Nature as a Constant
On a warm summer evening in Vancouver about six years ago, C suggested we hike a local mountain.
I resisted. I came up with excuses to distract from the fact that I knew I’d slow down C, who I’d only been dating for about 6 months. But eventually I had no choice but to relent—we’d hike the next day. Before I had a chance to change my mind.
It was already smokin’ hot (by Vancouver standards) when we started out the following morning and I don’t do well in heat, at least not while I’m exercising. After steadily plodding up the never-ending incline, we were suddenly confronted with a steep ascent. C, who had completed this hike before, informed me that I’d have to use my hands to pull myself up.
If anyone had been around, they’d have seen the snarl on my face. Beads of sweat had formed on my upper lip and under my breath I was muttering profanities, cursing the trail, the ‘stupid hiking boots’ C had forced me to wear (rightfully so), and C’s seemingly endless enthusiasm. I cursed his long legs, his gazelle-like grace as he climbed higher and higher, barely breaking a sweat.
Not my finest moment, that’s for sure!
However, city-Hilary did complete the hike. Yes, yes, the views were incredible, and my sense of accomplishment when we finally made it back to the car was genuine. I felt pretty darn good. But I was not asking when we could do it again.
I’ve always had a healthy respect for nature, but I wouldn’t say I’ve always been outdoorsy. Sure, in high school, I was in an outdoor education program. We went on camping trips that included kayaking, hiking, and snowshoeing. We even had to do a solo overnight trip. But I didn’t do Outdoor Ed because I loved nature. I did it to laugh with my friends, to get out of math class, and to talk about boys.
My relationship with nature changed when I moved north.
Like many people, I find change challenging. Not just big changes, but also the small changes. Changes to schedules, plans (etc. etc.) that are par for the course in day-to-day life. Naturally, the move north meant change. Huge change. Change that involved almost every aspect of my life.
In my new life, nature is a constant. The seasons change, but nature’s power, its ability to calm, soothe, teach, and foster curiosity remain the same. Every season offers something new.
Since moving to Beaver Creek, I’ve felt as though the universe has tasked me with embracing change rather than fearing it. Change presents an opportunity for growth. From necessity, I learned to cook, I experienced new and dramatic weather conditions, encountered wild animals and weather extremes. These things were part of my new life and the they were manageable, but I also had to deal with changes that would have knocked me sideways no matter where I lived, namely, a medical diagnosis that is life-changing. And at the same time there are the changes we deal with no matter where we live, like old friends leaving and new neighbours moving in.
The universe has forced me to confront my fear of change, but it presented me with a powerful tool with which to approach change. That tool is nature.
Spending time in nature is a constant for me. Twice a day, at least, every day, I make a point of spending time outside. It’s in nature that I feel clarity about whatever issue I’m facing. Nature makes my worries feel manageable. When I’m outdoors, no matter the weather, I feel that, one way or another, I can tackle anything that might come my way.