A few years back, like maybe 20 or 30 by now, time going so
quickly….I read a book written with humor, a somewhat satirical, memoirish tale about early education. It might have been inspired by the disappointing reality of college loans, a look at a few wrong turns, or too much time to reflect. The regret of not paying closer attention or applying simple rules of kindness and abundance to a life half lived, might have been the impetus.Maybe the opposite is true,
and the book was written as a guide for the rest of us. The book written by Robert Fulghum, All I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten,
became an instant hit.
So I’m thinking recently for reasons I can't exactly recall….clearly little Bobby Fulghum and I didn’t
go to the same kindergarten. Or maybe we
did, but I was busy learning other things, not very easily or eagerly. I learned giggling was not acceptable, or at
the very least it had a specific time and place. I learned if I chortled or chuckled or
laughed during those unsanctioned non-giggling times I was sent to a cubby, or some other dark part of a classroom
where small children, plant seedlings, and probably even mold are not meant to thrive. Lifeless corners devoid of oxygen they seemed
to be. I learned the same rules applied to whispering, or using the "wrong" color, or amount
of paint. I learned moving in skips or gallops was
frowned upon. I learned that fitting-in
was the goal. I learned I would be challenged greatly to try to conform in places that
did not inspire, encourage and appreciate joy, or curiosity, or me.
I learned how to “air” ice skate in my socks on a linoleum
floor as Mrs. Siebold played Winter is
Here on a poorly tuned piano at P.S. 11.
I had not learned that my fellow ice skaters had not already been privileged
enough to practice real ice skating in Central Park and therefore I appeared to
be showing off, which caused me to have to step out of the "air" rink and
watch. I smiled widely just the same, it
seemed a beautiful treat to fake ice skate in socks in this place of rules and
formalities and structure. I did however, like Mr. Fulghum, learn the value of a snack, and
napping. I didn't need to learn much more about public education, I already knew I was heading to Catholic school, a regular old free wheeling learning vortex!
All I need to know, or maybe a great deal of very meaningful
and important things have been learned or validated while hiking. I learned
this while hiking alone. It was confirmed hiking with my son, and a friend or two, and
field-tested hiking alone several times after.
I started hiking with my youngest son seven years ago. I
hiked prior to that, but not Adirondack High Peak hiking. I started that kind of hiking with my youngest son to test my
grit and strength after leaving it for years on a kitchen counter with keys and
calendars and a deeply rutted routine of carpooling and caterwauling and the
cautious contention of cleaning or covering up, and maybe even containing the great want for more. I learned you can reclaim
your strength and grit and spirit much easier and quicker than you are able to give
it up year after year. You simply have
to start, step by step, one foot in front of the next, over and over again until you are light on your feet and full in your heart. Easy peasy!
I learned that nature provides a backdrop for kind and gentle
reflection, as it provides challenges for forging your way through and past and
over some very difficult times. Hiking
provides a landscape to physically permit you to lift yourself higher. Higher than you were. Higher than you thought possible. It provides a trail to allow you to rise
above fears and doubts and uncertainty. And
every so often it gives you a view of the so much more, that you wanted and now
know is right there surrounding you.
I learned that reaching goals can be hard, tedious work. That might seem obvious, but I had been in the habit of setting goals that I knew I could reach and just reached them. I learned that I have
within me what it takes to get there, most anywhere, without a blazed trail. I learned after a very long time, goals are
reached through negotiation and flexibility, not simply fierce determination
and drive. I learned that hiking does just as much for my mental and emotional fitness as it does for my physical aptness. And as a bonus to some or a
freakish oddity to others, I learned my calves are getting solid and strong
enough to rival Svetlana Krachevskaya, the 1980 Soviet Union shot put silver
medalist. Most important, for
me, I learned balance is the key to happiness only if it is sprinkled with way out
thrilling adventures that make you scream WOOHOOO!!!! every now and again.
I learned that no one likes it when someone is breathing
down his/her back. (OK fine, I already
knew this.) We all know this. But I pushed it further and after giving it thought, I learned there
are only two occasions when I truly want to hear someone else’s heavy
breathing. One occasion is when I am
holding a small, beautiful infant and she (or he) is in that deep, primitive
sleep of the newly born, and she is panting those quick, little deep breaths
out of her beautiful formed lips remembering and forgetting her journey here
into this new life. The other occasion
when deep breathing on or near my back is welcome would involve Mr. Sexy making
all sorts of deep, passionate love to me.
