Force Majeure

Now that the racing season is over for rowing, I was looking forward to some peaceful, smooth, undemanding rows in the morning. The change to Standard Time yesterday meant that there would be light at 6:30 a.m., the time when we row. So I went down to the rowing club this morning anticipating calm water and weather.

While it was somewhat windy, four of us were enjoying a good row in a quad in the protected waters of the Norwalk River. Then, suddenly, a huge snow squall came out of nowhere, carried by wind gusts of over 40 MPH. Our boat was literally blown backwards! We rowed with all of our skill and power to make forward progress into this stiff headwind with white-capped waves washing over the bow of the boat. We struggled to keep the boat from being blown into the muddy river bank. The sleet pelting us felt like needles.

When we finally made it back to our dock we had a new challenge. The dock was covered with ice from the snow/sleet mixture! Somehow, we got the boat out of the water and up the icy ramp without injury to us or the boat.

Once again, I was reminded of how powerful the forces of nature can be. The term "force majeure" is defined as "an overwhelming or irresistible force." To experience nature's power is an awesome and heady experience. I emerged from this battle with nature with a sense of awe at nature's power and a sense of gratitude that I and my fellow rowers survived this force majeure.

Experiences like these can be thrilling. Experiencing nature's power (and surviving it) made me feel more fully alive. I also have greater respect for those forces beyond our control. This was just a small taste of nature's power. I have renewed respect and empathy for those who must deal with more dangerous force majeures: tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis, and earthquakes. Not everyone survives nature's unpredictable and overwhelming power.

Listening to the Music of Nature

On a hike this weekend, I passed a hiker going in the opposite direction who was wearing ear pieces hooked to an Ipod. When I said "hi" he was so into his music that he didn't hear me.

I have listened to music in the same way, mainly on airplanes. There's nothing inherently wrong with hiking to music. Yet, I felt that he was missing another kind of music that you can only hear while walking in nature. This "music" is all around if you open your ears, and mind, to it.

What is this music of nature? It is the whispering of wind through the tree tops, the singing of a brook, the songs of birds and the chirping of insects. When walking on a carpet of pine needles, there is a soft thumping of your boots. There is also music inside of you in the rhythms of breathing.

I find nature's music compelling. It satisfies a deep longing for a connection to the earth. Albert Schweitzer recommended the concept of "reverence for life." Hearing the sounds of nature makes me aware that I am walking through a forest that is alive with so many different forms of life.

To truly hear the music of nature, you have to stop and listen. I'm always surprised at how many sounds I can hear when I'm silent and still. Listening is an important element in spirituality as well, especially in prayer. Perhaps listening to the music of nature is a form of prayer.

The Restorative Power of Nature

A front page article in today’s New York Times describes a river raft trip in a remote area of Utah by five brain scientists. The trip’s purpose was to study the effects of nature on the brain. In more sophisticated terms, the purpose was “to understand how heavy use of digital devices and other technology changes how we think and behave, and how a retreat into nature might reverse those effects."

Dr. Strayer, a psychology professor at the University of Utah and leader of the trip, believes that being in nature can refresh the brain. “Our senses change. They kind of recalibrate—you notice sounds, like these crickets chirping; you hear the river; the sounds, the smells; you become more connected to the physical environment, the earth, rather than the artificial environment.”

Other scientists aren’t sure why being in nature aids clearer thinking. One scientist, Dr. Kramer, thought that the exertion of hiking and rafting may play a role. In any case, all five scientists noticed effect on their brains such as the slowing down of time, the clearer perception of sounds and the lowering stress of being away from phones, email, and the Internet.

Here's another effect of being in nature: the restoration of the soul. The soul, our deepest self, is nourished and nurtured by the beauty and the silence of nature—especially when nature is understood as a sacred gift. Nature is one of those places where God can be encountered. Even though God’s presence can be experienced anywhere, it is in nature that we pause and listen. Unfortunately, God often gets eclipsed by the noise and multitasking of everyday life.

Mountain Lion!

On a hike in the Dome Wilderness in northern New Mexico yesterday, my friend and I came across mountain lion tracks on the trail. The photo on the right shows both front and back paw prints in the mud near a stream.

