The flakes stung my cheeks, wind whipped, swirling through pines swaying in the gale. It was only 25 degrees or so, not cold for this valley this time of year, but cold enough to feel icy tendrils snaking up my extremities. I wanted to go, to move, to get warm. But not yet. I came […]
The flakes stung my cheeks, wind whipped, swirling through pines swaying in the gale. It was only 25 degrees or so, not cold for this valley this time of year, but cold enough to feel icy tendrils snaking up my extremities.
Icy wind, solitude, contemplation, and beauty in the middle of nowhere.
I wanted to go, to move, to get warm. But not yet.
I came up here I thought to escape for a moment, find some solitude, do some work, get some clarity. I’ve been struggling of late to make sense of our world - and my place in it, my inability to understand it, decipher it, fix it, do anything about it - amidst the chaos and cruelty, the ignorance, anger, inhumanity, and abomination bombarding constantly. Bannon’s cynical “Flooding the Zone” concept is on full display, toxic effluvia and noxious acts peppering and permeating every aspect of life like devil’s buckshot.
Part of the beauty at this little spot is that it’s both far away and close in, a blessing and a curse: the dome I built sits at 10,812 feet (3,295 meters), surrounded by some 1 million acres of public lands (for now). While remote, it’s high enough to have line-of-sight to distant cell towers, yielding five bars of 5G - better than I get at home.
Dome in the snow.
And, therein lies the curse. Even when away, in a remote setting, it’s hard to get away from the static of life. I’m reminded to - and can from here - talk with a plumber about a toilet replacement, discuss woes of my ailing 2003 F150 with my mechanic, sort insurance for a teen driver, answer emails and read headlines and listen to podcasts and do everything I do at home.
But, of course, that’s all an excuse, up here or at home. I have a choice - always have a choice - to sit mired in the deluge or step out, even for a moment, to reconnect, to remember. To remember my small place in this big world, the infinitesimality of me in it, of it within an unending universe. To reconnect with the enlivening sense of awe this remembrance brings, the unbearably beautiful certainty that amidst the smallness there is bigness, the ability to make an impact, to learn, grow, wonder, understand.
Simply being in a context of awe leads to a “small self.” We can quiet that nagging voice of the interfering neurotic simply by locating ourselves in contexts of more awe…Vastness can be challenging, unsettling, and destabilizing. In evoking awe, it reveals that our current knowledge is not up to the task of making sense of what we have encountered. And so, in awe, we go in search of new forms of understanding. Awe is about our relation to the vast mysteries of life. ― Dacher Keltner, Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life (Library)
So, I walked up to a place I call Bristlecone Ridge, a little spot not far from the dome where ancient pines thrive in harshness. My camera was busy clicking through a failing timelapse, so I shut it off and…sat down.
Snowy pines.
A timeworn, weathered stump, long felled, offered some protection, but not much, just enough. The night sky was opaque, moon and stars and galaxies veiled by a thick curtain of cloud, but what little sunset light remained bathed the landscape in washed-out cerulean, the cold, calming luminescence of storm.
I relaxed my back, shrugging off the tension of chill, closed my eyes, and took in the infinite. Wind, snow, storm, cold, night, complete calm in the gale, focus amidst myriad distractions, the deafening tick of unending time. Snowflakes pecked my eyelids as Eiseley’s words came to mind:
the immeasurable prodigality of the universal worlds in which we are lost - Loren Eiseley, "The Snowstorm" (read here)
I lost track of time, my minisculity dissolved in the immensity. Had it been five minutes? Twenty-five? No matter. A particularly strong gust toppled my camera and broke my reverie. Shaking off accumulated snow, I tromped back to the warm dome.
Snowflakes crackled on my jacket, twinkling momentarily before being whisked by wind or transformed by body heat, tiny bits in the beautiful vastness - just like me, just like us.
This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls. — John Muir, John of the Mountains: The Unpublished Journals of John Muir (free on Archive.org)
Jake as always a thoughtful and beautifully written piece. When I just can’t take the world I stop and just sit with a big pine tree. It was here before and will be here after me. It gives me peace to recognize my small and short time in the world. I will do what I can the best that I can. Hugs.
