The Mystery Experiment

Maybe hiking is a fairly safe and beautiful way to encounter mystery. Mystery is one of those things that I want to befriend but I’m always kind of giving the side-eye. 

ME "What are You doing here?" 
MYSTERY "I'm always here. This is where I live." 
ME "Well, go stand in the corner and don’t touch anything." 

It never obeys, like a dopey dog that is just following its nature in an unaggressive way. 

ME "Put that down!"
MYSTERY "But I just—" 
ME "No! Go back to your corner and leave my [insert precious thing here] alone!" 

I tend to think of mystery as a maleficent force. But could it be benevolent? Shrouding me from the painful unknown that I’m not strong enough to face just yet. Shielding me from the sheer mind-exp­loding force of knowledge the world contains so I don’t—well, explode? I often mentally return to something a friend and former colleague told me when I was trying to choose between two job offers. 

ME "I just want to know which one I should take! I want to know what the implications and consequences are of choosing one over the other so I can make the right choice!"

I was adamant. But she just wisely and calmly proposed that if we knew every­thing about what was ahead of us—we wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. 

I think I can understand that perspective most in the context of parenthood. If I knew with clarity what physical and relational dangers lie ahead for my kids, I could­n’t make space for its flying-while-building nature that requires of kids some ownership, free­dom, autonomy, and opportunity to build self-reliance and confidence and make choices that is ne­cessary to make them fully funct­ioning adults in the future. No—I would for sure lock them in a padded room and only let th­em out for hugs and kisses and it would be out of love. 

Being in nature is practicing partnership with mystery.

What's out there? What will I encounter? Will there be danger? Injury? Tragedy? What kind of snake is that?

But also: What will I disc­over? Uncover? Observe? Learn? Be amazed by? What kind of snake is that!

We have some choices in nature exploration—maybe more than the average life situation. We have some autonomy. We pick where we will go, for how long and how far and in what conditions. We choose what to wear and carry with us (and what to leave behind). We can arm ourselves with a few tools and some knowledge. When we nav­igate the wild—not just cultivated, manicured parks and lawns, though that's a great start!—we are being equipped to navigate the mystery that is Life. It's good practice and it's relatively safe. It builds appreciation for the unknown. Its beauty and majesty astounds and changes, as well as its dangers and challenges. Maybe adventuring in the woods is now and can continue to be a method of exercising my muscles for encountering mystery. 

Here’s the part that I hate the most: I can only go as far as my limits allow. I may long to see the world from the vantage of that snowcapped peak in the distance, but I am not equipped for that journey, and it may not even be accessible for any human, regardless of skill. I can desire, long for, even start up the slope, but my limits will ha­ve the last say. I can choose to ignore them and kill myself with the climb or I can concede that it is a mystery I will not uncover. 

I feel like I often encounter such peaks in rela­tionships with other people. I long to scale the summit but there's only so far I can go. I admit I often would rather kill myself making the ascent than relinguish to the fact that I don’t have access to that mystery…unless the mountain offers a stair­way. The not-knowing between me and other people really scares me, especially if it’s someone I love. What are they thinking about me/us? What do they want? What path can I take (sometimes even forge) to uncover what they won’t reveaI? Spoiler alert: you can’t. I hate it. Does my conjecture about mystery apply here, too? That I only get glimpses of what’s between me and other folks because the whole picture of their perspective or perceptions would be blinding or short out my brain or something? 

I know it's not a popular or trendy or easily digestible thought (even for me, saying it right now), but the limits we face are probably mercies. The things that keep us in place or create feelings of uncertainty—the things that seem like they are holding us back, only to find they were staying our feet from walking off a ledge. I think I want to let mystery out of its corner. To think of it as a loving force and trust its movement around the rooms of my life. If it's touching something, I want to learn to leave it alone because it likely has an intuition that is of benefit to me. 

I’m discovering that exploring the wild, alone and with others, is a way of following that intuition—like a trail someone before me has blazed into the forest. I can always choose to go off book, but until I’m ready, this is probably good practice. And it's guaranteed to be full of discovery.