Why I Hike in Silence

One of the gifts of our location is proximity to beautiful mountain nature preserves.  Lately I've been hiking as often as I can, usually once a week.  We have several friends who also love to hike, but mostly I go alone.  I feel a little guilty about that, so I decided to clarify why I choose it.

It's not that I don't love my friends.  I love getting together over coffee or tea.  But I'm not so good at being aware of more than one thing at a time.  I can listen to you, or I can notice the world around me, but I can't really do both.  When I go to the woods (or meadows, or wherever), I am listening for God in the birds and the wind.  I'm clearing out my mind enough to notice the amazing world around me.  I hike as a way to God.

When I first set out I tend to move quickly.  My strides are full of purpose, or at least direction.  I usually have a chant or a hymn running around my brain, and it sets my pace.  I may spend an hour just burning off excess energy.  During that time I'm appreciating that I'm in a beautiful place, but I'm not fully there yet.

Then I begin to slow down, internally and externally.  I know it's happening because I start to notice the mushrooms and fungi, in their huge variety.  I see flowers I've never seen before.  I notice rock formations, and plants growing out of rock.  Time slows down, and I am present.  Wonder emerges.

If I'm working on an idea, a sermon or a retreat, this is the time when I start to have new ideas.  Some angle or connection shows up, like a play on words that reveals something about the topic.  That's another sign that I'm emptying out and letting in fresh spirit.

This is a precious process to me.  I have always had a walking practice as part of my writing process, for 30 years, though I didn't plan it at the beginning.  Later, walking became part of my prayer practice as well.  And sometimes writing is prayer for me, as I do this blog.  This topic came to me in the woods, as I thought about my desire to be silent.

It's not really that I need to be alone in the woods.  It's rather that I need the silence.  Sometimes Elizabeth and I will hike in silence, and that's fine.  I've led silent hiking retreats.  But most people like to talk and hike.  I just don't.  I feel like I'm missing the big show around us.  It's nice, but there's something bigger than nice waiting for me out there.  I'd rather talk to you when we aren't moving through amazing creation.

So to my friends, please believe: I want to see you and talk to you!  Just not here.
To those I don't know, dear readers, I pray that you find and return to the places and practices (including conversation) that give you access to God with us.  Bless the Lord, O my soul!