Learning Stillness and Reading Meaning

Yesterday I went out for an afternoon hike with Siris.  I went even though my legs have been feeling like rubber bands for the past week.  I figured, why not.  They're going to feel that way whether I'm hanging around the house and yard, or if I'm out walking.  I had to go slowly and stop frequently, but I was able to hike, in both areas I've been and in a new area.  I have to say, I'm very frustrated.








 I look beyond the edges of my yard and I see buttes and ridges and interesting features in the not-so-far distance.  I want to hike to them, but I haven't been able to.  I walk multiple times every day with the hope that I can increase my endurance and thus be able to hike further.  But I seem to be stuck--even on good days and with frequent rests, my body wears out quickly and serious pain sets in.

Yesterday wasn't a good day but I was determined to get outside and explore some new territory anyway.  That means I need to get a certain distance away from the house, since I've explored the closer-in areas numerous times.  I went slowly and took lots of breaks.  It wasn't at all hot out, in fact I thought it was a little chilly, but as we walked, I noticed that Siris began to pant profusely, and he also needed frequent breaks.  Whenever we stopped, he'd lie down in the shade of a juniper tree and play with his ball.  I'd look around carefully at the immediate environment to try to notice small details that I might otherwise overlook.

One advantage of moving slowly is that I'm developing my capacity to be still and to look carefully at and listen to the things around me.  Generally I see the same thing everywhere I am or repeated kinds of mini-environments.  Some areas are covered with volcanic rock and have a few junipers and sagebrush, with an occasional cactus.  Other areas are flat and sandier, and have more sagebrush, cholla, and prickly pear.  There are washes in some areas, some where it's clear that they've been covered with rushing water in recent years because there are branches and other un-decomposed debris, others where it looks like older and much larger torrents have pushed the boulders to the sides in giant sweeps down the hillsides.  These larger, older washes often have areas where small rocks of many kinds  have been deposited in wide splays--it looks as if they've been ground up and carried there from other places.

 

Along the trails, I see animal tracks and scat, and signs that things have been eating the cacti.  I realized yesterday that I've become more skilled at noticing the subtle signs of animal trails in the distribution of plant life, places where animals such as coyotes, deer, and elk have walked repeatedly over the years.  

Since I can't cover a lot of territory and have to move slowly, I'd like to be able to attach more meaning to my immediate surroundings, and I suspect that meaning is there, that there are signs of many things in the landscape that I do not yet have the knowledge to read. 

I recently ordered two of naturalist Tom Brown's books, Science and Art of Tracking and Fieldguide to Wilderness Survival. 

Brown is the founder of Tracker School: A Tracking, Nature, and Wilderness Survival School.  I'm skeptical about the spiritual aspects of his work, but I am very interested to read his thoughts on nature awareness, and learn more about being still in the natural world and how to read the signs of that world.