Mount Shasta: Healing in Creation

Mount Shasta from Bunny Flats TH, 14,179ft

As I've gotten sucked further into the world of mountains, I find I'm (often!) asking myself: Why? Why are you doing this? Why not turn around? Why try to go higher? Why do you keep coming up with new ways to torture yourself? Don't you find this crazy, and a ton of work, and time consuming, and... well, crazy??? Most climbers would probably just pull a George Mallory and say "Because it's there!" Or another classic go-to: to see if I can! To see what my body is capable of! But as a massive over-thinker, a superficial answer would never suffice for me. And getting the opportunity to spend more time with people that also have a love of mountains, I've noticed a real pattern that causes me to think that those quick and superficial answers are actually indicative of the real reason they are out there, whether they fully understand that reason or not.

Setting out! The plan was to climb 7,300ft in ~5.5 miles over 3 days

The first person I was really exposed to that did "crazy" stuff would have to be my ex who rode bikes competitively. I wanted to understand the why... why the time, the effort, the dedication, the pain and agony... But try as he may to explain, and try as I might to understand, I didn't get it. Pieces of it, sure—clearing your head, being in nature and feeling closer to God, wanting to live a healthy life. I had found those bits true for myself in hiking and riding so I could rationalize those aspects, but I knew they weren't enough to fuel that degree of commitment, or drive, or obsession. It seemed like something was missing from the explanations, even the ones written by other athletes and sent to me to try and help me "understand". It all seemed like a carefully constructed web of justifications, but hollow on the inside. Somehow not getting to the heart, or the real reason. Maybe it was just me, maybe there was nothing missing in his explanation, or that I just wasn't in a place yet to understand, maybe God was just leading and preparing my heart for where I needed to go... But I've noticed that this feeling of a seemingly hollow web of justifications and superficial reasoning tends to be a trend for a ton of people doing "crazy" stuff and pushing beyond the bounds of involvement normal people would enjoy. Of course, over-thinker that I am, when presented with something I don't understand, it became a reoccurring question in my head, annoying me in my inability to find an answer—even long after I felt it had any applicability to my life. It wasn't something I had ever thought about previously, but as I became more and more exposed to people living lives of pushing their bodies to do insane and incredible things (living in the "crazy"), it really caused me to want to dig deeper, to finally understand... To put that question to rest once and for all. I just never thought I would finally understand because I had somehow became someone doing some of those crazy things. And that's still hard to process at times, but I'm working on it.

Horse Camp! We stayed here our first night, it was incredible!

I had been following a friend's journey of using trail running to heal her body, and to make up for the lost time her health issues had cost her. There was so much about her story I could relate to. I understand feeling like you wasted time in your life and want to make up for it, oh how I get that feeling. And sometimes I think I overwhelm myself trying to do just that; but using the outdoors, using the "crazy" to heal? Yes, this was making so much sense to me as I was journeying in the healing myself, and starting to recognize the prevalence of the hurting in others. I had started to recognize the quickness to give the easy and superficial answers to the "why" as an indicator to the hurt laying under the surface, it is often a deflection, a denial that there is more to it. There are wonderful articles about others using running/trail running/cycling/hiking/mountaineering/what have you to help heal their minds and bodies, and I can totally get behind that logic having experienced it myself, and as much as it seemed like the pieces were starting to fall into place for me to understand all this crazy, something still didn't quite add up for me...

