On my recent survival trip, I set up my camp at the top of a hill. The vault toilets we were using were at the bottom, so I hiked up and down the hill a few times each day.
As the length of time since I had eaten lengthened, it became increasingly difficult to move quickly when walking up. I was constantly stopping, yet still breaking a sweat. Sweat is not desirable, for once a person in a survival situation gets wet, it's hard to dry out and you risk becoming chilled.
For school, I recently read Bonaventure's Soul's Journey Into God, which uses the term "ascent." I decided to play on those words and literally ascend while praying. A word for each step, stopping every three to four words to breathe and rest. It was slow going, but I made it up the hill.
Meanwhile, I was inquiring about the good life. Life seems so hectic and stressful, driven by desire for goals, not love for God and others. In my head, these are binary things, yet I want both.
I walked along, asking what the good life looked like practically when I almost stepped on a yellow-bellied salamander. To be fully honest, it could have been a newt. I can't tell the difference. After my heart quieted from the realization that I could have killed the little one, I decided to sit down and watch him.
He moved slowly, placing each foot carefully, one at a time. He would stop to rest on a leaf, or to bask in a ray of sunlight. It took him a while, but he still made it where he wanted to go. The phrase flitted in my head "make out like a salamander."
I wonder if the good life is one that looks similar to that of a salamander. A slower, yet intentional life, where the present is savored and the goal is sought in the context of God and the rest of creation.
