The Creek Will Keep Flowing: Insight About American Politics From A Camping Trip
A creek at Priest Lake State Park in Idaho. (Photo by Sarah Henn Hayward)
(OPINION) We stopped for our traditional lunch at Burger Express — mainly for the huckleberry milkshakes. I sat down, ready to turn my phone off for the next three days while camping at Priest Lake when it buzzed. I checked the text, thinking it may be the friends we were meeting at the campground.
A friend had sent me a screenshot. President Biden was turning down the Democrats’ nomination and endorsing Kamala Harris for president. “Holy s---!” was the text that came with the photo. For a few moments, only those two words echoed in my head.
I showed my husband, and we both sat in shock before excitedly discussing what this would mean. The kids peppered in a few questions before tuning us out as political talk filled the car for the rest of the trip.
My thoughts drifted in and out of politics throughout the next few days. Our camping friends greeted us with the news, unsure if we’d heard. We all processed together for a while. Our feelings were mixed and various. We felt proud, impressed, scared, shocked, excited, hesitant, angry, frustrated and confused.
And then the sun kept burning. The cool, clear water begged us to get in, and we got on with camping. We swam and played, ate and relaxed. We had escaped the 105 degree temps and smokey skies of Spokane to splash around in one of the area’s most gorgeous lakes.
But it wasn’t all fun and light-hearted. The temps climbed to 98 degrees in Coolin, Idaho, and created some cranky moments. I was reminded of a few lessons while camping that I think would serve this moment in our country well.
Hang in there long enough, and things will change
Securing a campsite at Priest Lake is notoriously difficult. We were lucky to get a reservation, but it was possibly the worst site in the entire campground. Wide open, no shade. The temperature peaked right as we had to be at our site to prepare dinner. It was oppressively hot and dry. My contacts felt like Shrinky Dinks. The kids immediately got cranky while waiting to eat.
But eventually, the earth spun far enough to place the sun below the tree line, and the temperature miraculously dropped. With the help of a fan, we drifted off to sleep and even woke up feeling chilly. The next morning was cool and pleasant, and we didn’t feel pressed to race to the water until after lunch.
No matter how hot and miserable I was for a moment, I knew it would change. The next day turned out even better.
Lean into the discomfort
At peak heat, I was uncomfortable. All I could think of was cooling off. But my kids were needy, there was no realistic way to cool off and I had things to do.
This quote from Pema Chödrön’s “When Things Fall Apart” came to mind: “The way to dissolve our resistance to life is to meet it face to face. When we feel resentment because the room is too hot, we could meet the heat and feel its fieriness and its heaviness. … Cutting our expectations for a cure is a gift we can give ourselves.”
I felt the sweat dripping down my back. I noticed the heat searing my eyeballs. And I let it be. And it actually became more tolerable.
Some things will never change
The kids were happily throwing rocks into a small creek that runs through the campground. The cold water on my feet was a delicious contrast to the hot day. I walked out to the middle and watched the water come tumbling down the rocks, steadfast in its journey from the mountains to the lake. Framed by a thick forest of conifers on either bank, the image was one of pure peace.
I thought about everything going on in our world today. Weddings and wars, fighting and festivals, drama and dreams coming true. This moment is important. Who wins this next election is significant and will change the future, no matter what.
And, this little creek will never know the difference. Sure, there could be drastic changes in environmental policy or forestry regulations that affect its flow. It could become polluted for a while; its banks could overflow. The climate could warm so much that snow leaves the mountains, drying it up. But most likely, 100, 1,000, even 1 million years from now, this creek will be here. Cheerfully babbling along. A simple dance of water with gravity.
I don’t know what America’s future holds. But knowing that little creek is there, sparkling and tumbling down the mountainside, day after day, brings me peace.
This piece is republished with permission from FaVS News.
Sarah Henn Hayward is a voracious reader, a deep thinker, a curious learner, a nature lover, a former Christian, a doctor of physical therapy and a loyal friend. She is the author of a spiritual memoir, “Giving Up God: Resurrecting an Identity of Love & Wonder,” and two children’s chapter books, “Sedona and the Sloth” and "Boston and the Beaver.” Her newsletter at sarahhennhayward.com highlights thought-provoking books concerning marginalized communities. She lives in Spokane, Washington, with her husband Dan and their two children.