Inquisitive Adventures

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.”
— C.S. Lewis

Do you ever have memories spontaneously find you? A memory surfaced of myself hiking and sliding down a hill. Another of attempting to roller blade twelve miles with my husband for my birthday in the hot July sun. Then another of running our first half marathon together.

These memories awakened a desire deep within me that I couldn’t let go. I don’t know why it exists. If it is a universal experience or unique to only a few people. When I try to trace its origin, I find it has always been present. A companion lingering beneath the surface. It is the pursuit of new experiences and places. It is pushing myself both physically and mentally to my limits. For some reason, I have this need to put myself in situations that require endurance. These memories rekindled both of these needs that appear to be innately woven in me, recognizing that I lost a habit that was once life-giving.

When I was a college student, I learned about spiritual disciplines and sabbath. I would intentionally take the time to go hiking. I would take my Bible and journal with me alone in nature.

In my recent post, I Have a Problem, I mentioned that I bought Walking on Water by Madeline L’Engle. One of the ideas in this book is that as we grow older, we then have to unlearn what adulthood has taught us and return to our true selves. I’m starting to wonder if I am in a season of unlearning. Letting go of the seemingly monotonous life and returning to what breathes life into my lungs, honoring who I am and the way I was created.

As I continued to reflect on these memories, I felt the desire to pursue them grow. So, I started planning. A few weeks ago, I decided to walk a path at one of my favorite parks. I grew up walking the trails of this park. I realized it’s been about ten years since I completed one of its trails from start to finish. The trail is seven miles, mostly flat with little shade. (It turned out to be nine miles.) This would fulfill my need to both challenge myself and to walk with God on my own in solitude.

Somewhere within the last few years, these two parts of myself were lost. I also used to run half marathons, but within the last couple of years, I have been told that this kind of exercise is not healthy for me. I slowly let it go. I’m not sure if this is a rebellion to what life has held for me or a reclaiming. I wasn’t prepared for a seven-mile hike/walk. I haven’t been exercising. When I look back at our hike in North Carolina, it was difficult. Yet I was determined.

I do not recommend going on a nine-mile hike/walk without proper training and planning. For some reason I enjoy putting myself in these kinds of situations. It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this… five years ago, for my birthday, I told my husband I wanted to rollerblade twelve miles. It was over ninety degrees that day. My heart rate kept staying high, and we weren’t sure why. We made it to mile six. We were at the end of the trail and six miles away from our car. We ended up calling my parents to come pick us up.

I take calculated risks, knowing that I am the one responsible for my own decision-making. I also listen to my body and know when I need to end the adventure.

This time, I wanted to challenge myself with where I am. I couldn’t tell myself no to solitude and adventure. I wanted to do it alone. No headphones. My journal, backpack, camera, Bible, pen, and thoughts.

Perhaps it’s a need for pilgrimage? That’s an intriguing word, pilgrimage. Or maybe these endeavors of mine are my way of answering the call of adventure.

The next several posts will be my reflections from this long walk and the lessons it taught me.

I suppose this is the call of adventure.