Estranged by Distance

Estranged by distance, he relearns 

The way to quiet not his own, 

The light at rest on tree and stone,

The high leaves falling their turns,

Spiraling through the air made gold

By their slow fall. Bright on the ground, 

They wait their darkening, commend

To coming light the light they hold.

His own long comedown from the air

Complete, safe home again, absence

Withdrawing from him tense by tense

In presence of the resting year.

Blessing and blessed in this result

Of times not blessed, now he has risen.

He walks in quiet beyond division

In surcease of his own tumult. 

Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir

The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997: 1984, 5.

Oregonia

Catching up on some Oregon pics! Washington to come soon...

Crater Lake - the amazing blue is from the depth of the lake

Oregon Coast at Bandon Beach

Ah... officially arrived from coast to coast

Myrtle Glen Farm

Elephant Garlic

They had several Llama...

...and aliens. 

My first attempt at milking. Turns out I don't care for the flavor of goat's milk much, I prefer the cheese variety. It was also raw...but that's for another post.

Community Intentions

One week. We weren’t sure we were going to make it this long at Myrtle Glen Farm. After some last minute scrambling to set up an Oregon farm, we confirmed our stay for 10 days believing we were headed toward an old family farm that was no longer doing business. I was looking forward to getting to know a wise old man as we helped out on his property that was now up for sale.

As we drove up to the house (a good 20+ minutes from the nearest small (read: miniscule) town), we were greeted by a small crowd eating dinner on the patio of the gorgeous custom built farmhouse. Hearing names, where people were from, and how long they’d been here, we learned that indeed this was no family farm but more of a make-shift (and relatively transient) intentional community.

I quickly adjusted my expectations and thought to myself how neat of an experience this might be; I’ve always been interested in living in such a community. But the more I began to settle in, the more uncomfortable I got.

At first, it was the shifty looks of which we were the object that bothered me most. It was clear, to be sure, that we were the most “mainstream,” what with our Honda Accord, actual luggage, and yes, clean clothes.

Each individual did warm up to us, and we got to know people better. It’s amazing how time and a willingness to be in uncomfortable situations can really make people learn to dwell with each other more harmoniously.

There was a mix of ultra self-consciousness on my part but also newfound space to fully embrace my quirks and failings more publicly. My self-consciousness was interestingly not about my body, which is often the case in the “real-world.” This time it was about what I believe or how my opinions might be different.

In one way I felt liberated from worries about being stinky, exposing cellulite, or temple grease in the hair. No instead I was worried that my anxiety about drinking raw milk would be discovered, or my opinion that the government can actually accomplish good things (everything was a conspiracy theory here). On the one hand, there was an affirming community that saw beauty and righteousness in each person. On the other hand, should one stray too far from shared values and beliefs, one would be considered misguided at best, evil at worst.

This made living here as a “mainstream-shower taking-leg shaving-I like my electronic coffee maker –and don’t hang out my aluminum foil to dry” individual challenging, to say the least. Yet, as I describe the community here, both the wholeness and brokenness of it, I realize it’s not that different from any other community that creates space for diversity in particular ways but also shuns others for particular ideas or practices. Every community makes choices about such categories and guidelines.

I think the more shocking thing perhaps, is that despite it's transience it was a community, something we sometimes fail to achieve in the so-called “mainstream” (I definitely lacked one while living in Boston). And yes, community is messy at best, but it is sometimes that messiness, the step you take deep into the shit and realize "damn this is hard," that you realize you are in fact truly, intentionally, communing with others. 

Brewed for Thought

While I was in Idaho, I had the opportunity to participate in a conversation with Southminster Pres members and friends who get together once a month for “Brewed for Thought.” Each meeting they gather for dinner, drinks and discussion; recently, they have been reading the Social Creed for the 21st Century, which I was excited to be introduced to.

Our discussion that evening centered on food production, consumption, and the local movement. D. and I had the opportunity to share a bit of our summer’s education with others.

