There is something evocative about slowing down and becoming quiet. A primitive, even visceral desire, to strip away the distractions and focus on that which matters.
For many of us, getting outdoors, is a way of focusing on that which matters. We do so by working in our garden, hiking, snowshoeing through the woods or walking on the beach.
We are drawn to that which allows our hearts, minds and imaginations to expand. To be reminded that we belong to the cosmos, not just to our daily routines.
Stephen Hiltner taps into this desire in a provocative article in the New York Times entitled: ‘In Britain, Enraptured by the Wild, Lonely and Remote’. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/21/travel/in-search-of-britains-bothies.html?partner=rss&emc=rss He writes of a journey through the wild lands of the United Kingdom, finding refuge and inspiration in isolated huts called ‘bothies’.
A vast majority of bothies are repurposed structures — crofters’ homes, shepherds’ huts, mining outbuildings — that have been salvaged from various states of disrepair by the Mountain Bothies Association, a charitable organization founded in 1965 whose aim is “to maintain simple shelters in remote country for the use and benefit of all who love wild and lonely places.” Some, like Warnscale Head in England’s Lake District, date to the 1700s. Collectively, since they came into recreational use in the 1930s as weekend getaways (sometimes used clandestinely) for working-class laborers, bothies have given rise to a unique culture that values communal respect for fellow visitors, for the bothies themselves and for the land on which they’re situated.
Such wild and lonely places remind me of a week spent on the Longtrail, in Vermont. With my cousin, Tom, we spent that week moving from rustic hut to hut, soaking in the vistas and silence.
On the Longtrail, there is a tradition of receiving a ‘trail name’ that evokes who you are, or, what you hope to be. My name was ‘Slow and Easy’. The name reflects a tendency when on the trail, to linger and savor what the trail has to offer. While some seek to conquer the trail by bagging a maximum of miles per day, my goal was to experience what was right in front of me.
Travelling ‘slow and easy’ was somewhat counterculture on the trail and certainly is countercultural in our plugged in, highly scheduled lives.
Back to the line I opened with: ‘There is something evocative about slowing down and becoming quiet’.
John Muir lived this truth. He was a mystic and founder of the Sierra Club in the 1930’s. His formative years were nourished by the wild and lonely places in Scotland. Later, as a youth, his family emigrated to the United States in the 1870’s and it was there that he fell in love with the wild and lonely places of America.
The moors of Scotland and the mountains of Yosemite, evoke a sense of awe, wonder and belonging to that which is greater than oneself. Muir wrote:
“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.”
Muir’s words reflects that which drew monks and mystics for millenniums to the out-of-the-way places. Yet, we know too, that such wild and exotic places are simply pointers to that place we can enter each day. A reminder to slow down, reflect and reconnect, to that Source which is eternal, which is good, lasting and true.
The portal to such a place, begins by simply slowing down and becoming quiet.
Isaiah, an ancient prophet said: ‘Listen and your soul will live’.
May it be so. Wherever your path may lead.