something akin to pain as I attempted to take in such bountiful beauty. In stretching on the inside, and releasing whatever blocks kept me from receiving, I moved deeper into communion, into Oneness.

So many times we expect our growth must arise from dark, difficult times. But what if inner growth can happen just as powerfully from experiencing good things, beautiful things. 

For many years I’ve asked Spirit, What can I do to make a difference?, I received the same two words: GO OUTSIDE. I challenged the answer, doubting the significance of how that could make a difference, yet it hasn’t wavered. I follow that direction more often as I have discovered that Nature draws me into deep communion with all life and helps me be grounded and present. If distractions keep me from the friendship with Nature, I get out of balance quickly.

Today, as I melted into Oneness, I felt intense grief arise for every moment I’m not in deep communion with Nature. I was in my natural state of being…in wonder and awareness of Oneness. I wasn’t separate from the water, rocks, trees, sky…until my mind took me out of that harmony and I felt that deep longing for home.

It reminded me of a story a teacher once told. He said he walked along the sea and saw millions of fish swimming, crying out in desperate need,  Water, water, water, water!!! Sometimes we mourn separateness while the only thing separating us are our thoughts. It’s here, in front of us, within us, all the time. Can we recognize it? Can we feel it? Can we take it in?

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To dive deeper into Nature and the path it offers to wholeness, I invite you to pre-order my new book, Book of Nature. I opened myself for Nature to speak through my photographs and words as It guides us into deeper relationship with Spirit, ourselves, and all life. If you pre-order you’ll get free shipping and a matted 5 x 7 photograph from the book. Send money to a friend ($18 each) to my PayPal email: simonelipscomb@me.com.

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