Day 114: Find Your Peace and Go There Often

June 22, 2014

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.  Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.  The winds will blow their freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like falling leaves." 

-John Muir
 

“Jumping from boulder to boulder and never falling, with a heavy pack, is easier than it sounds; you just can't fall when you get into the rhythm of the dance.” 

-Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

My friend Paige has called me up and invited me to go hiking with her several times since Gareth died. And she gets the grief. Paige was Gareth's friend, coworker, and office mate for the entire time he was at Dongguk University. Among other things, Paige is an avid hiker. When Gareth and I were together, Paige and I had always talked about going hiking, but it never quite seemed to happen- mostly due to the fact that Gareth and I were off traveling or spending time alone on the weekends. 

In those rough days of early February, before Gareth's accident but not long before, Paige made the 3 hour trip to Hadong to get me out of the house for a hike. A different and earlier grief had set in during those days, and Paige sensed that urging me out of my apartment onto the snowy trails of Jirisan would do me some good.

And it did.

There was a rhythm to that hike. A laboring that gave way to ease of spirit.  Being in the company of someone who knew Gareth well and could help me try to make sense of the sudden crash of those few days in early February was the lifeline that I needed. We walked and she let me play my grief like a broken record.

I just really miss him.
I know you do.
I mean really, really miss him.
I know you do.
I can't help him.
I know you can't.
I miss him.
I know you do.
I want him to get help.
So do I. We all do.
I miss him so much.
I know you do. 
I love him.
He loves you, too.

And this is much of how we made our way up the mountain, across the ridge, and back down, punctuated by periods of silence. In small doses, there was even laughter. Underlying it all, there was certainly fear. 

Perhaps 3 weeks later Gareth was gone.

What can we do with such heaviness? Where can we go with this loss? At the same time that one part of me wanted to be plucked straight from this life and as far away from the pain as possible, there was another part of me that in some way was seeking that which would give me peace.

Make a list of the things that give you peace. I mean really sit down and think about it. And then write it down. Because when you are plunged into the depths of great sadness, you will not have the energy to move your pen across the page, but the list will be there. And on it are the things we can carry the body to do in hopes the mind and spirit will get some small relief.

This is what hiking does for me. And it is only because I've had Paige, who has time and time again called me up and arranged a hike, who has reminded me how much I love it even when I feel like I'm not possibly up to the bus ride, the car ride, the packing of the backpack, the filling of the water bottles, the making of the trailmix- she reminds me that I can do this. And that it will be worth it.

Make a list of what brings you peace and then go there. Often.

Here's what I know- hiking is for me equal parts therapy, communion with God, physical release, endorphin-building, relationship-tending and solitude-seeking. The metaphors on a hike are seemingly endless, from the difficult ascent to the worth-it view at the top. From the inability to see the path beyond the fog to the gratitude for hearing a fellow hiker's voice ahead on the trail, knowing you're headed in the right direction. Hiking hits me with scenes so breathtaking I have no choice other than momentarily setting my grief down at my feet so I can open my arms up to God's grace.

In the past few months I've hiked through knee-deep snow, climbed over rocky ridges, mirrored the paths of streams, walked past the thunder of waterfalls. My feet have made rhythms over rock-hard dirt, slippery mud, soft fallen pine needles, metal bridges, stone slabs, and shallow pools. I've held my finger in the air and traced the sweeping hills, snow covered and then lush with spring leaves. I've closed my eyes to better take in the sound of wooden temple bells, monks chanting, water fighting its way downstream, birds trying out every sound they know to make. My upturned face has felt salty sweat, fine mist, bitterly cold wind, warm sunshine, fat rain drops. My legs have trembled at the end of a long day.

For several hours, with the fine thread of all memories, feelings, and questions Gareth-related woven into conversations of every other imaginable topic, I am present. I am alive. I am in my body and I am grateful.

Because the photos I have from these hikes can do more justice than any words I could write, I'll leave this post with a sampling from the hikes I've done with Paige in the past few months.

Thank you, Paige, for taking care of my spirit in this way. I found my peace and you continue to bring me to it.