Buzz Lightyear is an optimistic character in the movie Toy Story. He’s excited about the future and illustrates that by saysing, “To infinity and beyond,” several times in the movie. Recent star gazing has helped me become optimistic about the future as well.
Betelgeuse
Watching Orion rise last night and slowly, ever-so-slowly, make its way above the bare limbs of the trees, I felt myself slow down and drop into stillness. I explored other areas of the night sky as I patiently waited for the nebula to clear the branches of my tree friends. Slowing down, I felt the comforting reality of Nature’s rhythms that will be here long-term. Everything else dropped away…concerns, worries, politics. Gone, lost in the star dust from light years away.
The Whirlpool Galaxy or M 51
Perhaps our only task is to align ourselves with the seasonal rhythms, the dance of stars and planets, and learn what it means to be aligned with Life. Maybe we can lay down the fight against each other, against the planet, and remember…in our deepest core…what it means to live in Oneness with all life. It’s time to insert ourselves back into the workings of the Universe and stop trying to rule it with our human egos.
Orion Nebula
I’m excited to enter a new calendar year with optimism that we can remember how to work cooperatively with all life…and especially each other. To infinity and beyond, sisters and brothers! To infinity and beyond.
A while ago, I thought how fun it would be to hike every day I’m off over the winter break. You know…like The Twelve Days of Christmas, but hikes.
I’ve just finished Day 6 and feel like I might just complete it. Of course, there is rain in the forecast; but, luckily I have rain gear. And there is no rule that states I have to hike a long distance or a minimum elevation or so many hours. I simply want to make the effort to go outside everyday I’m not working and hike in Nature. Not a walk down my gravel driveway with the dogs, actual boots-on-trails hikes.
Elk along the Oconaluftee River Trail
I’m not sure why I set the goal. Probably to shake up my life a bit and dedicate myself to something different and fun. Perhaps there’s a deeper reason.
The first three days were a bit disappointing in that the main road through the national park was closed due to snow and ice. I had to choose trails on the North Carolina side of the park. We have them, but my vision had been higher elevations and trails I don’t usually do as often. Regardless, I managed to have nice hikes near my home to start off the twelve days.
The Lonesome Pine Overlook…but it isn’t a pine 🙂
On the Solstice, I walked the easy Oconaluftee Trail, a 3.25 mile hike along the river and shared the trail with several elk. December 22, I did an easy loop at Deep Creek with 3.5 miles. December 23rd was a tough hike on Lonesome Pine Trail—3.5 miles steep uphill climb and 3.5 steep downhill…not a favorite but the view is amazing. Christmas Eve I hiked Ramsey Cascades and found it a delightful trail that is a new favorite. It was 4 miles up but not as hard as Lonesome Pine. The entire trail scenery was lovely and the ice and snow made it a very wintry wonderland. Christmas Day I intended to hike Alum Cave to the Bluff but the parking lot was full; so, I drove back to Newfound Gap and hiked up the AT to The Jump Off. This was a crazy-icy trail and microspikes made it doable with ease. It’s a challenging hike in places and I had a total of 6.5 miles. Then today, I did an easy hike again for 3.25 miles. My legs needed an easy day. Over the past six days I’ve hiked 31.5 miles. In those miles, I have hiked an elevation gain of 6700 feet.
The most elevation gain was Lonesome Pine with 2454 feet @ 7 miles (3.5 up, 3.5 down). This trail hurts me. Second highest elevation gain was Ramsey Cascades with 2323 feet in 8 miles (4 up, 4 down). The Jump Off gave a climb of 1588 feet in 6.5 miles (3.25 in, 3.25 out).
One of the old growth trees along Ramsey Cascades Trail
I didn’t intend to write this as a trail review or mileage-log; but, thought a few details might make it more fun.
