Lingering in Wonder

                                             (photo of the Royal Arches and North Dome)
When I go hiking, it’s not to get somewhere. It’s the journey that matters.
I know, you’ve heard variations of this before, possibly so often that you don’t care to hear it again. But it’s true, especially in wilderness areas like the Beartooth Mountains of Montana, the Tetons of Wyoming, and the forests in Washington. You can stop on any trail, look around and see a view, a creature, plant, or geological formation that leaves you amazed that such a thing exists.
While the scenic viewpoints take our breath away, it’s the journey of traveling there that prepares us to have those ah-hah! moments.
The view from the top of North Dome is spectacular and inspiring, and I love to stand on the spot where John Muir stood and see how two canyons come together and form the valley, but it’s when I linger along the trail to North Dome that I notice a small opening through the trees on the side. I go off trail, find a small meadow, and explore its landscape — the wildflowers, chipmunks, and the specific birds live there. Later, when I see an old path, I push through the brush and find a creek flowing over the edge of the canyon in a foot-wide waterfall.
The valley is the result of massive trauma as well as the slow weathering of wind and rain. It’s the same with people. When we linger with them, we discover what is moving beneath their surface, what traumas have redirected their lives, and how they have been shaped by compassion and the love of others.
When I’m reading a book and a paragraph blows me away, I want to set the book down and let those words settle into me. I want those words to rumbled around inside me for the rest of the day so that I will experience their depth. It might take a year to read an amazing book this way, but I will understand a great deal more. It probably took the author years to find these words.
I want to be open to this moment, to everything it is. Each day I want to leave space for the unexpected to happen. I want to be surprised by wonders that appear on their own. 

I want to be attentive to the details of life, nature, and people, because in the details they become real.