Silence, the desert, and an apology to Edward Abbey

This post is composed of two journal entries and some current thoughts.

March 2015:
"The smell of manure spread on fields
Will always, always remind me of home
Spring peepers singing from dusk 'til dawn
Silent night, holy night

I am about to leave this behind
These sacred moments become all the more so
Ah! But the earth has more to offer!
Soon I shall discover the sacred places of the deserts and mountains
The wild places of solitude
The great silence of sand and stone
Silent night, holy night"

-

At the time I wrote this, I had just recently read "Desert Solitaire" by Edward Abbey. He spent several years as a park ranger at Arches National Park in Utah. He loved the place, and wished for people to experience it, but on its own terms. It was a hard place to spend time in back then: few amenities, difficult dirt roads, and far from much civilization. He fought the Park Service as best he could to keep them from making it easily accessible. One of his greatest fears was that someday you could drive through the park and see everything without even leaving your car.

This summer, a bunch of my co-workers organized a weekend trip to that same park, among other places. I initially expressed my concern that we wouldn't be able to spend enough time in each place in one weekend, and I was told, "Oh, it's ok, we can drive all the way through Arches and it only takes an hour and a half!"

Oh Edward, what have we done!

I admit I was a bit of a downer while we were in the park, as it truly hurt me to see all the things he feared had come to pass. Even some of my best friends were confused by my actions.

"You're reading a book about wilderness right now, why aren't you coming out here to enjoy this?"

Well, it's no longer wilderness when you can drive right up to the damned rock.

Here is the journal entry I wrote in the park:

7-26-15, Arches:
"For a while I felt as though Edward Abbey understood me. Being here at Arches, I finally understand him. There is no wilderness here. You can drive anywhere you want to go, and see everything without leaving the car. His worst fears confirmed. There's barely a difference between such a drive and staring at a painting (or even worse, glossing over someone's Facebook pictures!).

I almost had a moment of real silence today. I told a couple of others if we stopped talking, it would be one of the few moments in life where everything could be truly, truly silent. They laughed at me as if I was joking. It wasn't hurtful, but it was eye-opening.

Through these things, I'm also starting to understand Thoreau a bit better."

-

Silence and true wilderness are things I am starting to really embrace, and the more I do, the more I have realized how very little of them exist in our world today. I can't even climb a mountain in the heart of a designated wilderness area without hearing airplanes pass overhead. True wilderness is not something you can drive to, and it's not something you can be entertained with for a moment and then leave behind quickly. The Wilderness Act of 1964 actually has a beautiful definition:

"A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognized as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain."

It doesn't stop there, but I'll let you go read it yourself if you want a better idea.

I urge you to enjoy the silence you can get. Get away from the sounds of computers humming, fans whirring, televisions blaring, and find a true moment of silence. Sunrise is a wonderful silence when you can find it, sunset as well. Find a park and spend some time there and listen for silence. It is beautiful, but usually brief.

I'm starting to get preachy. I'll leave you with this quote from Abbey:

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds."

Peace.

Get outside

I firmly believe a little experience in nature on a daily basis is one of the healthiest things you can give yourself. Looking at pictures of beautiful scenery, reading books about the wilderness and conservation, listening to recordings of rainstorms and spring mornings...these are fine things, but are not a replacement for being out in nature.

Standing at the waterfront this evening, the lake was ablaze with golden light from the sun. Gulls were crying, robins singing, frogs peeping, doves cooing. There is no mimicking a moment like this. Even explaining it in detail cannot bring it to life and soothe a soul.

Yesterday I hiked probably about five or six miles, and today was a long day of high-ropes training at work. Needless to say, I'm tired. A few minutes listening to the animals and sitting quietly at the lake completely rejuvenated me, though. My body is still tired, but my spirit is calm and at peace now. Just being able to be present for a sunset outdoors can completely change my mood in a positive way. 

Intentionally spend some time outside every day near water, wild plants, or some other unaltered natural setting, and see how much better you feel afterward. If you're not close to such a setting, watch the sunrise or sunset. If you're willing, try leaving the city you live in for the sole purpose of spending a half-hour (or more) in a quiet park. Going out of your way to relax in nature is something which can have a profound effect on your mind and emotions, especially if it's not easy to get away. It is worth all the effort you can put into it.

