Sitting

Before making the final ascent to the summit of Santa Fe Baldy I call it quits. The blisters on my heels aren’t getting any better and climbing the steep pitch would be a big mistake. So, after some discussion the rest of the group goes on their way and I hike to the other side of the saddle and find myself a sunny place protected from the wind. After sitting myself down I take off my boots to let my feet dry and apply medical tape to the tender spots. I will also have my lunch. And that the group is climbing to the summit, having lunch and climbing down, I will sit without distraction for the better part of two hours. Doing this turns out to be quite an experience.

At first I am fidgety, checking my feet, getting my boots facing into the sun and hanging my socks to dry on a nearby shrub, but not in a place where they’ll blow away. I watch my friends become smaller and smaller specks as they climb the summit. Then I have my lunch. I do all of this in my usual efficient manner. When these tasks are complete, when the small specks of friends dissipate and disappear into the slope, there is nothing to do. But sit.

I’ve sat some zazen, a long time ago and it was, well, it was Zen so there’s not a whole lot I can say other than it was good. How’s that for a description? But this day in the mountains I look around. I study things and notice things; nothing I’ve not seen before as I’ve hiked these mountains many times. But I notice details. I’ve been told God is in the details. The speed with which the clouds sweep by, the distribution of small pieces of milky quartz on the ground, the quivering of tiny leaves of low alpine plants; all get and hold my attention. When the group makes it back we trade stories - theirs of climbing the summit and mine of sitting below it, and a few of us remark on how out of the ordinary it is to sit for a couple hours in the mountains. Or sit for a couple hours anywhere for that matter.

Lately I’ve been hiking the network of trails near Santa Fe, around Mount Atalaya and Picacho Peak, not so much to reach the summits but for good aerobic workouts. So I make a point of climbing steadily for at least an hour. If I’m near a summit I’ll press on, otherwise I’ll stop and sit, and sit for at least fifteen minutes and be quiet and look and listen. And like the afternoon near Baldy I notice ordinary things missed when in motion. The shape of the crown of a particular tree, light coming in low across a slope and streaks of shadow. It goes on and on and is all quite remarkable.

Gordon Bunker