There were too many topics and questions raised to recap them all here, so I will just mention two.

(1) After several specific questions raised (many of which we couldn’t really answer fully), the group began talking about how to make decisions about how to buy/consume food when we hear so many conflicting pieces of data from a myriad of sources. Ultimately, we turned to the question, “What do you value?” And then how can you let those values inform your inquiries and your purchases?

Some people may value chemical/natural production concerns and turn toward organic, others local, some may value special diet needs such as non-dairy, gluten-free, vegan/vegetarian). Ultimately, knowing what practices of food production most concern you and knowing what your priorities are will help you know what questions to ask, and where to put your money. (I also believe we should think beyond the concerns/priorities of only ourselves and also ask about the larger community and maybe world since Americans tend to lose that perspective easily.)

(2) The second observation I want to share was a personal one. After spending so much time with farm families and people who are hyper-conscious about sustainability, it was good for me to attempt to communicate my experiences and ‘the message’ of those I worked with to representatives of a more general population.

D. and I have been grateful for our really unintended back and forth between farm and friends. Not only has it provided respite mentally, emotionally, and physically, but it has allowed us to stay grounded in the reality of how distinctly different the communities we have participated in are from the way most of the population lives. While I believe what these sustainable communities do is beyond admirable, necessary perhaps, the depressing truth is that so many people are so far from this lifestyle. I can’t help but ask, how do we bridge that gap? 

(Re)Creating Sabbath

Someone recently passed this article on to me from the New York Times written by Judith Shulevitz. It wasn't until I finished the article that I realized the author was the same woman whose book I just finished on sabbath: The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time.


The book did a good job of talking about histories of Sabbath in both the Jewish and Christian traditions as well as lesser known groups such as the Hutterites or Sabbatarians; she also draws from Abraham Heschel who I've mentioned in previous posts. Her mix of history and personal writing was a little scattered for me, she never really seemed to say anything at the end of the day. She claims Sabbath is a completely dead practice, and I would also challenge her on this point. I liked her article better. 


She begins by asking the reader how you would recreate the Sabbath, and then describes a few fellow New Yorkers who do so. 


I like the intentional taking of time set aside and time with family that the therapist from Brooklyn Heights is careful about. I like that she is not threatened as a confident capable professional woman who also affirms the masculinity of her husband through a traditional family blessing. Since when have you seen someone so comfortable in the particularity of gender roles?


I have a harder time separating my theology from Sabbath as does the Israeli novelist. Why call it Sabbath then? Why not just have personal time that you take to set aside each week. Perhaps it is his Jewish heritage that provides meaning for him, but even that heritage was a focus on time rather than a practice as he claims. He doesn't like the rules, but the rules come from defining Sabbath as practice rather than as time.


Finally, the professor asks my favorite question. Most people who are trying to reclaim Sabbath, do so alone, often during moments during their week when they can fit it in. Sabbath is about time first, not just "time when you can fit it in." And she asks about how we can move away from the individual spirituality of Sabbath back into a communal framework. 


Check it out:  
Creating Sabbath Peace Amid the Noise
...and let me know how you would/do (re)claim Sabbath today.

Note: Why is an article on Sabbath in the "Fashion & Style" section, and then listed under "cultural studies"? Is this perhaps another cultural critique on our anxiety about taking time out? Will we go out of style? Be in bad fashion?

Worm Food

Even though we are not on a farm while in Boise, we have still been able to continue our theme of exploring food production. On Saturday, we went to the Boise farmer's market in downtown and indulged in those yummy mini donuts you get fried for you on the spot, but also some local cherries, elk, dried fruits, cheese curds, and local Idaho potato chips. That night we made yummy elk burgers with a side salad dressed with local dressing and fresh grilled beets, turnips and onion.

