Author: KARLA_HENDERSON

I have Imposter Syndrome. Although the term has been coined recently, I have struggled with this feeling all my life even though it has not prevented me from trying hard. I can relate to Georgia O’Keefe who stated, “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life-and it never kept me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.” I am afraid I might fail. Worse, when I have succeeded, I have doubted the success. I fear being discovered as a fraud. Nevertheless, Steve Jobs reminded us that, “If you’re afraid of failing, you won’t get very far.”

As I read more about imposter syndrome, I recognized it is a common human experience and not a mental health issue. I have always felt that humility was important. I had a high school teacher who once told me, “When you’re great, you can afford to be humble.” I do not hold illusions of grandeur and I also do not feel comfortable “tooting my own horn” since my success might be questioned.

Imposter syndrome happens to me because I care about doing well. I have reasonable intelligence. I have worked hard, AND I have been privileged to know people who are brilliant. I can never measure up to them and I feel honored to be in their company. Even with doubts and the recognition of others’ preeminence, I am proud of what I have accomplished, and recognize that I have done my best with the opportunities I have had.

A colleague sent me an article recently that listed the top 2% of Sport, Leisure and Tourism scholars over their career ( https://elsevier.digitalcommonsdata.com/datasets/btchxktzyw/6). I was pleased to be on that list along with other distinguished colleagues that I have known in my profession. I am grateful for this recognition and realize that imposter syndrome niggles in my mind. My success is due to trusted mentors, supportive colleagues, encouraging friends, and enthusiastic students. I am trying to exercise psychological flexibility as I humbly revel in the recognition. Trepidation has made me try harder, and be humbler, in all that I undertake.

I love trees. I have written about them and how they inspire me. I recently read a fascinating book entitled, The Island of Missing Trees. I related to the story because it was about the Greek Turkish Cypriot war of 1974. I was on an exchange program in Turkey during that time and learned about the war from a Turkish perspective.

Aside from the story line about the war and the romance between a Greek man and Turkish woman, the story is partially told by a fig tree who possesses great insight about the world. The tree indicates that she does not experience loneliness. Trees are aware of and experience a sense of connection with other beings in their ecosystem, even those not of the same species. The book’s theme connotes the myriad dimensions of the interconnectedness of life.

The fig tree addresses how a person’s character can be discerned by what he/she/they first notice about a tree-the trunk, the branches, or the roots. The fig tree stated, “Some people stand in front of a tree and the first thing they notice is the trunk. These are the ones who prioritize order, safety, rules, continuity. Then there are those who pick out the branches before anything else. They yearn for change, a sense of freedom. And then there are those who are drawn to the roots, though concealed under the ground. They have deep emotional attachment to their heritage, identity, traditions.” For me, the first thing I notice is the trunk.

All trees are essential and merit attention and commendation. The fig tree noted that a tree exists for every mood and every moment. For example, “When you have something precious to give to the universe, a song or a poem, you should first share it with a golden oak before anyone else… If you want to merge stronger and kinder from your trials, find an aspen to learn from…. If you are hurting and have no one willing to listen to you, it might do you good to spend time beside a sugar maple… If you have too many regrets, a weeping willow will offer solace…”

Recently I was on a walk with an Indigenous park ranger who paused briefly to listen to the wind in the trees. He said he could hear the voices of his ancestors in those trees. This observation reminded me that life is not about independence or dependence. Trees illustrate the value of interdependence for life to flourish. Trees are not just trees. They have lessons to teach me.

Creedence Clearwater Revival had a propensity to sing about rain. “Who’ll Stop the Rain” as well as “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” Those 1970’s songs frequently float into my head when it rains here in Colorado. The songs praise the rain while also focusing on the importance of the sun coming out again.

Many people take rain for granted unless it ruins their plans. As Roger Miller reflected, “Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” Rain is different when you live in an ecosystem where it is at a premium such as in Colorado. For example, the average annual precipitation for the places I have lived vary greatly: Cedar Rapids, IA=37 inches; Madison, WI=34 inches; Durham, NC=48 inches; and Estes Park, CO=14 inches.

By those measurements, rain has had sundry (no pun intended) meanings to me over the years. Growing up on a farm meant that when and how much rain made the difference between successful crops or not. My dad taught me to always keep my eye on the sky and appreciate the weather regardless of what it might be.  