Thank you, Nina, for your words, and your spirit. I fondly remember our times on Clear Creek a lifetime ago, and yet a blink of the eye. Indeed, we have short times on this earth, but enough to make the most of it. Sending a big hug back to you!
"Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are things that a man needs to believe in most. That people are basically good. That honor, courage and virtues mean, everything. That power and money, money and power mean nothing; that Good al ways triumphs over Evil; and I want you to remember true Love never dies.
Doesn't matter if any of this is true or not. You see, man should believe in these things because these things are the things worth believing in."
Once again Jake, a beautifully written muse. I prefer to visit your dome while looking between the ears, thats where I find mine.
Hi Jake, I don’t think I could put the confusion of the current status of our country. Leave it to the wordsmith to put it exactly!
I don’t have any good solutions, but I’ve always found nature to be the best remedy ( for me anyway) back in the day I had a old growth pine tree I used to hide by had a nice notch at the bottom that had a nice mossy seat. Wide enough to hide behind it felt safe. Was it denial? Maybe. I always have to go back to what I was hiding from. But for those few minutes it was a refreshing reset to whatever was bothering me. Thanks as always for your thoughts and viewpoint. You’re not alone, but sometime the goal is to be alone, just me myself and I. I miss that tree, it taught me a lot without saying anything.
-cheers Barb
Thanks much for your comment, and love the tree story - I can see it in my mind's eye! Sounds like a great place to sit, think, maybe even dissolve a bit from the world. Makes me think - as I often do - of James Ramsey Ullman's words from The Age of Mountaineering - where "mountains and mountaineering" could be replaced with "nature and fresh air" or something similar:
There has been no time in human history when mountains and mountaineering have had so much to offer to men. We need to re-discover the vast, harmonious pattern of the natural world we are a part of—the infinite complexity and variety of its myriad components, the miraculous simplicity of the whole. We need to learn again those essential qualities in ourselves which made us what we are: the energy of our bodies, the alertness of our minds, curiosity and desire to satisfy it, fear and the will to conquer it. The mountain may well be a way of escape—from the cities and men, from the turmoil and doubt, from the perplexities and uncertainties and sorrows that thread our lives. But in the truest and most profound sense it is an escape not from but to reality.
Thank you Jake for sharing your inspirations, your reflections and your experiences.
For many years I was living in a city and tried to have an impact in the world leading healing and mindfulness retreats worldwide. I was trying to bring a message, to share a perspective and a lifestyle until I could no more..
Time came to settle and to walk the path.. myself..
In 2022, I moved away to live in a small village in Switzerland. I walk in nature, hug trees, do my own garden, bath in the rivers the whole year around..
Yesterday, after work, I went ski touring to the Chasseral near my house. I found myself alone, in a white day. It was white all around me. It was windy, cold. I was wet. I couldn't see further than my skis.
This was a nurturing feeling of reliance in the white paradise. Releasing control, moving along, trusting the path.
These experiences give me strength and clarity to move forward as a rooted and wild woman. I genuinely care of the environment and the community around me, supporting local projects while remaining grounded.
I had to accept that I cannot change the world, just honor my values and walk the path. This was not "giving in", it has been a way to "trust life".
Reading your words this morning have triggered something deep in me.
Hi Christelle! Thanks for the note, and great to hear from you! I hope all is well in Switzerland!
Your words are so true - we alone cannot change the world, but by - as you say - honoring our values and walking the path, our energies hopefully join with others' and together create the power to drive positive change.
Keep walking your path, my friend, and hoping all our paths will cross again one day!
Thanks, Chris! Hoping all is great with you and the family. We miss you all! And, while writing I was actually thinking of you and that day on the Futaleufú as you just stood on the bank of that amazing river, alone, watching the water roar. Seemed like a moment of awe, and a good one. Hugs to you all, and hope to see you soon!
The flakes stung my cheeks, wind whipped, swirling through pines swaying in the gale. It was only 25 degrees or so, not cold for this valley this time of year, but cold enough to feel icy tendrils snaking up my extremities. I wanted to go, to move, to get warm. But not yet. I came […]
Jake as always a thoughtful and beautifully written piece. When I just can’t take the world I stop and just sit with a big pine tree. It was here before and will be here after me. It gives me peace to recognize my small and short time in the world. I will do what I can the best that I can. Hugs.
