Climbing A Mountain Part 6: Leave No Trace

Leave No Trace

A wilderness mantra, it means pack out what you pack in. Including your own waste.

Fun stuff.

The Forest Service provides human waste pack-out bags. One large ziplock bag contains a paper target (think X marks the spot), a brown paper lunch bag containing a small scoop of kitty litter, another brown paper bag, and two (seriously?) squares of toilet paper. The directions are pretty straight forward. Find as much privacy as you can, lay the target on the ground, take aim, and hope you are a good shot. Drop your business into kitty litter bag. Insert kitty litter bag into paper bag. Tuck everything inside the zip lock bag. Take it with you.

Like I said. Fun stuff.

Now multiply that by 8 people and 2 1/2 days.

Everyone’s used bags went into a kitchen size garbage bag. If we’d thought better of it, we would have stowed our own stash somewhere and schlepped it out ourselves. But we didn’t, and digging into that ripening garbage bag to separate out a few for everyone to carry seemed like a very, very, very bad idea. One of our gang offered to take one for the team and carry the bag out.

He deserves a special place in heaven.

We tied the very heavy garbage bag to the outside of his pack, and prayed to the mountain gods that the bag wouldn’t split. A few steps down the trail I remembered the cotton pillow case in my pack. We put the garbage bag inside the pillow case, increasing the chances of the contents staying put.

There was an additional bag of garbage containing the rest of the trash accumulated over the course of our time on the mountain to be dealt with. Someone else volunteered to carry that bag out.

He deserves an almost-as-special place in heaven too.

Heading down the hill, every step the two guys who deserve special places in heaven took was made harder because of the additional weight. Because they were carrying what was not really theirs to carry. It was a visual reminder of something I already think about a lot. We are responsible for dealing with our own shit. For taking care of our own garbage. When we don’t, other people have to deal with it, like it or not.

We are born into the families and circumstances we are, shaping us into the humans we become. No one is exempt from the impacts—good, bad, and sometimes ugly—of those who raise us. We may not be responsible for all that happened to us. However, as we grow up and mature, we are accountable for what we do with what we’ve experienced and who we have become as a result.

This work of becoming healthy, whole-hearted humans isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s hard work, but it’s also good work. Some of the most important we will ever do. I know that because I’m still at it, and hopefully will be until I take my leave. The more work I do, the less I leave behind for others to have to carry.

It wasn’t lost on me that the pillow case carrying that garbage bag wasn’t just any pillow case. It was a gift from my daughters when they were little, with pictures of them on both sides. Whatever we leave unaddressed has a lasting impact. It becomes a burden carried by those around us. Usually those we love the most.

Leave No Trace

Swimming In Circles

“There is so much we can do to render service, to make a difference in the world—no matter how large or small our circle of influence.”

— Stephen Covey

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Just when it seems it can’t get any worse, scarier, more hateful or batshit crazy, it does. An autocratic bully wages an unprovoked war against a neighbor, a Lone Star governor declares war on one of our most vulnerable populations, and the possibility of finding common ground with our fellow citizens seems like a bridge so too far that we can’t imagine ever finding our way across it to one another.

Given the sorry state of our beautiful but broken world, the temptation for many of us is twofold: Doom scroll through our usual sources of information that keep us solidly entrenched behind our ideological bunkers, and/or turn a blind eye to the world and go about our business, hoping it will be better tomorrow. Spoiler alert. It won’t. Not without our help. As in, all of our help.

So, just what in the hell are we supposed to do for heaven’s sake?

Always a fan of any tool that can help us make sense of complex things—like say, the state of the world—I can’t help but think of Stephen Covey and his model of our circles of concern and influence found in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Here’s my take on his model:

Imagine three concentric circles. Better yet, grab a piece of paper and draw them. (See mine below. Fill in your own accordingly.)

Label the outer, and obviously largest one circle of concern. Herein lie all of those things that keep us awake at night. Issues that try as we might, we can’t change, fix, or eliminate. From unprovoked war to extremism of every ilk, global warming to the inflation rate, hunger to homelessness, and oh-so-many-more, all are worries that are out of our control. It isn’t that they don’t matter. It’s that they are beyond our reach.

Time spent here is foolish.

Name the middle one circle of influence. This is where our rubber meets the world’s road. It’s where who we are and how we show up can have a direct impact on the people, issues, and problems we care about. Covey suggests, and rightly so, that as we invest our time, efforts, and resources here, our circles of influence expand, bringing a little more of the world and our concerns within our reach.

Time spent here is fruitful.

Finally, let’s label that small inner space circle of control. Smack dab in the middle of it all, we get to choose. It is up to us, and only us, to decide who we are and what we care about. In here we equip ourselves—body, mind, and heart—so as to bring the best of who we are to whatever time we have left on the planet. Our greatest chance of making a positive difference “out there” hinges on our willingness to take ourselves on “in here”.

Time spent here is foundational.

Every day we have a choice to make. Will we drown in our circles of concern, or learn to swim in our circles of influence? Our shared future hangs in the balance, and we will sink or swim together.

Fall

Fall is here.

Fall is a time of harvesting the fruits of the season.

Fall is a time of harvesting the fruits of our labors.

Fall is a time of looking back on what we’ve sown, looking squarely on what we have reaped, and looking ahead to what is still ours to do before a new year begins.

Growing Up

We never stop growing up. At least I don’t. Even with 65 years behind me, I still encounter parts of myself, on an almost daily basis, that need to grow beyond lingering childish behaviors and ways of reacting to the world, and relating to the people around me. Especially to those who matter the most to me.

Growing up means not taking myself so seriously.

Growing up means seeing that I am but a small part in a very, very, very big picture.

Growing up means owning my life. All of it.

