Date: 2015-02-15
To: Blissful Anticipation
Miles today: 0.0

"You should check to see if you have the right kind of ignorance . . . if you're not getting the benefits that most people get from being stupid" -- Hal SirowitzAs I sit here at home on another cold mid-to-late-winter afternoon, looking out through my window on a day which is deceptively sunny, I can't help but wonder if I have that of which Hal Sirowitz wrote: -- "the right kind of ignorance". That there are things (many things) concerning the challenge which is imminently before me -- that is quite obvious. The closer I get to my March start date, it would seem the more doubts seem to creep into my mind. I find myself questioning and re-questioning decisions I thought were already settled -- thoughts on gear selection, food selection, even which stove to use or the number of extra socks to pack along. Someone once said that "ignorance is bliss". Well, I avow that it also can be quite torturous.So, what is the "right kind of ignorance"? I have to think that the right kind is a humble ignorance -- which freely owns the lack of understanding and is not afraid to seek the help or clarity needed. The right kind of ignorance is not cocky -- pretending to know in the whole, that which is only partially understood. The right kind of ignorance is not afraid to ask questions or seek advice. It enjoys learning from the experiences of others. That's the type of ignorance, if any, to which I aspire.In truth, I anticipate this upcoming hike to be a real stretching, growing experience for me -- extending far beyond the physical challenges. Of those, I am sure there will be many; but it's the other things which capture my thinking at present -- important things like Vision -- which involves much more than seeing. Most all of us see. Few perceive. Few take the time truly to notice a thing, to ponder its place. I was reading just the other day of how urban life tends to put a limit on ones vision -- restricting it to immediate objects. Most of us grow up this way with a sky which is closed in, and where we are accustomed to being confined within walls and having conveniences close at hand. Therefore, we hardly know what it means to take in vastness or enormity. Accustomed to seeing only what is expected, often we fail even to notice the unusual or spectacular.Perhaps this means nothing to anyone but me, but I want this hike to be one which amounts to more than dealing with the immediate and seeing only that which is anticipated. I look back over some of my own journal entries this past year of waiting -- and I catch glimpses of what I want -- the day I stopped on my walk to observe an inch worm crossing the path -- another day that I sat and watched swirling leaves duel against each other as they plummeted to the ground -- or the cold day I laughed to see the rhododendron leaves rolled up tighter than a Cuban cigar. Much of the richness of life is found in the little things -- seeing vastness in the miniscule. I'm not doing this hike "to find myself" -- in fact I truly fear for anyone who might even utter such a statement. If someone in their mid-twenties-thirties-sixties has not yet found himself or herself, then I doubt that a walk in the woods will do it. No, I'm pretty confident in who I am; I just want to be more. I want to grow. I'm just an ignorant man (the right kind, hopefully) seeking to become less so. This hike is but a single page of my story and the story is of much greater importance than the page.