Suddenly, a pleasant, leisurely hike became a more anxious one. We both hiked with our heads up, looking around for signs of the lion. However, as my wilderness-savvy friend observed, if the lion was stalking us, we wouldn't see it until it charged. I thanked him for this reassuring thought.

We didn't encounter the lion, as attested by the fact that I'm writing this. But these lion tracks were a reminder that we coexist with the dangers of nature. While we usually see nature as peaceful and bucolic, there is danger in the wild. Mountain lions have to eat just like every other animal, including humans. I'm just glad we weren't dinner for this particular lion!

There is some risk in nearly everything we do. Yet, most of the time we are blissfully unaware of dangers. If we hadn't seen the lion paw prints, we wouldn't have given this danger a second thought. The same goes with driving on a highway, eating in a restaurant or crossing a street. We could die as a result of any of these activities, but we do them anyway.

We need to find a healthy balance between knowing the potential dangers of an activity and not over-inflating these risks. Otherwise, we'll always be looking over our shoulders with anxiety and fear. A little fear is a good thing, but too much restricts life and keeps us from living life to its fullest.

Pinnacles and Condors

Another amazing place I explored during my weekend in California was Pinnacles National Monument. This is a place of granite monoliths and spires rising out of the earth in a chaotic manner. During my 7 mile hike through these unusual rock formations, wild flowers, and talus caves, I stopped every few minutes to take in the beauty of this place. The photo of some of the "pinnacles" is from the national park website.

Pinnacles was a huge volcano 20 million years ago. Split in half by the San Andreas fault, it has moved 200 miles north at the rate of 3 inches per year. Being there gave me a sense different sense of time. Geologic time moves at a glacial pace, except when volcanic eruptions or earthquakes occur. These geological phenomena cause dramatic changes in the shape and form of the earth.

Pinnacles is one of the areas in California where condors have been successfully reintroduced. I saw two of this majestic creatures floating effortlessly on the strong updrafts. These birds are so large as to seem prehistoric, somewhat like the mythical Roc. The condors I saw in Patagonia last year were larger, but not more amazing. Here, I got to get relatively close, only a few hundred feet away.

The earth is filled with places like Pinnacles, each singular and unique in its own way. Being in these places puts me in touch with the sacred dimension of life. My feelings are captured by the Psalmist: “O Lord, how manifold are your works!”

The Awesome Power of Cold

With the frigid temperatures gripping the nation, I've been reflecting on cold and it's power. There is something mysterious and even awesome about cold.

To that end, I've been reading a book titled, Cold: Adventures in the World's Frozen Places, by Bill Streever. Streever, a biologist who lives in Anchorage, Alaska, is an aficionado of cold places. The book is a travelogue of places he has visited over a year's time.

Streever observes:
"We fail to see cold for what it is: the absence of heat, the slowing of molecular motion, a sensation, a perception, a driving force. Cold freezes the nostrils and assaults the lungs. Its presence shapes landscapes. It sculpts forests and herds animals along migration routes or forces them to dig in for the winter or evolve fur. It preserves food... It preserves the faithful in vats of liquid nitrogen from which they hope one day to be resurrected."

We know that cold is powerful, causing injury and even death. But can this force of nature be respected and even appreciated? Without cold the earth couldn't exist in its present form. We need the polar ice caps for nature's balance. The cycle of nature in the northern hemisphere needs cold to produce needed snow and to foster hibernation for certain species.

Cold is a necessary part of God's creation. While it is one of nature's gifts that is difficult to be thankful for, we need to see its importance. Maybe we would appreciate cold more if we got out of our heated homes and cars and felt cold's power to invigorate.

The Beauty of Snow

In Connecticut we received our first snowfall of the winter on Saturday. It wasn't a big storm-- just a few inches. However, it was very wet and stuck to the trees. On a Sunday hike in Sleeping Giant State Park I found myself in a winter wonderland.

When it is fresh, snow is one of the most beautiful of nature's gifts. Snow can transform a winter landscape from a dull and lifeless brown into a vibrant and brilliant white.

Hiking in the snow is also a great experience. The snow muffles the sound and you feel as if you're in a place of pure silence. The only sounds I could hear on my hike were those I made myself. Because the snow was soft even my footsteps were quiet.