Last night, however, we indulged in a meal out at the Bittercreek AleHouse. This downtown pub and it's sister restaurant, The Red Feather Lounge, are two purveyors of all things local. They try to buy as much of their food and drink from as local a farm as they can find, and even list their drink menu from least to most miles traveled. This does make indulging in a good Belgium beer difficult when you see it's been shipped 5,000 miles. (O, Brick Store, how I still love thee!)

As someone traveling in the area, it's nice to get a sense of what is unique to Idaho and the surrounding region. I can buy a hamburger or a salad anywhere. But what kinds of burgers, what kinds of fish and veggies are they using to dress their sandwiches and salads are seasonal and regional for this place? I had a smoked trout plate with local goat cheese, flatbread, capers, and roasted garlic along with a Butterleaf Wedge salad with leeks, tomato, and parmesan. Daniel had the cheesesteak made with grass-fed roast beef.

The restaurant also has a "Low Power Happy Hour" during the week from 4-6 in which they offer you deals on their fare in exchange for a darker atmosphere. They do not turn on the dining room lights until 6pm. In fact, they wondered how much they would save on their electricity bill if they simply turned off their neon pub signs, and they discovered a 30% decline! Needless to say, we didn't see any flashing Pabst signs on our visit.

Finally, the restaurant prints their menus on paper, and shreds them to create worm food when they reprint. Wait, worm food? That's right, perhaps the most intriguing part of the restaurant is the two vats of compost we toured in the basement each holding 200 lbs. of worms and all the food and paper compost the restaurant could feed them. Surprisingly, the basement didn't smell at all (they don't compost their meat/dairy products down there), and the worms were creating compost that would go back into the soil to grow veggies and flowers for the restaurant owner's garden.

All in all, it was one of the best meals I've had on the road. Cheers!

Montucky

Native Sunflower to Montana

I thought I'd catch up on some pictures from Montana (or Montucky as Bryce from Native Ideals calls it). On this trip I'll be visiting several new states on my checklist, but this one has won my heart so far.

First, some pictures from the farm: Native Ideals.

Though this poofball is a weed for the farm, it is pretty in the light. :)

The southern side of the farm with Mt. McCloud in the background. 

I'm forgetting - but I think the Cutleaf Daisy (?) - we weeded the younger version.

Rows of wildflowers. 

Scarlet Gilia

Deerhorn Clarkia - the one annual they currently sell.

While we were at the farm, we went to the PowWow (an annual celebration of the local tribes that happens right in Arlee). Part of the celebration is the rodeo, which seemed to be more of a European American event in reality. I'd never been to one, and thought the 4th of July was an appropriate day to start, but I walked away a little unsure about the practice.

Horse

Bull

Finally, we had the chance to go see the National Bison Range, a few miles from Arlee. The range has bison, but also Elk, Deer, Antelope, Black Bear, lots of birds and marmots. Native Ideals actually does some contract work with the refuge. The bison are enormous; they can easily weigh one ton! Here's a few favorite shots. 

The Missions are in the background

Female Elk with a little one down slope.

White Tailed Deer on the move

There are somewhere between 300-500 on the range. We probably saw a total of 100 driving around. 

Antelope 

A storm rolling in. The sky is amazing from the valley. 

A Sabbath Sermon

I am currently in the company of some good seminary friends in Boise, ID, and Marci graciously invited me to preach at her church, Southminster Presbyterian, this morning. I couldn't seem to help but preach, of course, about Sabbath. So here it is.
Gen 2:1-4

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all heir multitude. And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested form all the work that he had done in creation. These are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created.

Luke 10:25-37

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into that hands of robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

 ***

Who is my neighbor? That is often the question we hinge on from this familiar gospel story. We’ve each probably heard a half a dozen sermons about the Good Samaritan, many no doubt asking us important questions about how we treat those around us, and who we consider to be neighbors, or maybe even why we should show people kindness. But I’d like to take us in a different direction this morning.

