Away from Concrete and Civilization

The social forecast for this weekend appears to be active. A party, a runner’s expo and a book reading are all on the agenda. The anticipated mixing and mingling is in sharp contrast to how I spent last weekend: with a solitary walk in the woods.

The Boston area received two inches of an “April Fool’s” snowfall on Friday, April 1^st. The next day, I woke up early and headed to the low-rolling Blue Hills Reservation. Despite the sunshine and reasonable temperatures, I knew the snow covering would keep most people away and I could enjoy a peaceful hike on uncrowded trails––something I took for granted while living in the remote Elk Mountains in Colorado and now miss here in the dense population of New England.

Like most ridges in urban areas, the ascent is immediate and steep. There is no gradual elevation increase through switchbacks; just a straight-up shot. I was mindful of my footing, but relieved that the snow covering was soft enough to gain traction yet firm enough to not be slippery. I met a few other hikers at the top of the ridge, but once I got walking, I was by myself.

I walk to find answers––the type only revealed through my experiences away from concrete and civilization.

In the peace and quietude of the woods, my mind turns on in full-blast stereo. I don’t “think” about my problems, I hear them “shout” at me. And it is beautiful to hear me. Back on the grid, I’m so plugged in and racing at such a pace, I don’t have time or bandwidth to take me on. I push me to the back burner and focus on my other obligations. But on the trail, there’s nothing but plenty of time.

And in that walking time, my suppressed problems rear up––and then evaporate. Solutions come to me that I hadn’t previously thought of; or ideas for trying for something new; or I accept that I can’t change a bad situation, only manage my role in it. The “mountains” in my mind that were seemingly insurmountable, I am suddenly able to climb.

Family and friends assume I hike for exercise.