Barlow Sunset

Walking down the path tonight
The lake aglow with day's last light
Drops from trees ahead are gleaming
While seagulls overhead are screaming
Fogbanks rolling, slowly creeping
While frogs abundant start their peeping
And all my thoughts are now congealing
My heart is heavy, full of feeling
Now this is all I ever wanted:
Mother Nature's beauty flaunted
A silence natural yet concrete
With all of nature's speech replete

Home is where the heart is

I long for a simple life; a peaceful life. Living in the city has its perks, but it is not for me. Do not mistake me: by "simple" I do not mean convenient. If I wanted a life of convenience, the city would indeed be a good home...but it is not my home, and never will be. If, as they say, home is where the heart is, then my home is across a whole range of mountains, and spans nations' borders. My heart lies in the desert canyons of New Mexico, the rugged wildness of Durango, the grand splendour of Jackson Hole, the friendly simplicity of Moyie Springs, and the silent beauty of Kootenay Lake. These places are more my home than almost anywhere else I have lived. The day now fast approaches when I can finally leave Michigan and follow the setting sun.

Peace.

Flowering Tree

On a hill I saw a flowering tree
Nestled in a forest so subtly
Though all its brethren were still asleep
The flowering tree refused to keep
Its silence for a moment more

The Chase

Memories fade in and out
A highway, windows down, warm breeze
Traveling alone
Silence

Brief moments of uninhibited freedom
Call to me from far away
Through time, space, and blood
Ask me to leave
Run with them
Abandon security and reason
For the beauty of the chase

"Let us hunt down the sunset
Fleeing before our eyes
We will not slay it
But release it as it passes
For its glory is greatest when free
As is yours, child of man"

Based on actual feelings

Campfire night. The air intoxicates. What draws us and tempts us to stay longer, a little longer? Is it nostalgia? An ancient feeling. Ancient air. Ancient flame.

Sehnsucht.

It is here in the wind, the colours on the water, the frogs, the embers sparking, swirling, flying higher and higher in an eternal circle up to heaven itself, incense to God. Our spirits dance up with them, soaring, releasing us from the world into reality.

Check the time, time to go.

Please, please, please don't go.

Mountains and West Bound

*This is a journal entry from my trip to Idaho, one day prior to arriving at the farm. This is not a complete journal entry; I have abstained from posting all of it, as it contains personal thoughts which I have shared only with close friends*

Mountains can be very deceiving when trying to judge distance. Everything seems much closer than it is, and what looks like a twenty-minute drive could actually take forty-five minutes. On the flip side, because they are so large, one can seemingly gain very little ground on a certain peak, then realise they have traveled ten miles.

Mount Moran has an enormous hole in its center this time of year. You can see right through, as long as there are clouds behind it. The clouds in the hole don't move with the others, though. Strange. *This was a reference to the glacier on the side of the mountain, which at times matched the colour of the clouds behind it almost perfectly*

-

I realised something else today. This "West" I have longed for is not really a place. It is freedom, beauty, the wild, adventure, and love. The American West is romanticised; the ideals behind it are what I truly long for. These can be had anywhere in life. I can carry the West in my heart and live the life I have always wanted, even apart from the mountains. This may change my life.

"West Bound" is no longer just a Facebook pseudonym: it is becoming and is already who I am. Perhaps it will be a "real" pseudonym for future writings.

We will be in Moyie Springs by Saturday. I am excited to have a wood-burning stove and a place to put my belongings other than the car. I am also excited to start writing letters.

Kootenay Lake

*This is a journal entry from my time in Idaho, written during a weekend we spent on the shores of Kootenay Lake in Nelson, British Columbia*

 This morning I walked down to the lake.

Loons wailed out one last time to welcome the dawn. The mountains around Lake Kootenay were still wrapped in a deep shroud of blue, only the most distant ones to the east showing a soft orange variation as the sun rose behind them. Ospreys flew overhead, calling to one another as they scoured the water for fish. A few ambitious gulls were just starting their day. A flock of geese flew past, almost militaristic in the flying-V formation. Crows discussed their plans for the day, the noisiest of all the neighbours this morning. The waters were somewhat turbulent, as if the heavenly peace of the morning nauseated them.