In North Carolina it rained plenty every month of the year. I enjoyed those rainy days. They felt calming. I loved the opportunity to be at home on my computer writing and not wishing that I was doing something outdoors. After several days of rainy weather, however, I yearned to see the sun again.

In Colorado, precipitation is a treat in this high desert where I live. It keeps the landscape green and brings the wildflowers. It is essential to reducing wildfire risks. Rain is often short-lived and shared with mostly sunny days.

Many perspectives define the value of rain. Langston Hughes poetically described rain, “Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

I used to enjoy running in the rain and now the opportunity to walk or hike in the rain offers an evocative perspective on the world. I have joked that anyone can hike in the sunshine– special people appreciate the rain. I am one of those people who lets the rain kiss me.

We are fortunate when we have mentors in our lives. I had one in H. Douglas (Doug) Sessoms who will be inducted into the National Recreation and Park Association (NRPA) Hall of Fame this week. I first met Dr. Sessoms in 1980. He passed away in 2008.

Doug was a special person and huge contributor to my profession. The posthumous bestowing of this Hall of Fame honor is reserved for individuals who had vision and dedication to improve the quality of life in America through parks and recreation. Dr. Sessoms was a giant in our field. (In the photo, Doug is the one with hat.)

For over five decades, Doug helped build institutions that define the recreation and parks profession today. His early involvement helped establish the Society of Park and Recreation Educators as a branch of NRPA to build strong connections between universities and practice. Sessoms also helped develop formal accreditation of professional preparation in park and recreation degree programs. He brought awareness to the needs and rights for recreation and leisure for under resourced populations including people with disabilities and low incomes. His impact exists today through his early commitment to diversity, equity, inclusion, and social justice and his work with students, colleagues, practitioners, and public officials.

I am a beneficiary of Dr. Sessoms’ wisdom and action. While his accomplishments are important, my appreciation for Doug lies in his personal significance in my life. My commitment to recreation, particularly for the public sector, is tied directly to his demonstration of the value of parks and recreation to people in communities. Doug was my department chair when I was at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. I am not always sure he understood the nature of my feminist research, but he encouraged me every day and never stood in my way while offering quiet encouragement. Doug believed in me even sometimes when I wasn’t so confident in myself.

Because of Doug, I share a deep passion for my profession and for the importance of professionalism both philosophically and organizationally. He taught me to conduct myself with the highest of ethical standards. I have continued Doug’s work by being a leader and advocate for the quality of life that recreation offers.

I am honored to be a part of the induction of Dr. Sessoms into the Hall of Fame. My life changed because of his inspiration, and I am overjoyed to celebrate his life through this “Best of the Best” award.

Make America Kind (Again) is an important idea for me. Kindness means being nice instead of mean. It also includes being kind/nice in the face of meanness. Kindness involves being considerate, gracious, and forgiving.

My good friend Deb has a simple tattoo on her right wrist. It says, “Be Kind.” She has it facing outward to remind people to be kind as she shakes hands or reaches out in any way. At the retirement party for Deb two years ago, we all got temporary tattoos with that message. A couple of her proteges got real tattoos to honor Deb’s passion about kindness.

I have written before about the coffee shop in town called Kind Coffee. The organization suggests that being kind involves THE RESPONSIBILITY OF LIFE IN THE PRESENT TO PRESERVE FOR LIFE IN THE FUTURE. Therefore, the coffee sold provides environmental sustainability by being chemical free, fairly traded, shade grown, certified organic, and good for you and the environment. The business notes that “Kind is what coffee should be.”

The Dalai Lama stated, “My religion is kindness.” All religions indicate the importance of practicing loving kindness. In the Christian tradition, Mathew 7:12 indicates Jesus said, “In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” The Islamic Prophet Muhammad emphasized, “Not one of you truly believes until you wish for others what you wish for yourself.”  Kindness is at the core of all spiritual and humanistic paths.

I believe, as these spiritual leaders advocate, if we dedicate our lives to kindness and to the qualities of care, we create peace on earth. This approach would lead to social justice and the healing of our environment.

Every year on November 13 is International Kindness Day. I thought about writing this blog closer to that date but decided to do it now. Every day should be Kindness Day. Kindness is a conscious choice and not just a random act. A belief in the goodness of people is expressed through kindness.

