Mark and I spent the weekend in Sylvania Wilderness, a special place within the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It’s 18,000+ acres of old-growth forest and clear blue lakes. Campsites are accessed only by canoe (or on foot). “Wilderness” is a special designation: “An area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.” (Insert “people” for “man,” as this language comes from the 1960s.)
No roads, buildings, nor motorized vehicles or equipment. Wilderness is nature as-is. And it’s an experience like none other. Though I’ve taken hundreds of walks in the woods, I’ve never felt such intense connection to the trees and allowed beauty to saturate and nourish my being. And I’ve never heard such deep, powerful quiet. There were loons, owls, and squirrels; there was wind whistling and water lapping; yet there was a profound silence. A welcome, inviting silence.
We live in a world that’s filled with violence, greed, and heartbreak; a culture that’s filled with noise, distractions, and busyness. Yet there’s so much good in our world: people helping people; ordinary and extraordinary acts of kindness, love, and generosity; small moments of grace in daily life. And there’s the Wilderness, a place that fills me with hope. When life is hectic and difficult, we can remember: There’s a physical space, not far from us, where nature is protected and preserved; where deep, nourishing quiet exists; where the forest bathes any creature that enters.
This photograph shows the view from our campsite yesterday morning. We were surrounded by big, beautiful trees and also had a vista of sunrise across the lake. This image, like the wilderness, invites us to slow down. In this moment, there’s no rush. It’s okay to breathe and be. It’s okay to savor and smile. It’s okay to rest.
