Friluftsliv

The titles of my last few posts have come rather serendipitously (shpilkes, ancora imparo). I learn a new word or phrase that describes what I've been writing about and it confirms for me that I must have needed to process that idea. This post is no different.

Two words this week that resonated with me - friluftsliv and desideratum.

Language is such a powerful thing. It allows us to communicate with others, but it also allows us to communicate with ourselves. When we expand our vocabulary, we expand our capacity to make sense of the world.  My friend Brett shared an article last week about the concept of friluftsliv. This is a Norwegian word that basically means "open air living." Norwegians are known for their love of nature. They recognize the importance of being connected to nature and taking care of the Earth.

For several years now, my interest in nature and spending time outside has continued to grow. I've read a lot about how time in nature is beneficial for our physical and mental health (I even published an article about it). During the last eight months of this COVID pandemic, I would say that spending time outside - friluftsliv - has been the main thing that has gotten me through. Between short walks in the evenings by myself and longer hikes with friends this summer and fall, I've been able to process my thoughts and emotions - grief, disappointment, anticipation, anger, worry, hope, wonder. At other times, going outside has allowed me to slow my thoughts and just be present. The year-long Audubon Naturalist class I started this month has allowed me to exercise my legs and my mind. Last week, I was also able to visit Rocky Mountain National Park with some friends and put my worries on a shelf for the day.

It is fascinating to me how things often seem to come together regardless of our actions (and sometimes despite them); how contradicting situations can happen simultaneously; and how challenging moments in life can be redeemed.

Here's what I mean:

The Loch in RMNP

One of the biggest disappointments for me this year was the cancelation of my Norwegian student's exchange year. Ironically, the thing that has helped me most through this difficult year is the Norwegian philosophy of friluftsliv.

As my friends and I hiked through Rocky Mountain National Park last week (practicing friluftsliv) to escape the monotony of life in a pandemic, we were greeted by 50+ mph winds and a plume of smoke filled the sky from the largest recorded wildfire in Colorado history. Yet, I was still able to experience the beauty of creation and feel at peace when we reached the lake at the top of the trail. Plus, I was able to use my national park pass one more time before it expires next month.

What's more ironic, those fires that continue to burn much of our state, while devastating, have created some of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen in a while.

My Owl Visitor

The COVID pandemic has taken away so much from all of us, but it's also given me permission to slow down, to try new things, and to prioritize what's important. I was sitting outside a cafe across the street from my apartment one evening a few weeks ago - something that I would not have been doing if it weren't for "social distancing" - when a great horned owl (my favorite animal) flew above my head and landed on the roof next to me. Sometimes it's the little things that count.

On a larger scale, I started writing this blog last October, one year ago this month. In my second post in early November, I talked about how October has for many years been my least favorite month: shorter, colder days, the end of summer, falling leaves that represent death and dormancy, less travel and adventure, and the beginning of the long, cold winter. Well, looking back, last October was actually the beginning of several great adventures I had with my exchange student Ramón. Adventures to the Grand Canyon, five other National Parks, and Mount Rushmore. All of those happened in the fall and winter. This spring and summer were by far more challenging.

My perspective on October - and on life in general - has changed this year. Although Colorado is currently experiencing its highest number of confirmed COVID cases, there is also the hope of a potential vaccine on the horizon. Although our country has become more divided in recent years - politically, socially, and economically - there is also the prospect of electing new leadership. Leadership that will hopefully prioritize solutions for the pandemic and recognize the urgent need to protect our planet and the diverse people who live on it. Neither of those things is guaranteed, but I'm feeling optimistic that this October may be the start of a shift to something better.

The other thing I'm learning is that friluftsliv isn't just for a season. The onset of winter doesn't have to mean the pause of getting outside. As they say in Norway "there is no bad weather, only bad clothing." October may not be my favorite month and winter may not be my favorite season but, as I mentioned above, most of my favorite memories from the last year happened last winter. My adventure to RMNP last week reminded me that life is what I make of it and, even with the things that I can't control, things work out how they should.

One of the reasons I wanted to visit RMNP last week was to try taking some photos of the Milky Way at night. Although the photos that I got are not award-winning and it was freezing standing outside in the dark, I felt exhilarated staring at the sky and capturing that moment in time. It represents perfectly the state of uncertainty in which we're currently living. On the left side are the mountains, the sky, and the dependable stars that have glowed for millions of years. On the right side is the reminder of the fire that's burning just over the horizon. We don't know when it will burn out or how much damage it will do in the process, but it can't extinguish the stars behind it.

Night Sky in RMNP - Glowing on the horizon from the Cameron Peak Fire

This photo reminded me of one of my favorite poems. It's a poem that my mom has always loved and that she shared with my sisters and me when we were younger. The title of the poem, Desiderata, was my other serendipitous word for this week. As I sat down to proof-read this post before publishing it, I noticed an email in my inbox from dictionary.com with today's word of the day:

After my goosebumps subsided, I read this excerpt from the poem again and smiled. I'll end with this in hopes that it brings you a smile as well.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. 

-Desiderata, Max Ehrmann