Month: January 2024

Every year our library chooses a “One Book, One Valley” selection. This year it was The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit. This story is about a man who lived alone in the woods of Maine for 27 years. In 1986, Christopher Knight left his home and disappeared into the forest. He did not have a conversation with another human being until three decades later when arrested for stealing food. He lived in a tent year around and developed ways to store edibles and water, and to avoid freezing to death. He broke into nearby cottages for food, clothing, reading material, and other provisions. Michael Finkel, a journalist, interviewed Knight and authored the book about the solitude and isolation that this “hermit” experienced.

The book was an easy read and the library offered various programs that addressed issues raised in the book such as homelessness, solitude, isolation, and how to survive in the woods. I resonated with questions about what aloneness and solitude might mean. I would not choose to withdraw from society, but I see the value of solitude, especially related to being outdoors.

Solitude can be a purposeful and enriching experience. Aloneness is a neutral or positive state of being by oneself, often chosen for personal reasons. It can be refreshing. Loneliness, however, is a negative emotional state stemming from a lack of meaningful connections. I value and seek community connections often and also enjoy solitude. Those possibilities are not mutually exclusive. What one does comes down to the opportunities for choice.

I appreciate solitude and silence in the outdoors. As an introvert, I enjoy self-sufficiency and contentment. Solitude in nature allows me a tranquil environment away from the craziness of the world. Finkel suggested that each of us should consider spending just 5 minutes in solitude every day—something that few people do. Solitude and silence provide a necessary space for self-reflection to bring more perspectives to daily relationships.

According to the book, the hermit did not contemplate his situation. He chose to not relate to people as he focused on how to stay alive. In trying to understand him, however, one can wonder about how and why an individual might choose this life year after year. I am grateful that I can temporarily experience solitude and aloneness, and that I also have meaningful social connections.

Over three decades ago, I was traveling with a group of people to Baja Mexico where we were spending a week living in nature and exploring the meaning of solitude and places/spaces. At a rest stop along the Pacific we took a break from the drive to do a get-acquainted activity. We were asked to find something on the beach that “spoke” to us and describe it to the group. I looked and looked to find a shell that was flawless for the assignment. I came back to the group and apologized that most shells were damaged, and I couldn’t find what resonated with me. One of the participants asked, “Why does it have to be perfect?” That question started the pursuit of why perfection was so important to me. How was striving for perfection effecting my life?

My father was a perfectionist. He went to great lengths to get things exactly right. My mother was somewhat the opposite. She wanted to get things done efficiently and that trumped perfection for her. I needed to be both perfect and productive. How did I compromise those expectations? And how did I do it in a way that did not coopt my values or alienate others?

Since retirement, I feel less pressure to be professionally perfect, but still struggle with it personally. I do not like the stress and anxiety of pursuing perfection and am learning to adapt. For example, when I write I want to produce the perfect sentence. I have realized over time to just get the ideas down initially and then strive for excellence as I edit. If I wanted to write perfectly the first time, I would never write anything. Perfectionism leads to procrastination and overthinking.

Voltaire advocated, “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of good.” I have tried to abide by this idea. I refuse, however, to believe that “good enough” is OK. Doing the best I can do has become more important than the pursuit of perfection.

As I eventually learned from that sandy beach years ago, “a beautiful thing is never perfect” as the Egyptian proverb goes. Pursuing excellence and finding balance is helping me lead a more contented life.

Until I retired, I had been “in school” for 60 years. Starting in kindergarten through a bachelors degree I was a student. In my first job I realized after a month how much I missed formal education. Following graduate school, I began my 35-year career in higher education. I loved being in school.

One identity marker I revel in embracing is being a lifelong learner. No longer in formal school settings, I seek ways to explore new knowledge every day. I am grateful that organizations in my community (National Park Service, Estes Valley Land Trust, Estes Park Library, and the League of Women Voters to mention only a few) offer opportunities for continuing education. I am always looking for opportunities to expand my learning horizons.

Obviously, learning is now and has always been central to my life. I no longer have a professional need, but I recognize how gaining new insights continues to be as thrilling to me as it was when I first learned to read as a 4-year-old.

As I get older, adapting to change is harder. Learning helps me understand fears about change. It feeds my intellectual curiosity and critical thinking. Learning helps me think more broadly and guides me in considering new topics for writing in these blogs.

