A couple days ago I made my first post in three weeks. That’s a long time, especially with all the words and ideas that have bubbled up. I try to catch and organize them. I get distracted by this idea or that one and end up on yet another path with more ideas to explore, organize and share. Lack of posting isn’t a lack of inspiration. I’m overwhelmed with inspiration and not complaining.
Now that I have committed to hiking the Lower Michigan portion of the North Country Trail, the goal is clear. It’s also a puzzle. I have about half of the miles completed. The easy miles. The ones near the cabin and my hometown. Now what?
I promised my parents and kids that I would pitch my tent in campgrounds rather than on the trail. Lucky for me, there are excellent primitive DNR campgrounds all over the state, many of them near the NCT. I can set up camp and hike out one direction and return. The next day I can go the other direction and return, then move my base. It sounds slow, doesn’t it? It is. The biggest obstacle to this plan was accepting that I will walk the remaining trail twice—in and out. Three hundred miles will be six hundred.
A distant memory of Robert M. Pirsig addressing this topic in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance inspired me to reread the 1972 bestseller to unearth the specific words. The author refers to relaying two backpacks up a mountain while his son climbs without a pack. “I relay the packs upward. I work off the resentment of having to do this by realizing it isn’t any more work, for me, actually, than the other way. It’s more work in terms of reaching the top of the mountain, but that’s only the nominal goal. Putting in good minutes, one after the other, it comes out the same; in fact, better.” “Putting in good minutes, one after the other” is a worthy goal. I like it.
I liked rereading the book, too. I forgot details and there were concepts I didn’t understand the first time I read it. Taoism, a topic twenty-year-old me knew little about, is discussed extensively. Sixty-year-old me practices acupuncture, ancient medicine based on Taoist principles. I am not the same person I was 40 years ago.
Similarly, the trail out is different from the trail back. Time and perspective create constant change. We are not the same person we were 40 years ago or 4 hours ago. I like to ponder this idea.
I really love reading your posts. I don’t have it in me to go off and do what you do but enjoy living in your stories.
Thank you Teresa. I love to take others along on my adventures. Thanks for joining me!
I rereaed it last year; I read it in the 70s and was deeply impressed by it. Reading it again, I saw more of his mental issues and the split in his personality. Was the mechanic with his attention to detail and doing things right less creative than the manic philosopher, Phaedus, with his quest for the good and quality? Pirsig practiced at the SF Zen Center in the 70s. His son lived there and was tragically killed in a street assault near there. Still, his taoism comes thru beautifully.
That’s an interesting question Bob. Is it caution? Is caution is less creative? I read it in the 80’s and am surprised that I was able to get through it but I know I did because the part about him walking the trail twice stayed with me all these years. I was a young art major with no knowledge of Taoism. My interest in this book foreshadowed the trajectory of my life.