Peter and Chatchay working their way up the Climber's Causeway

It really wasn't until this weekend that I think I finally got it. Not the superficial explanations of why people do this stuff, but the deeper truth... I've met a lot of people now that live in the crazy. All these sports, but especially mountains it seems, have an uncanny ability to absolutely strip away all barriers and conceptions of what is normal or decent or proper... They leave you vulnerable and incredibly authentic. And the result is that you get to see a lot more about people in very short periods of time than regular life affords. And most have some degree of hurting. Sure, some might be completely well adjusted and just truly enjoy pushing themselves to the point of agony instead of kicking back and watching tv or something, it's possible. But I think those are by far-and-away the minority. Some might carry it better than others, or hide it better, think they are cured of the hurts, or simply in denial that they exist. But most, whether they recognize it or not, are running from that hurt or seeking the healing help that nature has to offer. They might say they are only out there to see what their bodies are capable of or to climb a mountain because it's there, or any number of superficial reasons just as a defensive mechanism to protect themselves from the truth of the hurt lurking in their hearts and minds. Or maybe they are like I was for so long and are in absolute denial that their hurt runs so deep but have intuitively found that they can use nature and their sport as a coping mechanism, or a tool to process, or a distraction so they can avoid the hurt entirely. I've been guilty of it all, but in this journey of healing, I didn't just want a "treatment" for these problems and hurts that had been brought to the surface. I didn't just want something that helped me get through a day or week, but left me needing another patch job after that. I didn't want another crutch in my life, something that my mind would become fixated on to keep me feeling okay and in control of my problems. I didn't want to become one of these people that need a sport in their life so desperately to keep themselves going. No, I wanted a cure. I was done wasting time with the nonsense of these hurts, and wanted to beat it once and for all.

The Causeway had big stones all along it to walk on--so neat!

And there in lies the beauty for me... Reading through what I wrote in my prayer journal during my trip to Mount Shasta, I found this: "I was talking with the others about [...] why I come do these things, and it's amazing how so many need healing and find it in your Creation... Lord, help them see you in it. You were amazing to provide this for us, but it's more than Creation, it's YOU." God wired us to run to his Creation to seek healing, and that truth is found in one of my favorite verses: "Therefore, behold, I will allure her, will bring her into the wilderness, and speak comfort to her" (Hosea 2:14), but ultimately... the healing Creation is capable of giving us is only part of the curative healing we're wired to crave. If we allow ourselves to be content with that degree of healing, if we settle for the easy superficial and safe answers to the “why” and fool ourselves into thinking we're okay and have our problems under control, if we cut out those people from our lives that don't understand and question us and force us to dig deeper to find the real truth of our motivations... If we are okay with the band-aid and temporary relief and never own up to the truth that we want something more... If we don't let things get stirred up and force those hurts to get laid bare, brought to the surface demanding to be dealt with once and for all, if we don't let ourselves see that running to nature and pushing ourselves into the crazy, isn't actually curing us but only treating the symptoms of the hurt we want to forget or deny or dismiss... then we miss the true blessing of what that calling to nature truly affords. Creation points us to what is even greater at alleviating the hurts, our ultimate healer... the CREATOR.

Getting into snow headed up to Helen Lake!

My mother likes to tell me that most people aren't insightful enough to care to evaluate why their lives aren't as good as they could be, or to push beyond accepting the mediocre. I don't want mediocrity in life, and I sure don't want it in my faith. I thought I loved mountains because of the perspective the summit affords... The views of God's Creation of course, but also in the greater sense: the accomplishment of a challenge, a tangible precipice to look back on where you've come from in life and evaluate where you're going, and a chance to really praise God for the journey of life that seems so beautiful from up there. But I realize as true as those things are, mountains are so much more than summits for me. They are a chance to not just get a treatment for my problems that will leave me needing more tomorrow or next week, but a chance to be stripped bare and let God do the work of true healing. To show me my true self, to teach me incredible lessons in the raw and vulnerable, to break down the walls and barriers that prevent me from seeing who I am really becoming. "I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order" (John Burroughs) is one of my favorite quotes, but without God in the mix, without letting Him work in the crazy to actually cure me and not just let his Creation put a band-aid on my problems, it's all for not. I'm so grateful this is how we're wired, to run to the wilderness, and to find God there when we finally let our knees hit the ground in surrender to His love and healing.

Camping at Helen Lake, Elevation 10,443ft

Mount Shasta taught me a lot. I'm still processing it all. Some of it is still hard for me to accept... like how incredibly different I've become by this journey. I got teased and didn't freak-out in debilitating discomfort, I slept in a tiny tent with two guys I had just met (me, who could never be near guys without freaking out that I might get hurt), I fell on my butt in front of a whole group of climbers so many times and never once was embarrassed but just laughed and razzed them back, I changed clothes in yet another crowded parking lot (and had it pointed out that if I thought I was being immodest, I obviously hadn't noticed the naked people walking around by the rainbow painted buses), but more than all these rather shallow (but poignant) changes... God showed me something very interesting about my heart.