Research says that learning new concepts and approaches fosters creativity and problem-solving skills. In this uncertain world, lifelong learning provides me with access to global perspectives.

The research also suggests that mental stimulation through learning is linked to a reduced risk of cognitive decline. Continual learning helps keep my brain active so I can improve, or at least maintain, my memory, concentration, and other cognitive abilities.

Advances in technology have made learning more accessible than ever. I recall over 50 years ago reading a book that suggested someday we would have information immediately available at our fingertips. It seemed farfetched at the time, but I couldn’t wait. Now the challenge is to fact check that voluminous information.

Learning never ends. It enhances my personal well-being and cognitive health. Embracing a mindset of continuous learning is an investment in my future so I can thrive in this rapidly changing world.

Mondays are Sock Days at Rocky Mountain National Park! The idea has not gained much traction beyond the Information and Superintendent’s Office, but we are working to transform this government agency.

I didn’t think much about socks until my co-workers promoted this idea over a year ago. Wearing the standard brown socks as part of the official National Park Service uniform was boring. From their importance as utilitarian garments to becoming a means for personal expression, socks are evolving at Rocky Mountain National Park, albeit slowly. The choice of socks reflects not only practical considerations but also an opportunity to highlight individuality and creativity.

Socks are unassuming foot coverings that are often unnoticed. They have a long history. Beyond their practical purpose of keeping feet warm and protected, socks can be a fashion statement.

Socks have evolved since ancient times. The earliest evidence of sock-like garments dates to the 8th century BC with the discovery of knitted socks in Egypt. These early versions were designed to provide warmth and protection for feet in harsh climates. As time progressed, different cultures contributed to the evolution of socks with the Romans and Greeks adopting them for athletic purposes.

The Middle Ages marked a significant turning point for socks as they transitioned from simple, utilitarian garments to symbols of wealth and status. Nobility adorned themselves with luxurious, intricately designed stockings that displayed their affluence. By the 16th century, knitting machines made socks more accessible to everyone.

For me and my colleagues, socks have become a subtle form of self-expression. They offer practical aspects of comfort and functionality as well as aesthetic appeal that complements one’s personal style. The choice of socks can convey professionalism in formal settings, showcase creativity in casual environments, or even reflect one’s mood and personality. Fun socks serve as a means of self-expression that allow us to put personality into our everyday style.

(In the spirit of full disclosure, I was playing with generative AI (artificial intelligence) to get ideas about socks. I found that ChatGPT gave me great ideas for what I wanted to say and I have personalized these thoughts above).

I am a list maker and record keeper. I am not totally obsessive about it, but at times keeping a record going or not breaking a streak (e.g., running at least 25 miles a week) has become extremely important. As with other aspects of my life, I try to develop moderation.

Based on the records of 45 years as a runner I know that I circumnavigated the world almost two times (50,000 miles). Even as I have become a walker/hiker instead of a runner, I estimate that I walked this past year the distance (1500 miles) to and from Estes Park to Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

I got a Fitbit almost 10 years ago and this tech piece is both a bane and a boom to my life. Becoming a slave to it is easy with constant checking to see where I am with “steps for the day.” I confront the weekly summary with both anticipation and dread depending on how I have evaluated the previous week’s activity level.

Nevertheless, I love the opportunity to record opportunities for movement. I seldom sit still for periods of time unless engrossed in writing. My cats can attest that a lap sit is nice, but they never know how long it will last before I bounce up, or more likely these days, groan and slowly rise.

When the pandemic began, I had no place to go. I walked. I set my Fitbit goal at 20,000 steps a day and was successful most days. After life began in postdemic, I dropped that goal to 18,000 steps a day and matched it most days. Recently I was ill with the flu and then a respiratory infection and had to curtail my usual walking. I averaged only 8500 steps a day during my lowest week. I contrast that to our hiking trip in May to the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland where I averaged 33,500 steps a day for a week.

I maintain the goal of 15,000 (average) a day and hope that no matter what, I get at least 10,000 steps. I try to walk/hike every day and I feel relief in not pushing for a hard goal. I remind myself to focus on taking the steps and not obsessing about the number. I continue to wonder as I wander.