I lowered my day pack, pulled out my sitting mat, and carefully positioned it on a short, weathered log. It was two minutes until beginning my trail assignment. I was volunteering to count the hikers on a trail during a one-hour period so it could be calibrated with the gadgets strategically placed on trees and across the trail to measure hiker numbers. These data are necessary for management plans in the park.

I looked forward to the hike to this assigned spot, but was trepidatious about the hour I was going to sit still and unobtrusively record the number of hikers on a clicker. Much to my surprise, I discovered the longer I sat still, the more I enjoyed the experience. I realized how infrequently I just sit in nature. I love to be in motion hiking to desired landmarks. Stopping to sit pensively has not been my experience.

The trail was not busy. I had plenty of opportunity to “be.” I noticed the ants working diligently to get materials to their mounds. I could smell the damp earth. I heard the occasional buzz of a mosquito or fly as it went about its business. I recognized the screech of a hawk in the distance. I noted the squirrel flitting up and down the lodgepole pines. I heard the crunch of hiking boots on the trail before I saw the hikers.

In describing the experience, a friend noted that I was “forest bathing.” Forest bathing means immersing oneself in nature in a mindful way and using senses to derive benefits for one’s health. It is both a fitness trend and a mindfulness practice. The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s called shinrin-yoku (“forest bathing” or “taking in the forest atmosphere”). Its purpose was to counter technology burnout and to reconnect residents to the country’s forests.

Many Japanese embrace this form of ecotherapy. Science now supports what people in many other cultures already know: time spent immersed in nature is good for people.

Regardless of whether the term forest bathing is used, the idea is not just for wilderness-lovers like me. I am learning that regardless of where I am, I can slow down in any natural environment and consciously connect with what is around me. I hope to have a lot of forest bathing in the future.

A young park ranger that I worked with this summer was obsessed with FOMO-Fear of Missing Out. She is an enthusiastic conscientious young person who wants to garner as many experiences as possible related to “ranger work” as well as her personal life. She laments missing out on happenings when she is on her days off.

I have never used FOMO to describe my life, but I have experienced it. Contemplating FOMO has resulted in thinking about the opportunities I have had as well as the things I will never get to do.

I read an interesting article by Valerie Tiberius entitled, “Why you should swap your bucket list with a chuck-it list.” She claimed that some people have put too much emphasis on getting their bucket lists checked off. I admit that I may have focused on aspirations that I wanted to reach. I am also coming to the realization that I will never accomplish some of my goals.

Some things will most likely never happen. For example, I always wanted to run the Boston Marathon but never came close to getting a qualifying time, or perhaps I should say that I never worked hard enough to achieve that required time. I run little these days, so any marathon is not in my future.

I have travelled to every continent and visited dozens of countries. Yet, I still have a hankering to travel to new places. I also am questioning how important those destinations are as I get older.

Tiberius suggested that trying to achieve the bucket list may lead to disappointment and frustration. It also might lead to missing out or enjoying what wasn’t on that list—opportunities coming serendipitously or that were taken for granted. She noted that what is on your “chuck it” list may be as important as the bucket list. As I age, I feel my priorities evolving. I am finding that staying home for periods of time is enjoyable. I am giving myself permission, as Tiberius suggested, to remove those items that I may not get done—and not feel sorry about that.

A healthy FOMO is not bad. For me today, however, tempering my bucket list and my chuck it list may be more fruitful. I am grateful for all the experiences I have had.

My philosophy about retirement is that one should go towards something and not simply go away from a job. I knew when I chose to retire in Estes Park that I wanted to have a new “career” as a volunteer in Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP). The park is home to me. Over the past 9 years I made my retirement goal a dream come true.

I was acknowledged recently at the RMNP Volunteer Recognition Event with my 10,000 Hour drop-down Bar. Doing the math, that equals 250 weeks of service or almost 5 years of full-time paid work. None of my volunteering at the park, however, feels like hard work. It is a service of love for the beauty of this park landscape and the habitats of the animals. I am privileged to spend my time surrounded in beauty working with other dedicated volunteers and staff to instill in visitors the value of these public lands and natural wonders.

I recognize I am an overachiever and did not necessarily intend that so much of my life at this stage would be wrapped up with this volunteering. Nevertheless, I do not know what I would give up if I had to volunteer less. Just as I felt my professional career was a calling, my service in the park is a calling.