Some of you may have heard about a study conducted in 1973 by a couple of psychologists who used the story of The Good Samaritan as their template. Their intention was to look at personality factors that affected whether or not people would stop to help another person in distress. Interestingly, they recruited seminary students (of the Presbyterian variety, from Princeton) as their participants, and instructed each of them to travel from one building to another where they would give a talk. They had a few variables, half the students were asked to talk about job prospects in that talk, the other half were asking to preach a sermon on the Good Samaritan. Then each of those two groups were broken into thirds, one third was told to hurry over to the next building, they were going to be late! The second was told they were on time, but not to dilly dally, the final group was told the program was running late and but they could go ahead and make their way over. Every student passed an actor playing a homeless man who was in health distress on their way to the second building to talk.

The researchers were hoping to find that these benevolent seminary students would differ in their responses mostly based on personality, but what they found was that the biggest factor in whether someone stopped to help was whether or not they were in a hurry. Those who stopped the most, were those who had been told the program was running late and had extra time to spare.

When was the last time you were in a hurry? Maybe Friday afternoon, rushing to get out of the office and beat weekend rush hour traffic? Perhaps it was yesterday as you made your way to a meeting or the kids practice. Or was it this morning as you left the house in a flurry to make it to church on time?

Being busy is a status symbol in our culture today. It is a compliment of sorts to hear, “Wow, you must really be busy” and reply with a non-chalant, “nah, not really.” Being too busy is the number one reason why people say they can’t vote; half of people who don’t attend church say it’s because they’re too busy. We have twitter because we’re too busy to read an entire letter or e-mail about how our friends are doing, we’ve got blackberries because we’re too busy to remember what comes in the next hour, we’ve got 8-minute ab workouts because we’re too busy to find time to be active outdoors doing something we actually enjoy that is good for our bodies.

Thomas Merton talks about this business as a kind of violence; he says:

“To allow oneself to be carried away by the multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace, [because] it destroys our own inner capacity for peace.”

And indeed, when we look at the story of The Good Samaritan and the priest and Levite who both passed by, or the study in which even budding do-gooder pastors walk by the homeless man, we begin to see how this busy life might in fact deliver violence in our world.

So how do we respond to this life? How to we resist the status of a full calendar, and find time to rest, to nurture ourselves, those around us, and our relationship with God?

I had the opportunity to think more deeply about this in seminary. I found myself at the end of two full years of studying and interning, and realized I didn’t have it in me to do another summer of work; Clinical Pastoral Education was next on the docket. So I went to one of my professors to talk it over with him, and said I just needed to take a break, I was overwhelmed and so emotionally dry that I couldn’t begin to imagine serving as a chaplain for the summer. He supported my decision to postpone CPE, but corrected my description of it, telling me that I was not merely “taking a break”, but instead practicing Sabbath.

I think this ancient faith practice, one that we only vaguely recognize as Christians today, is one way we can respond to our hurried culture. When you hear the word Sabbath, many of you might first think about Judaism, or even Seventh Day Adventists, and indeed they are two traditions that prioritize the Sabbath.

Jews have several texts that inform their practice of Sabbath, but there are two that seem particularly foundational, and Christians also hold these passages in high esteem. One of these texts was our first scripture reading from this morning in Genesis, in which God creates the seventh day, rested, and hallowed it. But this alone, might seem like not enough of a reason that we should deserve a weekly rest, creating the world must have been harder work than anything we could have ever possibly participated in. So look then to the Decalogue, the ten commandments. We generally attempt to follow these basic laws right? We’re all familiar with thou shall not steal, murder, or covet your neighbor. You shall honor your father and mother, and not make false idols.

But we often forget the fourth commandment; can you name what it is?

“Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work.”

You may be wondering what is the Sabbath, or how do we practice it? Certainly we go to church on Sundays, and you may have heard about other traditions like Judaism in which they refrain from labor and work, but also cooking, or use of light or transportation, and eat traditional meals with family. It may even conjure up memories of the old blue laws which prohibit the sale of liquor, gambling, bingo, labor, or recreational sports on Sundays depending on which state you are in.

