Tinkerings

As I mentioned in my last post, I took some time to walk up a mountain over the long weekend.  It was cold and bright and brisk and challenging and… fantastic.

On the walk up, I was challenged with being short of breath from the climb (did I mention the 20 pounds of backpack and camera equipment I was lugging around on my back?).  It is interesting that going uphill is difficult on your quads, but going downhill is just as difficult on your knees.  Marathon runners tell me they have to train just as hard learning to run downhill safely as they do trying to breathe on the way up.  I get it.

The trip up helped me get in touch with myself a little better.  My mind was beginning to be uncluttered for the first time in months.  I saw a family of four at the top of Benton Falls for about 30 seconds.  I passed two mountain bikers on my way down as they were ascending the toughest parts of the trail.   Other than that, it was just me and the mountain for five hours.

I decided to take one of the Slick Rock Loops as a diversion as I was returning from the Falls.  It added about a mile and a half to the journey.  While Clemmer Trail is fairly wide and open, the beginning part of the Loop was just a single foot path in the middle of undergrowth.  I listened carefully for sounds of bears or dueling banjos.  Thankfully, I heard neither.

And then, unexpectedly, the trail burst out into an open field somewhere on the side of this mountain.  It was brief.  But it jarred my mind into a new thought process.

I began to retrace my literary journey through Henri Nouwen and found my mind wrestling with The Jesus Prayer.  In monastic life, The Jesus Prayer is used to concentrate one’s mind on the singularity of one’s faith.  The form I use is, “Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

In the writings of Nouwen, he talks about this prayer becoming the very “breath” of life to those who pray it.  It takes a shortened path with part of the prayer used to breathe in, and another part for breathing out.

(While breathing in) Lord Jesus

While breathing out) have mercy

This prayer is meant to occupy the mind so that all other thoughts are crowded out.

And so, for the first time in a long time, I allowed my mind to rest totally on God for about 30 minutes as I walked through trails, logging roads, and open fields on the side of a mountain in the brisk, bright, bold winter’s day.

I didn’t think about work.  I didn’t think about my Mac.  I didn’t think about taking pictures.  I didn’t think.

I breathed.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  Lord Jesus.  Have mercy.

Somewhere along the path I noticed that both my backpack and my soul seemed a little lighter.  I stopped to pull a bottle of water out of my pack, and I took a look around.  I mean really looked around.

Just me and the mountain.

And my heart smiled.