Inner Beauty

“The day-to-day stress and busyness have me running over the sacred ground in my life, thoughtlessly trampling those delicate places. I become worn and hardened as I focus on efficiency rather than beauty, on productivity rather than meaning.  Our modern life is one of incessant activity, which leaves us breathless and harried. We live by the old idiom, ‘Don’t let the grass grow under your feet’ without realizing we are killing any green and hopeful thing in our life.”

Those words were written, not by a world renown philosopher or poet, but by a photographer. Erik Stensland is probably the premiere photographer in Rocky Mountain National Park, and one who’s work I admire greatly.  His latest book, Whispers in the Wilderness, is a collection of his reflections paired with his photography.  This post isn’t meant to be a plug for his book (but you really should pick up a copy, it is fantastic), but several of his thoughts have spurred my own thoughts on what the outdoors and nature mean to me.

While this last year was busy and filled with changes and challenges, both large and small, I had ample opportunity to step out into the wild parts of Colorado. Whether it was exploring new forests through the window of a patrol truck, backpacking deep into the wilderness in search of mountain goats, fishing new streams and lakes, or taking the camera out for a stroll through RMNP, I didn’t realize how much these moments in the cathedral of nature meant at the time.

Life has thrown its punches, tried to pull me back from wilderness nirvana, and drizzled frustration on a sour serving of disappointment. Add to this the hectic holiday season, a temporary move, and an uncertain future, and suddenly the lush green memories of the previous year’s outdoors memories were looking dry, brown, and trampled.

How do we avoid this? We all face setbacks and heartbreaks, sometimes at a daunting pace, sometimes dwarfed by the sheer enormity of the trials.  The solution is different in practice for everyone, but the answer remains the same: beauty.  For some it may be creating beauty, through photography, painting, sculpting, writing, sewing, gardening, or drawing.  For others it may be simply enjoying beauty; going to a stage production, sitting and watching the sunset, visiting an art gallery, or reading a novel.  When confronted with this beauty we must respond by looking inside ourselves and finding the inner beauty. I don’t mean that in some “you’re beautiful on the inside” pep-talk way. Rather, I mean we must find the beauty that exists in inspiration, hope, love, and goodwill.  These desires, beliefs, and feelings we carry inside us must be acknowledged and pursued.  The beauty of the external world needs to drive us to nurture the beautiful things inside us. 

For me, that catalyst is the outdoors. Surrounded by towering peaks, stout pine trees, and the particular smell of an aspen grove, the weight of tomorrows worries can drift away, as if they were waiting for the thin, crisp, mountain air to give them space to float off. In the subtle mountain silence, the nagging voice of concern and self-doubt are muted. Here, enveloped in nature, while my visual gaze is distracted by the rapturous beauty bombarding it, my souls gaze can turn towards those places of inner beauty.  Here, I can give those neglected, malnourished, and parched desires of my heart the attention and restoration they need without anything else trampling them to dust.

Where is it you find beauty?  Search for it, desperately. Don’t let your dreams and hopes wilt under the scorching skies of “tomorrow” or “someday.” Refuse to let the tender petals of the blossoming flower of desire be squashed by the boots of “being reasonable," “unobtainable,” or even "forbidden." The beauty inside yourself, those withering places of longing and yearning in your soul, depend on it.