Wandering and Wondering

The gray wolf is native to Colorado. Historically, wolves lived in Colorado in all major habitats. During the latter half of the 1800s, hunters decimated wolf prey such as bison, elk, and deer. At the same time, domestic livestock were increasing in numbers. Because wolves killed livestock and game, they were eradicated from Colorado through shooting, trapping, and poisoning by the mid-1940s. Government sponsored predator control eliminated wolves throughout the western United States.

I have had little contact with wolves other than hearing them howling at night when I camped at Isle Royale 40 years ago. I thought they provided a beautiful melody and had no concern for my safety. I also have seen the wolves through high-powered telescopes at Yellowstone National Park. I loved the variety of colors of their fur. I wonder if I will hear them again someday. And of course, I had an affinity for wolves when I worked at North Carolina State University and supported the Wolfpack!

Colorado now has suitable habitat for wolves that includes sufficient prey and public land. A small group has been living in the state. In 2020, however, Coloradans voted to re-introduce wolves with only a tiny 50.4% majority of the vote. I studied the proposal and although I recognize the value wolves add to biodiversity, I did not know if this reintroduction would work, especially in an area with a urban-wildlife interface.

Nevertheless, 12 wolves donated by the state of Oregon were released about 75 miles to the west of where I live several weeks ago. I pray they will be self-sustaining and create a viable population.

The reintroduction of wolves into areas where they had been extirpated has both ecological and social implications. Their presence can lead to a more balanced diverse ecosystem as they help control herbivore populations and prevent overgrazing.

Further, wolves exhibit complex social structures within their packs. Observing and studying these social dynamics can provide valuable insights into animal behavior and communication. Their presence offers educational opportunities for the public to learn about and appreciate wildlife conservation.

A downside to wolves returning exists. Wolves might prey on domestic animals, leading to conflicts with ranchers and farmers. If abundant wildlife is available, however, this predation is unlikely to happen. Further, fears exist about human-wolf conflict. Although human interactions seldom occur, their reintroduction can lead to negative perceptions and fears.

The reintroduction of wolves is complex and multifaceted involving ecological, social, economic, and political considerations. I hope these wolves create a balance between conservation goals and the concerns of local communities.

I am fascinated by what artificial intelligence (AI) means to the world (and to me). It is here to stay. Like many aspects of technology, AI has both benefits and drawbacks. I have been playing with it as I write these blog posts and have mixed feelings. If I were still in higher education, I would be thinking deeply about this issue as I contemplate how it can help me as well as others (my students) become better and more creative writers.

I experiment with AI as I write these days. A benefit is increased efficiency in generating ideas. I have especially found it useful in creating titles for blogs. I have not used any of the generated titles, but the suggestions stimulate my thinking about how to make a title more appealing. AI also offers creative ideas that I can use as a foundation for my thoughts about a given topic. As I noted in my blog about socks, asking an AI program to give me history about socks speeded my research about the topic. My task was then to edit the suggestions and personalize the ideas.

As I write (and the advice I would give if I were still evaluating student papers), I want to critically evaluate the information provided. Since my blogs are about personal reflections in wandering and wondering, I remind myself to reflect on the facts that AI uncovers that I can relate personally.

I asked an AI program to highlight implications for drafting personal essays. It suggested that “writers can use AI tools to analyze data, gather insights, and support their arguments. This can enhance the depth and credibility of personal essays.” Although AI excels at data-driven questions, creativity and emotional intelligence are needed. Limitations exist because human experiences are not illuminated. AI stimulates my creativity, but it cannot accurately reflect my attitudes, insights, emotions, and feelings.

I have no conclusions about this tool. Much will unfold in the coming months and years. AI can be valuable and has implications for both good and evil. I will capitalize on its potential just as I use other tools such as the internet and computers. I am open to broader implications for myself, human experiences, and writing.

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.

I was at a reunion with a group of dear friends several weeks ago when our dinner conversation turned to our hopes and fears about the future. We were mostly beyond Medicare age and had known one another for over 40 years. One person indicated that she hoped that her life had made a difference. She was challenged by another friend by asking just what she meant by making a difference. I began to think further about this question.

Last year when I wrote about the new year, I talked about not necessarily having a Happy New Year but a Hopeful New Year. I still like that idea and am thinking about the subtleties of hoping to make positive differences in the coming year.