As I stood watching, the distant orange hues began melting closer into the mountains' blue. Sunlight pierced the veil on the hilltops behind me, revealing the lovely greens of the forest. Half of the mountains I could see were retaining their misty blue, their features still indistinguishable, and half were covered in a hazy orange reflected from the vanilla-peach clouds above them.

The clouds themselves seemed too light and wispy to have such a profound effect on the mountainscape. A horse's tail here, a bird's wing there, white sponge pressings, and pink sky-ripples all littered the great blue expanse above me. Impossible to truly duplicate on a canvas, yet infinitely unique every day in the natural world. The result of a great Artist's eternal creativity.

The Rapture of the Forest

*This is an extended journal entry from my time in Idaho. I journaled nearly every single day. This entry was written after a walk along the road behind the farm.*

There is a single tree on the farm which is changing colours. Bright, flaming orange, and kind of scrawny.

Sometimes I pretend the clouds are mountains.

Sometimes I imagine the world is moving below the clouds instead of them above the earth. Walking becomes a totally different experience.

As I walked down the road, I realised the raven I heard behind me was catching up. I turn around to look for it, and its calls somehow passed me by, as if made by a phantom bird. Looking up, I see the black phantom high above me, higher than I thought ravens were ever interested in flying. It floated in tight circles on thermals, quickly moving on toward the wilderness.

After finding a cold stream and a trail leading up into the mountains, I turned back. On the road, something happened. I stopped to listen to the rocks. When I did, the forest and rocks sang out for just a moment. The song was deafened in short order by one of the weightiest silences I have ever experienced.

That silence. It almost felt as if some primeval behemoth had me locked in its gaze. I couldn't move.

The Ancient approaches in the silence of the wilderness. You cannot escape. You cannot move. You can only know the Weight of the Presence.

Primeval is the best word. A great power, unknowable, older than the world. No evil intention, yet fear grips you.

A great Deep. Everything stills itself for what seems like an eternity, except the wind. The wind brings this Presence. To and fro it roams. We may not meet again for some time. You cannot search for and find the Presence; you can, however, go out to meet it. Where you meet it is not up to you.

Minutes passed, unmoving. I could have stood there for hours.

The burden grows. You realise it is real. Then it begins to fade, moving on past you. Something breaks you trance, and you realise the Presence is already gone. The dream has passed, and you have woken up. Perhaps, though, this is now the dream, and you had let reality take hold of you for just a moment; now it is gone, and you slumber peacefully, waiting for the wake-up call and that great Dread to find you once again.

Peace.

Westward 2013, debrief

SO, blogosphere, it appears that the King of the Wild Frontier has returned from his latest adventure and is ready to resume his online thought processing!

Most of you have heard my trip to Idaho was full of rewarding work and beautiful scenery. I could stop there, and it would be entirely accurate...but for those who want more, allow me to expound.

The trip out was an experience in and of itself. My friend Taylor and I camped in National Forests for free most of the way. We heard wolves in the mountains near one campsite, slept practically on the Continental Divide, and paid an arm and a leg to do next to nothing in Yellowstone National Park.

Once we got to the farm, things got even better. It was situated between three separate ranges of the Rockies (the Selkirks, Purcells, and Cabinets), and was far from any serious human clutter and noise. There was a small line of mountains right behind the farm, and I summited two of the peaks in one day: Line Point and Goat Mountain. Unfortunately, I neglected to plan well enough and almost had to spend the night on a mountainside in grizzly bear country. Heh, whoops.

The job itself was great. Good, hard work four days a week, and three-day weekends. I also realised how much farm work of this sort suits me. This should not have come as a surprise to me, as almost my entire family is comprised of farmers going back generations. I would strongly consider working for a similar farm (or even the same one) full-time whenever I settle down.

Our time on the farm (Ronniger's Organics, in case you were wondering) did include one very untimely event, though. Another intern who had been working there since around May shot and killed himself in his own cabin, which was just a hundred or so yards from our cabin and the owners' home. This came as a shock to everyone, and made things hard for quite some time. I have never dealt with death before, and especially not suicide. I am unsure what else to say about it, really...I was not particularly close to him, but our boss Simon was good friends with him, and he took it very hard for a while. Taylor and I just tried to keep our minds off it.

