Talking for God

While I was running yesterday on the greenway near UNCA, I ran past a spray painted message on the greenway asphalt that said "nature still hates you," and it really upset me.

It didn't upset me because I thought "nature hates me." No, I feel like nature loves me / us. I feel like nature is the safe place, a haven, and is forgiving (even as we murder parts of nature...she reluctantly adapts - indeed - that is the force of nature). But I was aghast that anyone could think they speak for nature. It made me think that those are the ways that people speak for God. They say "you're a sinner" or "you're going to hell" or "you can't be loved by God for this or that" - you know.

And, it just resonated for me that who speaks for God and Nature can be so self-appointed. And who will we listen to among those who claim to speak for God or Nature? Is it the people who profess fear, hate and vengeance? Or, is it the people who profess love, compassion and forgiveness?

So, that was my philosophical musing on my run, and it kept me entertained for a while.

(This was written following a run on February 27, 2009 during a time I was dancing with the Community Choreography project for the performance Knock! Knock!, crossing the threshold of faith and home.)

Keep it Simple

There are few things that I’m absolutely certain of in my life right now. I’m pounding out a new path, as I’m apt to do, with my work. I’m making my way as an independent contractor for conservation based organizations, as a writer, and as a facilitator. Every day I face an untried way as new opportunities present themselves, as new projects launch and others come to a close, and as I decipher whether to add more classes to my teaching schedule.

It can be a scary process to work for oneself. It’s not the same as showing up to the safe office building of regular paychecks, a group health insurance policy, and dental coverage. It can be full of fears and self-doubt and questioning. Am I doing this right?

So I take heart in knowing something really simplistic about myself. When things get difficult and my mind muddies or completely swamps the trail I’m trying to make, I can always come back to this:

I am in here to bring joy, hope, and optimism into this world.

This simple truth makes it all better. If I achieve this in my day then I have done my work. If, through my encouragement, listening, teaching, or support I manage to inspire others to be their best then my purpose is fulfilled.

Walking Contradiction

Seven down, 359 to go.

As I consider the seven posts from this past week, I’m a little embarrassed. They seem disjointed and random. In time, solid themes may develop, but until then, you may find yourself reading the discord of my vast musings.

If a streamlined compilation of labels is refined to define my work here, I’ll gladly accept it, but I am skeptical. After all, I am a contradiction.

I love backpacking, walking through a dense fog through the woods, and sleeping on the ground, as much as I love getting dressed up in sparkles, heels and make-up for an evening of dinner, dancing, or the arts. It’s the reality of my distinct appreciation of simple pleasures and my fine tastes (if I must say so myself).

I’m adventurous but like to follow the rules.

I’m a dancer, a runner, and a yogi.

I am passionate about local food, physical activity as a key to unlock emotional energy, and trails as a national resource for recreation and nature. I excel at networking, listening, problem solving, and singing silly songs. I’m good at listening and accepting, and knowing when it is the right time to offer advice.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to reconcile the dichotomy of all my interests. There’s no singular bumper sticker that sums me up. There’s no category that I fit into.

I think our buzzword culture makes us want to put everything in neat little containers with strict labels: Republican, Democrat, hippie, hipster, professional, punk, conservative, geek, liberal, bum. But those words can’t possibly capture all the minutia of our individual thoughts, ideas, opinions, and emotional experience. If we step back and look at the labels we’ve self-imposed, we might just discover that country music has some redeeming qualities or that people who are seemingly different than us aren’t so different after all. They’re made up of a variety of interests and aspects, too.

Bumper stickers are often the vehicle (no pun intended) for us to communicate who we are and what we stand for, but I don’t have one on my care. Nope. Not. a. one.

For a while I had one for the Appalachian Trail because I love it so much, but it shriveled up and fell off.  Then I sold that car anyway. Even still, I won’t replace it.

There isn’t a handful of bumper stickers that capture what I feel are the most important aspects of who I am. I am too many things, and at some point you can have too many bumper stickers. Plus, how would I prioritize the most important aspects of myself to highlight?

I guess that’s what it comes down to with the blog, too, but rather than leave a blank canvas, I’ve decided to go nuts with the messages (and creating new labels). I’ll post here all the seemingly random and disjointed things I ponder, because I hold it all together. I am a walking contradiction, after all.