Each season has it's own intrinsic beauty and winter's beauty is enhanced by snow. Since the soul is fed by beauty, winter is a bountiful feast! The key is to get out of the house and enjoy it.

Sunrise and Moonset

While rowing on this cold, crisp morning I was rewarded with an amazing sight. Just as the sun was rising in the east, a full moon was setting in the west. Although this isn't the first of these I've seen in my lifetime, this one was especially spectacular because of the very large full moon.

Like solar and lunar eclipses, such natural phenomena have an aura of mystery about them. Mysteries, by definition, cannot be explained-- they can only be marveled at.

These natural marvels remind us that there are things we cannot control. We can no more control the time of sunrise or moonset than we can control the temperature of the sun or the rotation speed of the earth.

It's good to be reminded that we can't control everything that happens (even though we exhaust ourselves trying). As it says in the serenity prayer, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot control."

Hiking With Hunters

After guest preaching at Pawling United Methodist Church yesterday, I enjoyed a hike in Pawling Nature Reserve. Since the Appalachian Trail runs through this 1,000 acre reserve, I hiked along this famous path. The most spectacular feature I saw was a large waterfall in Duell Hollow Brook. The photo on the left is from the Nature Conservancy website.

This is hunting season in this part of the world and I shared the reserve with a few deer hunters. Orange vests were provided at the trail head so that hunters can distinguish hikers from deer.

Even wearing my orange vest, I felt a sense of wary anxiety during the hike. Although the few rifle shots I heard sounded far away, it stoked my uneasiness. I decided to cut my hike short.

I must admit that the knowledge of deer hunting nearby diminished the spiritual dimension of the hike. Fear is a formidable enemy of mindfulness. When you're focused on the possibility, however remote, of meeting a stray bullet, it's difficult to enjoy the beauty of your surroundings. I plan to avoid hikes with hunters in the future!

The Dwarfing Power of Nature

Since I had the day off from teaching yesterday, I spent the day climbing Slide Mountain, the highest peak in the Catskills (4,180 feet). In the photo on the left by Scott Larsen, Slide Mountain is the tallest peak in the background.

This hike was a favorite of John Burroughs, a 19th century naturalist and nature writer. He was the John Muir of the Catskills and there is a plaque in his memory near the top of Slide. Here's what he wrote about the view from the summit:

"The works of man dwindle, and the original features of the huge globe come out. Every single object or point is dwarfed; the valley of the Hudson is only a wrinkle in the earth's surface. You discover with a feeling of surprise that the great thing is the earth itself, which stretches away on every hand so far beyond your ken."

I, too, had a sense of looking into eternity while on the summit of this heavily forested mountain. On a clear day, you can see 34 of the 35 peaks above 3,000 in the Catskill range, as well as the Hudson River valley far in the distance.

John Burroughs reminds me that the works of nature dwarf the works of humans. That's a humbling, yet uplifting, thought. When we become aware of how vast and endless is the universe, we recognize our own smallness and insignificance. Yet, as the Psalmist observed, we are each valued and loved by the Creator of all that is. Significance has been bestowed upon us as an act of grace.

A Rainbow Around the Sun!

While at Rowayton Beach in the late afternoon yesterday, I saw an amazing phenomenon. There was a faint rainbow almost completely encircling the sun! It was an inspiring sight and it lasted until just before sunset.

I did some research on this phenomenon and learned that these sun rainbows are called halos. The two very bright patches of this halo on either side of the sun are called "sun dogs." They are caused by the reflection of the sun on ice crystals and usually occur when there are high clouds. The sun dog photo above is by Jerry Walter from the wunderground.com website.

Although this was my first time to see such a sight, I learned that sun dogs are more common than rainbows. The reason I hadn't seen one before is that I just haven't looked up at the sky at the right time.

There are wondrous sights in this world if we have the eyes to see them. If we are to enjoy the world around (and above) us we need to open our eyes. This is true of so many areas of life. Openness and receptivity are great companions on life's journey.

