[pct-l] Why Hike the PCT?

[cmkudija at earthlink.net (cmkudija@earthlink.net)]

nice, Greg.  Very, very nice.

my backpack's in the friggin' closet, and the soCal weather's perfect right
now.

I may add to this post sometime later, in the dark of night, when I get the
most maudlin ;-)

Christine "Ceanothus" Kudija
PCT partially '94

-----Original Message-----
From: pct-l-bounces@mailman.backcountry.net
[mailto:pct-l-bounces@mailman.backcountry.net]On Behalf Of Bighummel@aol.com
Sent: Friday, June 03, 2005 9:08 AM
To: pct-l@backcountry.net
Subject: [pct-l] Why Hike the PCT?

Ned Tibbits mentioned to me recently that the issue of spirituality from the
experience of hiking the trail had not been discussed much on this list.  I
suggested he begin one, but alas, he must be sleeping (;-) so I will.

Each time I go backpacking I go seeking a sense of spirituality.  After
about
3 weeks on the trail my mind began to settle into the routine and begin an
awakening that I had not expected.  I began to examine critically why I
wanted
to hike this trail.  I began to examine critically each priority in my life.
I
began to critically examine my own spirituality.  I began to examine
critically each fear I have in my life and tried to understand and come to a
peace of
mind and solid comfort with each.

In the late George Harrison's song, "Beware of Darkness" he speaks of not
letting yourself think to much late at night in the dark.  I believe that he
is
mistaken, in that the mind, when given the opportunity (which in this
society
of constant bombardment and distraction and advertisement and hype, is rare)
it
resorts to a base of self examination that we rarely are given the
opportunity to explore.

I seek that peace, that quiet reflection on the wilderness, the beauty, my
inner self, my higher spirituality.

The Great Backpacker In The Sky (GBITS) calls to me.  She is all knowing . .
. the dew on the spider web in the meadow reflecting the early morning sun .
.
. the clear ice inhancing the color of the underlying metamorphic rock . . .
the smell of vanilla from the bark of the magnificent forest . . . the
shudder
and flash of the arm of god, lightning, in the night.  She calls to all of
us.  She makes our daily lives dull and mundane just to piss us off so that
we
shall rearrange our lives and once again seek the higher ground.  She
whispers
in my ear every morning.  She laughs at me from the leaf of the tree on my
front lawn.  She giggles with delight in the colors of a rainbow.  She is
one
with the sky and water and the earth and the fire.  Her heart is in the
wind, her
blood is in the river, her skin is of the earth.  The storm is her passion.
The earthquake is her rage.

She or He it does not matter.  GBITS calls to us more than others.  We hear
with a different ear.  See with a different eye.  Understand with a
different
heart.

Aw, screw it, where is my backpack?

Greg
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