The view up from Helen Lake, you can see the "heart" towards the center below the "Red Banks"

I still struggle at times to believe good things about myself (good things could be attractive things to someone, which could get me hurt, so bad things were good and good were bad), and this mountain finally let one good thing get into my heart with the full weight of truth attached to it, not just logic. Towards the start of my journey of healing, while trying to process how someone ever moves if their heart is incapable of becoming unloving toward someone, my dear friend said it would be impossible for me because I'm so loyal, my heart can't un-love, that I'd have to accept that reality and find a way to love in a healthy way that would still allow me to move forward with life. I could see his logic, but that word loyal... That had me hung up on the accuracy of his evaluation of my heart. But when stripping the word "loyal" down to its definition (a trick I've learned when I freak-out about applying words to situations or people or myself, so I can clear the messed up connotations my mind has created about those words), I knew he was right, but my heart still couldn't process it. Loyal is a good thing, surely I'm not that good... But trekking up to Helen Lake, our second and final base camp on Mount Shasta, I found myself pondering this word: loyal. I've written it in the front pages of my Bibles and journals, "Kevin says I'm loyal. Pastor Scott says I'm tender-hearted. God says I'm enough..." (and so on), and I see it and try to find the truth in these "good" things. And it's hard. But that trek up to Helen, I found myself feeling so protective of this incredibly inspiring woman in our group. 

No summit bid at 3AM meant a nap and waking up to this!

I would say she was quite a bit older than my mother, but boy was she a tough cookie! She had summited Shasta 4 times, and skied down most of those times. She fell off a cliff in December hiking, and was hospitalized with a punctured lung amongst other things, and yet here she was, trucking up a mountain. Yeah, she was slower, but my lands, she was incredible. I offered to hike with her so the others could go ahead at a quicker pace. And had the most amazing time visiting with her during our "breathers". And then while hiking, I'd ponder... Loyal... Is this loyalty? When she couldn't summit bid Sunday morning because an eye had gotten severely inflamed and irritated by a torn contact lens... I knew my hesitation of attempting the summit had been for a reason, I couldn't leave this woman alone at base camp. If it hadn't been so windy or if I'd been feeling 100% and not been having the worst cramps in my life that no amount of Aleve and ibuprofen could even begin to alleviate, I may have made the selfish decision and gone for the summit... Even as it was, my cramps were relenting and I was feeling good, and I was wondering if I should try for the summit instead... Maybe this was just mountaineering code that I wasn't used to? Wouldn't I be a failure if I don't get the summit? And I really want this summit! I came this far! But I knew that wasn't what my heart was driving me to do, I knew that wasn't the person I wanted to be, who could leave someone in their time of need despite how (arguably) safe and secure she'd be... I knew that wasn't the lesson God had for me on this mountain.

Glissading down with Marianne!

Hiking back down with Marianne, taking our sweet time while the others summited, I grappled some more with this word loyal, and then my mom threw "compassionate" into the mix when I got a message out that I wasn't going for the summit so she could stop worrying, and I'll have to process that word some more before it ever feels true... but loyal? Yes, that word finally holds truth in my heart as a word that describes me. And I thank God for bringing me on a path to find the truths He has for me, to be led on journey to have my walls and protections stripped away, and to heal my broken mind and heart enough to grow and truly grasp His incredible love for me. The journey makes me fall more and more in love with Him, and makes me even more appreciative that I now can recognize the difference between running to nature to be temporarily "soothed" and going there to be truly healed. I want the healing in my life—the cure, so I aim at making sure all of my treks into nature stay fully rooted in the One who created it and wired my heart to seek Him there. God is good! And so are mountains.

When you realize your desperate attempt to avoid burning your nose again makes you look like a ninja...

Another visit to Mount Shasta will be in my future at some point, so I can finally add that peak to my book, but it will be in God's timing, and in accordance with the lessons He has in store for me. And I'm definitely okay with that plan.

 

View of the Mountain from Horse Camp