The Heart of An Adventurer

“I’m more like the woman I want to be when I am in the woods, “ said Anna Huthmaker. “I am strong and capable.”

This truth has wormed its way into the heart of all people who call themselves outdoor enthusiasts. To them nature provides a sense of belonging, a connection with something bigger, and a truer sense of self, but among others it’s a daunting arena rife with potential hardship, solitude and wild life.

Huthmaker attests that any woman can find the promise of belonging on a trail and discovering her own strength, power and heart. With this in mind, she led the first Trail Dames hike to the top of Springer Mountain, Georgia in March 2007 and officially launched the organization in 2008. Meant to empower women who lack the confidence to explore the natural world on their own “the hiking club for women of a curvy nature” was established to provide a safe and supportive environment for women, regardless of age, fitness level, economics, or pant size. 

Her organization answers the question of how a woman can hike at a pace that’s right for her while enjoying the safety of hiking with others. Ultimately for Huthmaker, it’s really about getting women on trails where they might discover the independence, confidence, and wonder of nature that she enjoys while hiking.

The emphasis for most hikes is taking it slow and having fun so that even the last hiker can feel proud of what she has accomplished when she reaches the mountaintop.

“The one in the very back who is older or less fit, when she reaches the top, that’s when the real magic happens,” said Huthmaker.

She has experienced the magic herself. As a hiker Huthmaker knows that the slowest person is achieving the most. During her first backpacking trip she felt the elation of summiting Big Bald hours after her group, and she faced the challenges of walking the requisite ten miles into the night to eat a pot of undercooked ramen seasoned by the leaf litter of untreated water.

Undeterred by the difficulties and inspired by the adventure Huthmaker backpacked 700-miles of the Appalachian Trail in 2003, hiked the Inca Trail in 2008, and has visited Africa, Cuba, and the Arctic Circle. She accounts for her travels with the explanation that she has the heart of an adventurer, the body of a real woman, and the belief that it’s just as easy to dream big as it is to dream small.

Huthmaker took her big dreams, a “yes I can” attitude, and dedication to inspiring others to a new level at the end of June when she organized The Summit, the nation’s first hiking and backpacking conference for women.

Anna Huthmaker greets attendees during opening event. 

Gathered from across the nation in Harrisonburg, Virginia in June 2011 women learned from one another on topics of gear, nutrition, hiking logistics, nature appreciation, and issues specific to their gender. They gleaned inspiration from each other’s stories in workshops and over meals.

Huthmaker shared her experience of hiking the Inca Trail and delivered the authentic tale with such pitch and fervor that wet-eyed attendees cheered and clapped along with the porters who showered her with their respect at the end of the journey.

Other stories of global travel were shared by hike leader Cheryl Bharath who talked about hiking in Trinidad and author Cindy Ross who presented stories and slides from her treks around the world with her husband and two children.

Cindy Ross (right) was recognized as Woman of the Year. As the keynote speaker of the event, she had me absolutely captivated by her pictures and stories of traveling the world with her family. It gave me hope that family and travel are not mutually exclusive. Thanks, Cindy!

           

Ross was presented with the Woman of the Year award for her excellence in outdoor pursuits. Eight-year old Scout Aulenbach received the Adventurer of the Year award for her positive attitude and aptitude for easing the nerves of Dames she led on a caving adventure. 

Scout Aulenbach

The event even celebrated individual attendees. Everyday women were honored for the strength, power and heart that epitomize the Spirit of a Dame. Among the recipients was a woman who arrived at her first hike following a surgery, pushing a walker, and emphatically saying that she wanted to learn to backpack. A Georgia Dame was recognized for her compassion and generous spirit in bringing a woman with special needs on hikes. Another woman had been confined to her home by anxiety prior to joining the Dames for hikes. Through her participation she gained the confidence to literally continue living in the world beyond her home and the trails.

Through Trail Dames many of these women have discovered what Huthmaker optimistically set out to achieve – an awareness that a simple walk in the woods is an empowering experience.

As the conference drew to a close, Huthmaker asked participants what they get from spending time in the woods. The answers rang out from across the room: freedom, sanity, beauty, strength, connection, no responsibility, self-sufficiency, confidence and a way to break down unrealistic expectations.

Armed with these truths, women are taking to America’s trails.  

