“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you,
and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement,
you should include all things in your gratitude.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Now that I had reached my destination, the wonderland I had been dreaming of for 2 years, the goal for which I rehabbed several injuries, it was time to settle down somewhere. I reasoned that, with so much visible snow, I would probably have to camp down here next to Wee Bear, on the toenails of Dat Butte. Still, I wanted to scout out the bigger lake above and say “hi,” after all the work getting here. I dumped my pack in the shade of a boulder and said mean things to it, then headed out to see if I could reach Little Bear Lake… and perhaps find a more sheltered campsite. To get there, I had to walk on top of some very large snow drifts, and I saw boot tracks from humanoids that had been there recently. The normally bucolic crossing was buried under 10 feet of snow, but it was easy to walk across. Somewhere deep underneath was the diminutive confluence of the lake outlet I called Rattlesnake Creek, and the spring from Mama Bear. I stayed on the thickest parts of the drifts as much as possible, sometimes chopping steps into the hard-packed slush with my boots. It appeared as though I could walk on top of snow drifts the entire way to the lake! I had never dealt with snow before. It had obviously melted down quite a ways from the high levels of snowfall last winter, but it was still everywhere in the shady forest, save for a few clearings. Tree trunks poked out of holes they had made with reflected heat in the white carpet. Stones, twigs, and pine needles had melted down into the snow, from the same radiant effect. Best of all, there were no vampire bugs! Apparently, it was too early for mosquitoes to emerge from their crypts.
Soon I approached the cove, and could see the lake… sort of. “Oh, my God!” Its surface was nearly 100% covered in whorls and moguls of ice! I snowshoed over the creek in the direction of my favorite campsite, but alas, it was almost completely buried in drifts up to 4 feet high. Then I saw a clothesline! People! I diverted to the backside of White Bear Rock, and scrambled to the top. I didn’t see the other campers, just their laundry. They were probably out to dinner, or seeing a movie. Snow still covered all the open campsites around the lake, except for a 10-foot circle with a small fire ring in the middle. I sat down and consumed the gorp and jerky lunch I had brought, took lots of pictures, and studied the lake’s new features. Deep drifts like glaciers flowed right into the lake in several places, one of them being Bumblebee Springs, which was covered in maybe 30-40 feet of snow. Naturally, the ice was deeper and whiter on the south side of the lake. The ridgeline around the rim still had several hanging pockets of snow. It must have been incredibly deep up here, just like the Sierras! Eventually, I saw a happy couple returning from the lake shore. They were so relaxed that they had forgotten to wear clothes! Or perhaps they had packed lightly, and their entire wardrobe was now hung out to dry. I glanced around, but couldn’t find their tent. They didn’t see me, hunched like a gnostic gnome on top of a big gray rock. They headed into the trees, where I noticed they had strung hammocks above the snow drifts. That must be cold, I shivered, and turned back to the lake.
The great mosaic of granite and trees behind Little Bear was mostly free of snow, due to its steep vertical incline and exposure to the sun. The thousand faces in the rocks smirked and tried not to laugh at my puny presence, but I didn’t care. I had literally risked my life to get here, and I was going to enjoy it! Unfortunately, it appeared that most of the major attractions were covered in snow. It was probably best to return to Wee Bear and make camp for the night, where I would have an awesome view of the developing afternoon, and a sunset that was sure to put on a show in the burgeoning clouds. Coming down off the rock, I met a solo day-hiker just arriving. We traded brief pleasantries, and then she continued to the lake shore, while I retraced my steps back to stake a claim on my room for the night. It was getting crowded up here all of a sudden!
On the way down, I couldn’t resist checking the cave. I stomped my way over the snow to the entrance, and could see it was still accessible. The only occupant was a lone chipmunk cleaning herself in a sunbeam. It’s probably as cold as a walk-in freezer in there, I considered with a chill, and stepped back into the light. I returned to my pack, which was still in the shade of a few small pine trees, but surrounded by hot rocks. I unpacked a little, and waited for the meager shade to move to the flat spot where I planned to erect my tent and lie down on something soft for a change. I was totally worn to a nub – mentally as well as physically – and it was still hard to get enough oxygen. I cleaned up my wounds, and nibbled some more squirrel food, but mostly I wanted water. I drank a whole 1.5 liter bottle with my supper, then filled up the water bag to filter a gallon more. Blissfully, I laid out my sleeping bag sometime in the late afternoon, and wrote in the little journal Logan gave me for Father’s Day. I had a lot of new experiences for which to be grateful.
An attitude of gratitude
is not a platitude,
but beatitude.
Reflections on gratitude…
• Things to subtract: resentment, judgment, and shame.
• Things to add: forgiveness, acceptance, and gratitude.
• Gratitude may be compounded by a positive attitude I call “positude.”
Positude is a conscious decision to feel gratitude with positivity. It is the soul’s driving appreciation of the universe in action. The nature of action is imperfection, and growth. The challenge is always to look back on the past with the eye of the soul, and be truly grateful for all the mistakes and bad things that happened. Transgressions are the curriculum of the soul’s university, and correcting them earns the diploma. I have a Ph.D. in mistakes. Without the grace of grievous errors, I would not have had as much opportunity to advance my soul.
