I wake early to drive my twenty-something Toyota Camry to a servicing center a half-dozen miles from my house. Once there, I check in, discuss the necessary fixes, hand over my keys, and start walking home. The air is chilly and the sky overcast—the dull meteorological leftovers of a recent snowstorm. Low-hanging clouds cloak the mountains to the west, so I cannot gauge the amount of snow that fell on the higher elevations. Nevertheless, I hope it is enough to slow the wildfires that still burn north of Rocky Mountain National Park.
Thankfully, the air here is fresh, crisp, and clear of smoke for the first time in weeks. With the mountains and the Toyota dealership at my back, I turn east and set off homeward. I am glad of the walk, energized by having a reason to move.
I’ve exercised little this year, and it shows. My knees ache after two flat miles, and my nearly-empty pack feels heavy by three. There are many reasons for my recent sedentary habit: the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, an ailing automobile, a grueling job, the proliferation of unmasked crowds on local trails. But I don’t want to be restricted by these things any longer. I resolve to confront anything that hinders me, to reclaim my freedom. For me, that means it’s time to get outside, find some trails, and stake my partial claim on them (politely, while wearing a mask and social distancing).
So far, 2020 has presented me (and most people) with numerous setbacks, challenges, and defeats. And yet, I don’t want to label 2020 a bad year. It’s not the year that is the problem. But I’ll leave it there because this is not a journal about politics, social injustice, economic inequality, or things that enrage me. At least not yet. Instead, this is a quiet space where I hope to cultivate a greater appreciation for the natural world, share some of my artwork, ponder what I’ve been reading, and record experiences and ideas that interest me along the way.
Thus, instead of judging the quality of this (or any) year, I shall focus on what I can control in life—my behavior and my reactions—and how I can contribute in some small way to building a kinder, more compassionate, more sustainable world.