The Peace of Wild Things

Some of you have asked me about the Wendell Berry poem,"The Peace of Wild Things," I quoted from in yesterday's blog. Here's the full text of the poem.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

What a beautiful and lyrical way of articulating a way to feed our souls, especially when we despair about the future. Connecting with the natural world brings about inner peace and a sense of freedom from despair. I believe this peace and freedom is the result of knowing that we are part of a creation that is older, larger and grander than we are, a reminder that we come from the earth and will ultimately return to it.

By connecting with nature we become grounded and centered in the present moment and experience grace.

I Rest in the Grace of the World...

I found myself with 45 minutes of free time before I needed to leave to teach class yesterday. So I practiced what I've been preaching and took a "mini-sabbath." When you don't have time for a full-day sabbath, a mini-sabbath can suffice as a time of renewal and refreshment. The photo above is from http://www.freenaturepictures.com/pictures/sunlight-through-trees.php

My mini-sabbath was a hike in Westmoreland Sanctuary in Bedford Corners, NY. This 630 acre nature preserve contains tall forests, green meadows, rock ridges, lakes and streams. At the beginning of the trail was this poem on a plank nailed to a tree,

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth
One is nearer God's heart in a forest,
Than anywhere else on earth.

Although the verses above substitute "forest" for "garden" in the original poem by Dorothy Francis Gurney, I believe her intent is preserved because a forest is a type of garden.

I reflected on this poem as I hiked and experienced its truth. Walking through a forest of white pines, oaks, firs and tulip trees I felt close to its Creator. Even though I only had 40 minutes to hike, I left with renewed energy and a sense of peace. As Wendell Berry writes in his poem, "The Peace of Wild Things": "For a time, I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."

Green Is Good (in more ways than you think)

A recent Dutch study found that people living near parks, gardens and other green spaces have better health and lower anxiety than those living in urban "concrete jungles" far from green spaces. This study was based on the review of 345,000 medical records.

An October 14 Bloomberg News article by Kristen Hallam titled, "Living Near Green Lowers Anxiety, Depression Rates, Study Finds," reports that better health is likely due from access to fresher air and opportunities to exercise, relax and socialize.

The study, published in the British Medical Journal, asserts, "The role of green space in the living environment for health should not be underestimated." The link between green spaces and health was strongest for children and persons with low incomes because they are less mobile and spend more time near home.

I always enjoy finding a scientific basis for one of my firmly held beliefs. Our souls are fed by being in places of natural beauty like parks, gardens and forests. Being out in God's creation is nourishing for body, mind and soul.

However, I wouldn't want to limit the benefits of being outdoors to the color green, for nearly all the colors of the spectrum are found in nature-- deep blue oceans, purple mountains, red and orange sunsets, white clouds, golden leaves, and brightly-colored flowers-- and these can be soul feeding as well.

The Wonder of Cathedral Pines

On the second day of my two-day hiking trip, I journeyed to northwest Connecticut to hike Mohawk Mountain. My hike started in the Cathedral Pines Nature Conservancy. This was once the premier stand of white pines in New England. However, a rare Connecticut tornado blew down most of these majestic trees in 1989. There are still a few acres of these giants of the evergreen world. The photo on the right is from the Nature Conservancy website.

While hiking among these huge evergreens, I felt as if I were in an ancient forest. The oldest of these trees are up to 300 years old-- older than the U.S.! I half expected to run into Treebeard (the tree shepherd from Lord of the Rings).

I stopped several times and stared up in awe at the tops of these wonders of nature that can reach a height of 150 feet. It reminded me of visiting Muir Woods several years ago, even though the Redwoods there are much taller and older. The oldest living trees are reportedly Bristlecone Pines, the oldest of which is called Methuselah and is over 4,600 years of age.

It's good to be reminded that there are living things much older than we are. I find this both reassuring and humbling. The reassuring part is that life predates me and will outlive me. It's comforting to know that life continues. The humbling part of seeing ancient things is the reminder that we're not the center of the universe. The creation is so much older, larger and grander than we are. We're part of its grandeur, but not the whole of it.