Trail Dames has grown to an association of more than 2,000 members in 10 states. 

Grand Dame and visionary founder Anna Huthmaker

 You can read my full interview with Anna here.

Learn more about the 2012 Summit by visiting traildamessummit.com. This year's Summit will be held in Durango, Colorado. Get ready, Colorado, these women are amazing and full of heart!

You Look Great

When I lived in Washington DC in the early 2000s there was a man with Coke bottle-thick glasses who doled out compliments to everyone. Known as “The Compliment Man,” he had a knack for knowing what you wore that brought you the most pride– shoes, jacket, skirt, purse. He could spy a new hair cut. He had a naturally gifted talent to recognize your adornment, and he crowed his observations fueling confidences and narcissism. Often he was thanked for his keen observations with a tip.

I like getting compliments. I think it’s safe to say that we all like recognition of feeling well put together or beautiful. We appreciate when someone else finds an aesthetic appreciation for our clothes, accessories, or hairstyle. 

The one thing I’ve never been comfortable receiving are comments on my weight; any observation at all makes me squirm a bit. It feels to me like a judgment on my body – judgments based on appearances alone. I haven’t quite figured out why, exactly, it makes me so uncomfortable.

What I do know is that I don’t comment on the weight of others. I largely omit ever referring to a person’s weight in my observation of them because I’ve always thought there was too much damned focus on weight in our culture, fueling eating disorders, obsessive behavior, and the diet industry. We’re all built differently, and when I see somebody I feel like I’m looking beyond the external (after all, what I see with my eyes is only skin deep). What does extra weight gain or loss matter to my interaction with the full soul of a person in that shell of a body?

We’re made up of more than a number, and we have so many other external attributes that make us unique and beautiful: skin texture, color, hair, hairstyle, and (this is a big one) personality. There are the things we add to our appearance to embellish our beauty: nail color, make-up, clothing, jewelry, and other accessories.

These additional embellishments to our bodies are the things of compliments, and are best received when we understand why the compliment is given. For me, it’s good to know that a particular outfit looks exceptionally flattering, that a scarf looks good with my eyes, or that that combination of shirt and scarf makes you think of a French love affair. It’s an exposition on “you look great,” a phrase that has recently entered our lexicon of greetings in the U.S. and will lose ground and meaning without the genuine thought put behind it. Without thoughtful understanding of what we are saying, it could become the automatic “how are you?” greeting that elicits an equally robotic response. 

Again, I love compliments; I just want to know they are genuine, are made up of my adornment rather than my size, and that when you see me "I'm so happy to see you" comes as readily to your lips as "you look great" because there's a soul inside me that is so happy to see you - the you that's inside your body. 

Runner's Contemplation

As I went for my run this afternoon, I contemplated the differences between obligation and commitment.

These are my thoughts: Commitment is something you do because you desire the outcome it will bring you. You do it because you've set it as something that is important to you, in the long or short term.

Obligation is something you do for someone else, or for the greater good of the world. These are my definitions.

If commitment to an activity is resented, it often feels like obligation. So, it helps to step back from the activity and revisit the initial goal that established the commitment.

I Feel Bliss

I feel blissed out. Maybe it’s a combination of fresh air and the stinging of my cheeks after exposure to the suddenly low temperatures. Maybe it's the feel of a night hike, trusting the quiet and the darkness. Maybe it’s the moon shining so brightly that I needn’t a headlamp as I walked through the glowing surface of the snow up the quarter-mile road to my house that looks as gingerbread as ever with the dusting of snow.

Maybe it's knowing I'm the first, here, now. And there's evidence.

The feeling of euphoria might be from not fighting it, not fighting any of it. I was a few minutes late to my yoga class this evening and was locked out; “oh well, I reasoned, must not be meant to happen.” I felt it genuinely, too. It wasn’t a consolation or practice in self-soothing; it was a recognition that tonight may not have been the night for me to show up for this class.

The slight surrender I’ve experienced this evening wasn’t with me all day. I struggled with wakefulness and my snooze button, but calm set in around noon when I was the only person in my Groove class. So I danced alone for that hour. I enjoyed playing in the space, trying new things with my body, and seeing just how the music wanted me to move.

There’s a hollow calm in me tonight, and I like it. Maybe this is peace.