Growing up means learning that it’s not all about me. In fact, it’s hardly about me at all.

Growing up means leaving behind ways of responding to the world that might have kept me safe in the past, but that now keep me stuck in old patterns and habits.

Growing up means not getting what I want at the expense of others.

Growing up means not taking everything personally.

Growing up means letting go of the past and heading out into an unknown future.

Growing up means taking full ownership for myself and how I respond to the people in my life and the circumstances life brings my way.

Growing up means digging deep when I’d rather give up.

Growing up isn’t for the faint of heart, because in the end it means taking my own hand and stepping out onto the trail ahead.

The Chase

Chasing squirrels is high on Gracie’s to-do list any day of the week. Because she can’t safely be off-leash out in our neck of the woods, that makes actually chasing one a moot point. If she tries, as she did yesterday, forgetting that she is tethered to an old stump, she will get caught up short in very short order.

The thing is, the squirrels don’t know she is on a leash.

This morning a tree squirrel who calls our property home was afraid to make a run for the woods, never realizing that freedom was his for the taking. Flitting from branch to branch he chattered constantly, trying to scold and scare her away. She circled the tree, jumped up on the trunk of the tree, and sat by the tree, but no matter how much Gracie wanted to chase that squirrel down, her leash wouldn’t let her do it.

Sometimes I want to put my thoughts on a leash. You know the ones. The ones that chatter and scold and scare us and just won’t shut up. What if we put them on a leash and tethered them to an old stump? And when those thought show up chattering and scolding and scaring, we remember that no matter how much those thoughts want to chase us down, the leash on which we’ve put them won’t allow it.

Pick a thought, put it on a leash, tether it to a stump, and head out into the woods where freedom is ours for the taking.

Cleaning Up Our Mess

Any good dog owner knows that it is their responsibility to clean up after their pup, especially when in shared public spaces. Scoop up whatever gets deposited, take it back home, and throw it in the trash can.

It’s pretty straightforward.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

Today, returning from a morning walk with a friend and her dog, toting a poop bag, we came across an obviously filled bag that someone had decided to leave near the sidewalk, assuming I guess, that someone else would take care of it. They assumed right. We did.

However.

That’s not how it works.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

We clean up after our dogs, and ourselves for that matter, we don’t leave it for someone else to take care of.

If it’s our fault, we clean it.

If we hurt someone, we clean it up.

If we get it wrong, we clean it up.

If we make a poor choice, we clean it up.

If we avoid what is ours to do, we clean it up.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

Life can be messy enough without having to pick up after someone else.

The Step To Take

Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step you don’t want to take.

David Whyte

(Excerpted from River Flow: New & Selected Poems )

Today in conversation with another coach, we were reflecting on next steps, and how to pursue what is calling us, right from where we are. In the midst of what is, how do we step closer to what could be? It is easy to get focused on the far horizon, and miss the fertile ground squarely beneath our feet. Wherever we want to go, where we are is the place to start.

Sharing a bit of silence, David Whyte’s poem, Start Close In came to mind, and I introduced the words quoted above to our conversation. Instantly a next step came to mind. One that was close in. A step that wasn’t the first choice, but the right choice.

Wherever we are, there is a next step. One that is close in, and while it may not be the one we want to take, it is the step that will lead us deeper into the life we are called to live.

What is the step you don’t want to take?

The one close in?

Take that one.

With gratitude to DC

Redemption

Redemption is always possible. As long as we draw breath, there remains the opportunity to turn things around, even if only in our own hearts. To do things differently. To be who we want to be in the midst of our circumstances, no matter how fraught or difficult they may be. The ball is always in our court, regardless of what happens on the other side of the net.

Redemption doesn’t always happen the way we hope it will. The other person may not seize the chance to turn things around. They may continue in their same vein, and to chart their same course. The ball is always in their court too. But what they do with it isn’t up to us.

Redemption can still happen even if we are the only ones showing up, and bringing the best of ourselves to the worst of situations. Because when all is said and done, sometimes knowing that we’ve done all we can with what we’ve got to work with is as redemptive as it gets.

Redemption is always possible. Even if we are the only ones being redeemed.

Steering

Yesterday I spent a few wonderful hours with my 2 1/2 year old grand boy. We headed to the park with his stroller, him riding, me pushing. Once there we had the park to ourselves, which meant that all of the play structures were his for the taking. He couldn’t have cared less. He was all about the stroller. Not riding in it. Pushing it. 

“Mimi, I want to push it.” he said in his sweet, quiet voice, with ample space between each word.

Determined and sure of himself, off we set. Him steering, me following. For the next hour I walked behind him, mesmerized as he navigated each and every obstacle in his path. When the stroller got stuck in a muddy patch, or the pitch of the path got a little too steep, he would stop, step to the side, peer ahead, assess the problem, and then make the course correction necessary to keep moving ahead. With every passing step his confidence grew, and watching him find his own way, I could look ahead and imagine those same hands steering a tricycle. A bicycle. A car. 

It was one of the most delightful and insightful hours I’ve spent in a long time. One step at a time, we learn what we need to learn in order to be prepared for that which lies ahead. What we learn today equips us for what we encounter tomorrow. Who knows where his journey will take him, but one thing I know for sure; he has already figured out that in order to steer his own ship, he first has to master steering his own stroller.

What a smart boy.  

What Goes Around

We all have old stories and toxic messages that keep circling around, appearing on our landscapes yet again. When they do, we have the choice of grabbing hold or taking a step back. In grasping a familiar message, we deepen our connection to the past, and continue to carry it with us into the future. In stepping back, we have the opportunity to evaluate its relevance in the present, and decide whether it is worth the weight it adds to our load. Each time our stuff takes another lap around our block,  we have the choice is to latch on or let go.