Hiking In The Snow
I found that I have this funny tendency when hiking in the snow; maybe you do too. When I walk, I focus intently on walking in foot prints of previous travelers of whatever trail I’m on. Now, this is not fundamentally a bad thing, but I noticed something this morning as I was hiking in 10 inches of snow. I observed that I was so focused on where I put my feet that I was missing out on the beauty all around me. I was so engaged in making sure my foot made it into the next footprint that I was ignoring the primary purpose of hiking in the first place—the experience of nature and being in motion with it.
Silly isn’t it. I was expending so much attention—
So much energy
Trying to stay in the already treaded path.
—
That’s when the realization hit me.
I have been moving through most of my life like this. Always striving to keep my feet in the footprints of others who have gone before. It amazes me how much energy I have devoted to this false sense of security in my life.
Once again, nothing fundamentally wrong with following footprints in the snow. In fact, there are several upsides to doing this—
The first notable perk is that the walk is much much easier on the calves. When traversing untouched snow that is roughly 10 inches deep, it can be similar to walking on a beach. When my foot presses down into the snow, there is more give in the ground beneath me—requiring much more work from the calf muscles. When the snow has already been pressed down by others before me, the ground is more solid and doesn’t require as much work from my legs.
The second notable benefit is not having to worry about sliding and falling down as much. Untouched snow—especially on a hill—is much more prone to giving way underneath my weight than compact snow. Funny enough—during the same hike, I did wind up choosing to traverse a trail that no one had yet gone through, and what I found was that it was far more exciting trailblazing despite working harder to keep myself standing upright.
See— it’s not “bad” or “wrong” to conserve energy and give myself the best odds of having a safe hike. It’s also not “bad” to try to follow the leadership and influence of other people—it can be helpful for avoiding mistakes and disasters along the path of life. It’s what I miss out on when I devote all my attention to staying within the boundaries of other people’s paths.
Security and safety has been sold to me all of my life, but it no longer holds its appeal.
Sure it seems appealing in the moment, but it doesn’t satisfy my soul.
Its primary effect is numbing.
Desensitization.
—
When I stopped concerning myself with the exactness of where I put my feet, I was able to wake up to what was going on around me and inside of me. I would notice the lone bird fly between points in the forest. I would soak in the beauty of discovering coyote prints off the beaten path. I could feel my heart beat in my chest after summiting a hill.
It all felt raw and wild and holy.
I could hear the silence of the forest.
You read that right.
Silence is a distinct experience that I have to listen for.
The lack of noise—especially when I would stop walking—would send waves of calmness and gratitude through my body.
Zero noise in zero degrees.
—
When my mind is not medicated by the monotony of following footprints, my spirit has more space to be inspired. I could hear that inner voice encouraging me to be as a tree—to freely grow, create, and give the fruit of my creating to the earth around me.
It may seem enticing to check out and follow the footsteps sometimes, but I try to remind myself often that the real experience of living life comes when I let go of my attachments to easy and when I wake up to the world around me—
To feel it
To breathe it in
To allow it to inspire me
To embrace its challenge
To allow it to write its message on my soul
And to pass it on to those around me.