This week I spend a few nights at The Mountain Retreat and Learning Center outside Highlands, North Carolina. After all that’s happened in recent months, I need some fresh perspective. I need some soul repair.
From the moment I catch my first views of the Blue Ridge Mountains rolling outward like waves, a holy awe washes over me. How amazing to be alive on this planet!
The next morning I set off on a hike. This is my happy place! The trail’s three-mile loop, down one mountain and up another, sounds pretty easy. I kind of forget that I haven’t done any serious hiking in over a year. Still, when my hiking boots hit the trail, I get that familiar rush of joy. My breath flows more easily, and my senses are suddenly wide awake. The air is crisp but not too cold, the sky is bright blue, and I’m surrounded by low trees with thick long leaves that look surprisingly tropical.
Then, whoa! Another surprise! As the trail upward begins, I’m quickly out of breath, my legs burning. Pretty soon, I am stumbling over roots and trembling as I cross a rocky ledge. Better stop! Better listen to my body rather than press on out of habit or pride.
So I stop. I drink some water. I eat a little trail mix. I take pictures of the green- blue vista and shoot a video to share the view with you congregants, which always cheers me up. I give myself permission to return to my lodgings. Yet when I’m back at the original trail, I notice I feel rested and curious and motivated enough to go on … even if it’s just a little further …
From then on, it’s slow going, but I grow stronger. I make better choices when I hit the challenging spots. Now I’m really present to both my inner and outer landscapes. And I start to wonder: Have I stumbled on a metaphor for our journey in the months to come?
Like me on the mountain, we may not be as ready as we need to be for what’s ahead. We start anyway. We’re going to hit some very hard patches, which may take our breath away; they will hurt. We will stumble; we may tremble and fear. At different points we’ll need to stop, to rest, rehydrate, and refuel. It’s OK to cheer ourselves up with something playful or generous or both. We’ll keep adjusting our plans, learning where we’ve got limits and where we’ve got power. Yet when we’re really present both to our personal situations and to the impact of
the wider world, we’ll know when to urge ourselves onward and when we may need to retreat.
It’ll be slow going, but we will grow strong. And I guarantee we will know moments of such beauty and joy, alongside loss. We’ll be fully present to Life.
And best of all, we will be together.
~Rev. Nancy Palmer Jones
