This past Tuesday, for the first time since last winter, all four of the Tuesday Trekkers hiked together again. Plenty of hikes have happened during that time, but all were made up of different combinations of two or three of us. It felt great to have the whole gang back.
I had seen a beautiful photograph of a moss-covered staircase, taken on a hike billed as easy enough for a three-year-old. Since it was the first time in a long time for some of us, I thought this easy hike, combined with another nearby, equally intriguing ‘easy enough for a three-year-old’ hike would make for a perfect day together. Apparently, the reviewers of this hike were referring to Superman’s three-year-old child. No three-year-old I know would have a hope of completing these hikes. However, we did not know that when we struck out.
We chose to do the canyon hike first, leaving the beautiful staircase until the end. According to the reviews, we would be able to amble along the canyon floor. We struck out along the beautiful path, which soon turned narrow and much less well marked. Luckily, we had downloaded the map for this hike, and we used it to hold the course. The trail was littered with fallen trees which we climbed over or under, and body height rock walls we navigated as we climbed higher and farther away from the canyon floor. I mind climbing much less than descending so as we were going up, I spent some time thinking about how we’d get down on the way back. It took us almost an hour and a half to travel less than the two kilometres that led us down a steep descent leading to the floor of the canyon.
This trail starts out along the Trans Canada Highway, near the town of Canmore. The reviews had mentioned one small drawback of this particular trail was that due to its proximity to the highway, traffic noise could be a nuisance. This part of the review was accurate. While we usually love the absolute silence of the forest, on this day, we were able to hear the traffic. It wasn’t awful, but it reminded us that real life wasn’t too far away, a fact we usually love to leave in the car when we take out our packs. However, once we stepped onto that canyon floor, all noise was silenced. Perfect stillness fell upon us. The rock formations were fantastic. We hoped to take some photos, but quickly realized that along with the noise of the highway, the light had also disappeared. In a narrow canyon, marked by high cliff walls, the sun has a very narrow window of opportunity to shine down, especially in the fall and winter months. We had missed the window.
Remembering that the reviews had said we could walk through the floor of the canyon to return to the trail nearer the beginning, thus avoiding all the over and under of the trees and the climbs up and down the hills, we tried to figure out how to make this happen. Alas, we did not have a three-year-old to help us. There was absolutely no possible way we could descend the huge drops, and we could see that even if we had been able to do this, there was no way to walk on the canyon floor. The canyon was quiet, a place of refuge, but our possibilities were very limited there.
We managed to make our way back to the intersection of our trail and the trail to the staircase. This second trail paralleled the highway. I expected it to be much noisier. However, a small berm between us and the road, gave us all the buffering we needed. There was peace here too. Not the complete silence of the canyon, but a surprising amount of quiet. After more time than the review suggested, we still had not come across the staircase or anything like it. We chose to turn back, leaving the staircase for another Tuesday.
Thank heavens we don’t need much to have fun. We loved being together and we did love our day, despite it not turning out at all as we had anticipated. And as always, I took more away from it than just sore muscles and some pretty photographs.
When we were standing in the silence of the canyon, I thought of how often we wish we could turn off the noise of life. We wish that, even for just a few minutes, we wouldn’t need to respond to others, listen to the news, rush through traffic, navigate through crowds, look at our endless to do lists or even listen to well intentioned others. Sometimes we just want the canyon floor. But it isn’t a good place to linger. On the canyon floor, we are alone. The silence that starts out as such a gift, soon turns to loneliness. The lack of light prevents us from seeing possibilities. The large boulders stop us from trying new things, from having a few adventures, from going anywhere other than where we currently are. It’s hard to shake the cold down there.
But during the second portion of our hike, along the part with the berm separating us from the highway, there was also a precious peace. Here, we could hear the muffled sounds of the traffic, but we could still hear our own thoughts. We had light, light that gave us perspectives and beauty not visible from the canyon floor. We could travel more easily and had more possibilities available for our movement. I wondered if even though the silence of the canyon could be so alluring, if perhaps walking with a berm at our side isn’t a more favourable protector for us. It quiets the unwanted noises of life yet allows for all the beauty and growth we seek. Most of the time we don’t need complete solitude and silence, we simply need a place to catch our breath, recharge, feel safe and at peace.
What then are the berms of life made of?
In my world, berms are not made of earth, grass and trees, but of the people and events I surround myself with. Doing work that fills me up and standing among people who share my passions make up part of my berm. The friends I can laugh with and in the next breath share my worries, these are my berm too. Hugging my children and grandchildren strengthen my berm. Knowing home is a safe place to land is too. The berm lets us know we are supported, we are safe, we can be our creative selves, and we can have peace. It also reminds us there is a wonderful busy life also awaiting us when we are ready to rejoin it.
This week, after the busyness of Halloween, you may need a minute or two on the canyon floor. But once that is over, I hope you can strengthen your berm so you can once again share your gifts and joy with others.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I strengthening my berm?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to limit your time on the canyon floor.