Changing topics completely now, I kept a journal every single day of the trip except five days while we were at the Barter Faire, which I will discuss later. Journaling regularly is something I have always wanted to do, but have never felt quite able or motivated enough to actually accomplish. It truly helped me to process my thoughts on a daily basis, kept me reading and writing, and strengthened my resolve to pursue some of my personal goals. I may post one or two journal entries here when I get the chance. I used my journal to also practice writing in general, and it is full of edits, so the posts will not be as raw as they are in their current state.

As I mentioned, I also read quite a bit. I finished "Into the Wild" by John Krakauer, the story of Chris McCandless, who abandoned everything he had after college to search for something...purpose, himself, the meaning of life, a real existence, God...he died alone in the Alaskan wilderness. His search, though, resounded in my soul, and showed what one young man can (and cannot) do if he sets his mind to it.

Next, I read "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek," an abstract Christian nature theology book by Annie Dillard which explores both the wonder and horror displayed in Creation. Very interesting and even beautiful at times, but very difficult to read. The descriptions of her experiences with the Spirit of God in nature really hit home in me.

A book which I have been trying to read for almost two years now, "'Hunting Trips of a Ranchman' and 'The Wilderness Hunter'" by Theodore Roosevelt, saw its completion on this trip. Roosevelt's descriptions of the West and life on the old prairie are the stuff of legend: tales of hunting grizzly bears, sleeping in buffalo robes, and heading out on horseback for days with nothing but a blanket, a gun, and some bread and water.

I also began reading some Henry David Thoreau, whose writings were referenced by Krakauer and Dillard. His longings for solitude in nature, yet also true friendship, also echo deep in my soul. I have yet to finish the compilation of his works I am reading, though, so I have not fully developed my thoughts on him yet.

Now, before finishing up, let me quickly explain the Barter Faire, which I mentioned in passing earlier. It is actually called the Okanogan Family Faire, and is located roughly in central Washington. The fair takes place over about five days, and is a combination of a giant farmers' market, a music festival, a county fair, and a hippie festival...and I am very serious about the hippies. This place was almost like a dream come true for me: trading vegetables for other goods, working and having fun at the same time, and giant, intense drum circles all night long. Yes, drum circles. The event was basically the end of our time working at the farm, and certainly was a great way to finish the season, as Simon told us it would be.

All in all, my time in Idaho served to shape me more fully as a man. I will always have room to grow, of course, but I can identify very specific areas of growth. First, again as mentioned earlier, my resolve was strengthened. Through helping me identify what I truly value in life (that is, who and whose opinions are important to me, my true passions and life goals, and the lifestyle I want to pursue), God strengthened my motivation to take certain steps. These include: moving out of the Lansing area and living with my friend Andrew (who is also trying to move forward in life and chase the westward dream), educating myself on geology and paleontology for now, and saving up to move to Durango, CO as soon as possible. Several occurrences prior to my departure and the lessons I learned while in Idaho have made it clear that the time to sit and wait is over: now is the time for action. So, Andrew and I are moving to Grand Rapids this January, where we will be working and getting ready to eventually move away.

Second, I learned about working hard and working over your scheduled time in order to complete a job. Perhaps it was easier because I enjoyed the job so much, but my time on the farm helped me understand the importance of work in life. I do not view work as a bad thing, or as something I must do in order to make a living, but rather as an opportunity to serve others and build up oneself at the same time. I used to complain about staying late at previous jobs, but now I see doing the work well and seeing it to completion is actually quite personally rewarding.

Third, making this trip happen was in itself a very important moment of growth. I have never done something this "crazy" before, but after being on the farm for a few weeks I realised it was not so crazy after all. In fact, it felt right...and almost normal. This realisation was very important for my life in the future. Now I can see doing things like this is both very possible and absolutely fantastic.

I hope this sheds more light on what the trip meant to me. Naturally, there is still much left unsaid, but such is life. I would like to express all the lessons I learned, ways I grew, and experiences I had to all of you, but I simply cannot. They are my own, and belong to no other.

