Listening Point

Earlier this year, my friend took me to a secret haven here in the north woods. It was the retreat of the inspiring environmentalist, Sigurd Olson. You probably haven't heard of him or if you have, know that he was closely tied with the BWCA. In fact, that is a miss calculation for his love of our Minnesotan Wilderness- he was a part of it. One day he stumbled upon a place on Burnt Side Lake that so perfectly captured all of his needs, his experiences, his memories, his meditations, his passion that he had to call it his own place, and so he did- Listening Point. I also read his book Listening Point, which reflects and defines our own need for adventure and nature through his stories at the point. In the last chapter, he calls us all to find our "Listening Point", a place where heaven and Earth collide, where we can feel free and meditative, where we can slow down and truly be happy and at peace.

And going there, to Sig's little slice of perfection, going into his humble cabin where all his simple things still hung in there original place except for his trusty canoe which was placed in the rafters, I was truly and fully humbled. I felt an ambiance of peace and respect not only for Sig but for the place itself and how truly when sitting on the bare rock of the point that rare windy day on Burnt Side had the waves slapping against the rocks so rhythmically and perfectly I totally understood why this man chose this place as his culmination of perfect place. He had traveled everywhere in the arrowhead, into the conifers and tundras of Canada, seen many adventures and wild waters. It was merely an honor to be in his perfect place, it truly is to be in anyone's perfect place.

But the whole time I was there, I remember his call to duty- to find our own point. And I thought of the places I've been, where could I claim my listening point? The first place that came to mind was Montana, along the banks of the Bighorn. But honestly, reflecting on it, I could never call that place perfect or home. But then there's Glacier park, Yellowstone park, Banff Provincial park, all beautiful paces but not home or familiar in the sense where all my memories and passions are met. But there is one place- Hay Creek, in the big spring pools- that I could and always have wanted to call home. Its a place I hold near sacred in my heart with all the memories and education I gained from along its muddy banks and the pursuit of smart little trout. The connections and relationships I've made there, the peace, nature, and solitude of it. But at the same time- maybe its ok to not yet know where that perfect place is. Maybe we can have more than one, maybe the pursuit of our perfect place is in fact what we would call "perfect." We can all define what it really means.

Where is your listening point?