Thank you, Nina, for your words, and your spirit. I fondly remember our times on Clear Creek a lifetime ago, and yet a blink of the eye. Indeed, we have short times on this earth, but enough to make the most of it. Sending a big hug back to you!
"Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are things that a man needs to believe in most. That people are basically good. That honor, courage and virtues mean, everything. That power and money, money and power mean nothing; that Good al ways triumphs over Evil; and I want you to remember true Love never dies.
Doesn't matter if any of this is true or not. You see, man should believe in these things because these things are the things worth believing in."
Once again Jake, a beautifully written muse. I prefer to visit your dome while looking between the ears, thats where I find mine.
Thanks, Allen, for the kind words, and the great, true quote. That was Robert Duvall, right? I remember seeing that film long ago.
I hope you're well, and hope one day you and your horse can wander up to the dome for a visit! It's a great place.
Hi Jake, I don’t think I could put the confusion of the current status of our country. Leave it to the wordsmith to put it exactly!
I don’t have any good solutions, but I’ve always found nature to be the best remedy ( for me anyway) back in the day I had a old growth pine tree I used to hide by had a nice notch at the bottom that had a nice mossy seat. Wide enough to hide behind it felt safe. Was it denial? Maybe. I always have to go back to what I was hiding from. But for those few minutes it was a refreshing reset to whatever was bothering me. Thanks as always for your thoughts and viewpoint. You’re not alone, but sometime the goal is to be alone, just me myself and I. I miss that tree, it taught me a lot without saying anything.
-cheers Barb
Hi Barb,
Thanks much for your comment, and love the tree story - I can see it in my mind's eye! Sounds like a great place to sit, think, maybe even dissolve a bit from the world. Makes me think - as I often do - of James Ramsey Ullman's words from The Age of Mountaineering - where "mountains and mountaineering" could be replaced with "nature and fresh air" or something similar:
There has been no time in human history when mountains and mountaineering have had so much to offer to men. We need to re-discover the vast, harmonious pattern of the natural world we are a part of—the infinite complexity and variety of its myriad components, the miraculous simplicity of the whole. We need to learn again those essential qualities in ourselves which made us what we are: the energy of our bodies, the alertness of our minds, curiosity and desire to satisfy it, fear and the will to conquer it. The mountain may well be a way of escape—from the cities and men, from the turmoil and doubt, from the perplexities and uncertainties and sorrows that thread our lives. But in the truest and most profound sense it is an escape not from but to reality.
You can read more of it here.
Thanks again, Barb, and go find a tree when you need one!
Thank you Jake for sharing your inspirations, your reflections and your experiences.
For many years I was living in a city and tried to have an impact in the world leading healing and mindfulness retreats worldwide. I was trying to bring a message, to share a perspective and a lifestyle until I could no more..
Time came to settle and to walk the path.. myself..
In 2022, I moved away to live in a small village in Switzerland. I walk in nature, hug trees, do my own garden, bath in the rivers the whole year around..
Yesterday, after work, I went ski touring to the Chasseral near my house. I found myself alone, in a white day. It was white all around me. It was windy, cold. I was wet. I couldn't see further than my skis.
This was a nurturing feeling of reliance in the white paradise. Releasing control, moving along, trusting the path.
These experiences give me strength and clarity to move forward as a rooted and wild woman. I genuinely care of the environment and the community around me, supporting local projects while remaining grounded.
I had to accept that I cannot change the world, just honor my values and walk the path. This was not "giving in", it has been a way to "trust life".
Reading your words this morning have triggered something deep in me.
Thank You Jake and all my love to your family.
Hi Christelle! Thanks for the note, and great to hear from you! I hope all is well in Switzerland!
Your words are so true - we alone cannot change the world, but by - as you say - honoring our values and walking the path, our energies hopefully join with others' and together create the power to drive positive change.
Keep walking your path, my friend, and hoping all our paths will cross again one day!
Awe is one of my favorite emotions. I’m glad you were able to find some and I’m glad it was helpful. Perspective is everything.
Thanks, Chris! Hoping all is great with you and the family. We miss you all! And, while writing I was actually thinking of you and that day on the Futaleufú as you just stood on the bank of that amazing river, alone, watching the water roar. Seemed like a moment of awe, and a good one. Hugs to you all, and hope to see you soon!