But Sabbath is not about restrictions or rules, nor is it about idle rest. It is an active cessation of work, a rest in motion. Sabbath is not a time intended for us to make it as far as we get until we collapse into a desperate repose in which we can do nothing for our exhaustion.  Instead it is an intentional time to regularly tend to God, to community and self, to celebrate life. In fact it is less a particular practice and more an observance of a particular time.

Let’s turn to the Genesis passage again. Throughout the entire story, God has created each portion of creation, declaring each good at the end of the day. But what happens on the seventh day is unique. God creates another day, another portion of time, and then God rests and blesses that time. The Hebrew is qadosh, which means holy, or to make holy. It is the first appearance of that word in the Bible, and notice it is not used for creation, not on the Earth, the waters, the animals, nor even us. God makes time, a particular time, holy. And then God dwells in that time, and later invites us to do so too.

Abraham Heschel was a rabbi born in Germany, but came to the US just before WWII. He was adjusting to his new life here with fellow Jews who were trying to figure out what it meant to be American. His book, The Sabbath, was written largely in response to what he saw happening to the Jewish Sabbath. I quote his daughter’s introduction of the book, “The Sabbath appeared at a time when American Jews were assimilating radically and when many were embarrassed by public expressions of Jewishness…For them, the Sabbath interfered with jobs, socializing, shopping, and simply being American.”

Heschel talks about how we have lost the distinction of time. Time has become a commodity, a thing that can be traded and measured. He contrasts time to space, arguing that space is the real commodity we’re after, and we use time to gain more space (more property, more things, more power, more cubic feet). Hence the phrase, time is money.

But try as we might, we really cannot conquer or dominate time, it does seem to march on incessantly no matter how hard we try to contain it. And whether we like it or not, time is not as uniform as we may think. We do not consider being five minutes late to a dinner party the same as being five minutes late to work. Nor do we consider a 10 minute traffic delay the same as a ten minute delay spent catching up with friends. Or consider the nine long months of pregnancy compared to the first nine months of your child’s life. There is work time, vacation time, chore time. In our faith we have Ordinary Time, Lenten Time, Advent Time, and Christmas and Easter time. Sabbath is another particular time, one that happens weekly. And it is time that has been made holy by God first.

When I began to think about Sabbath more intentionally, I realized that part of the purpose of Sabbath was to participate in sanctification (or the making holy) of myself and of the world. And I thought that if I could just get the right practices down, and spend time dedicated to those practices, I would be on the right track. But then I realized it is the time itself that is holy, not the practice. And it isn’t until I submit to that time, not until I dwell in it, revel in it, celebrate that time, that I too experience the holy.

The Sabbath is a sanctuary from the world as we know it, from the time we battle during the week, from the labor and work we are required to do, from the reality of this world. It is a day for praise, a day for the celebration of life. It is a day where we stop thinking about space, and think about time in a new way. It is a day to stop thinking about what we need to do, or what needs to get done, and rest in a time meant for God, for community, and for self.

What is on your to do list for this afternoon? Mow the lawn? Do the budget? Read those documents from work you didn’t get to on Friday afternoon? What would happen if you didn’t get to that list?

I mentioned that Sabbath is more an observance of time than it is a practice, but that doesn’t mean that certain practices can’t help you transition into that time. Certainly coming to worship with your faith community is a good place to start. Simply being with others who are attempting to enter into that time collectively can help any one individual resist the temptations to succumb to another six or seven day work week. Worship can set the tone for the joyous celebration of the day of resurrection that we observe as Christians on the Lord’s Day. It can be a time where the community swells with life. But what happens after church? What will help you find that different mode of time, and let go of the anxieties and to do lists? What will help you create a sanctuary in time?