I have concluded that setting out to make a difference is not a realistic goal as a resolution. I am not advocating that people abdicate New Years Resolutions, but I recognize that making a difference, just like being happy, is a process and not a product.

Differences relate to big and little things. It assumes making life better for people and animals in some way. Most of us will not make a big transformation in the world. Numerous little things, however, such as acts of kindness and caring can make a constructive difference in someone’s life even if for a few minutes. Those actions ought to be implicit in our lives. My resolve starting today is to be kind and have faith that this behavior will make an affirmative difference.

I recently read a eulogy about a woman who had changed the lives of homeless people in her community. She had goals in mind for what needed to happen. She quietly set out to help the individuals she met. People remembering her acknowledged that she had made a huge difference through her numerous small acts of caring and kindness.

Mahatma Gandhi summed up my thinking for what guides me into 2024: “It’s the action, not the fruit of the action, that’s important. You have to do the right thing. It may not be in your power, may not be in your time, that there’ll be any fruit. But that doesn’t mean you stop doing the right thing. You may never know what results come from your action. But if you do nothing, there will be no result.”

Have a happy, hopeful, and caring new year!

Gift-giving is not reserved for only one time of the year, even though gift giving is seriously on people’s minds this time of the year. Although I like to give gifts that others will appreciate, I am aware more than ever that the best gifts are not necessarily those that result in “stuff.”

In all transparency I admit that I do not enjoy shopping. I do like to give gifts if I have good ideas that are easy to access. I cherish many gifts that people have given me over the years. I know the thought and effort went into getting me just the right gift. For example, I have a beautiful framed photographic print of Ansel Adam’s, “The Tetons and the Snake River.” My good friend who passed away two years ago gave it to me because I often talked about the beauty of that area. I received a coffee cup from a longtime friend after we climbed Mt. Whitney. I use it every week and think about that mountain and him.

Nevertheless, the best gifts that I can give as well as receive these days are not necessarily things. They are memories.

I like to give gifts of experiences. These gifts are not altruistic as I get to participate as well. Over the years I have enjoyed giving live theater tickets or opportunities to go to a special holiday presentation of something. For example, last year I took three special friends to see Mannheim Steamroller at the Denver Performing Arts Center. Seeing that group has been on my bucket list for years. Taking others who enjoyed it as much as me was a special gift for all of us.

Years ago, my parents, sisters, and I decided that we were not going to give each other gifts unless it was something special and/or homemade. We all had everything that we needed, or could purchase what was important. We gave donations to organizations on behalf of one another to honor the season. I continue to make these donations and love to be able to offer a financial gift “in honor of (someone).”

Most family members and friends have all that they need. I focus on giving anonymous gifts that benefit important causes or go to people who need necessities far more than me.

I was volunteering at Bear Lake one Saturday this summer. An older seasonal ranger was convivial with the visitors as I worked alongside him. A young woman walked up holding a 10-month-old baby boy. She started to ask the ranger a question. Before she could speak, he spoke to the baby, “Hey buddy. Are you living your best life right now? Well, it hasn’t been a long life, but it looks like it is the best!”

I thought what a sweet comment and began to think about how one answered the question about living one’s “best life.” I have never had children, but I would wish that every kid was able to live their best life as they grow up. In a world full of conflict and natural disasters, my heart breaks for those children that will struggle to find their best life. Being a baby at Rocky Mountain National Park seems to be a fairly good deal.

I don’t want a discussion of living your best life to sound like a poster that might hang in a dentist office, but the idea is worth contemplating. I am living my best life today. What could be better than living in a beautiful place, having caring friends, being in good health (most of the time), and seeking to embody service living.

I have experienced some (perceived) failure in my quest for my best life but dwelling on my inadequacies does not change anything. What I have is good. I know, however, that I cannot be complacent as life can change quickly. For example, recently I had the flu. I felt miserable. I was living anything close to my best life during those few days. My recovery was slow and I had time to think about how fortunate I am. I felt sorry for myself when I was sick, and yet recognized that I was lucky to have medicine and healthy food, even though I didn’t feel like eating. I wasn’t at my best, but I was still living a good life.

Now that I am over the illness, I appreciate my life more than before. I wish for that young Bear Lake visitor to live his best life so that in the end it is a “life well lived.” I hope he grows up to love public lands and enjoys them for years to come.