I hike to be still. When I am in nature, I am able to think, process, and breath. It is my main escape (besides Truist Park in Atlanta). Going on nature walks and hiking is good for everyone, regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, religion, or location. You don’t have to have it all together, or be wearing the latest trends. Popularity and social status are insignificant on the mountain, through the valley, or in the field. Nature does not discriminate, she welcomes all.
This past weekend we received over six inches of snow in Knoxville. That in itself is pretty crazy. The fact that the previous week’s average high had been 65 degrees is even crazier. It was beautiful watching the snow fall and stick to everything. By Saturday afternoon, the roads were perfectly fine for travel. However, I waited until Sunday to go out, given that my last snow escapade did not produce the ending I so desired (see the three part blog series It’s OK to Ask for Help).
Be still. It’s amazing what you experience by just being still. And I don’t mean not moving. I mean the art of being still. Psalm 46:10 says “Be still, and know that I am God.” That verse isn’t saying to stop moving, it’s saying referring to the heart and mind of a person. To be still means to remove distraction. Only then will you truly see and hear, and all that you experience will point to God.
I took a stroll at Ijams Nature Center, here in Knoxville on Sunday. It was a beautiful day, although I would not call 28 degrees warm by any stretch of the imagination. As many went to their respected institutions of worship, I worshiped Him in His creation. I took the Tower Trail up to the top of the hill. On the way down, I stopped and looked at the teepee created by fallen limps from surrounding trees. At the bottom of the trail, I hit the River Walk Trail to get to the Tennessee River. After climbing down the stone stairway, I sat on a bench facing the river. I sat there to be still.
There, sitting on that bench, I closed my eyes and listened. I listened to the trees creek as they sway. The flow of the river seemed to have a melody as it moved. I heard snow fall off of the tress as the warmth of the sun released it from its captor. The wind whistled and squirrels scampered through the fallen leaves. The faint moos of cows grazing in a distant field echoed across the river. The loud quacking of mallards filled the valley as they raced down the river. The screech of a young hawk as it soared overhead caused my ears to perk up. The sound of a small finch calling out from the limb of a dogwood tree told me that Spring was near. I listened to be still.
Once I opened my eyes, I saw logs as they floated down the river. A mockingbird landed on the limb of a maple. Young bees buzzed around looking for pollen in newly blossomed buttercups. The ripples in the river denoted movement underneath. The gradient of arctic to cerulean blue painted the cloudless sky. Signs of life as trees and bushes begin to bud, were everywhere. When I looked upward, multiple nests in the trees testified to the promise of baby cardinals waiting to hatch. I looked to be still.
When I got up from the bench, I started down the river walk path. There was a doc that led to a loading platform for competitive rowing and kayaks. It gave me the ability to get closer to the water and look back at the trail. The ability to look back is a blessing, but also a curse. As I stood on that dock and looked back, I saw all trash, pollution, all the things that were cast into the river that had to be dealt with. It was all clumped together and trapped in a makeshift cove created by the dock. So many times in our own lives, our hearts and souls get polluted by the situations we find ourselves in. When we look back, we can see how we ended up in that mess and correct ourselves. But, many times, that correction takes time, effort, and can be painful. I walked to be still.
At the end of the trail there was a boardwalk called the Riverwalk. This path built from timber, goes along the side of the mountain and allows you to walk over the river. You can see the striations in rock, the fish as they swim by. A small cave on the path is a safe haven for all types of creatures like bats. During warmer weather, you are able to witness turtles on the rocks, lizard scurrying off underneath the logs. However, in the winter, this area can be the most dangerous.
On Sunday, it was still covered in snow and ice. It’s this area that the sun does not reach. It is concealed from the light. How many places in our hearts are still covered in ice and are treacherous places to be? We all have areas of our lives, wether it be our past or present, that we desire no one to be aware of. But those are the areas that need to be illuminated the most! It’s those places that keep us from fully becoming who we were made to be. Yes, there will be pain the in chipping and melting of ice. But the end result is well worth it. I stood at the end of the Riverwalk looking at my own life. I dwelt upon where I was and how I got there. I thought about what was next and the implications of decisions made. I reflected to be still.
Be still. It is harder than it looks. Some people are able to find balance in yoga, others in rigorous religious check lists. I, I find rest by being still. When I go hiking, the exercise is wonderful, but I don’t hike for the increased heart rate and burned calories (although those are nice perks). The views are spectacular, but I don’t hike for the views. I hike to be still.
Jeff Fyke 