Ramsey CascadesRamsey CascadesRamsey Cascades tree guardians and meTom Branch Falls at Deep CreekHeavily iced AT from Newfound GapTrail on way to Jump OffOconaluftee RiverOconaluftee River
I haven’t set too many goals in the last several years. I’ve turned into a go-with-the-flow kind of gal; however, I think the discipline involved in goal-setting is right for me at this time. There are other plans I am contemplating and doing a short-term project like The Twelve Hikes of Christmas is a great foundation for building more of the life I want to create.
Hiking on the icy AT
One reason I’m writing and sharing about this idea is to hold myself accountable. When the rain starts, I don’t want to too easily blow off a hike. I mean…somebody might actually be paying attention.
Day seven takes me to the other side of the park, to a favorite river area. It’s supposed to rain, so there will be rain gear involved. And a smaller pack since it’s not a difficult trail. Saturday and Sunday look really wet so those days might be local areas of the park within a 3 to 5 mile distance.
Wish me luck, please! Not just for this project, but for other juicy things on the horizon.
At mile five of a seven mile hike from the start of *Kuwohi Road, I came upon a cliff face completely transformed. Over the usual craggy rocks was a massive display of icicles. Icicles….that doesn’t even begin to describe the immense columns of frozen water dripped and twisted into temporary stalactite formations. It seemed to stretch into forever.
I stood in awe at the pillars of frozen artistry and heard myself saying out loud: I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You are amazing! You are rockin’ your place in this world.
And that’s what I kept feeling as I wandered past the ice arrays…the icicles were completely being the highest expression of what an icicle can be. They allowed themselves to be molded into the perfection of what they could be. Gravity, wind, and low temperatures sculpted their development and in complete surrender to those forces, unimaginable beauty was the result.
I eventually hiked on two miles past the field of ice and then turned back towards the gate and my car. By the time I reached them again, it was mile nine of the hike with five more miles to go before rest. But I had to stop and stand in awe…again.
What would happen if we, as humans, surrendered so completely to our beauty, to our destiny? It’s easy to set a path forward and forget the things that cause our heart to stir, the dreams we had about our path and force our way to fit in some box created by society…schools, families, churches, communities….that we are expected to stay in to be ‘successful.’ What would those icicles look like if there was a transparent box catching the dripping water? They certainly would look different.
So how can we get back to our soul’s promptings and surrender to them to become the highest expression of ourselves? We can start by reflecting on what we truly love to do and start practicing that, even in small moments. Drawing, painting, writing, singing, dancing, woodworking, hiking, photography…the list is endless. We can learn to listen to the small voice within that whispers and reminds us of what lights up our lives. We can ask, What makes my heart sing?
It’s never too late. What will you do to be the best expression of this beautiful life you have been gifted?
*Formerly Clingman’s Dome Road. It was recently renamed Kuwohi, the Cherokee word for the mountain…which means, Mulberry Place.
I finished the ‘out’ part of my hike and was headed back. As I hiked up the trail, the smell of balsam fir trees captured me completely. A favorite moss-covered tree beckoned me to sit and be still. After five miles over some rugged terrain, it felt good to pause and listen.
I was off the trail maybe 30 feet, just enough that nobody noticed me as they hiked past. There were waves of voices that came and went, but mostly there was just the sounds of the forest…and the smell of balsam fir…and the softness of the vibrant, green moss.
As I sat there observing, I felt like a student of the trees. At one point I whispered to them, so this is what it’s like to sit and observe as people walk by without seeing you. There was something so peaceful about blending in with the trees and plants and not being noticed by anyone.
Humans often seem to be in a hurry to go and do. The trees reminded me to sit and ‘be’ without any agenda. Not even the agenda to sit and be still. At some point it felt as if I melted into the forest. Thoughts stopped. Breathing slowed. I was part of the forest.
Everything was vibrant, green, balanced.
Gradually, thoughts crept back in and I realized I was really hungry. I thanked the forest. After leaving a little offering of gratitude, I stepped out of cloak of the forest and onto the trail.
Returning to people and traffic was challenging, but I sit here hours later remembering, reliving the beauty of going into the forest.
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.
