I remember hiking on Kiket Island on Inauguration Day, 2021. A storm had raged over our islands the day before, with lashing winds, heavy rains, and stormy seas. But, as the winds calmed and the skies cleared, the new president of the United States breathed fresh air into our nation’s hearts. As part of that celebration, then-poet laureate of the United States shared these words:
“While once we asked: How could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert: How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be,
A country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.”
Those words gave me comfort after four years of stormy darkness over the land.
Once again I feel a storm of darkness and danger brewing. Some friends have expressed fear and frustration, angst and anger, dread and depression.
When emotions like these arise within me, I know I can do very little to alter the decisions made by others. I choose not to use my energy to worry or fear; I choose to use it to believe, to love, to give, to grow, to glow, to join hands with all who wish to heal our land and our people.
To beat the stormy blues of inanity and insanity, of lies and greed and divisiveness, I go for a hike. I blow up the TV, avoid social media, stop listening to the ever-growing clamor from the eastern swamps, and get back to my northwest roots, to the rocks and beaches and forests and freedom of our islands’ natural places. I surround myself with beauty, with nature, the real world, with the “competitive cooperation”, as one person describes the natural environment.
This week, with a major storm approaching our coastline, Kath and I went to Bowman Bay to hike out to Rosario.
Over the Olympics we could see the brooding clouds coming our way. We could feel the winds picking up, bringing the storm ever closer. Rain was expected to pour and send people scurrying to the comforts of their homes. But as we ascended the trail from Bowman, sunshine broke through the clouds, brightened the skies and lifted our spirits. The land warmed, and people came flocking to the park to take in this special springy weather, totally not what we expected on a November day.
Our cares and concerns about the other Washington melted in the sunshine, happily forgotten on this festive afternoon in our shared backyard, blown away by the fresh sea breezes, dismissed as meaningless by century-old trees.
We stopped at the Maiden to listen to her spirit of timelessness, of her trust in nature to restore our world. Climbing Rosario Head along with handfuls of other people, our minds rebooted seeing vistas of the San Juans, the Olympics, and the waters of the straits. The grandeur filled our lungs and hearts with new inspiration.
Cormorants rested on the rocks above the high tide. Seagulls glided on the steady breezes, riding the uplifts. Harlequins dabbled and ducked on the water. They all scattered for a minute when an eagle cruised above to rest on a broken treetop; then with renewed courage, they played in the wind and the water once again.
Smiles graced the faces of those we passed along the trail as we hiked back to Bowman.
We had come into the peace of wild things. We were encouraged, renewed, and ready to respond together to whatever storms may come our way. Here we go again.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. – Albert Camus
Directions
Directions: From the Deception Pass Bridge, turn left in a quarter mile onto Rosario Road. Immediately turn left again down to Bowman Bay.
Mobility: The Bowman to Rosario trail is rocky, root-filled, and somewhat steep at the beginning. Trails at Bowman Bay and at Rosario are wide, graveled, and fairly level.
Republished with permission. Read the original article.