Please, I urge you to take the step you are too afraid to take, shoot for the goal you think impossible, and make your own dreams come true. It can be done, and once you try, you will be living life on a new level. Then, the lessons, growth, and experiences will be all yours. Then, God will show you things about yourself you never imagined.

Peace.

Detroit

North I-75. Factories, industrial wasteland. Morning rush hour traffic. The sleep my body begs for is being kept at bay by a few sips of coffee from forty minutes ago.

Why am I driving? Friends, of course.

Seriously though, why am I awake right now? I'm driving through the city, I should be asleep, my back hurts...

The highway beneath me vaults upward. Is this a bridge? What am I driving over?

I summit the highway peak and look out over the cement valley.

The Detroit skyline. The bridge to Canada. The sun half-shining through a slit in the clouds above the city. The traffic rushes around me as the unexpectedly beautiful scene floats unmoving in my front windshield.

The natural beauty of God's creation shines in the sky above, and the beauty of God's creativity shines through the ingenuity of man. Beauty is everywhere.

Maybe I just need more sleep. My back hurts.

The picture is burned into my memory, though.

Peace.

Westward 2013, pre-launch

So, here we are again. The third summer's-end in a row I'm making a trip west. This trip is much different, though. Instead of a vacation, it is a work trip, a seasonal volunteer opportunity, a long road trip, a new temporary home, a chance to unplug myself from most technology and the rest of the world for a season.

The true reality of going to Idaho, however, is it will be a spiritual journey.

I am leaving behind the world I know: my job, my family, my state, my dear friends, my perspectives, most of my belongings, and maybe even a bit of my self. A different life awaits me on the opposite end of this journey. I do not know what it will look like, or if it will "look" different at all.

I will not be the same, though.

A friend told me this would be the case, but also explained how my old ways and thoughts will not be easily shaken off. Change, although encouraged by a new location and lifestyle, still does not come easy. It comes with a price.

I hope to spend a lot of time reading, writing (something I have not done much of before), making music, and experiencing God's beauty in the mountains. The same previously mentioned friend also told me to make intentional goals for my time there in order to get the most out of it and facilitate the change I desire. These goals are probably going to be related to the activities I just mentioned.

This weekend was a very emotional one for me. I hosted a send-off party at my house, and over thirty of my friends came to say goodbye. I received many kind words, and some meaningful gifts...the greatest of these was love. After almost everyone had gone, I realised how much I love my friends, and how much they love me. They truly are my family; not to diminish how much I value my family, but rather to say how much I value my friends. We treat each other as family.

Last night I took one final trip to Grand Rapids to support a friend who was performing a stand-up routine, and to see my best friend Korey. I don't often use specific names on this blog, purposefully so, but it is appropriate to mention him. We could not spend much time together, but it meant so much for us to see each other before I left. He also gave me some very meaningful gifts and words.

One friend commented on how we said goodbye as if we would never see each other again.

It is better to love fully, without holding back, than to keep it inside. Fear of rejection stifles the human desire to be vulnerable with each other.

A famous quote from C.S. Lewis:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

God is slowly showing me what love without fear looks like. Perhaps this is what will be different about me when I return to Michigan once more (I was tempted to write "for the final time" instead of "once more"...a good friend once told me I am very dramatic, but it is a good thing because God made my personality this way, haha. Perhaps "final time" is too dramatic, but who knows?).

On a different note, I am moving out of Lansing today. Tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday I will be traveling around southeast Michigan: cutting bank ties and seeing a few more friends before I go. Friday and Saturday I will be spending some final time in northern Michigan, and Sunday will be a farewell cookout at my church and one last board game with some friends from Lansing.

Labor Day, Monday, September 2, we leave for Idaho.

I know many of you will want to know what is going on while I am there. I will likely not be blogging or using Facebook during my time on the farm, and I have no idea if I will be able to call people using my cell phone. When possible, I would like to send group e-mail updates to those who will read them. If you want, send me an e-mail soon so I can have a list of addresses ready before I leave. No promises on the frequency of these e-mails, but I will try my hardest to keep you informed.

butlerc777@gmail.com

Your prayers are appreciated. Thank you.

Peace.

