Last Updated on August 10, 2020 by James Dziezynski
I spend a lot of time hiking solo in the mountains. This year is no exception. In rounding out the last dozen hikes for a new guide, I get a lot of time in my own head. Because these hikes are on less-popular 13,000-foot summits, many of them have longer approaches and descents that are out of the danger zone.
Above treeline, my internal radar runs at full power: anticipating weather, scouting terrain, working through technical sections, and searching for optimal off-trail routes. On-trail in the trees or hiking along 4×4 roads is where I get a lot of free time in my thoughts, time to digest ideas and balance experiences otherwise lost in the chaos of daily living. Intentional or not, patience and mental focus on long days in the hills promote a modest amount of soulful clarity.
Purging the mind of cluttered thoughts offers wonderful, albeit temporary, perspective. The downside is that it makes returning to the commonplace horrors of everyday America all the more jarring.
It was only a week ago when I spent two days out by Wheeler Lake and 13,864′ Clinton Peak and came home to the news of two mass shootings. Like most Americans, I’m no longer shocked—either by the act itself or the impotent response that is certain to follow. It could be that mindful time in nature restores some of that emotional sensitivity. The sheer horror of these hateful acts combined with the irrational discussions that follow seem to hit harder—as they should—when I’m in a clear state of mind to acknowledge everything about these situations is not normal.
I don’t like politics nor am I one to idolize politicians. It’s a dirty business—and not the cool kind of “dirty” like coming home filthy from hiking. But, I do invest time, energy, and genuine concern into being a good citizen. When it comes to cooperation within society, I place incredible value on being accurately informed and conversationally competent in the real world, even when it’s exhausting. I read constantly on subjects where understanding does not come easily—or possibly not at all.
What happens too often these days is I sacrifice hard-earned clarity with something like civic responsibility. I log in to post a few nice photos of the mountains and end up in the miasma of social media conversation. Even if I don’t participate, the momentary calm earned in nature is instantly disrupted.
America is in a dysfunctional relationship with its people. The damage is more obvious the farther the view you take. I am saddened and disheartened to see people, many previously politically agnostic, deep under the spell of America’s unique brand of hate. I read strange missives typed in ugly, unnatural phrases that aim to defend the undefendable. One sees the reflection of powerfully toxic environments, written in an adopted language, rife with fully poisoned words and shabby ideas. Loved ones are trapped in abusive relationships with misinformation, and far too often, they double down on the worst ideas.
And this is where the mountains come in.
Day-to-day, I’m too cynical and perhaps too disappointed to care. If people can’t see the glaring flaws in our current government and archaic policies, then it’s obvious they’ve disabled the rational parts of their brain, yielding full emotional control to those more than happy to manipulate it. Dislodging emotional opinions by rational argument is an exercise in extreme futility, especially when the individual in question rather likes their new identity.
But… part of me has enough Luke Skywalker to say, “I see the good in you! Turn off Fox News and come back to the light side! There are a lot of people on the right side of things, come join us!” I don’t always have the energy to bother, but I do once in a while, after good hikes, after walks with dogs, after working with my hands in the dirt.
The two angels resting on shoulders are not good and evil, but indifference and tolerance. More than once, I’ve had to swallow my anger when well-researched, data-driven discussions on critical issues (especially environmentally-based ones) are dismissed with ease and confidence via post-truth, semi-literature Twitter posts. The contrast would be ridiculous if it wasn’t so sincere.
I’ll admit, I’m tired of these brief surges of hard-earned enlightenment getting harshed by simply reading the news or logging into Facebook. And it seems like every weekend, there’s something horrible and divisive enough that exposure is inevitable. I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon.
I’ve considered adding in a buffer day after great experiences, just to recalibrate. As much as I’d like to simply drop out and shift all my energy into my bliss, I know that’s not an option—too many people are suffering and to tune out now is to be complicit. I write books that may seem frivolous to some, but maybe if they get people out in the mountains, perhaps they will reap just enough peace to flicker on a few of those dormant rational circuits.