Maybe you turn your cell phone off for the day, or refrain from using the internet. Perhaps you do house chores on Saturday and spend the day enjoying your garden or lawn by playing games or sitting and reading in it. Maybe you extend your time with community by sharing a meal. Perhaps you journal, run, sit in silence, sing loud, or dance. Maybe each week you do something new, or you might develop a regular practice. Whatever it is, it should take you away from those spatial comforts Heschel talks about, and draw you nearer to the people you love, nearer to God, and nearer to self. It should not just be a distraction from you work, but a delight in life and rest. It should feel like a different time, so that when step out of it, you feel somehow lighter, you feel fed, more alive.

The poem on your bulletin this morning I think summarizes how Sabbath should feel quite well. Wendell Berry is a writer, and lives on his farm in Kentucky. Part of his Sunday Sabbath is to walk through his property, often in silence, and sometimes he writes (he writes poetry though, which is intentionally different from his day job). This poem is one of his Sabbath poems, and I’m just going to read you the end of it:

The mind that comes to rest is tended

In ways that it cannot intend:

Is borne, preserved, and comprehended

By what it cannot comprehend.

Your Sabbath, Lord, thus keeps us by

Your will, not ours. And it is fit

Our only choice should be to die

Into that rest, or out of it.

May we walk away from this sanctuary, but remain in a sanctuary of time where our mind and our hearts are tended, where community is nurtured, and out of that rest is born life. Our own lives, the life of our community, and life that extends beyond us; life that reminds us to be the Samaritan who will stop, and maybe even take a step out of our daily time, even on a Tuesday.

Amen. 

Native Ideals

Daniel and I have celebrated the 4th and begun our second farm here in Arlee, Montana at Native Ideals, LLC. The farm is still young, in its third year, but already well established and has a growing market. The couple, Bryce and Rebecca, are both interested in native plants, specifically to Western Montana (and the Rockies). As they say on their website, there are many reasons to grow native plants, but for this region in particular, drought resistant plants that don't require extra watering is big. Native Ideals does do retail (mostly for people interested in native plants and wildflower landscaping beds for home), but their real interest is land restoration. They have several contracts with the forestry service and the city of Missoula to produce native seed for the agencies' land restoration projects. 

So far, we've learned additional plant identification skills, accompanied our hosts to the farmers market, and participated in the seed harvesting and cleaning process. Though Daniel and I got into the WWOOFing journey thinking mainly about food production, it has been good for us to think about both the local movement and "being green" in a new way. We often don't think about how our maintenance of a lawn (especially in a place like the Rocky Mountains), or our collection of exotic things (flower, food, furniture, housing materials, trinkets) all require far more resources to produce and transport and maintain than we often see. The company also uses reclaimed wood from the area to make their giftboxes, and they employ a local budding metal worker to create their copper plates for the logo. 

So...what are you growing in your garden? 

Check out their website for now - it'll post pictures soon! 

Michael Jackson on Sabbath

I just learned yesterday that Michael Jackson was a Seventh Day Adventist growing up, and then I stumbled across this article as I was googling all things Sabbath.

It portrays an interesting side of Michael we didn't see much in the media (until of course, the end, when he starts talking about children). Have a look - tell me what you think!

Favorite Glacier Shots

So in the last 200 years, this park has lost over 120 of it's glaciers, and is down to about 26. They estimate that all of them will be gone by 2030 - and much of the wildlife with it. So enjoy these goats and sheep now people, I don't know how long they'll all be around :-/

Biking part of the Going-to-the-Sun road.

Goose Island - midway up our bike trek on the mtn.

St. Mary's Lake

Along the falls trail

Thinking about a dip. St. Mary's Lake was gawgeous, and cold! We did take one later.

St. Mary's Falls (click to make bigger - there's a rainbow!)

Before the storm

Pink clouds at night

On the Iceberg Lake trail

Iceberg Lake - never really thaws in summer

Top of Iceberg Lake Trail

Mountain Goats

Rams - lookin' ugly with their summer wool

Avalanche!

Waiting to get through Logan Pass by car.