I’m learning to lose the resentment that comes from wishing things were different, but it’s a hard filter to clean out; being clogged with so many past disappointments. I want to live the rest of my life knowing that everything just is, regardless of my expectations. Resentment is toxic, and too much of it poisons the mind into thinking that things should not be as they are. How could things possibly be any different than what they are? If they weren’t as they are, we wouldn’t perceive them as being different, anyway. It would just be another reality to resent. We delude ourselves with hindsight that things could have been otherwise, and therefore would be better now. Well here’s the breaking news: we can make a better “now,” simply by experiencing our current situation without resentment, and by being receptive to what the present moment has to offer! It’s never too late to be the person you were meant to be. That is the new awareness I’m trying to allow past my filters. But just because I can write about it doesn’t mean I am successful all the time!
Even if this awareness is cultivated, thinking that things could be better is a hard habit to break. For me, getting out to the wilderness where things are naturally what they are, independent of my judgment of what they ought to be, is an essential antidote for resentment. It relaxes my ego’s tendency to judge everything subjectively, and reinforces the objective reality of which I am but an extremely small part. Humility is a lubricant for gratitude, and honey to sweeten bitterness.
It is especially important never to resent one’s current situation. The present moment is perfect! Again, how could it be otherwise? It exists as a singular point in the unfoldment of a universe that is beyond our influence or comprehension. This present moment was brought into existence – out of nothing at all – by an omnipotent benevolence. Whatever you want to call it, there is an infinitely greater Mind than our own, orchestrating everything from the overture of subatomic particles to the symphony of galaxies, so how can one presume to accept anything but the music? I would go so far as to say that resentment of the present moment is refusal of one’s duty to fulfill one’s purpose in the evolution of life itself.
Regret is another insidious obstacle to achieving one’s authentic objective. Regret can only be expressed about things in the past. The past has no immediate relevance to the present situation, which must be accepted and acted upon correctly. Often as not, we get it wrong. But regret yearns for a perfect past that did not happen. Instead, there was a progression of precise outcomes necessary for each of us to discover our purpose in the ongoing development of all that happens. The correct moment is occurring right now, just as it should; indifferent to our preferences. The “now” is greater than the “why.” To regret the past is to deny the primacy of the present.
At times in my life, it has been necessary to feel profound reconstructive regret for my actions, as a way of demonstrating that I have learned from my mistakes. Some have been among the worst mistakes any human can make. When I dwelt too strongly on regret, it morphed into shame, which was toxic and debilitating. Temporary, transformative regret for wrongful actions is important for the soul’s development. Habitual, deeply embedded regret is poisonous.
Human beings think too much. The never-ending stream of information bombards our senses, and the brain constantly tries to sort it all out, but never seems to catch up. There is just too much. It’s better to experience reality with the heart, instead of the mind. Consciously shift the locus of awareness from the middle of the skull to the center of your chest. Feel the rhythm of life as a rolling river, and let the facts and figures pass over you, the way fallen leaves drift downstream. Your body is the conduit through which the life current flows. Be thankful to be a channel of the energy that comes from the limitless, eternal universe. Your perception is shaped not by the boundaries of your mind, but by the depth of your gratitude.
Relax into the moment. Don’t be apart from it; judging it all the time. The need to judge is born of separation; of fear and anxiousness that you are not good enough. You are always adequate in this precise moment in time else why would you be a part of it? The unfoldment of the universe is always correct. The instant you lose the need to evaluate everything that happens, the first thing you feel is a refreshing gratitude: simple appreciation for being. In the moment Now.
“What is essential is to see with the heart.”
– Antoine de Saint-Auxupéry
The Little Prince
What was this day trying to teach me? What was I supposed to learn? I had taken every precaution on my way up here. I intentionally spread out the labor, taking 3 days, and a total of about 12 hours, to ascend 4.5 miles and 3,200 feet. I had worked out dutifully on the exercise bike, rehabbed both legs, and wore more knee braces than an entire football team. I knew I was hiking alone, of course, and was extra careful to avoid snakes and trip hazards. So, why did I foolishly deviate from my course – to check out a silly little waterfall – when a goal I had envisioned for two whole years was nearly in sight? I pondered my propensity for rash decisions without thinking through the possible consequences, and realized I was too impulsive. I still approached being in the mountains with the exuberance of a boy whose safety was assured. I needed to learn prudence, and circumspection, and an adult devotion to sticking with the plan. I had to become aware of my limitations, and ultimately, my own mortality.
Today was the closest I had come to dying up here, simply because I was unable to control my present moment. I recalled another incident where I almost fell off a cliff. It was 45 years ago, when I first visited these higher lakes. My foolish friends and I decided to take a shortcut down these bluffs in a rainstorm. The rocks were slippery, and at one point my friends both slid into me at the edge of a precipice, but I acted on instinct, wedging my feet into a crack and keeping us all from skimming over the edge. Today, I had no awareness that I was about to roll off a cliff, and only the hand of God could save me. There was no opportunity to rely on instinct, reflexes, or reasoning. Now, lying safe in my tent, I reflexively touched the bandage over my heart, where that one particular rock had stopped my fall, and fervently recited an entire Rosary for my good fortune. The last thought I remembered was that this could be the final trip I would ever make up here… alone.
“There are times when I think I’ve found the truth,
There are times when I know I am wrong.
And the days when I try to hide my fears,
Bless the days when I’m feeling strong.”
— Ray Thomas, The Moody Blues