Idaho

So, as a number of you already know, I recently had an amazing opportunity present itself to me. One of my friends from Spring Arbor called me up Sunday night, asking if I wanted to work on an organic farm in Idaho with him from September to December. Needless to say, I wanted to give him a "Yes!" right then and there, but a number of things had to be sorted out first.

I have spent this whole week thinking and praying about this, trying to sort out my options, and thinking about my job, housing, financial, and ministry situations...and now, at the end of this week, I have decided to go all in on this adventure. My mom and pastor are in support of me going (which are both very important to me), and I've put in my two week notice at Preuss Pets. The right steps have been taken as much as possible, and I'm ready to start preparing for the craziest thing I've ever done.

We will be leaving September 2, taking a week to have a fantastic road trip out there: South Dakota, Grand Teton, Yellowstone, the Montana Rockies. The farm itself is in the northern end of the Idaho panhandle, twenty miles from Canada, and right next to Glacier National Park. Each workday will be done by 4pm, we will be housed in a cabin with a wood-burning stove, all our food will be provided, and we will have three-day weekends. Can you say, "road trips every weekend?"

All in all, this is going to be amazing. I've been looking for opportunities to get away from everything, particularly seasonal jobs like this. I feel I function better in short-term jobs...maybe it's a result of working at camp for too many summers.








One thing in particular I'm very excited about is the alone time I will have. It's been too long since I've disconnected from everything. I'll have a lot of time to connect with God in the mountains, to work on music, to read...to just enjoy life.

I will be coming back to Michigan probably via train in December; my friend will be looking for other opportunities elsewhere. When I get back, I will work on finishing up the albums for which I've been trying to raise support, and looking for a new job and place to live. I still don't know exactly where I will go once I'm back home: my family's house in Williamston is where I will go initially, but I will probably be looking for jobs in other parts of the state as soon as I can. My time in the Lansing area is coming to an end. My church will be waiting for my return, and I will be there for a time as the worship leader again, although I do not yet have a guess for how long. I'm trying not to think too hard about what December will bring, though.

Anyway, I'm very excited about this whole thing. I feel it's a very good and important step in the right direction. I want to be able to make at least a little time for anyone who wants to see me before I leave, so let me know! Tonight, I will be at Center Lake Bible Camp to say goodbye to my former employers, who are going on their own journey to work at a camp in Santa Fe. Lots of people I know will be there, and, without trying to steal the moment, I will have a chance to say goodbye to many of them as well.

Your prayers are appreciated.

Peace.

Walking with the Ancients

The steady crashing of waves on sandstone woke me from a light sleep. The sun was already up over Superior, and we had to make a quick breakfast before continuing our trek along the lakeshore.

Pack the tents, clean the campsite, start walking.

The peace all around was breathtaking. No human noise except the sound of our feet trudging along the path; just waves, the wind through the trees, and birds ministering their morning songs to us.

A seagull cries overhead, and I appreciate it in its true home.

Hours pass with few breaks from hiking. In such a setting, cheap jerky and dried fruit make me feel like all is right with the world. Much beauty is passed by on a tiring journey.

I hear the throaty call of a raven, and stop to look up.

Now standing in an old-growth forest, I am dwarfed by those around me. The trees are old...very old. Their branches and trunks are covered in moss. I take a deep breath, and the musty yet pleasant aroma of hundreds of mushrooms takes over my senses.

The throne room of an ancient fay kingdom has appeared before me.

It seems as though God granted this place a special sense of ancient solitude. My companions were ahead somewhere, and I was along with God and His forest...my forest. This silent, hallowed woodland inspired a deep, emotional reverence in me to which few things in life can compare.

I walked out of the forest along the path, and resumed as though nothing had happened.

These moments, gifts from God, come frequently if you allow yourself to see beauty in all things. Enjoy them, thank God for them, but know they are fleeting on this earth.

One day He will come again and perfect us.

One day the earth will be made new.

One day beauty will no longer be elusive.

One day.

Peace.

Westward 2012, Pike National Forest

So, this weekend was a fantastic introduction to the Colorado Rockies for me. My friend Andrew drove me around in his Jeep on Saturday and showed me Pike National Forest (or at least parts of it, since apparently it's enormous). The clouds were pretty crazy at times, as you can see in the first picture.