So close!

finding my BEARings

Today we finished our first month of summer Sabbath. I have not been wanting to write because in part I feel “behind” on the blog, and in part I’ve enjoyed not thinking about an audience.

 I’ve reveled in the good company of Adam and Megan in Grand Forks, ND…

 …and then in the beauty and greatness of the Rockies as we made our way into another time zone.

Daniel and I spend three nights and two full days at Glacier National Park in western Montana. It was so peaceful to have two full days alone with Daniel in the mountains, unlinked from phone and internet.

As I’ve gained distance from the MN farm, I realize how I am seeing the things with an adjusted viewpoint. There are many things that may have bothered me before (such as the monstrous RV’s people set up and stay holed up in to ensure they don’t get too close to nature), and things that are new (such as the extra plastic bags Daniel and I were sure to preserve to reduce waste and use again). But there were two things in particular that both embarrassed me for my lack of oneness with the Earth, and also “put me in my place” within Creation.

#1: FIRE

After swiftly setting up our tent following a 13 hr. drive across ND and MT, Daniel and I wanted what every good campsite calls for: a fire. So we stopped by the mini-mountain grocer to pick up a bundle of fuel. After neatly stacking a tent of wood, we wadded up our recycled newspapers and let ‘er rip. About 30 minutes later, we decided that only the dry grass, newspaper, and anniversary cards (sorry fam!) had burned, and the wood wasn’t going to take. We went to bed defeated and cold (39 low that night) wondering how we could have strayed so far from the most momentous skill humankind has ever acquired in history: making fire.

After some additional help from the local grocer and some handy overpriced fire sticks, we made use of our bundle of fuel. As Daniel so aptly summarized, we got 1.5 fires out of 1 bundle of wood and 3 attempts! Remembering the MN farm which uses only wood to heat their home (read: one room), my mind wandered to all the things we use heat and fire for, and how little I know about it. What else have I gained allowed such distance from?

#2: BEARS

The second event that “put me in my place” was our encounter with bears. Actually, the park warnings alone about GRIZZLY COUNTRY had me gingerly taking my first step onto the first outlook point (500 feet into the woods). But we did encounter bears, six to be precise. The first was a cuddly black bear munching on the hillside as we rode past on bikes. Bikes are good – comforting! The second sighting was on our 10 mile hike to Iceberg Lake;  a mama and 3 cubs about 30 yards down on the hiking trail were digging for food. The park especially warned about the mamas! The third sighting was the 6^th bear, and the biggest. A huge grizzly about 15 feet to my right off the trail hidden in the trees until he heard my clapping (fear of bears) and turned away. 

Given our experiences you’d think it was easy to spot these oversized stuffed animals. But we ran into many jealous hikers who never saw one. They were eager to get a perfect shot, and willing to approach them to do so. All I wanted was to stay alive, and I couldn’t help but think that perhaps my appropriate fear of these animals lead me to moments of encounter. Alone in the medows, next to the fireweed and grizzly, I lost all sense of sitting at the center of the universe. If anything, the grizzly and the mountain seem to command that position with far more grace than me. I would like to say, I was a mere voyeur, but even that pulls me from the scene and either places me again at the center (because I have “developed cranial knowledge” about what I’m seeing) or outside of the system entirely.

Wendell Berry describes this position we’ve taken as watchers:

“Apparently with the rise of industry, we began to romanticize the wilderness - which is to say we began to institutionalize it within the concept of the "scenic". Because of railroads and improved highways, the wilderness was no longer an arduous passage for the traveler, but something to be looked at as grand or beautiful from the high vantages of the roadside...we no longer traveled in the wilderness as a matter of course...we forgot, indeed, that the civilized and the domestic continued to depend upon wilderness" (The Art of the Commonplace, p. 96).

(This picture was taken at 10:00pm)

So tonight, my last night in the park, I seek to sleep under the stars, knowing that the world is greater than me, definitely greater than my modern comforts, and I rest with gratitude knowing that conquering it, nor even saving it (though I should try), are ultimately up to me.