The outdoors offer a place to pause and reflect on tragic events

People long have turned to nature in troubled times -- some to foil their enemies, some to find nourishment.

N.S. NOKKENTVED

Originally published September 18, 2001

While hiking in the woods recently -- and after last Tuesday's tragic events, it seems so long ago -- I started seeing leaves beginning to change color.

The green ashes are among the first to change.

I'm not sure whether it was the first sign of fall or a sign of lingering drought.

But it reminded me of the approach of my favorite time of year -- the long, warm days of Indian summer with honey sunlight, the spicy air of dead leaves, misty mornings and cool nights.

Amid the national tragedy, it also reminds me of a time of personal tragedy, nine years ago at this same time of year. For me, grieving includes sharing the loss and pain, and quiet time to contemplate and sort out deep feelings.

I know now that the loss and the pain have become part of who I am -- like the scar on my thigh from a childhood accident. And like the dead leaves of fall that nurture new growth, the pain and loss nurture compassion and understanding.

For me, no time of year better symbolizes that loss and new growth than fall. It also was my father's favorite time of year -- never mind that we both were born in the fall -- some of the best times we shared were in Danish woods outside Copenhagen in October the year before he died.

Today, I can't walk in the woods in the fall without reflecting about those times -- sometimes it still makes me sad. But loss and pain are part of life. So I find solace in the outdoors, a place to contemplate my feelings and a place to sort out the events and emotions of what seems like the longest week in memory.

For fellow paddler Ken Guza, nature is his church and the way he connects with something bigger. Time outdoors for him is a way to reaffirm his respect for the natural world and his place in it.

Mountain climber and runner Bob McIntosh spent the day after the terrorist attacks in the mountains. The pursuit required all his concentration -- he could think of nothing else.

At first it seemed to him he was merely escaping from events too terrible to contemplate, but getting away from those events and things in his own life allowed him to feel the impact of what had happened, he said.

People long have turned to nature in troubled times -- some to foil their enemies, some to find nourishment.

Simon Schama in his book "Landscape and Memory" traces the long history of human connections with the natural world as a place of refuge, a place to seek solace and the roots of spirituality.

And then I begin to notice, though it doesn't seem possible, that life goes on around me. Birds are gathering or feeding for their trips south for the winter, deer and elk are preoccupied with mating, and small mammals are busy stocking their larders for the winter.

Nature is getting ready its annual show of color. Out of the shelter of the trees, the breeze has more of a bite to it, perhaps a harbinger of still-distant winter.

But the sun still feels warm on my face.

N.S. Nokkentved covers the outdoors for The Olympian and is always looking for a good place to put a canoe in the water. He can be reached at 360-754-5445.

The Olympian Copyright 2001

back to main Outdoors: Quiet Waters index