We hope you will press play on this lovely Fleet Foxes song before or after you read this week’s essay. We often listen to it as we drive through the mountains.
I don’t use nature as my treadmill, so sometimes I’m hesitant to go to the mountains for sightseeing and leisure. Mountains get a bad reputation for their connection to the climb, the strain of the hike, the huff and puff of the ascent. But when we have soccer games scheduled in Richmond or DC, we always look for ways to maximize our travels and connect with nature.
While slightly out of the way, Skyline Drive is still a great option as long as we stick to the scenic overlooks, meals at the lodge, and a bit of forest bathing. You won’t find us outfitted in hiking gear, calculating trail mileage or packing bear spray for the long haul into Shenandoah National Park. You will find us sitting on a rock just off the side of the road, or eating blackberry ice cream at the Skyland Lodge, or just breathing in the mountain air while the trees soothe us and the long hard week of work quiets and settles.
The Japanese are big proponents of forest bathing and the concept has spread to anyone who values walking or sitting amongst the trees with little intent other than being. As in a bath, we just relax into the elements and let our five senses take delight in the trees. It’s a gift that you can be immersed in the forest without exerting yourself; no effort is required to bathe in the forest because of the National Park Service. We drive and let the car do the work of the climb, and the park service invites us to pull over along the way and venture out onto the rocks and pathways of the mountain. Here we can admire the blue ridge of the mountains, the vastness of the valleys, and the vibrant palette of the trees. Instead of being out of breath from the climb, we can breathe deeply and rest among the trees. There is a stillness and a quiet in the mountains that is medicinal in its ability to heal.
While the mountains may not call to me the way the sea does, I still long for them. If too much time goes by without a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains, we make time to get off of I-64 to see them. Based on the crowds we sometimes encounter on Skyline Drive, we aren’t alone in feeling the pull of nature and its restorative power.
We’re also amazed at how when we visit, we often see a wedding party taking pictures or a couple making vows. The backdrop of the Blue Ridge is more than a pretty accompaniment and a kickstart to the marriage. It seems worthwhile to receive the blessing of the trees, to begin in the midst of peace and calm, and to stand together in the firmament.
If only we could stay at the pinnacle, in the blissful realm of the mountaintop. But at some point, in marriage and in our travels, we have to come down from the mountain, away from the wispy, lofty clouds, and learn to grow and be content with everyday life on Earth.
And when we do come down, when we must encounter the unexpected, the unplanned, and the unknown together, an even deeper appreciation for our time up on the mountain and life’s journey develops.
Seeing the just married couples with their heads literally in the clouds at the start of their life together makes us smile. We remember being young and confident when we believed anything was possible simply because we were in love. Looking at the young partners holding each other’s hands and helping each other over the ancient, worn, and moss covered rocks for frameable pictures, we smile because we know what is coming.
When they come down from the mountaintop, there will be setbacks and mistakes. There will be misjudgments and pain. But there will also be triumphs and successes. There will be visions and joy. There will be ups and downs and many days in between. There will be children and jobs and money and illness and...all the things of life.
We smile because we know that although the mountaintop view is nice, the depth and power of a marriage is built in the mostly ordinary days together. Love is grown mostly down on terra firma and not up in the clouds.
We also smile, because we know one day, in the not too distant future, there may be a longing by these couples to return to the summit, to return to the early days of their life together when there was so much energy and time when life was just a series of big adventures waiting to begin. We smile because we know one day there may be a longing to get out of the car and hike together for miles again like they did when they were young. We smile because we know that sooner than they think, they might just settle for the view from the overlook, for the appreciation of the past and the pricelessness of the memory versus the need or ability to make a new one.
And as we walk past the soon to be honeymooners, we smile because we know the mountains, as old as time, as well as their younger neighbors the trees, are looking at us and smiling knowing how much we still have to learn.