August 27th 2013
It's late August, the "dog days" of summer, and I'm already feeling the changing seasons, subtle changes on the landscape.It has been an amazing summer for the UrbanTrekkers, full of summer paddling trips on our local rivers and in the coastal bay; trekking over 2,000 miles through five national parks in the Rocky Mountains and high desserts of Colorado and Utah; traveling to mid-coast Maine for kayaking and hiking, swimming and diving at the old rock quarry; and going out on lobster boat to bring in our dinner. It’s been full and rich…relationships have grown and students have been transformed.
We wrote hundreds of words in our journals and took thousands on photos. When posted on Facebook, these photos received hundreds of likes, shares, and comments. I love and appreciate the technology of Facebook that allows us to reach thousands of people with pictures and stories of our adventures. The day we return home from a trip, the pictures go up and the responses start to follow; they are kudos for a trip well done and an experience shared.
However, once these experiences are shared, the excitement post-trip is fleeting. Facebook doesn't stop to allow us to reflect, instead it moves on quickly to the next posting. After a day or two the experience is quickly buried and forgotten. This saddens me. I'm not ready to move on, I don't want my Trekkers to move on yet, I want more time for the experience to marinate and to be savored. We need to reflect more; we need more time to appreciate the exhilarating feelings that go along with a grand experience. I want my Trekkers to reflect on these experiences for more time to recall what they felt as they hiked the Great Sand Dunes, explored the Canyonlands, or kayaked the rocky shores and islands of coastal Maine.
These expeditions are where the best lessons are learned. It’s where we are tested and the real self is revealed. They are lessons from the land, ancient voices from the past that leave lasting messages on the landscape for us to decipher, but only if we stop, listen, and reflect. I’m not ready to move on so quickly…I’m going to give this summer more time to simmer for both me and my students.
Keep on trekking,
Jim