People ask me what my favorite volunteer activity is. I never know what to say. Some days are not as much fun as others. Overall, however, I would not do what I do unless it was meaningful to me and to others. My blogs have described several of my service activities that are diverse such as weed warrioring, information office talking, and elk counting. Even within a single season, a particular volunteer opportunity varies from day to day.

My volunteering is not altruistic. I volunteer because it feels good, and I feel needed to contribute to a greater cause. I like being in the “know” about the park. Since I no longer associate daily with young college students, I enjoy the perspective of young staff as they seek to make sense of their lives and their work in the park.

I am proud of my 10,000 hours. I am grateful for the National Park Service and how it contributes to the edification of visitors. I am fortunate to play a small role.

What an unusual experience not to see another human being besides my backpacking buddies for over 36 hours! Or, as one of my companions suggested, to see more moose than people for two days! We experienced that surreal occurrence on our backpacking trip in the far north of Rocky Mountain National Park to Mirror Lake last week. I am glad to know that such remote areas exist mostly untrammeled by humans.

The experience of backcountry travel provides opportunities to reflect on life at its most elemental levels, even though the gear now exists to travel relatively lightly and comfortably. I have been lucky to backpack in several beautiful parts of the American West such as the Wonderland Trail around Mt. Rainier, the Beartooths of Montana, the John Muir Trail in California, the Wind Rivers and Tetons in Wyoming, the San Juans of Colorado, and all corners of Rocky Mountain National Park.

I love being able to get away from the conveniences of daily living for a short time if for no other reason than to be reminded of how grateful I am to live in great comfort. I revel in the peacefulness and the opportunity to disconnect from the world when I am in wild places. I like the focus on living simply and safely in the company of a few good friends. I delight in laying in my tent at night and hearing none of the background of traffic and other civilization noises but only the sound of silence in the outdoors. When it rains, I find nothing cozier than being in a well-designed rain resistant tent.

I am blessed with these opportunities and am also realizing that over time I may not be able to continue to enjoy them in the same way. My pack seems to be getting heavier as my legs, and especially my knees, are getting weaker. Getting in and out of my little tent isn’t as easy as it used to be, especially during those middle of the night bathroom calls.  I find myself more concerned about how to remain healthy and safe as I recreate in these isolated areas.

Nevertheless, I hope I have more backpacking trips left in me. I recognize that I am getting older and not as athletic as I used to be. Regardless, I will continue to dream about getting away, and remember warmly the trips I have enjoyed in the wilderness for over 50 years.

In the Christian tradition, the Lord’s Prayer has the phrase “and give us this day our daily bread.” Bread is symbolic of life, and I love literally having bread every day, and especially sweetened bread. If you put a cinnamon roll/donut, cookie, piece of cake, or slice of pie in front of me, I would always choose the bread item.

Bread has been referred to as the “staff of life.” It is a staple food used, needed, or enjoyed by many individuals. One of my favorite food adventures when I travel to international or domestic areas is to sample the variations of bread: Focaccia in Italy, Soda Bread in Ireland, Tortillas in Mexico, Pita in the Middle East, and Frybread in North American indigenous cultures.

My mother used to make our daily bread when I was younger. She was a great bread baker. I now deplore that my sisters and I used to beg for “boughten bread” (think Wonder Bread)—how little we knew about the delights of homemade bread. One of my mother’s hallmarks was the “coffee cakes” she gave away to family and friends during the Christmas season. Other people have holiday rituals such as tea rings or ooey gooey sweet breads, but my mom’s superpower was coffee cake.

As a young teen, I did a 4-H demonstration project on how to make bread and called the demonstration, “The Staff of Life.” I seldom make bread regularly these days even though I deplore the amount of packaging that comes with bread from the grocery store. Yeast breads, especially, take time. I do love the catharsis of kneading the bread and the surprise in how it deflates after rising only to bake with its soft roundness.

I love pizza and I think much of that has to do with the crust, the “bones” of pizza. Sandwiches are not the same to me unless they have bread on both sides.

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra suggested that “All sorrows are less with bread.” I believe that statement especially when I convince myself that I deserve a donut or a thick slice of bread with butter and jam as a treat for hard work done.

Carbs come in different forms. I vote for bread items and am glad I am not gluten-free. The idea of breaking bread together is a simple pleasure that I am grateful to share as often as I can.