At the speed of nature

There are days that I can feel my brain switching between thoughts, never taking the time to fully develop any of them. I feel frantic, anxious, unable to concentrate, let alone confident that whatever I’m doing is being done well. Too much happening at once.

Thankfully, those days aren’t too often. But they’re a sign; a sign that I need to clear my mind. It’s time to get back to the basics. For a while, it was almost too easy to do. Pick a lake in the Sierra’s, buy some dehydrated food, set off for a backpacking overnighter with Kari. Just the two of us, out in nature, breathing fresh air as the stars come out.

In December, Outside Magazine covered a project in Japan, where scientists are researching the positive effects of spending time in nature (improved cognition, relief of anxiety and stress, lowered blood pressure, etc.). Japan has the third-highest suicide rate in the developed world. They have a keen interest in confirming what many, myself among them, believe: being in nature, away from the sights and sounds of civilization, helps the mind relax and the person feel whole again.

The article resonated with me; it explained why it’s often not the length or difficulty of the outdoors adventure, but being there that matters. The calm of a cool breeze through the trees, a campfire and stars is more than what medicine can provide.

This weekend, Kari and I took Lucky on his first camping trip. It’s a long weekend and the outdoors were calling. Those calls must have been a wrong number. Lucky got a deep cut on his paw, leaving him feeling vulnerable in the wilderness and unable to relax. Our air mattress popped, leaving us freezing cold with a nervous, barking dog. We slept in the car. We were out of the campsite before the ranger’s morning rounds.

I had been looking forward to this weekend for a while. I knew I was overdue for some time outside, time to let my brain let go. I got a sliver of it around our campfire; watching the fire burn down and stirring the red-hot coals. A sliver is better than nothing.

The Outside article sited research saying five minutes is the minimum amount of time to begin the positive effects of nature. If that holds true, my few hours should be enough to get me by until the next chance we get. Here’s to hoping Lucky doesn’t get hurt and my sleeping pad doesn’t fail.

2012 – Life’s next phase

The phone rang around 5 a.m. on New Year’s Eve. Kari knew what the call meant; Sarah was going into labor. I fell back asleep, Kari’s mind took to racing. Once the morning started again, she made a list of 2012’s most important events.

It wasn’t the length of the list nor the people involved that surprised me. It was the events that were tallied. Life has changed over the past two years. Somewhere along the line, we moved from one phase of life and into the next.

We were at Squaw Valley to round out the year. It was a sunny 17 degrees outside. Kari’s list was sprawled over two pages of hotel notepad. Four weddings (including ours!), three engagements, four babies born, six job changes, job promotions, the sadness of dogs lost and the joy of the dog we gained.

Until a few years ago, looking back on each year meant remembering the exams taken and classes past, summer breaks, part-time jobs, great skateparks and epic snowstorms. I knew nothing of life’s next phase and cared little to consider it. But now, here we are. The transition was smooth, nearly unnoticeable. Better yet, it’s exciting.

We find ourselves trying harder and harder to live in the moment, taking it all in instead of recording it for later. I leave my phone in the other room so I can’t hear it chirp and chime every two minutes. I call friends for conversations, no more long text message exchanges. I deleted almost every social media app from my phone.

While walking around the village at Squaw, I realized that years are measured not only by the events and accomplishments, but the memories and feelings made along the way. That’s what happens when you’re present in the now. Years in this phase are remembered by the weddings and births, the deaths and the uneasy excitement of what may happen next.

Life is for living. It’s important to remember how each event felt, who was there and what it looked like. Not what it looked like through your camera phone or the Tweets/Facebook updates you posted.

We have five weddings on the calendar for 2013. I can’t wait for each of them. Memories will be made and fun will be had. I’ll be there physically and emotionally. My phone will be in the car.

Be there in 2013, live and in person. Make memories that can be told by a campfire or a frosty beer. Memories that turn into the stories that make your gut hurt from laughing or your face sore from smiling. Facebook can wait.