Hiking Mount Greylock

On Columbus Day, I took the day to hike to the top of Mount Greylock, the highest point in Massachusetts at 3,491 feet. The day was excellent for hiking: cool and clear. When I started hiking, the temp was 35 degrees. However, the trail was uphill all the way to the summit and I quickly warmed up. The photo above is of Mount Greylock and fall colors from images.ibsys.com/

I took the Hopper Trail to the summit, so named because it parallels a deep ravine that looks like a grain hopper. The trail took me through tunnels of fall colors. The leaves are at their peak in this part of Massachusetts this week.

At ½ mile from the top, the Hopper Trail joined the Appalachian Trail. There, I was joined by hundreds of residents of the town of Adams located at the Eastern base of Greylock. They were doing the annual Adams Ramble. The mood was festive as everyone huffed and puffed up the last steep ascent.

The views from Greylock were worth the ascent. I could see the Green Mountains of Vermont, the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the Adirondacks in New York. On rock monuments there were several quotes from Henry David Thoreau, who ascended Greylock in 1844 and penned these words:

"As the light increased, I discovered around me an ocean of mist, which by chance reached up exactly to the base of the tower and shut out every vestige of the earth, while I was left floating on this fragment of the wreck of a world, on my carved plank, in cloudland. . . . As the light in the east steadily increased, it revealed to me more clearly the new world into which I had risen in the night, the new terra firma perchance of my future life. There was not a crevice left through which the trivial places we name Massachusetts, or Vermont or New York, could be seen, while I still inhaled the clear atmosphere of a July morning - if it were July there. All around beneath me was spread for a hundred miles on every side, as far as the eye could reach, an undulating country of clouds, answering in the varied swell of its surface to the terrestrial world it veiled. It was such a country as we might see in dreams, with all the delights of paradise."

In nature, Thoreau found genius, divinity and the sacred. For him the natural world was a palette on which the Divine Artist had painted a masterpiece. I, too, find in nature a place of spiritual refreshment and renewal. At the end of my 11 mile hike my overwhelming emotion was that of gratitude.

The Sacredness of Nature

I've been watching with fascination the PBS series, "The National Parks: America's Best Idea" by Ken Burns and Dayton Duncan. This 6 part series started on Sunday night and will continue throughout this week.

With amazing cinematography and excellent commentary, this film is a feast for the eyes and soul. Although I've been to many of the national parks in the West because of growing up in New Mexico, this film makes me feel as if I'm there again. The photo above of a storm over the Grand Canyon brings back memories of my several trips to this awesome place (by Craig Mellish, Florentine Films).

The star of the first two episodes was John Muir, a Scotsman who emigrated to the U.S. at age 31 and soon went to California to run a saw mill in Yosemite, CA. Yosemite transformed his life. He got in touch with the sacredness of nature. His description of a sunrise over the Yosemite Valley captures this sacredness.

"Our camp grove fills and thrills with the glorious light. Everything awakening, alert and joyful…every pulse beats high, every cell in life rejoices, the very rocks seem to thrill with life. The whole landscape glows with a human face in a glory of enthusiasm.” (Quoted in Exuberance: The Passion for Life by Kay Redfield Jamison, Vintage Books: 2005)

John Muir found a deep and abiding spiritual connection in nature. He literally wrote Psalms in praise of the Giant Sequoias when he first saw them (he wrote in a letter, “Do behold the King in his glory, King Sequoia! Behold! Behold! seems all I can say.”) He remains one of the great interpreters of the sacredness of the natural world, which also led to a prophet’s outrage over its destruction and exploitation. It was no surprise that when the Sierra Club was founded in 1892, Muir became its first president.


Muir's love of the natural world found a resonance with President Theodore Roosevelt. They spent three days camping together in Yosemite in 1903 and it led to including Yosemite Valley with Yosemite Highlands (the first National Park). The photo of them on the left was taken at Glacier Point (PBS website).

To see the world through the eyes of John Muir is to see the sacred glory of creation. Seeing the world in this way is to feel awe at the abiding beauty of nature and gratitude for the privilege of experiencing it.

"I'm Hiiiik-ing in the Raaaain..."

After worshiping at my local United Methodist church on Sunday, I then worshiped in the cathedral of nature. This latter cathedral was Sleeping Giant State Park in Hamden, CT. The park is so named because it looks like a giant sleeping on his side. The photo on the left by Ken Gallager on Wikipedia is atop the giant's "chin."

