Over the past week I got to go on an adventure. Most people would call it Hunting. That’s what I used to call it when my husband would go. But this year we got to experience it together and Hunting doesn’t quite seem right. I knew it was going to mean early mornings and long hikes in the rugged high desert of Eastern Oregon. I knew I was going to be cold. I knew I was going to be tired. But I knew it was going to be an adventure. I do not like waking up two hours before sunrise. I do not like hiking, even on the easiest of paths. I do not like being cold or tired. But I do love adventure.
Although I knew it would be really awesome to fill my buck tag on the opening day of season, I knew that would mean not really getting the full experience of the hunting season my husband looks forward to every year. I hoped to get a buck within the first couple of days, and was very relieved when my prayers were answered on the morning of the third day. Although my body was exhausted by that point (I am in horrible shape!) it was a very good hunt and I’m glad I got to experience it alongside my sweet husband.
It has taken me a few days now to try and sort out my thoughts on my Adventure, and compile some things that I’ve learned in the last week.
I learned that quiet times don’t always need to be productive thinking times.
I had a lot of time to be quiet with my thoughts during our hunts. What surprised me was the type of thoughts I was having (I should say not having). I expected this would be a time of getting deep. I mean, philosophical and lightbulb moments deep. A time where I could sort out my life and decisions, figure out who I really am and all that. Instead I found myself with a very interesting collection of songs going through my mind. Everything from Climb Every Mountain from The Sound of Music to the Yoga Pants song by Tim Hawkins. In between songs I was feeling in the zone and appreciating my surroundings and getting to be places I’ve never been and the next second wondering how much longer I could keep up the pace. At the beginning of each hunt I’d have a new zeal to go cover some ground and see what wildlife I could come across. About halfway through the hunt I would lose focus and only be able to pay attention to the next place my foot was going to land. Other than that, and the constant prayer of “God help me find something soon, I don’t know how long I can do this!” there was not much going on in my brain.
Once my hunt was successful, there was a bit of plan arrangement that left me in the woods by myself for over an hour. Another time I could be alone with my thoughts and with nature, yet strangely uneventful. I had no stimuli whatsoever. No phone, no music, nothing to read, nothing to do. I didn’t have the energy nor the desire to explore my surroundings. All I had to do was sit and wait.
I thanked God for the hunt, for the opportunity, for everything going so well. Then, I was just still and quiet. I sat in the shade till it became too chilly. Then I laid in the sun till I got hot. I just sat there in the woods all alone without a care in the world. And I really enjoyed it.
I learned how it feels to give my all.
On my last evening hunt we had been hiking for a little while before we spotted some deer bedded down. We were hoping to go further up the mountain but couldn’t go past this group of does without spooking them. I welcomed the chance to kneel down behind a fallen log and watch them as they started waking up after the heat of the day. We watched them for about 20 minutes before the wind changed and they realized we were there and hopped off.
As we rose we made a plan to head uphill to the left that would shortly lead to a kind of bowl shaped narrow valley. Only this bowl didn’t really have a bottom, just sides. Nice, steep, tall sides. Jim said that if we hiked up to the top of this that would show us a huge open view of the other side. I had visions of pastures full of huge, grazing bucks. I actually had visions of that every time we came close to peeking into new territory. That’s what kept me going.
So we are hiking along the side of this bowl and Jim is way ahead of me. He is headed around the bowl instead of up to the top. I whistled to him and motioned up the hill. He looked at me like “are you sure you’re up to this?” and started heading up. I headed up too. Every time Jim was trying to figure out where we should go, he gave me options. His options were basically Do you want to go easy or Do you want me to take you where the big bucks are? My answer was always “Lead on!” Out of breath, heart pounding, feet aching, I wanted it to be worth it. So lead on, Jim!
So I started heading up the steep slope. It looked like we were so close and I didn’t want to not look over the other side! I headed up and up until I was breathless and my heart pounding wildly. I stopped to catch my breath, and kept on going. The problem is, I eventually couldn’t go very many steps without having to stop. I looked up to where Jim was. It looked like I was reaching the top of the slope, but I could tell as Jim kept getting smaller and smaller as he continued to climb that this slope definitely had no top! He was still going up and I was struggling so much.
