Path to Page Workshop Part 1

Recently, I went on a day long hiking and writing workshop in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore in Northern Michigan. The class was lead by Ann-Marie Ooman and sponsored by Preserve Historic Sleeping Bear, the park liaison group that coordinates volunteer efforts to maintain the historic buildings on the park grounds.
The hike went through the Port Oneida Historical District, which contains unoccupied homes, barns, beautiful forests and breathtaking views of Lake Michigan.
The following is an excerpt from one of my writings that day, in its first draft form.

Prompt: “The wilderness is within walking distance…”
…And beyond that the calm of the lake, where the “spirit of the Lord is hovering over the face of the waters.” (as in Genesis 1), then more wilderness – in the form of an island. Aren’t all wildernesses islands? Ever shrinking spaces in our haste to control the world? Often we’d like to think so, but then the wilderness escapes.
“What Would Nature Do?” as I saw on a t-shirt yesterday in a local gift shop. Interesting theology, meant to somehow evoke trust in nature and raise it to the form of deity. Bad news is that Nature would very likely kick your ass and not think twice. “Nature” isn’t interested in our best interest as humans, and while we have certain evolutionary advantages, like thumbs and larger brains, we are on our own in the natural world. Self preservation, in and of itself, is completely natural.
Wilderness is always within walking distance, but the truth is that it is walking up on us – ever stalking and sneaking in- seeking its own end. If you’ve ever attempted to garden, you’ll recognize this fact – especially if you have a fondness for controlled, tidy beds. Nature is certainly not tidy, and wields its own beauty in its very unpredictability and awe evoking power. It is a system set into play with its own rules and its own sense of truth, much unknowable. While we can “know” the biology, botany, meteorology and other parameters of nature, we can’t know them in the sense of accepting and letting go of the control and predictability we want. This space, this park, is about conceding the desire to rule, stepping back, setting a truce, watching and waiting. And, as the spirit of the Lord hovers over the waters, if we are still, we may connect to it.

High on this hill, overlooking Lake Michigan and the surrounding farmlands and the Manitou Islands, what did people think of this view one hundred years ago? Would it be more or less awe inspiring?