My hike in Sleeping Giant was done in gentle, but steady, rain. Fortunately, I was prepared for the wet and brought rain gear, wore quick-drying wool socks, and used my trekking poles on the slippery trail.

While rain hiking has some obvious disadvantages, there are also advantages. First, I had the trail to myself and enjoyed a time of solitude only (pleasantly) interrupted by a doe and two fawns. Secondly, I enjoyed the sound of rain on the leaves and forest floor. Thirdly, I hiked much slower because of the slippery conditions.

Hiking in inclement weather has a way of focusing your attention. You watch the trail more closely so as to not slip on the numerous rocks and roots and take a fall. Because I was carefully watching my steps, I couldn't think of anything else while I was hiking.

Hiking in the rain forces a kind of mindfulness on you. You must focus on the present or you will fall. While fear is an enemy of mindfulness. being intensely focused is an aid. Focusing on the trail was akin to focusing on breathing in meditation.

While the spiritual nourishment of a hike in the rain is different from a hike in fair weather, it is enriching nonetheless. It's good to know that mindfulness is not dependent on the weather!

Lightning Is Still One of the Biggest Thrills of All

On a flight from Dallas to New York last night, I was privileged to witness a spectacular lightning storm. Fortunately, I had a window seat on the right side of the plane and had a perfect vantage point to witness this awesome display of nature's power and beauty. The photo above by Wiel Koekkock is of a storm over Heerlen, the Netherlands.

Just before sunset we crossed the Mississippi River and there were bright yellow and orange colors on the cumulonimbus thunderheads to the south. The contrast between the dark sky above and below caused these magnificent clouds to stand out as if they had been painted. The photo below by Bev Hadland (Essex, U.K) comes close to what I witnessed.

Bursts of lightning occurred every few seconds. Since I was at 35,000 feet, I had a rare viewpoint from which to enjoy nature's pyrotechnics. I was nearly even with the top of the cumulonimbus, which had the classic anvil shape.

This lightning storm was not only stunningly beautiful, it demonstrated the awesome power of nature. I felt as if I were witnessing something in another dimension-- a dimension where the chaotic forces of nature run wild and free. I heard on the news this morning that these storms caused extensive flooding throughout the southeast.

Watching this lightning storm out an airplane window was both humbling and thrilling. The raw power of nature showed me how small and weak I am. Yet, I felt blessed to have been able to take in this magnificent sight. Kierkegaard felt that this marriage of humility and pride could lift the soul to great heights. I couldn't agree more.

Power Boating and Sky Gazing

On Saturday, I enjoyed a spectacular day of power boating on Long Island Sound. Donna and I were invited on a good friend's boat to sail on a 44 mile round trip journey from Rowayton, CT to Port Jefferson, NY. The photo on the left shows the approximate size and type of boat we were on.

Here's a riddle. What's better than owning your own power boat? Answer: Having a friend who owns a power boat!

I spent much of the journey over and back sitting on the bow and enjoying the cooling wind and the scenery. I especially took in the sky and the large cumulus clouds on the horizon, made more dramatic because of the contrast with the deep blue water.

One of the types of meditation practiced by some Buddhists is called “sky gazing.” It involves lying on your back outside and looking up at the sky in a mindful state. There are two focuses in sky meditation. First, you focus on your breathing, just as you do in most any form of meditation. Secondly, you focus on the sky and visualize any distracting thoughts as floating up into the sky.

On Saturday, I practiced my own brand of sky meditation. Instead of focusing only on the sky, I gave my attention to the clouds. Clouds have always fascinated me, but only lately have I seen the spiritual possibilities in their contemplation.

Clouds are nature’s poetry. They drift across the sky, effortlessly floating on the upper level winds. They embody freedom and beauty. They are the most egalitarian of nature’s gifts—everyone who can look up can enjoy them.

So how does the soul benefit by contemplating clouds? The same way the soul benefits by contemplating a great work of art, or the vastness of an ocean, or the majesty of a mountain. Our souls are fed by beauty and nature offers us a nearly infinite smorgasbord.