“God, help me do this!” Climb, stop, catch breath. Climb, stop, catch breath. My heart seemed out of control. I began to take a step up and needed to put my hands on top of my knee to pull the other leg up and stand again. I was fading fast. But I so wanted to go up there! What would Jim say after going up there after my assertion I wanted to do it, and then backing out?
“God….I can’t!” Step, breathe, step, breathe. “I can’t!” I stopped. I could not go any farther. I turned around and sat, defeated.
Now I see that I was, in fact, victorious. I didn’t give up because it got too hard. I didn’t give up because I wanted to. I pushed through every boundary I had put up for myself, stopped taking orders from my own will, and made my body go. And I went as far as I possibly could. Maybe I couldn’t climb to the top of that slope, but I knew that I gave it my all. I didn’t quit. My body was just done for the day.
Looking back on those hunts, I am surprised at how I was willing to rise to the challenge and at the endurance that I was able to have. I didn’t expect to be as gung-ho as I was about following my athletic husband all over the countryside.
I learned that I like having plans and don’t like so much when they change.
I am fairly flexible, but I expect that when someone says “let’s do such and rather” that that is what we will do. It took me a little while to catch on, but plans change very fast when you are hunting. During our second morning hunt, Jim took me up a hill and we came very close to the top and were just a few yards from cresting over when he said “let’s just peek into this drainage.” Drainages are wide crevices that run down the hill and are excellent places for the deer to hide. Jim loves hunting from drainage to drainage all along the sides of hills. He’s been very successful hunting that way. He also can’t resist being so close to looking over the edge of one. So here, he just wanted to peek over.
Three hundred yards of side-hilling later, he spotted some does. So we kept going. Eventually, I said “I thought you were just going to take a peek?” Based on The Plan, I figured we were going to peek and then go back and check out the other side of the hill. I learned that when you see deer, plans change. That may seem obvious to the average person, but to the plan-lover such as myself, it was a little jarring. I guess what this taught me about myself is how I should remain flexible, even if it seems like a plan is established.
I think that it is during the Adventures of Life that we get a chance to see what we are made of. To see where our limits are and then move the boundary lines. To make plans to reach the ultimate goal and then press on to achieve them. And sometimes, if life offers us an opportunity to shut off all the outside voices and be still, we can let our mind unwind. Sometimes that stillness welcomes inspiration, sometimes it ushers in a peace of mind, and sometimes... just a silly song.
Although I knew it would be really awesome to fill my buck tag on the opening day of season, I knew that would mean not really getting the full experience of the hunting season my husband looks forward to every year. I hoped to get a buck within the first couple of days, and was very relieved when my prayers were answered on the morning of the third day. Although my body was exhausted by that point (I am in horrible shape!) it was a very good hunt and I’m glad I got to experience it alongside my sweet husband.
It has taken me a few days now to try and sort out my thoughts on my Adventure, and compile some things that I’ve learned in the last week.
I learned that quiet times don’t always need to be productive thinking times.
I had a lot of time to be quiet with my thoughts during our hunts. What surprised me was the type of thoughts I was having (I should say not having). I expected this would be a time of getting deep. I mean, philosophical and lightbulb moments deep. A time where I could sort out my life and decisions, figure out who I really am and all that. Instead I found myself with a very interesting collection of songs going through my mind. Everything from Climb Every Mountain from The Sound of Music to the Yoga Pants song by Tim Hawkins. In between songs I was feeling in the zone and appreciating my surroundings and getting to be places I’ve never been and the next second wondering how much longer I could keep up the pace. At the beginning of each hunt I’d have a new zeal to go cover some ground and see what wildlife I could come across. About halfway through the hunt I would lose focus and only be able to pay attention to the next place my foot was going to land. Other than that, and the constant prayer of “God help me find something soon, I don’t know how long I can do this!” there was not much going on in my brain.
Once my hunt was successful, there was a bit of plan arrangement that left me in the woods by myself for over an hour. Another time I could be alone with my thoughts and with nature, yet strangely uneventful. I had no stimuli whatsoever. No phone, no music, nothing to read, nothing to do. I didn’t have the energy nor the desire to explore my surroundings. All I had to do was sit and wait.
