Ramblings

I read about a study conducted on people who came in to sudden wealth. They were gloriously happy in the initial exciting state of spending almost limitless amounts of money.

The thing is though, six months or a year into their new life, they ended up about as happy as they were before. Money made them comfortable, but could not increase their happiness in the long term.

Don't get me wrong. I know money is necessary. Having enough money to pay bills, and some to give away, is a fine thing.

My heart tells me it is not the most important thing though.

I know this from all the backpacking and walking I do with my dogs, and all the nature programs I give for schoolchildren and their teachers.

What is it worth to lead those kids and teachers through the woods, into a meadow, and see in their eyes the fascination when a deer rambles off, or a hawk soars on the updrafts, to see in their eyes that my stories reach them, about the wonder and beauty of wild animals and wilderness?

What is it worth to have the heart to climb the high mountains thoughout the year, every year, to be there alone when the wind blows through the pines and spruce with noone else to hear except elk and dear and coyotes and grizzly?

Another way to describe what I am saying, is from the story of Aaron Ralson, the the young man who was trapped by a boulder for six days in a Utah Canyon, that I heard him tell last Tuesday night at a booksigning at the Tattered Cover in Denver.

Aaron said the most euphoric moment of his life was when he finally cut through the flesh of his hand, after breaking his two bones by bending them across the rock. He said that in spite of the pain, when that tissue broke away, he was lifted because he knew he had a future, a life ahead of him.

He said that he was changed from that moment, that since then he takes immense joy in the simple things of each day,in the beauty of the earth, in his friends and companions.

I think Aaron has it right. And I may have come to a similar viewpoint in my simple life, where I take great pleasure in each morning beginning, and the love and loyalty of my two border collies, who go everywhere with me. Since they were pups us three have backpacked to high mountain ranges in Colorado, Idaho. Wyoming, and Montana. And I have seen the most incredible things up there.

But we always return to the greenbelt down the hill from my house, to the grove of eleven cottonwood trees. I look up at those towering branches, stand over the cattails at the frog pond, and somehow I feel as if I add my new memories to the still air under those trees. I acknowledge my journey ends where it began, right here, where my home is, where I feel the spirit in nature, and sense the sacred beneath those eleven trees.