Remember when everything was a mystery? When everything was miraculous. Everything spiritual. Everything charmed with possibility because everything to some extent was unfamiliar and unexplored. Remember when everything was wild?
Yesterday, while the sun set hard on the Presumpscot River just north of Portland, a few of us sat on the bank and reflected on the way that a life impacts the setting where it is lived. And we reflected on the way that the elements of our earth-home manage to forget the impacts that - were they remembered - would clutter and crowd out the creativity of those yet to live.
Perhaps the most dangerous part of traveling in the wilderness is the false confidence of knowing where you are going. It is the peril of underestimating the small obstacles in your path such that you fail to consult your compass. But there is another danger, too. You can become too afraid to steer off course. You can set your compass and watch the needle obsessively at every step, missing the whole point of your trek in the first place.