October
25, 2021
Greetings
from the pilgrimage,
He
aha te mea nui o te ao
He tangata, he tangata, he tangata
Recently I
have had occasion to tell a group of friends that we were in the last miles of
a journey. It was not goodbye, just a
glance up at the horizon to acknowledge that our paths would diverge. It inspired a familiar feeling, one that I
have never resolved in times past, and, spoiler alert, I still have not.
This feeling is
like something just out of my peripheral vision, or a word I’m trying to
remember. I have a question that seems
to want an answer, and the answer is ephemeral, flickering in and out of my thoughts.
Decades ago, I
traveled around the country on my bicycle, thousands of miles at a time, and
when I sensed that the journey was drawing to a close, I needed to prepare
myself for the change, for the transition into the other life. I would ask myself, “What can you bring with
you from the road so you will feel the spirit and power of the experience in
daily life?”
I thought
about this for weeks, months, and I wrote out lessons I thought were
important. Some stayed with me, some
were sanded off by the ordinary routine of days. But even those lessons were not complete.
I wanted to
feel the power of that time on the road, where there is nothing separating you
and nature. Where there is nothing separating
you from your life and living your life. To feel the beauty of creation, and
the essence of my own life.
Waking in my hammock, surrounded by the Tetons. Making a small meal by the edge of the
Pacific. Grinding up the side of the
Rocky Mountains. Standing in the dark in
the middle of the Little Mojave, surrounded by a horizon of stars. These images, the mountains, rivers, beautiful
sunrises, clouds of starlings, crashing surf, snowsqualls, storms of locusts, and
countless miles of pedaling over the earth, these are part of what I am now,
and part of the lessons, but not the answer.
A few months ago,
I climbed up Half Dome in Yosemite. It
was a literal mountaintop experience, and I felt the echoes of my other adventures
in me as we hiked up through the forest, gazed across the edge of the granite at
the breathtaking mountains around us.
Even as we hiked down, I asked myself the question. “What can you bring with you from this day so
you will carry this beauty, feel the spirit and power of the experience in
daily life?”
I have been lucky to have run marathons for over thirty
years, all over the country. I’ve
enjoyed traveling to the events and seeing the new places in this unusual way. Each time is a test, each run a unique
exploration of my self, and the chance to be with others who have the same
passion for the challenge. We are witnesses
for each other.
I finish running the marathon
and my mind is filled with experiences, some of them so personal and real I have
never shared them. Some races have pressed
me to the edge of my capacity. And even
as I catch my breath, even as I stagger toward the shower, I wonder at the magnificence
of it, and I ask myself the question. “How
will you hold this experience, this terrible beauty, this triumph, this
scraping of your very essence? How will
you carry this into your daily life?”
I haven’t answered
this completely, but here’s an important part of my thinking. It was given to me by a young woman who documented
her 2650-mile hike along the Pacific Coast Trail. As she approached the last weeks of her
adventure, hiking with her group of new trail partners into Washington, she sensed
the same question all of us feel as we reach the end of a journey. She wanted the experience to matter, to be
relevant in her daily life, to be present no matter where her next path took
her. And it led her to a Māori parable,
which asked:
He aha te mea nui o te ao
He tangata, he
tangata, he tangata
What is the most important thing in the world?
It is the people, it is the people, it is the people.
Ah. We are closer to
the answer that matters.
When I was on the road, surrounded by the brilliant,
beautiful world, it was the people I met that would often create the character
of the day. Those that traveled with me,
or fed me, or helped me, or those I helped.
Many times, I was invited in by strangers and cared for. Those are the stories that shaped me.
The climb of Half Dome was so awe inspiring I am often at a loss
to share it with others, but it was my friends and family, especially the spirit
of Leslie, that climbed with me that made the day what it was. It was our little clan, soaking in the Merced
River after twelve hours of hiking, those people and our connection was what I
carry with me now.
The twenty six miles and some of the marathon is filled with
hills and vistas and rain and tailwinds and tragedies and victories. Each place I have run has its own personality. There are many lessons I’ve learned in those
challenging events, and it is the people I met in those endless steps that stay
with me, most whose names I never knew.
I stood with my friends last week and we talked about these
last miles of our trip together and we touched on our experiences, what we’d accomplished
in our history. But what felt most right
was when I shared the story that summed up all of the work and the collaboration
and the synergy. The real tangible thing
that we carried out of that room into our daily lives was friendship. It was the people.
The people are the living lessons. What do you bring from the road, from the
mountain, from the run, from the experience where you were closest to your
absolute self? How do you carry with you
the experiences of your work, your passions, your adventures? I don’t know all of the answer, but I feel
the one that matters most is this: Whatever
else influenced you in those important moments, it is the people who brought
you the real lessons. And it is the
people you share that with in the days ahead.
It is the people you mentored. It is the people who cared for you. It is the people who shared a space big enough
for both of you to grow. It is the
people who demonstrated compassion, or taught you friendship. It is the people who guided you as a
parent. It is those you love, and those
you only passed on the trail. It is the
people you will have coffee with today, and those who wait for us on the other
side. It is the people.
This morning a voice gave shape to the answer, so powerful
it brought me to tears. It is the
people. What is so exciting for me in
this is that whatever life brings me next, I know that in those days of beauty
and adventure, there will be the people who will be most important. My world will never be diminished, no matter
how I fill the hours, as long as I seek them out.
Hope
this finds you taking this into your daily life,
David
Copyright
© 2021 David Smith
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