I thanked God for the hunt, for the opportunity, for everything going so well. Then, I was just still and quiet. I sat in the shade till it became too chilly. Then I laid in the sun till I got hot. I just sat there in the woods all alone without a care in the world. And I really enjoyed it.
I learned how it feels to give my all.
On my last evening hunt we had been hiking for a little while before we spotted some deer bedded down. We were hoping to go further up the mountain but couldn’t go past this group of does without spooking them. I welcomed the chance to kneel down behind a fallen log and watch them as they started waking up after the heat of the day. We watched them for about 20 minutes before the wind changed and they realized we were there and hopped off.
As we rose we made a plan to head uphill to the left that would shortly lead to a kind of bowl shaped narrow valley. Only this bowl didn’t really have a bottom, just sides. Nice, steep, tall sides. Jim said that if we hiked up to the top of this that would show us a huge open view of the other side. I had visions of pastures full of huge, grazing bucks. I actually had visions of that every time we came close to peeking into new territory. That’s what kept me going.
So we are hiking along the side of this bowl and Jim is way ahead of me. He is headed around the bowl instead of up to the top. I whistled to him and motioned up the hill. He looked at me like “are you sure you’re up to this?” and started heading up. I headed up too. Every time Jim was trying to figure out where we should go, he gave me options. His options were basically Do you want to go easy or Do you want me to take you where the big bucks are? My answer was always “Lead on!” Out of breath, heart pounding, feet aching, I wanted it to be worth it. So lead on, Jim!
So I started heading up the steep slope. It looked like we were so close and I didn’t want to not look over the other side! I headed up and up until I was breathless and my heart pounding wildly. I stopped to catch my breath, and kept on going. The problem is, I eventually couldn’t go very many steps without having to stop. I looked up to where Jim was. It looked like I was reaching the top of the slope, but I could tell as Jim kept getting smaller and smaller as he continued to climb that this slope definitely had no top! He was still going up and I was struggling so much.
“God, help me do this!” Climb, stop, catch breath. Climb, stop, catch breath. My heart seemed out of control. I began to take a step up and needed to put my hands on top of my knee to pull the other leg up and stand again. I was fading fast. But I so wanted to go up there! What would Jim say after going up there after my assertion I wanted to do it, and then backing out?
“God….I can’t!” Step, breathe, step, breathe. “I can’t!” I stopped. I could not go any farther. I turned around and sat, defeated.
Now I see that I was, in fact, victorious. I didn’t give up because it got too hard. I didn’t give up because I wanted to. I pushed through every boundary I had put up for myself, stopped taking orders from my own will, and made my body go. And I went as far as I possibly could. Maybe I couldn’t climb to the top of that slope, but I knew that I gave it my all. I didn’t quit. My body was just done for the day.
Looking back on those hunts, I am surprised at how I was willing to rise to the challenge and at the endurance that I was able to have. I didn’t expect to be as gung-ho as I was about following my athletic husband all over the countryside.
I learned that I like having plans and don’t like so much when they change.
I am fairly flexible, but I expect that when someone says “let’s do such and rather” that that is what we will do. It took me a little while to catch on, but plans change very fast when you are hunting. During our second morning hunt, Jim took me up a hill and we came very close to the top and were just a few yards from cresting over when he said “let’s just peek into this drainage.” Drainages are wide crevices that run down the hill and are excellent places for the deer to hide. Jim loves hunting from drainage to drainage all along the sides of hills. He’s been very successful hunting that way. He also can’t resist being so close to looking over the edge of one. So here, he just wanted to peek over.
Three hundred yards of side-hilling later, he spotted some does. So we kept going. Eventually, I said “I thought you were just going to take a peek?” Based on The Plan, I figured we were going to peek and then go back and check out the other side of the hill. I learned that when you see deer, plans change. That may seem obvious to the average person, but to the plan-lover such as myself, it was a little jarring. I guess what this taught me about myself is how I should remain flexible, even if it seems like a plan is established.
I think that it is during the Adventures of Life that we get a chance to see what we are made of. To see where our limits are and then move the boundary lines. To make plans to reach the ultimate goal and then press on to achieve them. And sometimes, if life offers us an opportunity to shut off all the outside voices and be still, we can let our mind unwind. Sometimes that stillness welcomes inspiration, sometimes it ushers in a peace of mind, and sometimes... just a silly song.