Mystery, Humility and the Wild

Steven Harper

Steven Harper, M.A., Psychology, has taught at Colorado Outward Bound and the National Outdoor Leadership School and founded Earthways Wilderness Journeys. He coordinates Esalen Institute's Wilderness Programs. For twenty-five years, he has led both traditional and experimental wilderness expeditions on five continents. In addition to wilderness work, he facilitates individual and group change. Steven lives with his sons, Kai and Kes, in Big Sur, California.

It was late August. The tundra had already begun to take on fall colors, and the nights were finally getting dark enough that the northern lights could put on a show. My two-month expedition across the Northwest Territories of Canada was coming to an end, and I was living with the Inuit community of Chesterfield Inlet in the upper region of Hudson Bay. Before I came north, I had seen what I had thought to be impressive northern light displays. I had read a number of books and the latest articles giving the scientific explanations of what and why. None of this prepared me for what I experienced.

At one in the morning, I was up walking the gravel streets of Chesterfield Inlet with a few of my newly made Inuit friends. As we walked out of the small settlement and across the tundra, the display of northern lights became richer in color and more intense in frequency. Even my Inuit friends, who had grown up accustomed to such exhibits of the cosmos, stopped to look up. Curtains of multicolored light rippled across the night sky. Each successive wave grew closer and intensified. At its crescendo, an undulating curtain shot across the expansive sky and came so low that I instinctively hit the ground, fully expecting to be struck by the light itself. My Inuit friends were bent with laughter as I lay surprised on the ground, looking up at the ongoing dance of light (though I noticed they, too, had been impressed). There on the cold tundra, humbled and laughing at myself, I felt in awe of the mystery of all life, of all existence. Overcome by a feeling of wholesome contentment, embraced by mystery, all became sacred.

The mystery of wilderness is exactly what draws so many of us to it, just as the wild that lies within draws many seekers inward. Through the eons, our human urge to explore has led us toward unknown frontiers to find the source of mystery. Mystery has the simultaneous ability to drive people to destruction with frustrated desire and also to provide a magic sparkle to life. Without mystery, the magic of life drops away. Paradoxically, as we search out answers to our mysteries, we must also be willing to accept and embrace mystery as it is. The Dutch philosopher Aart van der Leeuw best stated our dilemma when he said, “The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced." Contentment and wholeness are dependent to some degree on our ability to be with and embrace mystery. It is a part of ourselves and a part of the natural world. Embracing mystery is not a blind acceptance of unanswered questions but, instead, a curious wonderment of that which is inexplicable —the mystery of it all.

In the civilized environment, we are surrounded by human-made, human-explainable things. When we enter the natural environment of wilderness, we are met with the inexplicable wonders of nature. While the biological and physical sciences have successfully answered many of our questions in regard to the natural world, the fundamental questions still remain unanswered. Even if these basic questions were answered, most of the answers would only bring with them more questions; wilderness environment puts us back in touch with the magic of life in the enlivening sparkle that goes with it. The wonder of it all brings wholesome respect and reverence for all life. When felt deeply, all comes sacred.

I believe the contentment I felt that August day was not about finding answers, but about finding that I could, for a moment, live with all the magic of mystery for exactly what it is, nothing more, nothing less. We have had those rare moments when all our “stories” about life and the universe fall through and we are touched by raw feeling. We allow the fullness of reality to touch us, without shielding the self with questions. While I value questions, I also see that we can easily use them to protect or remove ourselves from direct answers. Life is "a reality to be experienced.” One of the geniuses of modern times, Albert Einstein, gave these wise words:

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery—even if mixed with fear—that engendered religion.

Living in wilderness, we are close to the awesome, incomprehensible, uncontrollable forces of nature. The "stripping down” to a more fundamental lifestyle, and the direct contact we have with both nature and mystery, is humbling. The experience of a lightning storm, an avalanche, or the magnificent beauty of a cascading waterfall gives natural perspective on our place in the world. Our culture, with its focus-based reaction to mystery and wilderness, can afford a less pretentious stance, a simple acknowledgment of our shortcomings, and a basic respect for the living and nonliving things of nature. Humble pie may just be the diet for our cultural indigestion. René Dubos has this human-wilderness perspective.

Humanized environments give us confidence because nature has been reduced to the human scale, but the wilderness, in whatever form, almost compels us to measure ourselves against the cosmos. It makes us realize how insignificant we are as biological creatures and invites us to escape from the daily life into the realms of eternity and infinity.

Interestingly enough, the very word humble is derived from the Greek word humus, which means soil or ground. So, in a sense, to be humble is to be close to the soil or earth. Humble, humus, homage, human, and humane all come from the same root word meaning earth. Quite literally, we can humbly pay homage to the humus from which we humans came. In other words, with modesty, we can regain respect for our soil—our earth. With our hands and feet well "grounded" in the soil of this earth, we can experience a primal union with the earth and reinhabit our true home. To be humbled by the mystery of wild nature is never to be quite the same.

Mystery and, certainly, humility are not virtues that contemporary culture supports. For example, we get F’s for not knowing, and humility is often mistaken for weakness. Wilderness, on the other hand, supports and cultivates a taste for embracing and even finding strength in mystery and humility. I am reminded of the Zen teacher who encourages his students to cultivate “don't know” mind: an unassuming mind that is surprised and fresh each moment, even with the ordinary and everyday, an alive mind that is simultaneously empty and full of creative possibility—perhaps true mystical experience.

Do you want to transform your life? My recommendation is a simple one: Go out in the wilds, take off your shoes, sink your feet well into the ground, and be touched by mystery.