On Sunday, Andrew called up another friend of his and we all went for a day hike in the forest. There had been some drizzle/sleet the night before, and everything was still thawing out when we got there.

Today I spent the morning in classes at Charis Bible College with my friends here. Interesting how different the doctrine is here compared to what SAU teaches. God taught me some valuable lessons today; I'll probably share some about that later.

This afternoon, my friend Dena and I hiked to a place called Pulpit Rock overlooking Colorado Springs. It was a great way to begin the week.

Peace.

The Soo

So, I just got back from vacation with my family at Sault Ste. Marie. My grandparents have been going there almost every autumn for the past...many...autumns so my grampa can go fishing. My mom and I went up to visit for an extended weekend since neither of us had been there with my grandparents in seven years. I didn't actually catch anything, but it was a great trip. We went thrift store shopping on the first day, something my family isn't used to doing, and I got to show them what kind of AWESOME things you kind get for super cheap. Alright...maybe their idea of awesome is a little different from mine, but oh well.

My mom and I visited Whitefish Point and Tahquamenon Falls on the second day. Note: the snack shop at Whitefish Point has AWESOME pasties (I had my first one ever there) which they order from Gaylord, and they make their own fudge, which is really fresh and delicious. Tahquamenon Falls was really nice; there are two parks, Upper Falls and Lower Falls, which were formerly only connected to each other by a long, rough dirt trail through the woods...but now it's all boardwalk and asphalt. Definitely an improvement.

Like I said already, I didn't catch any fish at the Soo (Sault Ste. Marie, for any non-Michiganders), but spending time with my grampa was worth it. We went out hours before the sun was up each morning to try to land a big one. This morning, the skies were clear for the first time and we got to watch the stars right before sunrise. I saw a shooting star travel down the handle of the Big Dipper, and Orion is finally back in the sky. It was a good morning.

This is my last full week as an Ingham County park ranger. I'm sad, but I'm hopeful that a new job will come my way soon...one that will help me save more money so I can get out of Lansing for good. I started applying for new jobs this weekend.

Also, my good friend Nate Martin stayed at my house on Labor Day. We walked around the Harris Nature Center in Okemos in the evening, and he took some pictures with his awesome camera. He sent a bunch of them to me, so I'll share some on here.

Peace.

Green walk

So, the past couple days have been really great. Thursday night, I was at my second job when some huge thunderstorms rolled in, and the sky was beautiful. Dark, foreboding clouds, blue skies, lots of rain, lightning, a golden sunset, and a rainbow...all at the same time. It was amazing.

The next morning, it was still raining quite a bit, but I found a break between the rain and took a walk at the Harris Nature Center in Okemos, one of my favorite places to get away in the Lansing area. Everything was green and covered in raindrops, and some of the shrubs were flowering beautifully. I originally went to go birdwatching, but after a while I had to put down my notebook and just enjoy it all. It was too good for pictures...almost too much for me to handle. It was that feeling of sehnsucht, the emotional moment described several times in Wapiti Wilderness; it made me tear up a  bit. A couple times, all I could do was just stand there and try to take it in, barely able to comprehend the beauty of it all, and yet at the same time realising that there is so much more...if the world can be this beautiful (and more so), then how glorious, majestic, awe-inspiring, and breathtaking must God be?

I can't wait to see.

Peace.

Wapiti Wilderness

So, I've just finished reading an excellent book, "Wapiti Wilderness," by Olaus and Margaret Murie ("Wapiti" is a Cree word referring to elk). It seemed that the theme of the whole book was beauty in the natural world. Here are some selections which really stuck out to me:

"Now, by the alchemy of moonlight, all was transformed into a soft duotone of black and silver. The tiny meadow lay silver bright, overlaid with a dark tracery of moon shadows from the pines. Over the forest floor about our tent lay the same network of shadowy limbs and twigs, while in the deeper woods a few gleams penetrated in scattered flecks that silvered the underbrush. We scarcely broke the silence with speech.
"'It bothers me,' I ventured. 'I cannot grasp it all. I want to do something with it, but don't know what. It is this tiny little ache, with all the beauty, that stirs me.'
"I felt stupid at my own trite words. Who has not already said as much? An old, old yearning, this. But the fervent assent of my companion proved this yearning to be ever fresh.
"We walked on in silence across the silver meadow to our camp."

