Last night I had the wonderful opportunity to hear from my friends Laura and Bryant, who recently finished the amazing feat of hiking the Appalachian Trail (or the AT, as they say) which spans 2,179 miles from Georgia to Maine. They literally walked from one end of the country to the other, enduring torrential downpours, fierce winds, and the broiling sun along the way. They slept in tents or wooden shelters. They met countless insects, a rattlesnake, and beautiful, kind hearted people of the mountains. Last night we gathered as people who love Laura and Bryant, people who were here all summer in our air-conditioned houses, wondering about the adventure our friends were living out on the AT. Laura and Bryant put together a slideshow of pictures and video from the trail, and all of a sudden the adventure we had read about and heard about came to life before our eyes.
As the slideshow reached its dramatic finale, we watched a video clip of Laura and Bryant's final steps to the top of Mt. Katahdin, the last point on the Appalachian Trail. As the hikers climbed, the sun also climbed the sky, spreading its warm golden red rays across the peak. It was hard not to feel like the whole universe must have been dancing and shouting and celebrating with them, and it was hard not to feel the joy that contagiously swept across the room. There, in a little church, a group of people got lost in Laura and Bryant's story. When the lights came back on, we wiped the tears that had gathered in our eyes. I think if you had invited us then to hike the AT, we would be on the next bus to Georgia. This is what it means to be inspired.
There was one thing that Laura and Bryant said that I'll always remember. They talked about how on the trail, you've got to be totally in the present. You can't afford to think too far ahead or too far back. Every day you wake up with miles before you, and a pack to carry. Each day is its own adventure. At any point, something could happen to bring your journey to a halt. Snakebite. Ankle sprain. Infected blisters (I know, gross.) So even though L & B had an amazing goal in mind - hiking the entire 2,179 miles to Mt. Katahdin - they knew that if the trail ended for them tomorrow, every step would still be worth it. I couldn't help but think of the many plans I've made, the finish lines I've raced to, the carrots I've dangled in front of my face to push me on and forward. I wondered, am I walking merely to win? Am I living for the mountain peak, the end of the trail, the accomplishment of my goals ? Laura said she realized that if she had only been hiking to finish, she would have missed the beauty of life everyday on the trail. When our eyes are only on the future, we miss the adventure of right now.
My friends inspired me greatly. They inspired us all, and not to actually hike the AT. No, last night, we were encouraged in a deeper way. Laura and Bryant didn't want us to chase after their dream, but to pursue our own. They challenged us to peer into our own selves and find those things that are engraved inside of us, the truths and the passions and the desires that make us come alive. It was incredible to watch my friends in the middle of their great story, and to realize that my own story is unfolding before my feet. So here's to blisters and rattlesnakes, shooting stars and sunrises, and all the valleys and peaks of life's journey. I'll get to that last mountain someday, but for now, I think I'll enjoy the view from here.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
a moment of silence
Life is really noisy. We are both driven by sound and drawn to it. An alarm clock on my phone wakes me up every morning. ( Dun-nun-nun-nun dun-dun nun-nun-nun) The gurgling of boiling water for making coffee reminds me its time to pour my cereal. I crunch on my Weetabix flakes while I browse my subscriptions on Google Reader, the latest Brooke Fraser album playing in the background.
I climb in the car and the engine vrooms. For a reason unknown to me, it sometimes takes another turn of the key to get it to really start. These days, I like NPR in the mornings, whether its commentary on US foreign policy or a side-splitting interview with David Sedaris. I like to listen to other people's stories. I pull up to work where the bells on the door handle jingle at my entrance...followed by hellos and friendly greetings from people huddled over paintings and craft projects. They are chatting boisterously and listening to "Stand By You" from The Pretenders. The printer is thinking (loudly) and the phone rings occasionally - it will be this way for the next several hours.
On the way home, the high school marching band is practicing in the parking lot. The drumline plays a cadence as I pass, and I feel almost regal. Remove your hats, ladies and gentleman, the president is driving by. The dog is barking in the neighbors' yard and friends are laughing and visiting in the living room. Even in my room, where it's only me, the fan that blows in the cool breeze from the window is putting in its two cents...click, click, click, click. If I'm lucky enough to doze off into dreamworld, I will wake shortly to a lawnmower's roar and the blades of grass protesting their violent demise.
Later, at my parents' house, the television is on, in both the kitchen and the den, so that it's possible for Mom to watch SVU reruns and whatever awful thing being broadcasted on Headline News Channel. The cat wants to be let out, the conductor of the nearby train is bragging of his arrival, and dinner is being prepared on the stove, where cooking onions sizzle and pop.
It's 2010 and quite possible to spend every waking moment with some kind of sound, noise, talk, or music filling your eardrums. The world is sometimes a giant Abercrombie & Fitch store shoving a paralyzing dance beat down our throats. Did the universe not get my message today? Did no one read the memo? I am looking for a little peace and quiet. I'm on the hunt for a moment of silence, but like an endangered rare bird or mythical creature, I'm not really sure that it even exists.
I climb in the car and the engine vrooms. For a reason unknown to me, it sometimes takes another turn of the key to get it to really start. These days, I like NPR in the mornings, whether its commentary on US foreign policy or a side-splitting interview with David Sedaris. I like to listen to other people's stories. I pull up to work where the bells on the door handle jingle at my entrance...followed by hellos and friendly greetings from people huddled over paintings and craft projects. They are chatting boisterously and listening to "Stand By You" from The Pretenders. The printer is thinking (loudly) and the phone rings occasionally - it will be this way for the next several hours.
On the way home, the high school marching band is practicing in the parking lot. The drumline plays a cadence as I pass, and I feel almost regal. Remove your hats, ladies and gentleman, the president is driving by. The dog is barking in the neighbors' yard and friends are laughing and visiting in the living room. Even in my room, where it's only me, the fan that blows in the cool breeze from the window is putting in its two cents...click, click, click, click. If I'm lucky enough to doze off into dreamworld, I will wake shortly to a lawnmower's roar and the blades of grass protesting their violent demise.
Later, at my parents' house, the television is on, in both the kitchen and the den, so that it's possible for Mom to watch SVU reruns and whatever awful thing being broadcasted on Headline News Channel. The cat wants to be let out, the conductor of the nearby train is bragging of his arrival, and dinner is being prepared on the stove, where cooking onions sizzle and pop.
It's 2010 and quite possible to spend every waking moment with some kind of sound, noise, talk, or music filling your eardrums. The world is sometimes a giant Abercrombie & Fitch store shoving a paralyzing dance beat down our throats. Did the universe not get my message today? Did no one read the memo? I am looking for a little peace and quiet. I'm on the hunt for a moment of silence, but like an endangered rare bird or mythical creature, I'm not really sure that it even exists.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)