I had seen a beautiful photograph of a moss-covered staircase, taken on a hike billed as easy enough for a three-year-old. Since it was the first time in a long time for some of us, I thought this easy hike, combined with another nearby, equally intriguing ‘easy enough for a three-year-old’ hike would make for a perfect day together. Apparently, the reviewers of this hike were referring to Superman’s three-year-old child. No three-year-old I know would have a hope of completing these hikes. However, we did not know that when we struck out.
We chose to do the canyon hike first, leaving the beautiful staircase until the end. According to the reviews, we would be able to amble along the canyon floor. We struck out along the beautiful path, which soon turned narrow and much less well marked. Luckily, we had downloaded the map for this hike, and we used it to hold the course. The trail was littered with fallen trees which we climbed over or under, and body height rock walls we navigated as we climbed higher and farther away from the canyon floor. I mind climbing much less than descending so as we were going up, I spent some time thinking about how we’d get down on the way back. It took us almost an hour and a half to travel less than the two kilometres that led us down a steep descent leading to the floor of the canyon.
This trail starts out along the Trans Canada Highway, near the town of Canmore. The reviews had mentioned one small drawback of this particular trail was that due to its proximity to the highway, traffic noise could be a nuisance. This part of the review was accurate. While we usually love the absolute silence of the forest, on this day, we were able to hear the traffic. It wasn’t awful, but it reminded us that real life wasn’t too far away, a fact we usually love to leave in the car when we take out our packs. However, once we stepped onto that canyon floor, all noise was silenced. Perfect stillness fell upon us. The rock formations were fantastic. We hoped to take some photos, but quickly realized that along with the noise of the highway, the light had also disappeared. In a narrow canyon, marked by high cliff walls, the sun has a very narrow window of opportunity to shine down, especially in the fall and winter months. We had missed the window.
Remembering that the reviews had said we could walk through the floor of the canyon to return to the trail nearer the beginning, thus avoiding all the over and under of the trees and the climbs up and down the hills, we tried to figure out how to make this happen. Alas, we did not have a three-year-old to help us. There was absolutely no possible way we could descend the huge drops, and we could see that even if we had been able to do this, there was no way to walk on the canyon floor. The canyon was quiet, a place of refuge, but our possibilities were very limited there.
We managed to make our way back to the intersection of our trail and the trail to the staircase. This second trail paralleled the highway. I expected it to be much noisier. However, a small berm between us and the road, gave us all the buffering we needed. There was peace here too. Not the complete silence of the canyon, but a surprising amount of quiet. After more time than the review suggested, we still had not come across the staircase or anything like it. We chose to turn back, leaving the staircase for another Tuesday.
Thank heavens we don’t need much to have fun. We loved being together and we did love our day, despite it not turning out at all as we had anticipated. And as always, I took more away from it than just sore muscles and some pretty photographs.
When we were standing in the silence of the canyon, I thought of how often we wish we could turn off the noise of life. We wish that, even for just a few minutes, we wouldn’t need to respond to others, listen to the news, rush through traffic, navigate through crowds, look at our endless to do lists or even listen to well intentioned others. Sometimes we just want the canyon floor. But it isn’t a good place to linger. On the canyon floor, we are alone. The silence that starts out as such a gift, soon turns to loneliness. The lack of light prevents us from seeing possibilities. The large boulders stop us from trying new things, from having a few adventures, from going anywhere other than where we currently are. It’s hard to shake the cold down there.
But during the second portion of our hike, along the part with the berm separating us from the highway, there was also a precious peace. Here, we could hear the muffled sounds of the traffic, but we could still hear our own thoughts. We had light, light that gave us perspectives and beauty not visible from the canyon floor. We could travel more easily and had more possibilities available for our movement. I wondered if even though the silence of the canyon could be so alluring, if perhaps walking with a berm at our side isn’t a more favourable protector for us. It quiets the unwanted noises of life yet allows for all the beauty and growth we seek. Most of the time we don’t need complete solitude and silence, we simply need a place to catch our breath, recharge, feel safe and at peace.
What then are the berms of life made of?
In my world, berms are not made of earth, grass and trees, but of the people and events I surround myself with. Doing work that fills me up and standing among people who share my passions make up part of my berm. The friends I can laugh with and in the next breath share my worries, these are my berm too. Hugging my children and grandchildren strengthen my berm. Knowing home is a safe place to land is too. The berm lets us know we are supported, we are safe, we can be our creative selves, and we can have peace. It also reminds us there is a wonderful busy life also awaiting us when we are ready to rejoin it.
This week, after the busyness of Halloween, you may need a minute or two on the canyon floor. But once that is over, I hope you can strengthen your berm so you can once again share your gifts and joy with others.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How am I strengthening my berm?’
Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching. She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society. She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching. She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to limit your time on the canyon floor.
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