"I do think that if a man plans a career that is to take him into the wilderness, he should bear this in mind when getting acquainted with young women; if he could happen to fall in love with one who was harmonious with the out-of-doors, it would be a fortunate situation."

"I know that when I have stood in Nature's domain, rapt in wonder, in the presence of some manifestation of her charm, perhaps a sunset, a mighty unfolding of mountain ranges to the horizon, or the soft hooting of an owl in the dusk, at such times I have had my greatest peace. At such times I can harbor no ill will toward my fellow man. I do not understand it. But I feel it is God-given."


"Soon we were all outdoors, gazing on this perfect Christmas scene, and we had our cameras, for there is always this urge to 'do something.'"

"We were driving up the valley north of town one evening later in the fall, a group of us going to dinner at the Turner's Triangle X Ranch. The landscape had reached that special stage of autumn hue with pale gold grass, maroon of willows, and the variegated reds and browns and old rose on the foothills over toward Sheep Mountain. The sun, lowering over the Tetons, cast a smoldering intensity over the pattern. It almost made us gasp. Fortunately no one spoke, but I wanted to reach out to the driver and say: 'Stop! I want all that! I want to do something about it. I can't get enough just looking at it like this!'"

Throughout the book, Olaus references this "urge to do something" with the beauty he sees around him, but he can never quite figure out what exactly to do other than stand in awe.

I know this feeling. I am led to worship God when it comes over me. Looking around and seeing the immense beauty of the world, I am reminded of the One Who created it all by His own imagination and creative power, and wonder how beautiful He must be.

When we stand before God in heaven, I feel we also will be unable to do anything but stand in awe of His beauty.

On a less poetic note, this book made me all the more want to move out West. Actually traveling to Jackson Hole this past summer, the setting of "Wapiti Wilderness," cemented this desire, and the books I've been reading lately have only made it worse, haha. The Rockies...I can hardly explain what they did to me. Part of me also looks to Portland, Oregon. One of my dear friends, and somewhat of a mentor, lives there with his family, and he's asked me to come do ministry there with them. Of course, I would love to. I hope to move somewhere in that direction within three years from now, maybe sooner if possible. Right now, though, it's just a matter of what God has in store for me while I'm still in Lansing.

Peace.

Beauty

So, I walked to class this morning in a heavy fog. Fog deadens everything it covers; campus was nearly silent for once. Looking at trees off in the distance ("the distance" meaning about forty yards away), I couldn't help but think it was beautiful. People often see fog as an obstacle they have to slow down for; recognising God made it gives you a different perspective. Even though I couldn't see far, and the usual campus noises and chatter were absent, I saw God's Creation still, and the crickets and birds seemed even louder than usual: a chorus singing praise to the Maker of heaven and earth, even through the haze. After I finished my classes about three hours later, I walked back to my apartment. By now, the sun had come out, chasing away the fog. The colors of the trees seemed to be shouting for joy in the light. I looked at an evergreen tree and noticed the striking blue-green color of its needles, how different it was from the other trees, how beautiful it was. I looked at a maple and an oak, and realised they weren't just more trees: God made each one unique and beautiful, and if you take more than a passing glance at any one, you can see its beauty for yourself.

God reveals Himself in nature. He taught me several things this morning. First, the fog corresponds to hardships and obstacles in our life. We see pain and trouble as things to overcome, and we wonder why God brings them to us. We should see God's mighty hand working even then, and the beauty of what He's doing. Even when everything seems quiet, and we can't seem to hear God's comforting voice, His power and beauty are still present, coming through in the smallest ways we don't normally notice. When God lifts the veil, we can see clearly the situation around us, and everything seems even better than it was before the darkness; we can appreciate it more. Second (which God showed me as I typed this), those trees in the sunlight are like people. This is a lesson God has been teaching me a lot lately: people really are beautiful, no matter what they may seem like in passing. This is a hard one for me. Third, if Creation is so beautiful, how much more must be the beauty of its Creator! Every time I look around outside, I have to acknowledge the grand beauty of nature, yet, at the same time, its inferiority to what we will come to know.

Peace.