Since neither of those scenarios is ever happening mid hike, back the
heck off! And if I’m the one breathing
heavily to haul ass upward, let me teach you something...move ahead and let me at least attempt to have some
amount of integrity and decorum, or let me feel the hot shame of my red-faced,
tight-lunged, short-breathed forward motion alone. I’ll meet you at the top, damn it! I always
do!
While hiking I have learned that being prepared is not
always possible, and sometimes it can be a hindrance. When I first started hiking, I read several
books about hiking this particular range in New York.
In between I went to the Grand Canyon, The Great Tetons, The Great Smoky
Mountains and a few hills and bumps along the way. Hiking books are written by glory
seekers. They are written to make it
seem that hiking is a sport for heroes and daredevils and Olympic trained, NASA
scientists with a bent for survivalist action or pitching for a reality tv
series. Naked and Afraid is well
worth a peek. They’re naked, I’m very afraid. The authors of hiking books want
you to believe they have accomplished great feats, and certainly they have, but
you can too. So anyway, back to the
start and the reading of these books….I read that temperatures can fall
suddenly or be 30-40 degrees lower at the peak.
Remember, I started this with my son, seven years ago, before survivalist
tv shows were the norm and non-wicking, tencel adorned UnderArmor was readily available.
Being prepared for 40 degree weather when hiking on an 80 degree summer
day meant hauling a 70 pound pack with a DEC required bear canister, the hiking
book, the folding shovel, the compass, and altimeter, the maps, enough water and food to survive the apocalypse,
survival tools, fire starter, summer clothes, winter clothes, cameras, sleeping
pad, sleeping bag, tent and cook stove.
Oh, the first aid kit equipped to set up an outback infirmary…and well, you get the point. The pack almost killed me and the look of
terror in my son’s eyes as he attempted to pull me up a vertical slide will
haunt me through eternity. Books are
meant to be read, experience is meant to give the books personal meaning. I now know I don’t need to carry 2 gallons of
water, a filter, and germicidal iodine pills on a 3 hour hike, even if the signs
posted all around the Grand Canyon say otherwise. I am not hiking under the noon time sun in
the Grand Canyon. Not this week
anyway.
On my last hike with my favorite hiking friend, after huffing and
puffing and nearly breathing up his back, we reached the top, that place that
levels our playing field, and the sky is over cast and the view is slightly
hidden. We rest and smile widely because
we made it. We feel blessed. Slightly closer to heaven it seems. Our earth bound bodies taking us so far. As the clouds move swiftly, jostling each
other around trying to get ahead or over, there is a brief clearing. He says, profoundly, “If you wait long enough
everything gets clearer.” I have been
learning this and living it a great deal lately. Things are getting clearer, lighter,
easier. I’m getting stronger, more
confident, open to challenges and prepared for the unpredictable. And well, you never know, when Mr. Sexy shows
up he might enjoy a good wrestle, or a Soviet style thick-calved scissor hold. I’ll be prepared. The view from the top
surrounds me with so much possibility really.
I recently giggled at the insanity of approaching one of the
“most epic grand slides of the Adirondacks”.
Most every high peak is billed as the most dangerous climb of the 46,
depending on which hiking book you read.
I giggled more realizing just how epic I felt doing this….maybe I should
write a hiking book about the dangers of giggling and smiling widely so very
close to the top of the world…I’m learning to appreciate my view of so much and
then some.
Like minded learners:
“At which point, at long last, there was the actual doing it, quickly followed by the grim realization of what it meant to do it, followed by the decision to quit doing it because doing it was absurd and pointless and ridiculously difficult and far more than I expected doing it would be and I was profoundly unprepared to do it.”
― Cheryl Strayed
― Cheryl Strayed
“what it is...is a place where I can return to myself. It's enough of a scramble to get to...that the energy expended is significant, and it translates into a change in my body chemistry and my psychological chemistry and my heart chemistry...”
― Jay Salter
― Jay Salter
“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity”
― John Muir
― John Muir
“After more than two thousand miles on the [Appalachian] trail, you can expect to undergo some personality changes. A heightened affinity for nature infiltrates your life. Greater inner peace. Enhanced self-esteem. A quiet confidence that if I could do that, I can do and should do whatever I really want to do. More appreciation for what you have and less desire to acquire what you don’t. A childlike zest for living life to the fullest. A refusal to be embarrassed about having fun. A renewed faith in the essential goodness of humankind. And a determination to repay others for the many kindnesses you have received.”
― Larry Luxenberg
― Larry Luxenberg
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