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 Recovery of Wonder

As a child, I remember feeling wonder at all kinds of things: thunder, insects, a new toy, lightning, Christmas, chocolate. Children have a great capacity for wonder. Yet, as we grow into adulthood wonder diminishes.

I wonder (no pun intended) why? Maybe as our capacity for rational thinking increases, wonder decreases. Or, perhaps everything becomes so familiar and routine, we lose our ability to be surprised. "Been there, done that" kills wonder.

However, our capacity for wonder doesn't die. It becomes dormant and can be reawakened with practice. For instance, this morning I saw a glorious sunrise over Long Island Sound and felt wonder. The sky turned a deep red just before the sun peaked over the horizon and the sun itself was even redder. One of my fellow rowers commented, "This looks unreal."

Seeing our world through eyes of wonder and delight involves appreciating the beauty that surrounds us. At the heart of wonder is gratitude. When we are thankful for the daily gifts that surround us, we are more likely to experience wonder.

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.